came back to me the haunting memory that he had joined
Delavan as a volunteer--the Dragoon uniform sufficient proof that he was
neither of the original foraging party of Hessians, nor of Grant's
detachment of Rangers. Yet these others wore the green and white, and
must, therefore, have been in Grant's command. How did the four manage to
escape from our attack, evidently animated by one purpose? Why was Grant
so anxious to learn if I had seen the lieutenant, and whether we had a
party out seeking him? Not one of these questions could I answer; not one
could I even guess at with any degree of satisfaction.

We were coming out of the low, swamp lands into a more thickly settled,
and cultivated region. Rail and stone fences could be seen on either side
the road, and we passed swiftly by a number of farmhouses, some simple
log structures, although one or two were more pretentious. In only one of
these did a light shine, or any semblance of occupancy appear. Through
the undraped window of a cottage I caught the glimpse of a woman bending
over a cradle. At the sound of our horses' hoofs she glanced up, a
frightened look in her face, but her eyes quickly returned to what must
have been a sick child. It was like a picture thrown on a screen, and the
next instant we were galloping on through the dark, with only the memory
of it.

It may have been two miles further along, when the lieutenant, and his
Indian companion, wheeled suddenly to the right, and, without slackening
speed, rode through an open gate, and up a gravelled roadway, circling
through a grove of trees to the front door of a great square mansion. It
was dark and silent, a wide porch in front supported by huge pillars, a
broad flight of steps leading from the driveway. The Indian ran up these,
leaving the lieutenant holding his horse, while we drew up some yards to
the rear. I heard the boom of the iron knocker, followed by a gleam of
light through a lower window. Then a negro's voice spoke, and the front
door opened, disclosing two figures, one with sputtering candle in hand.
The two exchanged a dozen words before the lieutenant asked impatiently:

"Is it all right, Tonepah?"

The taciturn Indian made no attempt at speech, but gave an expressive
gesture, and the young officer turned in his saddle.

"Take the prisoner to the lower room, Peter," he ordered curtly. "I'll
decide to-morrow if he can be of any use to us."

The two fellows loosened the rope about my an