In a moment Mrs. Stafford came out of her chamber. The old officer was walking up and down in deep thought. Suddenly, as the last soldier disappeared through the door, he turned to her: "Mrs. Stafford, be so kind as to go and tell Colonel Stafford that General Denby desires him to surrender himself." Mrs. Stafford was struck dumb. She was unable to move or to speak. "Kindly present my compliments and say he need not hurry; I shall wait for him," said the General, quietly, throwing himself into an arm-chair, and looking steadily into the fire. VII BOB SECURES A UNIFORM As his father concealed himself, Bob had left the chamber. He was in a perfect agony of mind. He knew that his father could not escape, and if he were found dressed in citizen's clothes he felt that he could have but one fate. Once the men went toward the passage that led through to the rear entry in which his father was concealed. Bob's heart stood still; but he acted quickly. He flung himself on the floor right in the entrance and began to work quietly by the dim firelight. The searchers passed by. All sorts of schemes for rescue entered his head. Suddenly he thought of a small group of prisoners he had seen pass by about dark. He had talked with one of them, a major. A guard said they were on their way to General Denby's camp. He would save him! Putting on his hat, he opened the front door and slipped out. A sentinel tramping up and down on the porch accosted him surlily to know where he was going. "Won't you come in and get warm?" said Bob, hospitably. "Can't. Wish I could. It's cold enough out here. Cold as th' State of Maine. I wish I was in old York right now by a good stove." "I wish you were, too," said Bob, with sincerity. "I'd give a mite to see that old white steeple again, and the moonlight on the snow stretching down toward the mill-pond; and hear the tide ripping in." "What do you do with your prisoners when you catch them?" inquired Bob. "Send some on to prison--and hang some." "I mean when you first catch them." "Oh, they stay in camp. We don't treat 'em bad, without they be spies. There's a batch at camp now, got in this evening--sort o' Christmas-gift." The soldier laughed as he stamped his feet to keep warm. "Where's your camp?" Bob asked. "About a mile from here, right on the road, or rather right on the hill at the edge o' the pines 'yond the crick."