“Mrs. Brennan,” I asked finally, recurring to the one thought in which I retained deep interest,--“does she still remain in the camp?” “She was with the Major at headquarters this morning. I believe they breakfasted with the General, but I was on duty so late last night that I overslept, and thus missed the pleasure of meeting her again.” We talked for some time longer, and he continued to urge me for some further word, but I could give him none, and finally the kindly fellow departed, promising to see me again within a few hours. Greatly as I now valued his friendship, it was, nevertheless, a relief to be alone with my thoughts once more. CHAPTER XIII A STRANGE WAY OUT Caton came in once more about the middle of the afternoon, bringing me some blankets; but he had no news, and his boyish face was a picture of pathos as he wrung my hand good-bye. Sheridan, he said, had gone down the lines, and both Brennan and himself were under orders to follow in another hour. What instructions, if any, had been left regarding my case he could not say, but he feared the worst from the unusual secrecy. Sheridan expected to return to his headquarters that same evening, as the officers of his staff were to give a grand ball. I felt no inclination to partake of the rude supper left me, and just before dark I was lying upon the bench idly wondering if that was to prove the last vestige of daylight I should ever behold in this world, when, without slightest warning, the heavy iron grating in the wall directly above me fell suddenly, striking the edge of the bench, and clattered noisily to the floor. The fall was so unexpected, and my escape from injury so narrow, that I lay almost stunned, staring up helplessly at the dark hole thus left bare. As I gazed, a face framed itself in this narrow opening, and two wary eyes peered cautiously down at me. There was no mistaking that countenance even in the fast waning light, and I instantly sat up with an exclamation of surprise, “Jed Bungay, as I live!” The puzzled face broke into a grin of delight. “Holy smoke, Cap,” he ejaculated, with a deep sigh of relief, “'s thet you, suah? I wus so durned skeered I'd made a mess o' it whin thet thar iron drapped thet I near died. 'He crossed the threshold--and a clang of angry steel that instant rang.'” He peered around cautiously, screwing up his little eyes as though transforming them into miniature telescopes. “'If thou wouldst view fair Melrose aright, go visit it by the pale moonlight.' Be ye all alone, Cap?” “With the exception of a few rats, yes.” “Whut be they a goin' ter dew with ye?” “I have every reason to believe it is their purpose to shoot me at daybreak to-morrow.”