er his subterranean retreat.

For more than an hour, Tom nervously watched the wakeful Yankee, and
several times suggested to him that he could sleep just as well as not,
promising to wake him up if there was any danger; but Somers was most
provokingly lively for a man who had been up all the preceding night, and
resolutely refused to take a hint or to adopt a suggestion. Both of them
were fearfully anxious for the result that was pending, and each had his
plan for overreaching the other. It was a long hour; but at last Tom
broke the spell which seemed to rest on both of them by declaring that he
was "clean choked up," and must go and get a drink of water. At the same
moment, Somers heard the tramp of the soldiers in the road as they
approached the house, and understood why his companion had suddenly
become so thirsty.

"No," said Somers, placing himself between the deserter and the door,
with the revolver in his hand. "I don't want to be left alone. Somebody
is coming to the house--half a dozen men. They are soldiers!" he
exclaimed, glancing out at the window.

"Run right up chimley thar, and you'll be as safe as if you was t'other
side of the river."

"But they'll catch you too! Come, Tom, up chimney with you, and I'll
follow. If any one attempts to follow us, I'll shoot him with my pistol.
Be in a hurry, Tom! We have no time to spare," urged Somers, driving the
coward before him towards the fire-place.

"You go up fust," pleaded Tom, in mortal terror of the revolver.

"Up with you, or I'll blow your brains out!" added Somers in a low,
fierce tone, which frightened his companion half out of his wits.

"Don't fire, and I will," replied the wretch, as he stepped into the
fire-place, and commenced the ascent of the chimney.

"Up with you!" repeated Somers. "Now, if you attempt to come down, I'll
shoot you."

The voice of the farmer, leading the soldiers to their prey, was now
heard close to the house; and Somers deemed it prudent no longer to
remain in the room. Darting out into the entry, he made his way to the
cellar, closing the door behind him just as the rebels were about to
enter.

"Where is he?" demanded the sergeant, who belonged to the battery at the
works near the house.

"In this room," replied the farmer, putting his hand on the door of the
apartment where he had seen the victim lie down to sleep an hour before.
"But yer must be keerful with him. He had a pistol, and mebbe he mought
shoot some o