Colonel Scrabble, finding his position in the vicinity of Snagtown rather uncomfortably near the Junction, where Colonel Holdfast and two other regiments were quartered, fell back about twenty miles south, beyond the Twin Mountains. The good people about Snagtown felt greatly relieved at the departure of the colonel's forces, for they had been kept in a constant state of alarm, expecting battle every day. It was the third day after the retirement of the Confederates that a single horseman, a cavalry officer, galloped down the long hill on the road leading from Snagtown to Mr. Tompkins' residence. He was a fearless looking young fellow, with blue eyes and dark brown hair, and he rode alone, though he wore the blue uniform of a Union captain. Arriving at the front gate, he swung from the saddle, handing his reins to a negro boy, and walked quickly up the front walk, meeting his father on the lawn. "Quite safe and sound, you see," he said in reply to Mr. Tompkins' eager, anxious eyes. Father and son went together to the house, and, at the sound of the well-known voice, Mrs. Tompkins, with a cry of joy, rushed from her room to clasp her son in her arms. What though he wore the hated uniform of a Union soldier? He was still her son. Irene's cheeks glowed with pleasure at sight of Abner, whom she had so long believed to be her brother. She gave him a sister's welcome, as it was. During the evening, when alone with his father, Abner related the mysterious appearance and disappearance of Yellow Steve, and his strange words. Mr. Tompkins also had something singular to relate on that subject, and for half an hour they discussed this strange individual and his possible connection with Irene's history. "He says he holds the key, which will unlock the mystery of her parentage," said Mr. Tompkins, "but how are we to get him to turn it?" Abner said he would make it one of the duties of his life to search out this mysterious stranger. "It will have to be managed carefully," said the father, "for should he be so inclined, this man, perhaps, might destroy the last trace of her parentage. My impression is that it was he who placed her, when a baby, at our door." "What could have been his motive?" asked Abner. "Motive? Any one of a thousand things might have been his motive. He might have done it with the hope of securing a reward for the recovery of the child, or he may thus have taken revenge for some real or fancied wrong, or he may have been hired by the parents." "Come, Irene," said the young officer when tea was over. "I want to look around the old place once more." They paused in the garden, where the air was sweet with the fragrance of Summer flowers, and pulsating with the evening songs of birds. "I never come out here now," said Irene. "It is so lonesome with you and Oleah so far away," and sat down upon a rustic seat.