Suddenly the sergeant started slightly. His quick ears, intently strained, had caught a faint sound, as of some one moving in the ditch. His ill-humour vanished, down came his rifle with its sharp bayonet to the charge, and he was at once the veteran soldier, used to war’s alarms, and ready for any emergency. He leaned forward striving to pierce the gloom of the ditch; but he could see nothing. Only once again that soft rustling sound, as of the wind gently blowing over reeds. Then it ceased. Ceased so suddenly that the sergeant’s suspicions were at once redoubled. Evidently it was not the wind. But Mason was too old a hand to act rashly, so he did not challenge, for fear of scaring his game, but waited patiently for the end. Again the rustling. This time surely a little louder, a little nearer. The sergeant’s heavy moustache bristled with anticipation, and his lips parted in a cruel smile, as he tightly grasped his rifle. Not a sound he made as he stood there, silent and stiff as if carved out of ebony. But he had been seen for all that, and even now the boys, crouching low in the ditch, were holding a whispered consultation. ‘I think thet he hes heard us, Luce,’ said Ephraim. ‘Listen ter me and do jest ez I tell ye. Crawl out er the ditch on yer left and make a wide leg ter git behind him. Ez soon ez ye start, I’ll up an’ face him so ez ter cover any noise ye make. Wait fer me until I git past him—and I will git past him one way or anuther—and when ye hear me run, foller ez hard ez ye kin.’ The first part of this well-laid plan was carried out to the letter; but as to the second—ah! there Ephraim had reckoned without Sergeant Mason. Lucius made off as he had been told to do, for after what he had seen, his faith in Ephraim’s strategic powers was absolutely unbounded, and as soon as he was clear of the ditch, the Grizzly, with much rustling of his feet and a great outward show of confidence, advanced towards the outlet of the ditch. From his superior height upon the slight embankment Sergeant Mason looked down and smiled grimly. He never suspected the presence of Lucius, wriggling along to attain a point behind him. His whole mind was intent on the solitary figure, advancing towards him. ‘Halt! Who comes there?’ he challenged, and Ephraim brought up standing, halted within six paces of the bayonet’s point. ‘Friend!’ he answered laconically. ‘What’s your business?’ demanded Mason, wishful to make sure of his ground and his man. ‘Speshul,’ returned Ephraim, also feeling his way. ‘That so? What mought be the natur of it? I’m hyar tew find out, yew know.’ ‘Out after a man wearin’ a Federal uniform, and supposed ter be a rebel spy. Kin I pass?’ ‘I guess so. If yew have the countersign.’ Alas, poor Grizzly, the fighter of redskins is going to be too much for you! Ephraim advanced a pace or two. ‘Halt!’ said the sergeant again. ‘Is that yewr idee of giving the countersign?’