ng himself that none of the rebel pickets were
in sight, he hastily put them on. To prevent any unpleasant suspicions,
he took the precaution to hide the gray pants he had worn, in the long
grass of the swamp, so that they need not attract the attention of any
stroller who might pass in that direction. Though we have frequently held
our hero up as a model of modesty, we are compelled to acknowledge that
he felt exceedingly well satisfied with himself on the present occasion.
He felt that he had done what, in the homely vocabulary of the boys of
Pinchbrook, might well be called "a big thing."

He had fully and successfully accomplished the arduous purposes of his
mission. He had examined the positions, and counted the forces of the
rebels. He had received very valuable information from Mr. Raynes, and
from others whom he had encountered in his walk through the enemy's
lines. He was satisfied that he should receive a warm welcome from those
who had sent him upon the perilous tour. He had earned the first bar to
his shoulder-straps, and was proud of his achievement.

The work had been done, and he was within a short distance of the Union
lines--within a short distance of the devoted Hapgood, who was patiently
but anxiously waiting to give him a soldier's reception. Above all, he
was safe; and he trembled when he thought of the perils through which he
had passed, of the consequences which must have followed the discovery of
his real character. As he thanked God for the boon of life after the
battle was over, so now he thanked Him for the signal success which had
crowned his labors in the good cause. The last article of his raiment was
put on and adjusted; he rose from the ground to walk towards the Union
lines.

"I say, Yank, you look better'n you did 'fore yer changed your clothes,"
said a voice, which struck his ear with startling distinctness.

Somers looked in the direction from which the voice came, and discovered
a villainous-looking countenance, that had just risen from the tall
swamp-grass, within a couple of rods of the spot where he stood. The man
was unmistakably a rebel--one of the most savage and implacable of rebels
at that; such a character as we read of in connection with slave-hunts in
Mississippi, or "free fights" in Arkansas. He wore a long, tangled beard;
and his hair had probably never known the use of a comb. The grayback
looked as cool and impudent as though he was perfectly assured of his
prey, an