His danger was increased by the treachery of one of his own comrades of the Fourteenth Kentucky, and he was followed by a band of guerrillas in the Confederate interest.  Of this, however, Jordan was not apprised, and supposing himself secure he sought shelter and concealment at the house of a man whom he knew to be loyal.  Near enough to see, but not to be seen, the guerrillas waited till the tired messenger was sleeping, and then coming boldly out of the woods, surrounded the house.

In a fright the good housewife ran up to his chamber, and shook the sleeping man.

“Wake for your life!” she said.  “The guerrillas are outside, clamoring for you.  I have locked the doors, but I can not keep them out long.”

Jordan had thrown himself on the bed with his clothes on.  He knew that he was liable to be surprised, and in such an event time was most valuable.  Though awakened from a sound sleep, he had all his wits about him.

“Thank you,” said he.  “I have a favor to ask in the name of our cause.”

“Be quick, then,” said the woman.  “They are bursting open the door.”

“Take this bullet.  It contains a secret dispatch, which, if I am killed, I enjoin upon you to convey to Colonel Craven, at Paris.  Will you do it?”

“If I can.”

“Then I am off.”

The door burst open, but he made a sudden dash, and escaped capture.  He headed for the woods, amid a volley of bullets, but none of them reached him.  Once he turned round, and fired an answering shot.  He did not stop to see if it took effect, but it was the messenger of Death.  One of the guerrillas reeled, and measured his length upon the ground, dead in a moment.

Fleet as a deer the brave scout pushed on till he got within the protecting shadows of the friendly woods.  There they lost the trail, and though he saw them from his place of concealment, he was himself unseen.

“Curse him!” said the disappointed leader.  “He must have sunk into the earth, or vanished into the air.”

“If he’s sunk into the earth, that is where we want him,” answered another, with grim humor.

“You will find I am not dead yet!” said the hidden scout to himself.  “I shall live to trouble you yet.”

He passed the remainder of the day in the woods, fearing that his pursuers might still be lingering about.

“If there were only two or three, I’d come out and face ’em,” he said, “but the odds are too great.  I must skulk back in the darkness, and get back the bullet.”

Night came on, and the woman who had saved him, heard a low tapping at the door.  It might be an enemy, and she advanced, and opened it with caution.  A figure, seen indistinctly in the darkness, stood before her.

“Who are you?” she asked doubtfully.

“Don’t be afraid, ma’am, it’s only me.”

“And you—­”

“Are the man you saved this morning!”

“God be thanked!  Then you were not killed?”