In his voice. "He won't die. Now, go take the lamp and hold it

for Mrs. Wilkes. I need Archie to run errands."

Archie looked across the lamp at Rhett.

"I ain't takin' no orders from you," he said briefly, shifting his

wad of tobacco to the other cheek.

"You do what he says," said Melanie sternly, "and do it quickly.

Do everything Captain Butler says. Scarlett, take the lamp."

Scarlett went forward and took the lamp, holding it in both hands

to keep from dropping it. Ashley's eyes had closed again. His

bare chest heaved up slowly and sank quickly and the red stream

seeped from between Melanie's small frantic fingers. Dimly she

heard Archie stump across the room to Rhett and heard Rhett's low

rapid words. Her mind was so fixed upon Ashley that of the first

half-whispered words of Rhett, she only heard: "Take my horse . . .

tied outside . . . ride like hell."

Archie mumbled some question and Scarlett heard Rhett reply: "The

old Sullivan plantation. You'll find the robes pushed up the

biggest chimney. Burn them."

"Um," grunted Archie.

"And there's two--men in the cellar. Pack them over the horse as

best you can and take them to that vacant lot behind Belle's--the

one between her house and the railroad tracks. Be careful. If

anyone sees you, you'll hang as well as the rest of us. Put them

in that lot and put pistols near them--in their hands. Here--take

mine."

Scarlett, looking across the room, saw Rhett reach under his coat

tails and produce two revolvers which Archie took and shoved into

his waist band.

"Fire one shot from each. It's got to appear like a plain case of

shooting. You understand?"

Archie nodded as if he understood perfectly and an unwilling gleam

of respect shone in his cold eye. But understanding was far from

Scarlett. The last half-hour had been so nightmarish that she felt

nothing would ever be plain and clear again. However, Rhett seemed

in perfect command of the bewildering situation and that was a

small comfort.

Archie turned to go and then swung about and his one eye went

questioningly to Rhett's face.

"Him?"

"Yes."

Archie grunted and spat on the floor.

"Hell to pay," he said as he stumped down the hall to the back

door.

Something in the last low interchange of words made a new fear and

suspicion rise up in Scarlett's breast like a chill ever-swelling

bubble. When that bubble broke--

"Where's Frank?" she cried.

Rhett came swiftly across the room to the bed, his big body

swinging as lightly and noiselessly as a cat's.

"All in good time," he said and smiled briefly. "Steady that lamp,

Scarlett. You don't want to burn Mr. Wilkes up. Miss Melly--"

Melanie looked up like a good little soldier awaiting a command and

so tense was the situation it did not occur to her that for the

first time Rhett was calling her familiarly by the name which only

family and old friends used.

"I beg your pardon, I mean, Mrs. Wilkes. . . ."

"Oh, Captain Butler, do not ask my pardon! I should feel honored

If you called me 'Melly' without the Miss! I feel as though you

were my--my brother or--or my cousin. How kind you are and how

clever! How can I ever thank you enough?"

"Thank you," said Rhett and for a moment he looked almost

embarrassed. "I should never presume so far, but Miss Melly," and

his voice was apologetic, "I'm sorry I had to say that Mr. Wilkes

was in Belle Watling's house. I'm sorry to have involved him and

the others in such a--a-- But I had to think fast when I rode away

from here and that was the only plan that occurred to me. I knew

my word would be accepted because I have so many friends among the

Yankee officers. They do me the dubious honor of thinking me

almost one of them because they know my--shall we call it my

'unpopularity'?--among my townsmen. And you see, I was playing

poker in Belle's bar earlier in the evening. There are a dozen

Yankee soldiers who can testify to that. And Belle and her girls

will gladly lie themselves black in the face and say Mr. Wilkes and

the others were--upstairs all evening. And the Yankees will

believe them. Yankees are queer that way. It won't occur to them

that women of--their profession are capable of intense loyalty or

patriotism. The Yankees wouldn't take the word of a single nice

Atlanta lady as to the whereabouts of the men who were supposed to

be at the meeting tonight but they will take the word of--fancy

ladies. And I think that between the word of honor of a Scallawag

and a dozen fancy ladies, we may have a chance of getting the men

off."

There was a sardonic grin on his face at the last words but it

faded as Melanie turned up to him a face that blazed with

gratitude.

"Captain Butler, you are so smart! I wouldn't have cared if you'd

said they were in hell itself tonight, if it saves them! For I

know and every one else who matters knows that my husband was never