This was effected with some difficulty, when a party of rebel guerrillas, numbering about sixty, rode into the field, and proceeded to form their camp directly in the vicinity of the hay-stacks, under which the two men were concealed. “Well, I guess we’ve got into the right shop!” said Nettleton to Fall-leaf. “We are cooped up here close enough for a while, but, Miss Mamie must be with this crowd, and when dark comes, we can scout around and see what we can do. Lay quiet, Ingen!” “White hunter knows! Make good Ingen!” The day dragged slowly away. Toward night a party of the rebels came for forage for their horses, but the hay was tumbled from the top of the stack, and our friends were not discovered. The guerrillas’ conversation, however, was listened to with the greatest interest by Nettleton. “So Colonel Brown, or Walker, as he is called, came within one of being done for in the camp of the Yanks at Springfield?” “Yes, so he says.” “What the devil does he want with the gal?” “Oh, some love affair, of course.” “The gal was happy, for she was singing like a nightingale.” “Oh yes! No doubt she was dazzled by the prospect of being a colonel’s wife.” “Who is she?” “Don’t know.” “My eyes! but she _is_ a beauty!” “So much the better for him.” “Where was he going with her?” “Oh, below—taking her to her brother, I believe.” “Where is that?” “Down in the _old mill_!” This was all the conversation heard by the adventurers. But, the rebel troops did not move again until late in the next day, and our friends were compelled to remain quiet. They had learned sufficient to convince them that Miss Hayward was _not_ with this band of rebels, but was being borne still further from them. They cursed the chance which had thus entrapped them, and prevented their overtaking the captive at once. Still, they resolved to keep up the pursuit, and they had learned that at _some mill_ the lady was to be conveyed, and that her brother was there. Patiently they waited until they could emerge, and finish their journey. CHAPTER X. _Hayward._ IT is time the reader was enlightened, somewhat, as to the fate of Captain Hayward. The wound he had received the night of the attempted assassination, was severe, but by no means fatal. The loss of blood had rendered him very weak, and for some time he remained insensible.