Beauregard, and
was in the camp of General Mitchell only a few days ago, disguised as a
trader. There he saw this fellow--the one with the brown beard--and he
swears there's no mistake. But he didn't tell us in time--the three
disappeared. No; there's mischief of some sort brewing here, and I intend
to stop it, if my name's Hare. We don't want any spies around here."

"Spies!" exclaimed the woman. "Then if they are caught within our lines
they will be shot!" It seemed as if she shuddered as she spoke.

"Or hanged," added the farmer, with an unpleasant laugh.

"Let them go," whispered Mrs. Hare, pleadingly. "I'm just as good a
Confederate as you are, Jake, but don't let us have the blood of these
fellows on our hands. That nice little chap with the dog--I would as soon
see my own son get into trouble, if I was lucky enough to have one, as
that bright-eyed boy. Turn 'em out of the house, Jake, if you suspect
them--tell them to go about their business--but don't set a trap for
them." Her voice became almost plaintive. It was evident that the
strangers had made a favorable impression upon Mrs. Hare, and that her
woman's feelings revolted at the idea of betraying them, even though they
were the secret enemies of her cause. "I hate war, anyway," she added. "It
sets friend against friend, brother against brother, father against son,
state against state. All this trouble between the North and South might
have been fixed up without fighting, if there'd been a little more
patience on both sides."

"Don't preach," muttered Hare. "There ain't time for it. Where's Uncle
Daniel?"

The listening George did not know that "Uncle Daniel" was the black
farm-hand who helped Hare, but, from the name, he felt sure that a slave
was meant.

"Uncle Daniel is out in the barn, I reckon," answered the wife. "What do
you want him for?"

"Wait and see," rejoined her husband, gruffly. With that enigmatical reply
he opened a door leading to the barn, stalked out, and disappeared. There
was a half-stifled cry from Mrs. Hare, but she apparently made no effort
to detain him. "The Vigilants! Oh! the Vigilants!" she repeated, in
accents of distress.

"The sooner we get out of this the better for our necks," thought George.
He had no sense of fear; he was only filled with one consuming idea. He
must get word to his two companions, and at once. Just what Hare
contemplated in the way of a trap he could not tell, yet it was evident
that the sooner Wa