"What!" exclaimed Frank, "you don't pretend to say that a Federal soldier was mean enough to inform against me?" "Yes, I do; and there he stands now." And, as Cabot spoke, he pointed to a tall, hard-featured man standing by the window, looking out into the street. "I slept at the head of the stairs last night, and distinctly heard him tell the guards that you were intending to leave. His name is Bishop, and he belongs to the Thirtieth Maine Regiment. He has for some time past been trying to be allowed to take the oath of allegiance to the South." [Footnote: A fact.] "What will he do then?" inquired Frank; "go into the rebel army?" "No, but he could be employed here in the arsenal, making bullets to kill our own men with." "The scoundrel!" exclaimed Frank, indignantly; "I didn't suppose there was a man from my own State who could be guilty of such meanness." "He is mean enough for any thing. Haven't you noticed that every night he comes around through our quarters with a candle?" "Yes; but I don't know what he does it for." "Well, he counts us every night before he goes to sleep, and, in fact, comes through our room two or three times in the night, to see that none of us have escaped. He hopes in that manner to gain favor with the rebels. I have told you this, in order that you may look out for him the next time you try to escape." Frank was astounded at this intelligence, and, at first, he did not believe it. But that evening, about nine o'clock, Bishop came in, as usual, with his candle, and Frank inquired: "What made you tell the guard that I was going to escape last night?" The question was asked so suddenly--and in a manner which showed Bishop that Frank was well acquainted with his treachery--that he dared not deny the charge, and he answered: "Because, when any of our boys escape, the guards are awful hard on those of us that are left." "That's no excuse at all," answered Frank. "If you were a man, you would have endeavored to escape long ago, instead of staying here and trying to make friends with the enemies of your country. You're a black-hearted scoundrel and traitor! and I tell you, once for all, that if you ever come into my quarters again after dark, you'll never go out alive. We all know about your operations here." Bishop made no reply, but turned to walk on, when Frank rose to his feet, and exclaimed: "Hold on, here! you are not going through this room with that candle. Go back instantly where you belong, and don't show your face in here again." Bishop saw that Frank was in earnest, and, without saying a word, he turned and walked into his quarters.