your ever coming with me; to risk your life in so desperate a game."
"Do not say that, Tom," her voice eager and earnest. "I am no worse off here than I would be if you had left me in Lewisburg. It was my choice, and even now I would rather be here with you. Why," she paused, drawing in a quick breath, "if—if I had remained behind I might be helplessly in the grip of Anse Cowan! Have—have you forgotten that?"
"No, I had not forgotten; but there is danger enough here—more than you realize. You have never seen men mad with battle lust, crazed from victory. They see through a red mist, and forget sex. They are coming in here presently, firing and killing, smashing their way through from wall to wall. Your cousin is not the kind to ever raise a white flag—he'll go down fighting, and his men beside him. I've been thinking of it all, my girl, and there is one thing I want you to do now, before the final assault comes."
"What?"
"Let me send you out under flag of truce to the protection of Captain Fox. He'll guard you as he would his own daughter."
"And—and leave you men in here to die?"
"To take our chances, of course; that is a part of
