with, blotted out. My fate would be swiftly and surely settled—a drumhead court-martial at Lewisburg, a verdict of guilty, and a firing squad at dawn. The remedy was simple and effective. No one need ever know, for the preacher's lips could be easily closed. And perhaps Lieutenant Raymond—Bah! my teeth clinched angrily at thought of him, and I tramped on down the stairs to the gruff order of the sergeant.
There were three other prisoners, sallow faced, roughly dressed mountaineers, one wounded in the arm, but I was kept separated from them with a special guard. The day was gloomy, with clouded skies, and the road so muddy the horses stood fetlock deep. Within ten minutes the entire command was in saddle, and moving slowly northward. The lieutenant rode in my rear for the first mile, watchful and suspicious; I could hear his voice issuing orders, but cared nothing as to what precautions were taken. The faint hope of some possible escape was beginning to dawn on my mind, but I realized the futility of any attempt then—a way might open at Lewisburg if the guards grew careless, but the slow moving horse under me, limping painfully with each step, was proof positive that any effort made now to break away would prove utterly useless. Noreen was riding in advance of the column between the two
