m has urgent reason for wanting to rejoin his
regiment at once. What with the information he has received from the two
or three officers whom he has questioned, and the papers themselves, he
has immediate need of seeing the ex-quartermaster sergeant, Rix. But he
cannot go when there is a chance for a fight right here. Stuart may dash
in westward, and have just one lively tussle with them to cover the
crossing of his valuable plunder and prisoners below. Of course they
have not men enough to think of confronting him. Just in the midst of
all the excitement there comes an orderly with despatches and letters
from up the river, and one of them is for Putnam, from the major
commanding the regiment. It is brief enough, but exasperating. "I
greatly regret to have to report to you, in answer to your directions
with regard to Rix, that they came too late. In some utterly
unaccountable way, though we fear through collusion on part of a member
or members of the guard, Rix made his escape two nights ago, and is now
at large."

V.

To say that Paul Abbot was made very happy over his most unexpected
promotion would be putting it mildly. He hates to leave the old
regiment, but he has done hard fighting, borne several hard knocks, is
still weak and shaky from recent wounds; and to be summoned to
Washington, there to meet his proud father, and to receive his
appointment as assistant adjutant-general from the hands of the most
distinguished representative "in Congress assembled" of his
distinguished state, is something to put new life into a young soldier's
heart. Duties for him there are none at the moment: he is to get strong
and well before again taking the field, and, for the time being, he is
occupying a room at Willard's adjoining that of his father. His arm is
still in a sling; his walk is still slow and somewhat painful; he has
ordered his new uniform, and meantime has procured the staff
shoulder-straps and buttons, and put them on his sack-coat; he has had
many letters to write, and much pleasant congratulation and compliment
to acknowledge; and so the three or four days succeeding his arrival
pass rapidly by. One afternoon he returns from a drive with his father;
they have been out to visit friends in camp, and talk over home news,
and now he comes somewhat slowly up the stairs of the crowded hotel to
the quiet of the upper corridors. He smiles to himself at the increasing
ease with which he mounts the brass-bound ste