Dorothea found in this much food for thought. For one thing she felt certain that Val Tracy’s natural suspicion would fall upon the man who was thought to have escaped from Andersonville and to be in the neighborhood of the May house, if not actually in it. If he had not seen them the night before with young Stanchfield, this would be his natural conclusion. And, if he had seen them, there was only one interpretation to put upon his inaction. Val, himself, had helped the man to escape, furnishing him with a good horse for that purpose. This brought the question, “Why should he have done such a thing?” To Dorothea’s thinking there was only one explanation. Val Tracy was the mysterious Red String. That would make clear much that had puzzled her. She had previously taken for granted that this unknown person was a woman because Stanchfield had evidently thought so. Now she wondered where Tracy wore his tell-tale badge and determined to look for it at the first opportunity. She would have liked to have a talk with Miss Imogene, but Lucy opened the door with her breakfast tray and put an end to her reflections. After breakfast she and Harriot went down stairs together, and as they descended the sounds of impatient horses and of men stamping about the gallery jingling their spurs and accouterments drew them to the front door. Lieutenant Tracy and his troop were back again, but evidently preparing to leave at once, and the sight of them put another alarming thought into Dorothea’s mind. Suppose, after all, she was mistaken and that instead of Tracy’s helping Stanchfield he was then and there preparing to hunt him down? This suggestion brought a sharp catch at her heart. Tracy himself seemed in anything but a good humor and greeted the two with a gruff “good morning.” “Where are you off to?” Harriot inquired innocently. “Hunting!” he answered shortly, then turning to Dorothea, “Won’t you wish me luck?” “That depends upon what you are to hunt,” she answered quickly. “There is only one quarry in war-times,” he answered shortly, and snapping his sword to his belt he ran down the steps and mounted his horse. Dorothea’s eyes followed him and it came into her mind that after all he was going upon a dangerous errand and might not come back. “I wish you a safe return,” she called up to him. He glanced down at her quickly, and a bright smile came over his face. “Faith, that’s a better wish than the other,” he cried, gayly. “It will take a fine lot of Yankees to keep me away if you’re wanting me to come back!” And with a smile he rode off at the head of his troop. The girls looked after them and Dorothea felt a little glow of warmth in her heart at Val’s words. Perhaps, after all, he did value her good wishes for his safe return and, yes, she admitted to herself that she did not want anything to happen to him. And there had been a good deal of earnestness in his tone, as if indeed he had meant what he said.