“I told you yesterday he was here only on a friendly visit.” “Jacks thinks he is a spy.” “Jacks is too forward entirely in his thinking. Take my word for it, men, there are no spies as yet around Lee Run. The time is not yet ripe for that sort of thing.” “Where’s the boy?” “He has left.” “Gone away!” came in a chorus. “Yes.” “Gone away for good?” demanded Jacks, sourly. “Yes; he left for his home in Pennsylvania directly after breakfast, fearing his folks would grow anxious about him.” The face of the leader of the mountaineers fell. He had not forgotten the blow Louis had given him across the face and he was longing, with the aid of his followers, to “square accounts.” “Which way did he go?” “Went on horseback,” put in Andy, before his father could speak. He understood very well that Jacks wanted to know what road had been taken, but purposely pretended to misunderstand the fellow. “There is no use in trying to catch him--now.” said Mr. Arlington, taking up the cue. “He has gone, and as he is a perfectly innocent young fellow I trust he reaches home in safety. Come, Grace, come, wife,” and he turned into the house, and Andy followed. From the parlor windows they saw Jacks and his men consult together for several minutes and then ride slowly away. “It’s a good thing they didn’t get here half an hour ago,” said Andy, with a sigh of relief, in which Grace readily joined. “Even if we had prevented them from getting at Louis here they would have waylaid him when he did start off. They are fooled now--and serves ’em right.” But were Jacks and his men fooled? Let us wait and see. CHAPTER III A DISCOVERY AND A SURPRISE As Andy Arlington--whose full name, by the way, was, Andrew Jackson Arlington--had said, the trouble between the Northern and the Southern States had been brewing for a long time, and the gathering trouble had brought to the surface many men upon both sides, who were hot-tempered and hasty and the last persons in the world to settle a difficulty of this sort, although in many cases these men thought they were the very persons to settle the difficulty. In the North these ill-advised persons gathered on the street corners and elsewhere, shouting to liberate the slaves and demanding that war be declared, that they might go south and in a few short weeks put to an end forever the rebel boasting. They were perfectly certain that no war could last more than two or three months at the most, and were equally certain that they could “lick the rebs out of their boots!” When the war with all of its horrors did come these ranting fellows were, in nine cases out of ten, scared out of their wits, and the bloody battle of Bull Run was a nightmare from which they never recovered.