They made him draw up to the fire, and made quite a fuss over him. Bob had his wits about him and soon learned that a batch of prisoners were at a fire a hundred yards further back. He therefore worked his way over there, although he was advised to stay where he was and get dry, and had many offers of a bunk from his new friends, some of whom followed him over to where the prisoners were. Most of them were quartered for the night in a hut before which a guard was stationed. One or two, however, sat around the camp-fire, chatting with their guards. Among them was a major in full uniform. Bob singled him out; he was just about his father’s size. He was instantly the centre of attraction. Again he told them he was from Holly Hill; again he was recognized by one of the men. “Run away to join the army?” asked one. “No,” said Bob, his eyes flashing at the suggestion. “Lost?” “No.” “Mother whipped you?” “No.” As soon as their curiosity had somewhat subsided, Bob, who had hardly been able to contain himself, said to the Confederate major in a low undertone: “My father, Colonel Stafford, is at home, concealed, and the Yankees have taken possession of the house.” “Well?” said the major, looking down at him as if casually. “He cannot escape, and he has on citizen’s clothes, and--” Bob’s voice choked suddenly as he gazed at the major’s uniform. “Well?” The prisoner for a second looked sharply down at the boy’s earnest face. Then he put his hand under his chin, and lifting it, looked into his eyes. Bob shivered and a sob escaped him. The major placed his hand firmly on his knee. “Why, you are wringing wet,” he said, aloud. “I wonder you are not frozen to death.” He rose and stripped off his coat. “Here, get into this;” and before the boy knew it the major had bundled him into his coat, and rolled up the sleeves so that Bob could use his hands. The action attracted the attention of the rest of the group, and several of the Yankees offered to take the boy and give him dry clothes. “No, sir,” laughed the major; “this boy is a rebel. Do you think he will wear one of your Yankee suits? He’s a little major, and I’m going to give him a major’s uniform.” In a minute he had stripped off his trousers, and was helping Bob into them, standing himself in his underclothes in the icy air. The legs were three times too long for the boy, and the waist came up to his armpits. “Now go home to your mother,” said the major, laughing at his appearance; “and some of you fellows get me some clothes or a blanket. I’ll wear your Yankee uniform out of sheer necessity.”