It happened, however, that the peremptory orders of the sergeant were overheard by Glazier and Wright, who were hidden not many yards away in the wood. Instead, therefore, of proceeding on the direct road by way of Springfield, they retraced their steps in the dark, and by this means baffled their pursuers. Having reached the Middle Ground Road, over which they had lately passed, they bounded over it to avoid leaving their foot-prints, and thus broke the trail. They were now in a large and densely-wooded swamp, and, effectually concealed by the umbrageous covering, sat down to a council of war. We may here state that Lieutenant Lemon, the late faithful companion of our hero, had been prevented from participating in the plan of escape, and was eventually taken back to be re-tortured in his old quarters at Columbia. Wright was also an escaped prisoner from Columbia, whom Glazier had often met during his imprisonment there. He escaped from "Camp Sorghum" a few days after Lemon and Glazier, but unfortunately was recaptured just when he felt that he was about to bid adieu to his captivity. Lieutenant Wright possessed one advantage for the dangerous and desperate enterprise they had now re-entered upon--he knew the country. By his advice, therefore, it was agreed to remain quietly concealed in the swamp until night, when he would lead the way to the hut of a negro who had befriended him during his previous attempt to escape. About midnight he piloted Glazier to the hut of "Old Richard," a worthy and kind-hearted negro, who had supplied him with hoe-cake and bacon just before his recapture. Richard was in ecstasies on beholding his friend, Massa Wright, again, whom he knew to have been retaken, and with due formality, our hero was introduced. On being asked for some bacon and sweet potatoes to put with their corn-bread, he replied: "Pooty hard case, massa; but dis yer darkey'll do de best he can. Can't get nuffin' on this plantation, but reckon I can buy some 'tatoes down at Massa Smith's, three miles from yer, and will go down thar after I finish my task to-morrer. As to meat," he said, "you know, massa, dat in the Souf de slave takes what de white folks frows away, and I reckon you all couldn't eat a tainted ham dat ole massa gib me t'other day; but if you can, God knows dis chile gibs it to you wid all his heart." Having become, from long fasting, almost entirely indifferent to the sense of taste, our friends gave Old Richard to understand that the ham would be welcome.