“Hanged if I believe he’s there,” said Boggs. “Oh, we’ll show you in less’n no time. Come on, boys.” Without further delay Jones began the ascent of the tree, the others following upon his heels. The smile upon the Wizard Scout’s grim visage broadened as he and Curt watched the Confederates. “There’s one apiece for us!” he whispered. “And you may have old shoulder-straps,” added Curt. “Come, why wait longer?” The four had gained the branches of the pine and were cautiously ascending toward the supposed refuge of the scout. Lieutenant Boggs and his companion were intently watching--the first the progress of his men, the other the motionless object in the top of the tree which he fancied was the hiding fugitive. As silently as shadows the scouts crept upon the unsuspecting foe. Old Fatality was unarmed, as far as weapons of war were concerned, but his long, talon-like fingers worked convulsively as if eager to clutch the throat of his victim. The butts of a pair of revolvers protruded from the belt of Cavalry Curt. In the midst of their anxious watch the Confederates felt themselves seized in grasps of iron and in spite of their futile resistance they were borne to the earth. Before either of them could cry out, a hand was placed over their mouths and a low voice whispered in their ears the single word. “Surrender!” Meanwhile the four were cautiously approaching the top of the pine wondering that their prey should keep so quiet. Then as they drew nearer and no form of man took shape among the branches they began to anticipate the hoax played upon them. “No one is there,” whispered Jones, with a breath of relief. “He must be there somewhere!” “He ain’t. He’s got away somehow.” “Impossible.” They were soon satisfied, however, that such was the case. “A pretty go!” muttered the leader. “I see now, it was him we heard in the building. Get down there lively for we may not be too late to get him yet.” They saw two men under the tree as they had left them, and did not dream they were others than Boggs and Sperry their companions, until the clear tones of Curt called out: “Hold! the tables have turned and you are Union prisoners! Move at the peril of your lives. Our rifles cover you!” Never were four men more completely surprised. However, they were fairly caught. Finding they could do no better they descended one by one to surrender themselves as prisoners of war. Lieutenant Boggs swore at a fearful rate until threatened with a gag when he relapsed into silence. When Curt had securely bound the last of the squad, the scouts resolved to march with them to the camp of McPherson. Who can blame them if they felt a bit proud of their capture, while the Confederates gnashed their teeth with rage, inwardly vowing that they would get even with their doughty captors. Leaving the scouts to reach the Northern lines with their prize in safety, we must turn to follow the fortunes of others of our actors in this drama of war.