"Can you swim across this stream?" "Perhaps I can." "I am going to give you an opportunity to try. Wade out ahead of me, and toward that point where three trees appear to shoot from one trunk," directed the spy, with a wave of his unoccupied hand forward. "So you expect to take me along with you," said Deck, steadily. "I may flatly refuse." "If you refuse, you'll never tell anybody, Major, for I will take your life where you stand," answered the spy, as coolly as though he was speaking of the weather or some equally commonplace topic. The young major did not doubt but that he would keep his word. The fellow evidently knew his business, and in coming into the Union camp he had taken his life into his hands. Probably he had before this shed human life in the same cold-blooded manner. To him the game of war was a science, and the end justified any means. "Do you think I will make a valuable prisoner?" "I see you are bound to ask questions. I am equally determined not to answer them. Will you swim or not?" "I will swim," answered Deck, but his heart sank as he uttered the words. Oh, if only Artie was at hand to put a bullet through this enemy's head. He wanted to look back, but that steady gaze from the spy's keen black eyes deterred him. In two minutes the little cove was left behind, and Unionist and Confederate found themselves breasting the swiftly flowing waters of Chickamauga Creek. Evidently the spy knew the creek well, for hardly had they covered ten yards of the distance than Deck's feet struck on a sand bar, and he found himself wading along in water not above his waist. "Take my advice and keep down as low as possible," said the spy, keeping in his rear. "A head in this creek to-day is like a head at Donnybrook Fair, anybody will hit it if it is possible to do so." "I believe you there," answered Deck, and moved along with just his mouth above the surface. "It's mighty slippery walking," he continued. "Which means that you will slip and escape if you can, Major. Don't try it, for it will be your corpse that floats to yonder falls," was the reply, which made Deck's flesh creep. The spy was certainly the most cold-blooded fellow for such a proceeding he had ever encountered. Deck wanted to look back, and as a slight splash announced that his follower had taken a misstep, he did so, taking in the shore at one searching glance. Nobody appeared within his range of vision, and again his heart went down into his boots. Evidently he was booked for a Confederate prison as fast as the spy could get him there. About three-quarters of the distance to the opposite shore was passed, and Deck was losing all hope, when a distant pistol shot rang out, coming from behind them. Artie had discovered two heads and an arm bobbing above water, and his field-glasses had apprised him of the true situation. He had fired on the spy, but the bullet flew several inches wide of its mark.