It was sweet music to me to listen to their hoof-beats dying rapidly away behind us as we turned back down the dark road, the Sergeant still riding with his one hand grasping the stranger's rein. I endeavored to scan her figure in the blackness, but found the effort useless, as little more than a shadow was visible. Yet it was impressed upon me that she sat straight and firm in the saddle, so I concluded she must be young. Rapidly I reviewed our predicament, and sought for some avenue of escape. If we were only certain as to where we were, we might plan with better prospect of success. The woman? Doubtless she would know, and possibly I might venture to question her without awakening suspicion. Surely the experiment was well worth trying. “Madam,” I began, seeking to feel my way with caution into her confidence, “I fear you must be quite wearied by your long ride.” She turned slightly at sound of my voice. “Not at all, sir; I am merely eager to push on. Besides, my ride has not been a long one, as we merely came from General Sigel's headquarters.” The voice was pleasantly modulated and refined. “Ah, yes, certainly,” I stammered, fearful lest I had made a grave mistake. “But really I had supposed General Sigel was at Coultersville.” “He advanced to Bear Creek yesterday,” she returned quietly. “So you see we had covered scarcely more than three miles when we met. How much farther is it to where Major Brennan is stationed?” I fear I was guilty of hesitancy, but it was only for a moment. “I am unable to tell exactly, for, as it chances, I have never yet been in the camp, but I should judge that two hours' riding will cover the distance.” “Why,” in a tone of sudden surprise, “Captain Hale certainly told me it was all of twenty miles!” “From Bear Creek?” I questioned eagerly, for it was my turn to feel startled now. “The map barely makes it ten.” “It is but ten, and scarcely that, by the direct White Briar road, or, at least, so I heard some of the younger officers say; but it seems the Rebel pickets are posted so close to the White Briar that my friends decided it would be unsafe to proceed that way.” This was news indeed,--news so unexpected and startling that I forgot all caution. “Then what road do they call this?” She laughed at my evident ignorance, as well as the eagerness of my tone. “Really, you are a most peculiar guide,” she exclaimed gayly. “You almost convince me that you are lost. Fortunately, sir, out of my vast knowledge of this mysterious region, I am able to enlighten you to some extent. We are now riding due southward along the Allentown pike.” Craig leaned forward so as to look across her horse's neck to where I rode on the opposite side. “May I speak a word, sir?” he asked cautiously. “Certainly, Sergeant; do you make anything out of all this?”