guard-house at last, and I must confess that I breathed more freely. If he was the only rebel who knew me, there was now no danger of running into a trap laid for my capture. My first hard work must be to attempt Sam's release. I knew it would be worse than useless to return to the rebel camp that night, for it had been aroused, and my own chances of escape would be none of the surest; so I let two days pass before setting out, and then I did not follow my usual course, but took a roundabout way to get behind their camp, where I would not run so much risk of meeting the pickets. "I reached the lines in safety, and as I was riding along by the side of the road, keeping my horse on the grass, to make as little noise as possible, I heard horsemen approaching, and presently up galloped a party of rebels. I thought they would pass without discovering me, but was mistaken, for one of them drew in his horse and exclaimed-- "'Wal, ef here an't another,' and I was speedily surrounded, and commanded to 'hand over my we'pons.' "'Look here, boys,' said I, 'I've got a pass,' and I made a motion to produce it. "'Oh, we don't want to see your pass,' said the corporal who had charge of the squad; 'we've seed a dozen to-night that wasn't no 'count. You must go to the guard-house, 'cause you know it's the general's orders that nobody goes out o' camp.' "This showed me that I was not suspected of being a Federal, but was arrested as one of their own men who was endeavoring to get out of the lines. "'I know it's mighty hard,' continued the corporal, 'not to let a feller go home, when p'rhaps it an't five miles off; but orders is orders, you know. Howsomever, you wont hev no trouble to get out o' the guard-house, 'cause--by gum! ef here an't some more,' and, as he spoke, he left me, and rode up to three men who were crouching in the fence-corner by the roadside. These were speedily secured, and we went on our way toward the guard-house. The rebel army, it appeared, was encamped in a part of the country where a number of regiments had been raised, and the men, anxious to see home and friends once more, were deserting by hundreds--'taking French,' as we call it. As we rode along, I learned something, from the conversation of my captors, that made me wish I had never taken Bob Cole prisoner, and that was, that Sam had died from the effects of the wound he had received while resisting the rebel. This was, perhaps, better than being hung, but how I wished I had known it before taking the spy to camp. I had put myself in danger without being able to be of any assistance to Sam, and I now set my wits to work to conjure up some plan for escape.