‘I didn’t stop ter see,’ began Ephraim, when a loud shout close by announced that the question had received a practical answer by the discovery of the body of Sergeant Mason. ‘Hi! Help!’ shouted a voice. ‘Thar’s a dead soldier over hyar. No, he ain’t dead; but he’s got it pretty bad. Help!’ The corporal rushed in the direction of the hail, and the soldiers hurried Ephraim after him. Presently they came to the scene of the late scrimmage, where the sergeant still lay upon his back, moaning faintly. ‘Why, if it isn’t Sergeant Mason!’ cried the corporal, bending over the prostrate man.—‘Did you do this?’ he demanded fiercely, straightening up and facing Ephraim. The Grizzly recognised that further concealment was useless, so he answered firmly: ‘It war in fair fight, corporal. I reckon ef it hadn’t been him lyin’ thar, it would hev been me, so maybe it’s ez well ez it is.’ ‘Then I guess you’re the man we want,’ cried the corporal.—‘Boys, this is the pesky Secesh, what’s given so much trouble to-day, going round in Federal uniform. I bet it is.—We’ve got you now, Johnny Reb, so you may as well own up. Who are you, any how?’ ‘I reckon you make me tired with your questions,’ answered Ephraim. ‘I shan’t answer no more. Ye ain’t the provost-marshal, air ye?’ ‘Ho! if it’s him you want to see,’ mocked the corporal, ‘I guess we won’t be long gratifying your desires.—Hey, boys?’ A low muttering among the men swelled suddenly into a shout, and there was an ugly rush in the direction of Ephraim. The corporal threw himself in the way of it. ‘No, no, boys,’ he cried. ‘I guess his time is short enough without your cutting it shorter. Besides, fair’s fair, and the fellow that could get the best of Sergeant Mason in a tussle must be a stark fighter and a pretty average kind of a man. Let him take his chance with the provost-marshal. I reckon it’s his business, not ours.’ The men, appealed to in this soldierly fashion, fell back, and at the corporal’s direction four of them raised the fallen Sergeant Mason and started for the camp, bearing him between them. ‘Now, you,’ said the corporal, ‘since you’re in such a hurry, step out, and we’ll call on your friend the provost-marshal. I shouldn’t wonder if he was waiting up to receive you.—Fetch him along, boys.’ ‘Corporal,’ asked the Grizzly in a weak voice, ’ kin I hev a drink er water? I’——The words failed on his lips, he staggered and would have fallen, but for the supporting arms of the two men who held him. ‘My land!’ exclaimed the corporal. ‘I’d forgotten his wound. Lay him down on the ground.—Hyar, drink this. We may be Yankees, Johnny Reb; but we are not brutes by a good deal.’ He held his canteen to Ephraim’s lips, and when the latter had satisfied his thirst, rapidly cut away his coat and made a fresh examination of the wound.