"Because he came here as a spy, and dad could not overlook that fact even if he is his son. Dad must regard Frank as a Federal, Jeanne. He is bound to as a Confederate officer." "But you are not bound. Surely you are not going to let your brother die without trying to save him?" "Dad will never forgive me," said Bob weakly. "And yet I can't let Frank die." "Of course not," answered Jeanne. "Now, Bob, let's think hard. Maybe between us we can get some plan." But the time passed, and darkness found them still with no plan matured. "We will save our rations," said Bob as their supper was handed in to them. "Frank ought to have them to take with him if he succeeds in escaping. If he doesn't we won't care to eat." So they carefully put up the food into a small package, and again fell to discussing ways and means for the escape of Lieutenant Peyton. "Bob," exclaimed Jeanne presently, "do you know that I have not heard the guard patrol our tent for a long time?" Bob listened intently, and then sprang to her feet. "It's true," she exclaimed excitedly. "I wonder what the reason is?" They ran to the door of the tent and peered out cautiously. There seemed to be a commotion of some kind in camp. Men were hurrying to and fro; bayonets rattled, and the subdued murmur of many voices plainly told that an unusual movement was on foot. The girls looked on breathlessly and presently they heard the order given for the men to fall in line. Then "Forward, March!" came the command and the ranks filed out of the camp on the double quick, the Colonel at their head. "Something's up," said Bob with conviction. "Let's go down to where the prisoners are, Jeanne, and see how the land lies. Then maybe we will know what to do." Silently Jeanne signified her assent and the two stole quietly through the long rows of tents to where the prisoners were. "There is but one guard," whispered Bob in delight. "See, Jeanne! Frank lies the closest to the fire. He is bound too, hand and foot." "I see," whispered Jeanne. "Let's get closer, Bob." Cautiously they approached nearer to the men. Presently Jeanne uttered an exclamation and stopped stock still. "What is it?" asked Bob quickly. "Did you hurt yourself?" "Bob," whispered Jeanne in great agitation, "do you see that young fellow just beyond Frank? The one with the yellow hair, I mean." "Yes, Jeanne. Why?" "That is my brother Dick. They shan't have Dick, Bob. Not if I had to face the whole Confederate army myself." "Jeanne, is it truly Dick? Aren't you mistaken? Maybe it's only some one who looks like him." "It's Dick," said Jeanne positively. "Watch him. He will know my voice." Regardless of caution she began singing softly the then popular melody: