e on the tree beyond the stream.

Deck did not deem it best to descend to the ground immediately. He
moved first to the main trunk of the willow, and then to the ends of the
limbs spreading toward the island's interior. Here there was a ridge,
surmounted by some short but heavy brush, and behind the ridge was
something of a hollow, although the surface was not below that of the
stream.

The first thing that caught Deck's eye now was a barrel, rolled against
the brush. Half a dozen boxes lay close by, and several barrels were
behind them. Back of all was another line of brush, but he felt that
more boxes and barrels were not far off.

"Some quartermaster's stores," he thought. "And if I am not mistaken,
two of those boxes are from the hospital department. Evidently the enemy
think they have a sure thing of it in this vicinity. Well, the
Riverlawns will surprise them, I reckon."

No one had been in sight, but now Deck detected the gleam of a gun
barrel but a few yards distant. The Confederate sharpshooter lay flat on
his chest, peering through the bottom of some brush.

"By the boots, but thet's a good shot!" Deck heard him mutter; and he
saw the fellow draw up his gun and take a careful aim at something.

Deck felt that he was firing at one of his own sharpshooters, and
without hesitation the major drew his own pistol.

"Don't fire!" he commanded, in a clear, but low voice.

"What's thet?" demanded the Confederate, thinking one of his comrades
had spoken to him.

"I said, 'don't fire,'" replied Deck, taking care to keep out of sight.

"Who is thet talkin' to me?" And now the sharpshooter turned half
around. "I had a dandy shot."

"The cap'n's orders are not to fire, but to retreat to the other side of
the creek," went on Deck. "Pass the order along;" and he spoke in a
rough voice, and one apparently filled with disgust.

"Well, I swan!" came from the Confederate sharpshooter. "It was a dandy
chance to bring down a man."

"I had a dandy chance myself just now," answered Deck. He felt that his
position was a delicate one, and he kept his finger on the trigger of
his pistol.

"Are you going to retreat, too?"

"No; the cap'n says I'm to stay on guard here."

"Then he don't want me no more?"

"No. You are to go back--and don't forget to pass the word along. We're
running the chance of being surrounded, I've heard."

At this the Confederate sharpshooter muttered something Deck did not
catch. But he arose