‘Be quiet,’ answered Lucius in the same low tone. ‘Let me speak.’ ‘Stop that whispering,’ cried the colonel, coming back. ‘You came out for fun, I think you said,’ he went on with an ugly grin on his face, ‘in a balloon, too, and in time of war. May I ask, then, to what use you intended to put this armament—and this?’ He held up the sketching block. Lucius was silent, not knowing, indeed, what to answer, for the full significance of the last article had not yet dawned upon him. ‘A Southern gentleman does not lie,’ mimicked the colonel, a baleful light in his eyes. ‘You do well to be silent, you couple of rascally spies.’ Lucius started violently. ‘What!’ he ejaculated in profound astonishment. ‘Spies!’ ‘Ah!’ said the colonel, ‘I thought I should corner you.—Search them,’ he added to the sergeant. Nothing but a few odds and ends such as any boy might carry were found upon Lucius, but from Ephraim’s pocket was drawn a piece of paper on which he had scribbled a _précis_ of the news which had reached Staunton during the last three weeks, and also a road map of the valley, which he had brought with him in order that they might have some indication of their whereabouts if they were forced to descend in an out-of-the-way place. ‘Ha!’ exclaimed the colonel, when these were brought to light. ‘A precious pair of jokers.—Now, will you persist in your denial, my fine young Southern—_gentleman_?’ He laid a sneering emphasis upon the last word. ‘I haven’t denied anything yet,’ returned Lucius. ‘I’ve never had the chance. I tell you we are a couple of boys out for a spree, and that’s all.’ ‘You’ll find it a precious unpleasant spree before I get through with you,’ said the colonel. ‘You may be a boy,’ he added dubiously, as though the fact were not self-evident; ‘but I’d like to know what you call _him_!’ He glanced malevolently at Ephraim. ‘He’s only nineteen,’ answered Lucius, earnestly wishing that Grizzly had followed his oft-repeated advice, and razed the compromising indications of manhood from his face. ‘What!’ scoffed the colonel. ‘Nineteen do you call him, with a monkey face like that?’ ‘Shave him, then, and you’ll see,’ answered Lucius, at which remark the soldiers roared, though the boy was perfectly serious. ‘Silence!’ commanded the colonel, going on to observe caustically: ‘Since when have the rebels—I beg your pardon; I have no doubt that a Southern gentleman would prefer that I should speak of Confederates—since when, then, have the Confederates employed boys to ascertain the movements of the National troops?’ The insolence of his tone fired Luce’s blood, and he answered scornfully: ‘I do not know. Perhaps if you had not been so busy running away from them for the last three weeks, you might have been able to discover for yourself.’