“Will the Southern soldiers come here?” Roxy asked, clinging to her father’s arm, but Captain Delfield did not reply; he was questioning Roland for news of the advancing army, and hearing that President Lincoln had given the command of the Army of the Potomac to General George B. McClellan.

“Then there is some hope of saving the Union,” declared Captain Delfield; “but if Confederate troops are moving into Maryland they will seize horses and cattle wherever they find them. We must drive our stock into the mountains and keep them out of sight until the danger is over.”

“What danger?” questioned Mrs. Miller, who had come down from the house to greet Roland, and Roxy again heard Roland tell the story of the rumors of advancing armies.

Captain Delfield encouraged them all by saying that these hillside farms were too far from the direct routes of travel to make it likely that marching armies would trouble them; but Mrs. Miller nevertheless at once started Jacob and the other negroes to harvest the wheat, and to gather every crop in the fields bordering the highway.

Roland said that his mother and little sisters were going to Sharpsburg, and that he and some of the negroes meant, that very day, to start into the mountains with their horses, ponies and cows; and he bade them all good-bye, promising to let them know of the family’s return home when the trouble was over.

Captain Delfield and Roxy walked slowly toward the house, and Roxy knew that her soldier father was wishing himself able to again join his regiment; but while he was better he was not yet able to sit up all day, and was easily tired, and there could be no question of his leaving home at present.

There were two fine gray mules belonging to Grandma Miller, and one driving horse, beside Captain Delfield’s fine saddle-horse that had brought him safely on his long journey.

“The mules cannot be spared until the crops are harvested, and I do not mean to start the cattle off until I see soldiers coming over the bridge,” decided Mrs. Miller.

It seemed to Roxy that Roland’s news had changed everything. No one now seemed to remember her, she thought, as she heard her father and mother talking of General McClellan and General Lee. She heard her father say that before the war began these two great generals had known each other well, and regarded each other highly. They had served together under the American flag in Mexico.

Roxy did not stay to hear more but went into the kitchen to find Dulcie sitting in the big rocking-chair, with her apron over her head, rocking vigorously back and forth and groaning with every breath.

“Stop, Dulcie! Whatever is the matter?” demanded Roxy, taking hold of the blue-checked apron and drawing it from Dulcie’s face.

“We’s all gwine ter be druv off into slav’ree; or mebbe we’s all gwine ter be kill’t!” declared the frightened woman.

For the first time that day Roxy laughed; and at the sight of the little girl’s smiling face Dulcie began to regain a little courage. “Ain’ we, Missy Roxy?” she half whispered.

“Of course not! Who said so?” asked Roxy.

“Jacob!” and Dulcie was promptly on her feet. “Does yo’ means ter tell me dat de Southern sojers ain’ a-marchin’ dis way?” she questioned.

“Oh, Dulcie! They won’t hurt us! Whoever said they would? And here it is ’most supper time and you haven’t begun anything,” and leaving the puzzled Dulcie Roxy went out to the yard. She visited “Napoleon” and “Josephine,” and promised not to let the invading army capture them, and then wandered down the slope to the wall and leaning against it stood looking off toward the Lawrence farm.

“I wonder if Polly knows?” she thought, and remembered that there were only two negro servants at the Lawrence place. “I’ll go over now and tell her,” she resolved, and ran down the slope toward the old sycamore, and climbed the pasture path leading to Polly’s home.

It was a long walk and Roxy was warm and tired when she discovered Polly, who was leading “Brownie” toward the stables.

“Did you signal that you were coming, Roxy?” called Polly.

Roxy shook her head. “I didn’t think about signals,” she said. “Polly, General Lee is marching into Maryland!”

Polly laughed delightedly.

“Oh, Roxy-Doxy! Have you made up a new game?”

Roxy stamped her foot angrily, forgetting the gold ring and her promise.

“Well, Polly Lawrence! I ran and ran, and I am as tired as I can be, and it isn’t a game. I came to tell you so you could save your horses,” she said, thinking angrily that she would now go straight home and never speak to Polly again.

