the federal battery had gained a hill behind the ruthven plantation, and from this point began to fire rapidly at the advancing confederates.

shot and shell sped over the homestead, and the inmates were, consequently, much alarmed.

"we will do well if we escape this murderous fire," said mrs. alice ruthven to marion.

"i wish jack was here," answered the girl. "where can he be keeping himself?"

"he remained behind to protect the property in town."

the tide of battle grew fiercer, and presently, just as marion had gone to the kitchen to get something for the invalid soldiers, a heavy shot passed through the sitting room of the house, tearing down the plaster of two walls and damaging much of the furniture.

of course all in the mansion were much alarmed. the negroes, especially, were panic-stricken, and ran forth in all directions.

"we is gwine ter be murdered," shrieked one. "da is gwine ter shoot us all ter pieces!"

"marion, are you hurt?" came from mrs. ruthven, who was in the front hallway at the time.

"no, mother. were you hit?"

"no, marion."

"where did the shot strike?"

"through the sitting room, i believe."

both ran to investigate, and in the sitting room a sight met their gaze calculated to stun the stoutest heart.

plaster and splinters lay in all directions, and the wounded soldiers were crying for aid and for mercy, thinking the enemy close at hand.

under a mass of wreckage on the floor lay george walden, senseless, and with the blood flowing from a wound in his temple.

"oh, mr. walden is hurt, mamma!" shrieked marion, and ran to raise him up.

they carried the wounded soldier to another part of the house and laid him on a fresh cot. then, while marion cared for him, mrs. ruthven went back to aid the others. in the meantime old ben was instructed to hoist the hospital flag to a higher point on the mansion.

the shot appeared to be about the last fired in that vicinity, and soon the shooting came from a distance, as federals and confederates withdrew in the direction of the mountains.

"mother! marion! are you safe?" it was the cry from jack as he came up, almost out of breath from running.

"yes, thank heaven, we are safe so far," answered mrs. ruthven. "where have you been—at the town?"

"no, i was over to st. john's place," answered our hero, and in a few words told about the fire.

"we, too, have suffered," said mrs. ruthven. "a solid shot passed through the sitting room."

"did it hurt anybody?"

"one of the wounded soldiers was knocked senseless. the others were more frightened than hurt."

"it has been a hot fight all around. and, oh, mother! what do you think? i saw colonel stanton shot down!"

"is that true, jack?"

"yes, i saw the whole thing as plain as day. it's too bad. he was such a nice gentleman, even if he was a yankee."

"you are right. jack; he was indeed a gentleman. i felt perfectly safe while he was in the vicinity."

it was not long before jack went upstairs to see how marion was faring. he found his sister working over george walden, trying to restore the hurt soldier to his senses.

"he is pretty badly off," said marion. "i wish we had a doctor."

"where is that surgeon who was here?"

"gone to the battlefield."

"i don't know of any doctor to get just now, marion."

"then we must do the best we can ourselves. and by the way, jack, this soldier knows dr. mackey."

"what?"

"yes, and he said that dr. mackey is more or less of a fraud, and never was married."

"oh, marion! if he could only prove that."

"he thinks he can. he told me that the doctor came from philadelphia, and cousin harry told me the same thing."

"we must follow up this man's record. i am now certain he is not my father."

"the soldier thought that perhaps there was property coming to you, and that dr. mackey wanted to get hold of it."

"i don't think he'd be above such a scheme, marion. i never liked his looks from the first time i met him, at the bridge."

"i know that, jack."

there was no time to say more, for there was too much to do. marion continued her work around the sick rooms, and jack went out to see how matters were faring at the stable and the barns.

he had hardly gained the vicinity of the stable when he heard a commotion going on within. old ben and two of the home guard boys were having a fight with three guerrillas, who were bent upon stealing several horses.

"let go dem hosses!" jack heard old ben cry. "dem is private prop'ty; don't yo' know dat?"

"git out o' the way, nigger!" cried the leader of the guerrillas. "we want these hosses, an' we are bound to have 'em!"

"if you touch the horses i'll fire at you!" came from one of the home guard boys, but scarcely had he spoken when one of the guerrillas raised his pistol and fired on the lad, wounding him in the shoulder.

this cowardly action made jack's blood boil, and not stopping to think twice, he raised the gun he carried and blazed away. his aim took the guerrilla in the breast, and he sank down seriously, though not mortally, wounded.

a yell went up from the other guerrillas, and they fired at random, but did no damage to anybody but old ben, who was shot through the left shoulder. then the other boys fired, and the guerrillas who could do so took to their heels.

"ben, are you badly hurt?" asked jack, when the encounter was over.

"not wery, massah jack," answered the faithful old colored man, and went to the house to bind up his wound.

in the meantime the guerrilla who had been shot lay on the floor, raving and cursing in a frightful manner.

"stop your swearing, or we'll do nothing for you," said jack sharply, and then the fellow became more reasonable. he begged to have a doctor care for his wounds.

"we have no doctor here, but we'll care for you as best we can," said our hero, and this was done, although the guerrilla was kept at the stable, on a bed of straw.

at nightfall the fighting came to an end, and all became quiet around the plantation. it had been more or less of a drawn battle, and it was expected that the contest would be renewed at daybreak.

"are you going to bed, jack?" asked mrs. ruthven, a little after ten o'clock.

"no, mother; i think it best that i remain on guard," he answered. "some of those guerrillas may come back, you know."

"but you must be tired out."

"i am; but i reckon i can stay up during the night without falling asleep at my post," he said, smiling faintly.

"do as you think best, jack; you and marion must be my mainstays now," and she kissed him affectionately.

hour after hour of the night wore along and nothing of moment happened. jack spent the most of the time around the house, but toward daybreak made the rounds of the stable and barns.

he found the guerrilla groaning dismally.

"give me sum terbacker, will yer?" asked the man presently.

not wishing to appear too unkind, jack procured a twist of tobacco for him, which he began to chew savagely.

"i'm in a putty bad fix, i reckon," said the guerrilla, after chewing in silence for several minutes.

"if you are, you have only yourself to thank for it," returned jack coldly.

"oh, i aint complainin', sonny. it's the fortunes o' war—as them poets call it, i reckon."

"you might be in better business than stealing horses."

"so i might, sonny—an' then agin' i might do wuss—yes, a heap wuss. i was gwine ter turn them hosses over to the confed'rate government—they need hoss-flesh."

"you were going to do nothing of the kind. you are not a soldier, you are a common thief."

"now, don't be hard on me, sonny. i fit on the right side, i did," drawled the guerrilla anxiously.

"you fought only for your own good."

"taint so, sonny; i fit fer the glorious stars an' bars. wot are ye calkerlatin' ter do with me, sonny?"

"i don't know yet. i reckon you'll stay where you are for the present."

"that's so too—i can't move nohow. hullo, who's thet?"

at this question jack turned suddenly—to find himself confronted by dr. mackey and two soldiers in confederate uniform!