The Rebel groaned aloud. There was no tender point upon which his captor could be touched, and the tears rained over his handsome face as he begged of Bill to give him at least the ambrotype. “It’s the only thing which has prevented me from being a perfect villain,” he said. “It has kept me from the wine cup, and from the gambler’s den.” “Pity it hadn’t kept you out of the Southern army,” was Bill’s dry response, and the stranger answered, eagerly: “I wish it had, I wish it had! Please give it back, and I’ll swear allegiance to the veriest minion in Lincoln’s train.” “I never thought no great of a turncoat,” Bill replied, closing the case, and still holding it in his hand. “If you’re a Southern dog, stay so, not go to barkin’ on both sides. We don’t want no traitors. Honest, though, corporal, where _was_ you born? There’s a kind of nateral look in your face, as if I’d seen it afore,” and Bill laid the ambrotype upon the grass. But with regard to his birthplace, the stranger was non-committal; and Bill continued: “If I let you go, you’ll give me the watch?” “Willingly, willingly.” “And the spetacles?” “Yes, oh yes.” “And the glass bead ring?” “Yes, everything but the picture.” “Don’t be so fast,” Bill rejoined. “I’ll get to that bimeby. Watch, spetacles, glass bead ring, tobarker-box, and this other thingumbob, but not the picter, if I’ll let you go? And you’ll go with me to Washington, and be showed up like a caravan if I’ll give up the picter? Them’s the terms as I understand.” “Yes,” the stranger gasped, a shadow of hope stealing into his heart. Alas, how soon it was erased by Bill’s continuing: “Yankees ain’t generally very green. We can make you Southern bloods buy wooden cowcumber-seeds any time of day, and do you s’pose I’m goin’ to let you off at any price? _No_ SIR! If you go to war, you must take the chances of war. I ain’t a-goin’ to hurt you, and I’ll ease up them strings if you say so, but, corporal, you’re my prisoner; and these traps,” laying his hand upon the various articles upon the grass, “these traps, picter and all, I _con-fis-cate_ as _con-tra-band_! How do you feel now?” and Bill coolly pocketed his contrabands, all save the watch, which he adjusted about his neck.