The blast of the bugle called the men together, and the roll was soon called. "Now," said Captain Wardle, who had been holding a conversation with Captain Gunn, "I think you are hungry--" "You bet we are, Capen," put in a red-faced private. "Shet up, sir, or I'll have you court-martialed and shot for contempt." All became silent; the men looked grave and appeared willing to learn from the old, time-honored soldier, Captain Wardle. "We haven't got enough in camp to feed more than about twenty-five men, so the rest o' ye will have to forage. Go in gangs of ten or fifteen and hunt your breakfast where yer can. The people all around here are secesh, and it will be a good thing to make them feed Union soldiers once in a while." This announcement was received with applause, and the troops commenced dividing into small squads, the uniformed mixing promiscuously with the ununiformed, and waiting only for instructions where to join the main force, which now, consisting of twenty-five men and the prisoners, mounted their horses and rode off. The eastern sun, like a blazing ball, was rising higher and higher in the sky as twelve men, among whom were Corporal Grimm and Sergeant Swords, galloped down a wooded road, keeping a sharp lookout for "bushwhackers." Six of these men wore the uniform and carried the arms of the United States Infantry, and six were dressed in citizens' attire and armed with rifles or double-barreled shot-guns. All rode at a furious pace, splashing through the mud and frightening the birds in the woods on either side. A boy was riding down the road in the opposite direction. He was mounted on a thin, slow-moving mare, of an indistinct color, which might have been taken for a bay, yellow or sorrel. The boy was barefooted, had on a straw hat, rode on a folded sheepskin instead of a saddle, held an empty bag before him, and certainly did not look very warlike. "Halt!" cried Sergeant Swords, drawing an old, rusty sword from its sheath and waving it in the air. "Halt!" cried Corporal Grimm, drawing a many-barreled pistol, commonly known as a pepper-box, which he flourished in a threatening manner. "Halt!" again cried both, "or we will fire." The boy, being overawed by numbers, felt constrained to pull up the thin mare. "Advance and give the countersign!" said Corporal Grimm. "Shet up, Grimm! I command this squad," said Sergeant Swords. Grimm chewed his pigtail in silence. In the meantime the boy seemed undecided whether to fly or to stand his ground, though his face betrayed a strong inclination in favor of the former proposition. "Who comes there?" said Sergeant Swords, bringing his rusty sword to a salute. "Who are ye talkin' to?" asked the boy, looking around to see if he could possibly be addressing any one else. "I am talkin' to you, sir," said the Sergeant, sharply. "What d'ye want?" asked the boy. "Who comes there, I said?" answered the Sergeant more sharply. "Me." "Advance, then." "Do what?" "Come here."