"Do you know where you are?" asked Branch of Hayward. The captain had closed his eyes, but upon hearing the voice of Branch, he opened them, and looked upon the speaker--a look so full of scorn and disgust as to betray the lion heart still beating in his breast. "Why is that man in my tent?" he asked. "Take him away--his presence is hateful to me." "It will be before I am through with you. What is that?" "One of the sentinels in the rear of this tent has discharged his piece!" "Some of your friends are after us, very likely, Alibamo. I will call upon them, perhaps I shall be able to bring you company." Branch left the tent, hurriedly and not without trepidation. A gleam of light lit up the face of the attendant. He became at once uneasy. Then he sprang suddenly to the ground, exclaiming, but not loudly: "There was a hand there. It held a bit of paper!" Alibamo sprang forward, and seized the paper which was lying on the ground. She held it to the light, and then exclaimed aloud, as if unconscious of what she said: "It is my brother's writing--friends are near!" Then, as if suddenly recollecting herself, she turned to the attendant and said: "Oh! do not betray me, I beg--I implore!" "I ain't no such darn skunk. Let me tell you something." The attendant spoke in a whisper. Alibamo started, clasped his hand, kissed it convulsively. "Dear, good fellow!" she said through her tears. "There--oh! don't--O Christopher!--I shall have to blubber, and then all will be up with us!" cried the fellow, as he twisted and hopped around the tent like one suffering pain. CHAPTER IX. _The Friends--The Proposal--The Rejection--The Fate._ 'Tis sweet to die for one's country!--_Old Maxim._ The alarm caused by the firing of the gun had entirely subsided, as nothing was discovered. Upon questioning the guard, he stated that he was suddenly seized, and thrown violently to the ground. But, before he could recover his surprise and fire, the form had disappeared among the trees. Some believed that spies were lurking about camp, while others attributed the alarm entirely to the imagination or fear of the guard. The morning dawned, bright and beautiful. Hayward had entirely returned to consciousness; but was unable to converse, and appeared to notice nothing which transpired around him. He did not even speak to, or recognize, his fair attendant, Alibamo. At times his words were of home--his friends were called upon--and then he would remain silent. The army took up its line of march. Hayward was transported as before, and at each night was kindly cared for by Alibamo and the other attendant, who still were permitted to remain with him. At last they reached the grand prairie, west of Springfield, and encamped for the night. "Is Captain Hayward sufficiently recovered to converse?" asked Price of Branch.