guard informed me that most of these had arrived during the night—a regiment of Ohio troops, and a battery of light artillery, destined to assist in a contemplated attack on Covington.
The head of our little column halted in front of the hotel, but Whitlock shouted a command to the sergeant, and we rode on past, the guard closing up tightly. I kept my face straight ahead, determined to make no sign, but, nevertheless, I had a glimpse of Noreen, standing at her horse's head, and, for an instant, I felt certain her eyes were resting on me. Momentary as this was—no doubt merely a glance of curiosity—yet it served to send the hot blood throbbing through my veins. That was the first faint sign vouchsafed me that she even recalled my existence, or gave me so much as a thought. She stood too far away for me to read the expression in her eyes, and yet, the very fact that her glance followed me brought quick response. Then Raymond spoke to her, touching her sleeve familiarly with his hand to attract attention, and she smiled up into his face, as if in answer to some witty remark. This was the last glimpse I had as we clattered on down the street.
At the court house steps the sergeant turned me over to the officer of the day, and I was marched into the basement. The old jail had evidently been burned, for I could see the roof had fallen in, and
