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. All sorts of schemes entered his boy’s head to save him. Suddenly he thought of the small group of prisoners he had seen pass by about dark. He would save him! Putting on his hat, he opened the front door and walked out. A sentinel accosted him surlily to know where he was going. Bob invited him in to get warm, and soon had him engaged in conversation. “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 of the pines ’yond the crick.” The boy left his companion, and sauntered in and out among the other men in the yard. Presently he moved on to the edge of the lawn beyond them. No one took further notice of him. In a second he had slipped through the gate, and was flying across the field. He knew every foot of ground as well as a hare, for he had been hunting and setting traps over it since he was as big as little Charlie. He had to make a detour at the creek to avoid the picket, and the dense briers were very bad and painful. However, he worked his way through, though his face was severely scratched. Into the creek he plunged. “Outch!” He had stepped into a hole, and the water was as cold as ice. However, he was through, and at the top of the hill he could see the glow of the camp-fires lighting up the sky. He crept cautiously up, and saw the dark forms of the sentinels pacing backward and forward wrapped in their overcoats, now lit up by the fire, then growing black against its blazing embers, then lit up again, and passing away into the shadow. How could he ever get by them? His heart began to beat and his teeth to chatter, but he walked boldly up. “Halt! who goes there?” cried the sentry, bringing his gun down and advancing on him. Bob kept on, and the sentinel, finding that it was only a boy, looked rather sheepish. “Don’t let him capture you, Jim,” called one of them; “Call the Corporal of the Guard,” another; “Order up the reserves,” a third; and so on. Bob had to undergo something of an examination. “I know the little Johnny,” said one of them.