“I’ve been on duty no more than three hours, for it was past midnight before you laid down,” he replied with a gentle, friendly smile. “A fellow who has spent week after week in a troop ship should be able to sleep anywhere, an’ I’ll take my nap in the swamp.” By this time Sam was on his feet, and after drinking our fill at a small spring which Seth had found while standing guard, we went to our frail platform of brush, there to soak in the mud and water, and beat off the attacks of the mosquitoes, as best we might without making a noise. Seth kept his word in regard to taking a nap, for no sooner were we in our disagreeable hiding place than he laid down on the brush, where the water rose a full inch all around him, and before it seemed to me that he had time to compose himself, was sleeping soundly. The scenes enacted on this second day of our hiding in the swamp were much like those presented in the first. The marines came ashore on leave to find such amusement as the bare earth afforded, and the sailors lounged here and there while waiting upon their officers; but none ventured near our place of refuge. As nearly as I could judge, the day was about half spent, and Seth yet wrapped in slumber, when Sam and I who were watching jealously all that was passing around us, saw Barney Nelson come ashore from one of the boats. He appeared inclined to wander off by himself, and refused, as we understood by the gestures, to join some of his mates who were going inland over the hills, whereupon we understood, or believed we did, what was in his mind. Pressing my hand firmly over Seth’s mouth lest he involuntarily cry aloud on being suddenly awakened, I shook him soundly, and on the instant he was looking up into my eyes with an expression which told that he was keenly alive to the situation. “Barney Nelson has just come ashore, an’ appears to be lookin’ for a chance to go off by himself,” I whispered, and it was as if the words had hardly more than been uttered before he slipped from the platform of brush into the mud and water. Then he struck off through the swamp, moving with the utmost caution, and we knew he was going to the rendezvous which had, most like, been agreed upon with his friend the previous day. There was nothing left for Sam and me to do save keep sharp watch on everything around us, and await the return of Seth. This we did, and when it seemed to us that our marine had been absent two full hours, a slight rippling of the water told that he was returning, greatly to our relief of mind. Not until he had crawled up on the brush beside us did he speak, and then, when our heads were close together, he whispered cautiously: “Barney has even more of a mind to help us than I had hoped, an’ it all comes from the way Luther Stedman showed his spite when Abel Grant was taken into custody.” “Has he had speech with the poor fellow?” I interrupted, too eager for the information to be willing to wait his way of telling the story.