nervous man,
was wrapped in a long cavalry cape. It was his voice speaking, a rather
peculiar voice, as though he possessed some slight impediment of speech.

"Do not look at it in that way, General," he protested earnestly. "I am
not opposing your plan, but merely urging the extreme peril of the
undertaking--"

"Human life cannot be considered at such a time, Hardy," broke in the
other warmly. "The cause for which we battle, the duty confronting us,
outweighs all else. A life may be sacrificed, but that single life may
save thousands."

"True; very true. I am sufficiently a soldier to realize that. Yet what
you propose seems an impossibility. Two aides have endeavored this
service already, and failed, their lives forfeited. Others stand ready
to go the moment the word is spoken, but what possibility is there of
success, that any volunteer could get through alive?"

"Practically none," admitted the other, his deep voice more grave.
"There is only one in whom I feel the slightest hope, Hardy; that is why
I have sent for you. I naturally hesitate to say so, but I believe the
moment has now come which demands this sacrifice. You recall the offer
of service made us last night, Major?"

The man addressed took a single step backward, one hand flung up, as
though warding off a blow.

"You--" he stammered, "can you mean Billie?"

"Yes; the South can have no more urgent need than now. These despatches
must reach Beauregard, and I must have the report from Carroll. If the
latter is not already in Beauregard's possession, then it must be sought
even in the enemy's camp. Every hour of delay adds to our danger. If
Carroll is dead I must know it; if he has gained the information he was
sent after, then I must have it. I can stand this waiting no
longer--there is too much at stake. As you say two men have already
fallen endeavoring to pierce the lines, and I doubt if there is a
soldier in my command who could succeed. Billie might have a chance, and
I know no one else who would--do you? I sent for you to gain your
consent, and I ask it, Major, in the name of the South."

The taller man remained silent, his hands clasped, and head sunk on his
breast. Finally he glanced up into the face of the other, with shoulders
thrown back.

"No Hardy ever yet failed in duty," he said sternly, "nor will one now.
Where are the papers?"

"In my tent, but the bearer will be safer not to come here for them.
Even my orderly may be a spy. An