But Polly’s face was grave and she at once began asking Roxy questions, so that in a few moments Roxy no longer remembered to be angry, and was telling Polly all that she knew about the advance of Lee’s soldiers, and of what her father had said about driving the horses into some hidden valley among the hills where they would be safe.

“If the Confederates find your father they will take him prisoner,” Polly suddenly announced. “Of course they will, for they will see by his uniform that he is a Union soldier!”

“Oh, Polly!” exclaimed Roxy. “I don’t believe my father thought about that,” and her gray eyes widened with fear.

But Polly assured her that of course Captain Delfield had thought of it, and would prepare to avoid capture.

“If we could only have some warning before the soldiers get here perhaps no great harm would be done; we could drive off the stock, and go away ourselves, if that seemed best,” Polly said thoughtfully. “Anyway, I’m not going to have ‘Brownie’ go until I do,” and she patted the little brown horse lovingly.

“I guess I must go now,” Roxy said. “You will signal every morning, won’t you, Polly?”

Polly promised, and Roxy started for home, her thoughts filled with a new fear: that the Confederates might discover her father and take him prisoner. She remembered what Polly had said about being warned of the approach of the invading army; and before Roxy had reached the old sycamore she had made a firm resolve that she would watch the broad turnpike that led up from Virginia and warn her father and Polly at the first sight of marching troops; and the little girl at once began to plan how she could carry out this resolve. It would mean, she knew, that she must be on the alert constantly, and that she must not let her mother, father or Grandmother Miller discover what she meant to do.

In the high pasture beyond the sycamore towered a rocky ledge where Polly and Roxy had often eaten their picnic luncheons, and the little girl now remembered that from the top of this mass of rock one could look off far beyond the bridge to where two roads met; one of these roads led off through the mountains, the other was the highway that led on past the Miller farm toward Sharpsburg.

“That’s just the place. I’ll go there every day and watch,” Roxy resolved quickly; and suddenly realizing that the sun was nearly out of sight behind the western hills, Roxy hurried toward home, and found the family at the supper table.

“Father, would the Confederates take you prisoner?” she asked eagerly, standing close beside her father’s chair.

“They would have to catch me first, my dear. If I see them first I’ll be safe enough,” he replied, and Roxy gave a little sigh of satisfaction as she sat down beside him.

“I’ll tell you the minute I see them,” she promised soberly, and Roxy thought to herself how wonderful it would be if she could really do something to help her soldier father: perhaps save him from that dreaded prison from which the Yankee boy had escaped.

That night the talk was of invading armies, and of the danger that seemed to threaten Washington; and Roxy, curled up on the old sofa in the sitting-room, again resolved that she would not fail in her plan to be at the ledge at an early hour the next morning. She began to wish that she had told Polly of her plan.

“Polly always thinks of things that I don’t: of signals, and all sorts of things,” thought Roxy; and at the remembrance of signals a new idea flashed into her mind. She must tell Polly as soon as she could, and she could signal Polly from the ledge. That would be splendid. Roxy no longer felt tired or sleepy. She jumped up from the sofa and if at that very moment her mother had not said: “Bedtime and past, Roxy,” the little girl would have been eager to start off across the pastures to tell her friend of the new plan.

“Why, Roxy! Your eyes are shining, and your face is flushed; are you ill?” exclaimed Mrs. Delfield as the little girl stood beside her.

“No, only I wish it was morning. I want to tell Polly something. I am going to get up at daylight and go over to Polly’s; may I?” Roxy asked.

“Why, yes. And ask Polly if she and her mother mean to stay at home. Tell her to come here at any time if we can help them.”

“Yes, Mother! Polly can signal if she wants me,” Roxy answered.

“‘Signal’?” questioned Captain Delfield, and listened to Roxy’s description of the signals the two girls had arranged from their upper windows.

“Better not let any soldiers discover your signals,” he said smilingly. “You know that is the way armies direct attacks, by signals.”

But Captain Delfield did not for a moment imagine that within a few days these very signals that Roxy described were to involve his little daughter in real danger.