Poor George! Every idea seemed to have left him in his sudden confusion; he was only conscious that the Confederate officer continued to regard him in the same intent manner. "I say," repeated the latter, "is your home in Ohio?" "Yes, Cincinnati, Ohio," said the boy boldly. "After all," as he thought, "I had better put a frank face on this stupidity of mine; a stammering answer will only make this fellow the more suspicious." "So then you're a Northerner, are you, my son?" observed the Captain. "I thought you spoke with a bit of a Yankee accent!" "Yes, I'm a Northerner," answered George. As he felt himself plunging deeper and deeper into hot water he was trying to devise some plausible story to tell the officer. But how to invent one while he was being subjected to that close scrutiny. One thing, at least, was certain. Once he had admitted that his home was in Ohio he could not make any use of the oft repeated Kentucky yarn. "And what are you doing down here?" asked the Captain. He spoke very quietly, but there was an inflection in his voice which seemed to say: "Give a good account of yourself--for your presence in this part of the country is curious, if nothing more." George understood that he must think quickly, and decide on some plan of action to cover up, if he could, any bad results from his blunder. He was once more cool, and he returned the piercing look of the officer with steadfast eyes. His mind was clear as to one thing. There was no need of his trying to invent a story, on the spur of the moment, with a man like the Captain quite ready to pick it to pieces. For it was plain that this Confederate was shrewd--and a trifle suspicious. The boy must pursue a different course. "My being down South is my own concern," he said, pretending to be virtuously offended at the curiosity of his inquisitor. The Captain drew himself up with an injured air. "Heigh ho!" he muttered; "my young infant wants me to mind my own business, eh?" George flushed; he considered himself very much of a man, and he did not relish being called an "infant." But he kept his temper; he foresaw that everything depended upon his remaining cool. He treated the remark with contemptuous silence. The officer turned away from him, to look out of the window of the car. Yet it was evident that he paid little or no attention to the rapidly moving landscape. He was thinking hard. Not a word was spoken between the two for ten minutes. Most of the other passengers were talking excitedly among themselves. Occasionally a remark could be understood above the rattle of the train. George heard enough to know they were discussing the battle of Shiloh, which had been fought so recently. "I tell you," cried a soldier, "the battle was a great Confederate victory." "That may be," answered some one, "but if we have many more such victories we Southerners will have a lost cause on our hands, and Abe Lincoln will be eating his supper in Richmond before many months are gone."