slumbers were as sound as if he had been in his attic-chamber in the
cottage at Pinchbrook. Even the opening of the door, and the entrance of
three men with a lantern, did not disturb him. One of the party was an
officer. He wore a military cloak over the gray uniform of the
Confederate army.

"Which is the man?" demanded he in sharp tones of the two soldiers who
accompanied him.

"I don't know which he is now," replied the corporal of the guard.
"What's his name?"

"Tom Leathers," answered the officer.

The corporal then passed round among the sleeping prisoners, and roughly
kicked those who were asleep, including Somers, who sprang to his feet,
and was rather disposed to make a "row" on account of this rude
treatment, before he remembered where he was.

"Now they are all awake," said the corporal when he had been the rounds.
"Is there any such man as Tom Leathers here?"

"Tom Leathers," repeated the officer in a loud tone.

No one answered to the name; but, in a moment, Somers happened to think
that this was the appellative which he had assumed when he was a pilot
down on the creek by the James River. He was evidently the person
intended; but he was in doubt whether to answer the summons. The
antecedents of the young pilot of the James were not such as to entitle
him to much consideration at the hands of the rebels; and he was disposed
to deny his identity. While he was debating the question in his own mind,
the corporal repeated the name.

"There's no such man here," he added, turning to the officer.

"He must be here. He came up in the night train."

"He don't answer to his name."

"Hold your lantern, and let me look these prisoners in the face."

The corporal passed from one to another of the captives till he came to
Somers; thrusting the lantern into the face of each, so that the officer
could scan his features.

"What's your name?" he asked, as the corporal placed the lantern before
Somers.

Not having made up his mind as to the effect of acknowledging his
identity with the pilot, he made no reply.

"That's the man," said the officer decidedly.

"Is your name Tom Leathers?" added the corporal, as he made a
demonstration with his bayonet at the prisoner.

"Put down your musket, corporal; you needn't be a brute to your
prisoners."

"I only wanted to make him answer the question. If you give me leave,
I'll find a tongue for him."

"He is the man I want; bring him out," replied the officer.