whom I mean is in the seventh regiment, and is at this moment on outpost
duty on Chapel mountain. It was he who brought me word of the prisoner."

The general shook his head thoughtfully.

"I tell you it's impossible, but--who is the man?"

"Joseph Tanner."

"A private?"

"Yes, a volunteer."

"You know something about him?"

"Yes, your excellency; he is perhaps the best rider in the whole
army,--bold to a fault and capable enough, in case of necessity, to act
with the caution of an officer. If the thing can be done, that man'll do
it."

"And you believe--it's a terrible responsibility to ask a man to ride to
sure death--you believe the man will do it freely--willingly?"

"I'll swear he will, your excellency."

"Then I dare not refuse, though it's a fearful venture. I'll send for
Tanner at once."

"May I take the order to him?" interrupted Egon, quickly. The general
turned in surprise and looked at him.

"You, yourself, do you mean? Why?"

"Only to save time. The way which Tanner must take lies over Chapel
mountain; before he'd get to headquarters and back again to his starting
place an hour would be lost."

There was nothing to be said in answer to this, and yet the general felt
there was something about the whole affair which he did not understand.
A common soldier rarely undertook, voluntarily, a mission which drove
him into the arms of death, but the old warrior asked no further
questions, he only said: "You will be responsible for the man?"

"Yes," said Egon, quietly but emphatically.

"Good, then you can give him all the necessary instructions; there is
one thing more; he must have credentials if he ever reaches our own
posts, for any detention would be fatal where every minute counts."

He turned to his writing table, and after setting his seal to a paper,
handed it to the prince.

"Here are the necessary papers, and these are the despatches for General
Falkenried. Let me know at once whether Tanner was willing to go or
not."

"I'll let your excellency know immediately."

Egon hurried to his own quarters, where he ordered his horse to be
saddled. In five minutes he was off for Chapel mountain.

Chapel mountain, which the German troops had so christened from the
little church which stood on its summit, was one of a subordinate range
of hills, which traversed the country in the region where the army corps
of the South were quartered. The little church lay desolate and lonely,
half buried