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 helpless by the man's side, while his companion clutched at his own shoulder, groaning and cursing.

In less time that it takes to tell it, the cowardly ruffians had taken to their heels and Halsey was alone under the old ash. Then the front door at Eaton Manor opened quietly and Peggy Moore came cautiously out, still holding in her hand a smoking revolver.

"The dirty cowards," she cried indignately. "No real Confederate soldier would do a thing like that. They are Buck Dugan's guerrillas, and unworthy of the name of soldier. There is a leak in the post office. They must have known about my letter."

"Peggy, you brave girl, you trump, did you fire those shots? Did you do that brave thing for old glory?"

"The scoundrels, I wish I had killed them," cried Peggy excitedly, ignoring his question.

"Listen," cried Halsey. "I hear horsemen up the turnpike. There must be a