strange as it may seem, neither exhibited any outward signs of emotion. Once, when the path widened, he rode to the girl's side.

"This is a strange thing," he said.

"We of Stringtown County are used to such surprises. These are terrible times for us," was all she said.

A little while later he ventured to speak to Joshua to the same effect.

"Ef et takes a hunderd bluecoats ter took up a man with a Bible, how many would et take ter took him ef he hed a gun?" said Joshua.

"What do you suppose your father has done?" "Et don't matter what he done, er ain't done. Et all depends on what some feller says he done, and I guess they've got the feller ready ter say et."

"You do not think that he will be away long? Surely your father cannot be charged with anything serious?"

"He'll not be back at all, fer he'll never took thet oath. The old church's closed fer the summer, and winter, too, p'raps. Pap's bound fer Camp Chase. Ef et war not fer leavin' sister alone I'd start fer the rebel army to-night."

1

CHAPTER VII.

THE CHARGE AGAINST WARWICK.

WARWICK was taken to the county seat of Stringtown County and then direct to the home of the provost-marshal. No introduction was necessary, for the men had known each other from childhood. Both had been born and reared in that county, the ancestors of both had toiled to clear the land, and on that same land they had fought the Indian and the wild beast.

Having entered the room, the prisoner was invited to be seated. Only Warwick and the provost-marshal were present, for the soldiers remained outside.

"And now, James, may I know why I have been arrested?" Warwick asked coldly, his look

severe.

"By order of the general."

"The charge?"

"Treason."

Instantly the mind of Warwick reverted to the guest who sat behind the door at the time of Dr. John's visit, and he decided at once that this man had been the informer. Indignation shook him, for to a Kentuckian such a breach of hospitality was despicable. But he gave no outward expression or intimation of his suspicion.

"James, you have sworn to do these things, much to your discredit, too. Would it not be better to go into the Northern army, and let strangers slip around our Stringtown County roads and arrest your old friends?"

"Be patient, Mr. Warwick," replied the marshal in a conciliatory tone; "things may not be as bad as you think. You are too old to attempt to serve the Confederacy. You are also a minister, and, being a man of peace, need not concern yourself in the troublesome affairs that now disturb the country. Be thoughtful of your own interests; leave the settlement of these temporal matters to other hands. You have been arrested by me, it is true, but because of a positive order from my superior. Is it not better for you that I,

an old friend, hold this position than if an outsider were provost-marshal of Stringtown County?"

"What is the full charge against me?" asked Warwick, ignoring the argument.

"The charge, Mr. Warwick, is that you sympathized with the South; that you have openly prayed for the rebel cause, and have sung rebel songs before the people."

"The man who says that I sympathize with the South tells the truth. I have two sons in the Confederate army, and my hope is that their cause may succeed. I believe it just and right. But the man who says that in public I sang rebel songs lies, for in public and private I sing only the sacred songs of God. When was it, sir, that it is charged I sang these worldly songs?"

"It is said that while preaching you openly proclaim yourself a rebel; that you pray for the rebels; and then, too, while in the pulpit, that you sang rebel songs."

"James, that is a lie. You know that in the sacred house of God I preach only the word of God. Shame, shame on you, to listen to such a charge. You know me well, and that my tongue should be torn from its roots before these