Stuart gave him a few additional instructions, and having listened with the air of a man who is engraving the words he hears upon his memory, Nighthawk disappeared in the darkness, toward the private crossing, where he intended to pass the river. Half an hour afterward, Stuart was riding toward Germanna Ford. As we approached, Mohun met us, and reported all quiet. Stuart then turned back in the direction of Chancellorsville, where Nighthawk was to report to him, before daylight, if possible. XXVII. MOHUN RIDES. I lingered behind a moment to exchange a few words with Mohun. Something told me that he was intimately connected with the business which had occasioned the appointment between Nighthawk and Swartz--and at the first words which I uttered, I saw that I was not mistaken. Mohun raised his head quickly, listened with the closest attention, and when I had informed him of every thing, said abruptly:-- “Well, I’ll keep Nighthawk’s appointment for him!” “You!” I said. “Yes, my dear Surry--this is a matter of more importance than you think. The business will not take long--the enemy will not be moving before daylight--and you said, I think, that the appointment was for midnight?” “Yes.” Mohun drew out his watch; scratched a match which he drew from a small metal case. “Just eleven,” he said; “there is time to arrive before midnight, if we ride well--will you show me the way?” I saw that he was bent on his scheme, and said no more. In a few moments we were in the saddle, and riding at full speed toward the house where the meeting was to take place. Mohun rode like the wild huntsman, and mile after mile disappeared behind us--flitting away beneath the rapid hoofs of our horses. During the whole ride he scarcely opened his lips. He seemed to be reflecting deeply, and to scarcely realize my presence. At last we turned into the Brock road, and were soon near the lonely house. “We have arrived,” I said, leaping the brushwood fence. And we galloped up the knoll toward the house, which was as dark and silent as the grave. Dismounting and concealing our horses in the bushes, we opened the door. Mohun again had recourse to his match-case, and lit the candle left by Nighthawk on an old pine table, and glanced at his watch. “Midnight exactly!” he said; “we have made a good ride of it, Surry.” “Yes; and now that I have piloted you safely, Mohun, I will discreetly retire.” “Why not remain, if you think it will amuse you, my dear friend?” “But you are going to discuss your private affairs, are you not?” “They are not private from you, since I have promised to relate my whole life to you.” “Then I remain; but do you think our friend will keep his appointment?” “There he is,” said Mohun, as hoof-strokes were heard without. “He is punctual.” XXVIII. THE SPY. A moment afterward we heard the new-comer dismount. Then his steps were heard on the small porch. All at once his figure appeared in the doorway.