“Stop him, Hogwell!” roared Jacks, and as he spoke another form loomed up before the young soldier. The man was the same who had assisted at making him a prisoner at the old mill, before the opening of the war. Hogwell had been in hiding with Sam Jacks for several hours, their intention being to see what they could steal after the battle should come to an end. Unfortunately, throughout the war both sides were afflicted with such terrible criminals, who had no respect for either dead or dying, their sole object being plunder. “Who is it?” queried Hogwell, as he blocked Louis’s passage. “Can’t yer see--it’s the rat we had the trouble with up near Deems,” growled Jacks. “Stop him. I allers calkerlated ter git squar with him.” Hogwell grabbed Louis by the collar. Had the young soldier had his gun with him he would have either fired or used the bayonet. But the weapon had been lost at the first moment of Sam Jacks’s attack and now he had only his hands. “Let go!” he commanded, and hauling back, he hit Hogwell squarely in the lower jaw. It was a heavy blow, delivered with all of Louis’s youthful strength and determination, and Hogwell went back as though struck with a club. Ere he could recover the young Union soldier was past him and speeding up the gully side with the speed of lightning. “Stop, or I’ll fire!” he heard Hogwell yell, a moment later. But he kept on. Then came the report of the mountaineer’s long pistol and a bullet whizzed close to his head. Soon the shelter of the trees took him out of range. The tussle in the gully had somewhat upset Louis’s mind, and when he started in search of the turnpike again he turned in exactly the opposite direction to that which he should have taken. On and on he went, through the brush and over trunks of decaying trees. More than once he stumbled, but picked himself up hastily and continued on his way, until suddenly he found himself ascending a hill where the thickness of the trees made further progress almost impossible. “I’ve made a mistake,” he thought, much dismayed. “There is no road in this direction.” Forced to halt, he listened intently. From several points around him came the distant sounds of musketry and occasionally the booming of a cannon. But to locate any of the sounds in particular was impossible. Indeed, the firing of the day had half deafened him. “I’m in a pickle, with all the others gone,” he thought, dismally. “Even if I do find the road I’ll not know where to look for our company. However, I won’t be any worse off than lots more of our poor fellows. If only I can get among friends somebody in command will set me right. Perhaps this defeat will only be temporary.”