He was proceeding along with increased confidence, when suddenly a negro voice sounded upon his ear, coming from a road which crossed the brook. A colored man was coming along, bringing with him half a dozen cavalry horses that needed watering. The fellow seemed free from care and sang "Dixie" with rare musical ability. Not having time to cross the road before the colored man arrived, the major drew back, thinking to make another detour, behind or in front of man and animals. He wished very much that he had one of the horses, but to gain one by force, he felt might lead to discovery and capture. The horses were very thirsty, and crowded for the brook in a bunch. There were several black chargers, one of white, and one of gray. As they came closer Deck could not help but notice that they were all in first-class condition, quite in contrast to many Confederate mounts he had seen. "Ceph! By all that's wonderful!" The words burst from the major's lips ere he had time to realize the injudiciousness of his remarks. He had caught sight of his own precious animal, Ceph, who had been stolen from him while he was up in a tree at the battle between the rocky defile and the swamp in Alabama. For the moment he could scarcely credit his eyesight. But if he wanted extra proof that it was really Ceph he was gazing upon, the noble steed furnished it himself. At the sound of Deck's voice he pricked up his ears and raised his head. Then he left the bunch of horses and rushed straight for the young major and rubbed his soft nose affectionately upon Deck's neck. "Good, faithful old Ceph!" Deck could not help saying. "Where in the world have you been? Oh, how I have missed you! They shan't take you again, not if I can help it!" And he leaped into the saddle. "Wha--what do dis mean, massa?" stammered the negro. "What right hab you-un to dat hoss?" "Every right in the world, Sambo," answered Deck. "The horse belongs to me, don't you, Ceph?" For answer Ceph gave a low snort of satisfaction. "Belong to yo'? I fink dat's a mistake, massa. Dat am Captain Loring's hoss, fo' suah," and the colored man shook his head decidedly. Then as he came close enough to note what uniform Deck was wearing, he gave a gasp of horror. "Fo' pity sake, massa, is you-un a--a Yankee?" "Yes, I am, Sambo, and I want you to keep your mouth shut about this," replied Deck, sternly. "The horse is mine and always was mine, and I am going to ride off on him. If you make any outcry I will shoot you." "Don't go fo' to do dat, massa orsifer!" came with a shiver. "I won't say a single word, 'deed I won't. But--but who's to take the 'sponsibility when Captain Loring find dat hoss ain't heah no mo'?" "You'll be telling the truth when you say he got away from you, Sambo,--for he did get away just now. Is this the way to Hall's Ford?" "No, massa; dat's de way to Lee and Gordon's Mill."