They listened for a moment longer to the quick movements of Peters in the stable below. It was evident that Jenny was duly caparisoned for service; and then another horse was led out, which belonged to the orderly. He was prepared for service in less time than Jenny had required; and, a moment later, the step of Peters was heard on the stairs. With the bag in his hand, he was coming up for the corn, as he had been ordered by the officer. He did not see the fugitives till he had reached the last step; when, as he was on the point of opening his mouth to speak, De Banyan leveled a blow at his head with the handle of the pitch-fork, which felled him to the floor. He sank down upon the stairs stunned or dead; and the captain, as though he had carefully matured his plan beforehand, dragged the body to one corner of the loft, where he covered it with hay. "Not a word, Somers," said he in an excited whisper, as he crouched down behind the grain chest. "Are you going to stay here?" demanded Somers, astonished at this singular disposition of the forces. "Hush--the officer is close by." With beating heart, Somers waited for the further action of his resolute companion. It was the most critical period of his life, it seemed to him, especially as he did not fully comprehend the purpose of De Banyan. Only a moment elapsed, but it was long enough to be a week, before the owner of Jenny returned to the stable. "Peters! What are you about?" shouted he angrily. "I shall never get off at this rate. Peters!" Peters was not in condition to answer the summons at that moment. Somers hoped he was not dead; but he might as well have been dead, so far as speaking was concerned. "Peters!" shouted the officer again, with a string of Southern Confederacy oaths; "where are you? What are you about?" Of course, the orderly could not answer; and his silence only added to the rage of his master, who continued to swear in a manner which must have disgusted the gentle Jenny, and the other respectable horse standing on the stable-floor. The officer rushed out of the stable, and the heaviness of his step indicated the state of his mind. He had gone to look for Peters; but, as Peters was not outside, he must be inside; and the officer entered again. He now walked towards the stairs leading to the loft. "Peters!" he continued to roar as he rushed up the stairs. "Peters! this is your last day's service with me!" But the poor orderly was unable to remove the stain which rested upon his fidelity. He still held his peace; still silently submitted to the unjust imputations on his character. The officer landed in the loft just as Captain de Banyan rose to receive him. "Who are you?" demanded he, as the stout form of the captain confronted him. "Your most obedient servant to command," replied De Banyan. "You are a Confederate officer?" "I seem to be; but I am not. Be that as it may, your presence is dangerous to my health and comfort." "I see: you are the deserter."