Ephraim was not long in following out his own recommendation to Lucius, but unfortunately, instead of bearing away to the left, he took a straighter line, and before he had gone fifty yards, found himself surrounded by a dozen men, who had approached the scene of conflict with more caution and less noise than their fellow-soldiers. The Grizzly, indeed, was among them before he was aware of their presence, and ere he could attempt to resist or break through the circle, was firmly seized and held fast. ‘I guess we’ve got some one,’ said a rough voice. ‘Who may yew be, and whar air yew running to?’ Ephraim did not answer at once. His first thoughts, as usual, were of Lucius, and he was listening intently for any sign which might indicate his capture. Presently he heard the boy’s voice shouting misleading directions as he practised his simple _ruse de guerre_, and once more at rest upon this point, gave attention to the question, which was now repeated in a more peremptory tone. ‘Waal,’ answered Ephraim slowly, feeling, as it were, for his words, ‘I heard a fuss, and I was runnin’ to see what the trouble was.’ ‘I reckon yew must have an outrageous fine bump of locality,’ said another man sneeringly, ‘seeing that yew’re making tracks in a teetotally wrong direction.—Hi! Pete, hurry up with the lantern, and let’s have a look at this coon.’ ‘Ef I don’t keep a level head,’ thought Ephraim, as he heard this, ‘I’m a goner, shore. Waal, it don’t matter much, ez long ez Luce is safe, and I reckon he is, so fur, fer I don’t hear any row.—Oh! Ugh!’ The expression of pain was wrung from him as the grasp of one of his captors tightened upon his wounded shoulder. ‘What’s the matter with yew?’ inquired the man. ‘My land! My hand is all wet. So’s his shoulder. Quick with the light! Why, it’s blood! I guess, corporal, he war running _from_ the trouble, not towards it. No wonder he war in sech a hurry.’ The corporal stepped up and examined Ephraim’s torn coat and lacerated shoulder by the light of the lantern. ‘Humph!’ he ejaculated. ‘A nasty rake, and a fresh wound, too. How did you come by this?’ ‘I reckon something must hev struck me,’ returned Ephraim, as though he were now receiving news of his wound for the first time. ‘Thar’s sech a heap er things flying around these days, ye can’t tell whar they come from or whar they go ter.’ ‘This is no bullet wound, though,’ said the corporal, examining it again. ‘It’s been done by a bayonet.—Come, you, tell us what happened. Did you meet the Reb?’ For he noted that Ephraim was clad in the Federal blue. ‘I ’magine it must hev been suthin’ er thet sort,’ replied Ephraim cautiously. ‘Ennyway, I run up agin suthin’ or somebody, and thet’s the fact.’ ‘Where did it happen?’ asked the corporal. ‘Somewhar round. It mought hev been hyar and it mought hev been thar. I can’t ezackly say.’ ‘Did your assailant bolt after wounding you?’ was the corporal’s next question.