Symonds nodded glumly. Both he and Lloyd had been searched and their revolvers taken from them. Escape just then appeared to be out of the question. They were but three men against twenty guerillas. It was impossible to make the old mules go faster than a jog-trot; while the rebels were well mounted. Goddard, with his arms bound behind him, rode with a trooper on either side, each holding one of his reins. After about an hour's ride over a rough road, that was really nothing more than a cow path, they turned to the east until they reached a creek. Tucker shouted an order to his men, then turned to Miss Metoaca. "We will bivouac in the woods yonder, near this ford," he said courteously. "It is impossible for us to reach Mosby to-night." The rough and ready camp was soon organized, and a special shelter was arranged for Miss Metoaca and Nancy on the extreme left of the camp fire. They had watched the preparations with interest and, glad of the warmth of the fire, sat as near it as they conveniently could while a hasty meal was being cooked. From the first moment of their capture Lloyd had watched Nancy like a lynx. Not a movement of her hands had escaped him. Had she planned their capture? If so, she would be sure to betray herself by some overt act or word. What treatment would Tucker accord her? Would he consider her a prisoner of war, or--a friend? They had met as strangers. Lloyd gave his parole so that he might keep Nancy under constant surveillance. While these thoughts were occupying Lloyd Goddard was busy puzzling his brain for a way to escape. He might chance a dash for the open later on. Brown Betty was picketed near him, but there were Miss Metoaca and Nancy to be considered. He could not desert them. No plan seemed feasible; he would have to bide his time, and see what the fortunes of war would bring forth. He had just reached this conclusion when Captain Tucker approached him. "If you will give me your parole not to attempt escape," he said, "I will have your arms freed." Goddard thought quickly. "I promise--until to-morrow morning," he agreed reluctantly. Tucker called one of the guerillas, and with his assistance released Goddard, who rubbed his stiff arms until the blood again circulated freely. "Come over by the fire and have some supper," suggested the rebel captain, and with a muttered word of thanks Goddard hastened to join his friends. Nancy made room for him beside her. "Don't be so down-hearted," she whispered, handing him a piece of corn-pone. "Our fate might be worse. I feel sure we will escape somehow." "You are a brave girl to take it that way," he answered, and his eyes kindled with admiration. "I wonder how many men would have gone through this morning's humiliating experience and to-night's capture with such pluck."