themselves confederate soldiers, are still pursuing me.
Under these circumstances I have thought it best to appeal to you,
relying upon your honor as a gentleman and an officer."

"But how came you here? Who brought in this fellow?"

Nobody could answer that question, although the leader of the party that
had brought him in was at the very moment on the spot, waiting to make
his report of Stackridge's arrest.

As soon, therefore, as Penn could gain a hearing, he continued.

"I came in, sir, with a crowd of soldiers and prisoners, none of whom
recognized me. The sentinels no doubt supposed I was arrested, and so
let me pass."

"Well, sir, you have done a bold thing, and perhaps the best thing for
you. Since you have voluntarily delivered yourself up, I shall feel
bound to protect you. But I have only one of two alternatives to offer
you--the same I offer to each of these worthy gentlemen here, giving
them their choice. Take the oath of allegiance to the confederate
government, and volunteer; that is one condition."

"I am a northern man," replied Penn, "and owe allegiance to the United
States; so that condition it is impossible for me to accept."

"Very well; I'll give you time to think of it. In the mean while, my
only means of affording the protection you demand will be to retain you
a prisoner. Guard, take this man below."

Not another word was said; and, indeed, Penn had already gained more
than he hoped for, with the eyes of Lieutenant Ropes glaring on him so
murderously. He was conducted to a stairway that led to the cellar, and
ordered to descend. He obeyed, marching down between two soldiers on
guard at the door, and two more at the foot of the stairs.

It was a lugubrious subterranean apartment, lighted by a single lantern
suspended from a beam. By its dim rays he discovered the figures of half
a dozen fellow-prisoners; and, in the midst of the group, he recognized
one, the sight of whom caused him to forget all his own misfortunes in
an instant.

"My dear Mr. Villars! I have found you at last!" he exclaimed, grasping
the old clergyman's hand.

"Penn, is it you?" said the blind old man.

He was seated on a dry goods box. Trembling and feeble, he arose to
greet his young friend, with a noble courtesy very beautiful and
touching under the circumstances.

"I cannot tell thee," said Penn, in a choked voice, "how grieved I am to
see thee here!"

"And grieved am I that you should see me here!" Mr. Vil