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The aide-de-camp laughed like a rustic and vanished. "Smith," said the Major, "your eyes are--"

"Yess, sir, you are!" I retorted. "Move to that wagon! And if you take one step out of common time you'll never take another."

"No," he said, but Ned Ferry had lately restored to him, by proxy, some lost letters, with an invitation to come and see him.

"I'm enjoying one advantage," she replied, "which you do not."

I turned upon her choking with anger, but her melting beauty rendered me helpless. Black woods were on our left. "Shall we turn in here?" I asked.

"Gone to the Yankees at Fayette!" I moaned, and hurried back to my horse. To attempt to overtake one within those few miles would only make failure complete, and I scurried once more into the north with such a burden of alarm and anguish as I had never before known.

My problem was indeed simplified. The despatch had been stolen, opened, read, re-sealed and returned. All I now had to do was to lie here till daybreak and then get away if I could, deliver the despatch to Ned Ferry, and tell him--ah! what?--how much? Oh, my bemired soul, how much must I tell? My shame I might bear; I might wash it out in blood at the battle's front; but my perfidy! how much was it perfidy to withhold; how much was it perfidy to confess?

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