—Longfellow. “There is but one explanation to the whole thing,” growled Colonel Owen the next morning. With the two girls for an audience he was voicing his disappointment at the failure of the alert, and incidentally nursing a frost-bitten foot. “And that is that the guide purposely led us astray.” “But why a guide at all, father?” questioned Harriet. “The highway is easily followed.” “’Tis the snow,” he explained irritably. “All roads are buried under four or more feet of it. Landmarks are obliterated and the forest but a trackless waste. ’Tis no wonder the fellow lost his way, though, methinks. ’Twas as though he knew our errand, and kept us floundering among the drifts purposely.” “Belike he did,” observed Harriet. “What with Peggy feeding all the rabble that comes along ’tis small wonder that your plots and plans become known to the rebels. I bethought me the other day when she had that teamster in the kitchen that he was a spy. Now I make no doubt of it.” “What’s all this?” demanded her father sharply. “What teamster are you talking about, Harriet?” “’Twas the man who brought the wood, Cousin William,” explained Peggy, trying to speak quietly. “Harriet objected at the time to his being fed, but ’twould have been unkind not to give him cheer when ’twas so cold.” “But that is no reason why you should talk with him,” sneered Harriet. “I saw that parley you held when he was throwing off the wood.” “Did you talk to him, Peggy?” Colonel Owen regarded her keenly. “Why, yes,” she answered. “I went out to scold him because he was piling the wood in such a way that it could not be measured.” “There was naught amiss about that,” he remarked with a relieved expression. “Nor about the food either, if that was all there was to it.” “But was it all?” queried Harriet. “The servants said that Peggy was over-solicitous anent the fellow.” “Peggy!” Colonel Owen faced the maiden abruptly. “Let us have this matter settled at once. You usually speak truth. Do so in this instance, I beg of you. Was the wood and feeding the man all there was to the affair?” Peggy did not reply. “There is more then,” he said. “Your silence speaks for you. I demand now to know if this fellow was responsible for the failure of our plan to captivate the rebel general?” But Peggy was not going to betray Drayton’s disguise if she could help it, and neither would she speak an untruth. So she met her kinsman’s glance with one as direct as his own as she answered, “I am to blame for thy plan going amiss, Cousin William.” “You?” he exclaimed incredulously. “Why, you knew naught of it. I was careful that even Harriet should not know it.” “I was in the drawing-room,” she told him boldly, “when thee and thy commander were discussing the plan. I heard the whole plot. While the dinner was being served I slipped out and sent word to the general.” “By whom?” he asked controlling his anger with difficulty. “By whom did you send word?”