“There you are,” declared the commander, handing her two slips of paper; “good-evening.” Glad to get away so easy, she passed out of the tent. Johnston, now familiar with the enemy’s plans, immediately held a council with some of his subordinate officers. Leaving him to prepare for a meeting with McPherson at Reseca we will follow the fortunes of Mara Morland. The uppermost thought in her mind now was to rescue Cavalry Curt. No one knew better than she the peril of the undertaking, and a less brave heart would have shrunk from the attempt. But one course seemed open to her and she resolved to carry it out. It was too early in the night, however, for the work to be begun so she sauntered toward her brother’s tent, watchful of all that was transpiring around her. Passing one of the camp-fires she heard loud voices, and coupled with other names she fancied she heard her own. Advancing in a listless manner she got within hearing without attracting attention. The party was composed of a portion of Captain Dermot’s scouting squad. She saw Lieutenant Logan, easily distinguished by his long, flaxen hair among them. He was speaking. She held her breath at the sound of his voice. “Yes, she is true grit every time. I admired her spunk and I didn’t like her course of action.” “Think she is spoony on the Yank?” “Looks like it. But I tell you those Morlands are going to get into trouble, if they ain’t already, over that spy. The captain’s course this afternoon was shameful.” “S’pose they’ll shoot the spy in the morning?” “Of course; and I should like the job. Reckon they wouldn’t find me a Freemason--ha--ho! That’s the best joke I have heard lately.” “Is it true the colonel has sent a man up to old Morland’s?” “Yes; he smells a rat somewhere. Leastways the major does, and he has put him up to it.” “By the way, the captain fills his new rank well.” Hearing nothing more of interest to her, Mara finally turned away to seek Captain Morland’s tent. CHAPTER X. THE WIZARD SCOUT. As Mara came in sight of her brother’s tent she saw some one pacing slowly back and forth before its entrance. Advancing boldly she drew nearer until he turned at the sound of her approach and pausing in his beat coolly faced her. His long, flowing hair and beard was white with the frosts of many years. His tall form, however, gave no indication of the weight of years that it bore. His eyes, too, retained all the fire of youth. Ay, from out of their depths flashed at times the light which told plainly of the slumbering flame of insanity. “I knew you would come here,” he said, calmly. “But--I do not know you,” exclaimed Mara in alarm, glancing toward a group of soldiers just beyond. “Nor need you marvel at that,” replied the stranger, lowly. “I know every man in the Confederate army, but no one knows me! Nor would they recognize me if they did. The tent is vacated now; come in.” She might do worse than to obey.