At ten o'clock that night the Special Messenger, mounted astride and followed by two cavalrymen with carbines, rode down through the river mist to Bushy Ford. Daintily her handsome horse set foot in the water, hesitated, bent his long, velvety neck, sniffed, and finally drank; then, satisfied, stepped quietly forward, hock-deep, in the swirling, yellow flood. "Foller them stakes, Miss," cautioned the older trooper; "I sot 'em m'self, I did." "Thank you. Keep close to me, Connor. I've crossed here before it was staked." "Sho!" exclaimed Connor under his breath; "she do beat 'em all!" Twice, having no light but the foggy stars, they missed the stakes and her horse had to swim, but they managed to flounder safely back to the ford each time; and after a little while her mount rose, straining through the red mud of the shore, struggled, scrambled madly, and drew out, dripping. Up a slippery, crooked ascent they rode, out into a field of uncut corn above, then, spurring, swung at a canter eastward along the river. There was a dim light in the ferry house; a lubberly, fat man ran to the open door as they drew bridle before it. When the fat man saw the blue troopers he backed hastily away from the sill and the Messenger dismounted and followed him into the house, heavy revolver swinging in her gloved hand. "What'n hell y'goin' to do to me?" he began to whimper; "I ain't done nothin'"; but an excess of fright strangled him, and he continued to back away from her until he landed flat against the opposite wall. She followed and halted before him, cocking her weapon, with a terrible frown. She said solemnly: "I want you to answer me one or two questions, and if you lie to me it will be the last time. Do you understand?" He nodded and moistened his thick lips, gulping. "Then you are the ferryman, Snuyder, are you not?" He nodded, utterly incapable of speech. She went on, gloomily: "You used to fish sometimes with a Yankee recruit named Allen--Roy Allen?" "Ye-s'm," he sniveled. "There's my fish-pole an' his'n layin' onto the roof----" "How did he hail you when he wanted you to come across to take him fishing?" "He jest come down to the shore an' hollered twicet----" She bent closer, scanning his dilated eyes; speech died on his lips. "How did he call to you at _night_?" "He ain't never called me at night--so help me----" "No; _but in case he ever wished to fish at night?_" The man began to stammer and protest, but she covered him suddenly, and her dark eyes struck fire. "What signal?" she asked with a menacing ring in her voice. "Quick!" "Cock-o'-the-pines!... It didn't mean nothin'," gasped the man; ... "It was jest private--between fishin' friends----" "Go on!" "Yes'm.... If I heard a cock-o'-the-pines squeal I was to squeal back, an' then he was to holler--jest friendly--'Hallo-oo! How's fishin'?' That's all, ma'am----" "And you were to cross?" "Yes'm--jest friendly like. Him an' me was fond o' fishin'----"