oldiers, when he was dying of his wounds."

"Did ye?"

"Now will you be kind enough to tell me where I am?"

"You are inside the lines of our army, about three miles below
Centreville," replied one of the pickets.

"What time is it?"

"Nigh upon nine o'clock, I should say. One of you fellers must take this
prisoner to headquarters," he continued, speaking to his companions.

Tom was very agreeably surprised to find that his captors did not propose
to hang, shoot, or bayonet him; and the Southern Confederacy rose a few
degrees in his estimation. Certainly the men who had taken him were not
fiends, and he began to hope that his situation as a prisoner would not be
so terrible as his fancy had pictured it.

One of the men was deputed to conduct him to the officer of the guard; and
he walked along by the side of the soldier through the woods, in the
direction from which he had just come.

"Can you tell me how the battle went at last?" asked Tom, as they pursued
their way through the forest.

"We whipped you all to pieces. Your army hasn't done running yet. We shall
take Washington to-morrow, and Jeff Davis will be in the White House
before the week is out."

"Have you taken many prisoners?" asked Tom, who could not dispute the
position of the rebel soldier.

"About fifty thousand, I b'lieve," replied Secesh, with refreshing
confidence.

Tom indulged in a low whistle, but his companion could not tell whether it
was an expression of regret or incredulity. If they had stood on an
equality, Tom would probably have suggested that the figures should be
interpreted "over the left"--an idiosyncrasy in language which he had
imported from Pinchbrook, but which may not be wholly unintelligible to
our young readers.

From his conductor he obtained some particulars of the battle and its
result, which were afterwards more fully set forth in General Beauregard's
official report, and which would have read better on the pages of Sinbad
the Sailor than in the folios of a military despatch. But the Secesh
soldier's "facts and figures" were comforting to Tom, who still had a
stronger interest in the condition of the good cause, after the heavy blow
it had received, than he had in his own individual welfare. Like too heavy
a dose of poison, the magnitude of the stories refuted and defeated them.
The soldier boy listened in respectful silence, but he was utterly
incredulous. It was even possible that the Union army had won a vict