Somers looked at him again; indeed, he had hardly taken his eyes off the savage-looking fellow, who would have made a very good representative of Orson in the fairy story. He held a rifle in his hand, the muzzle of which could easily be brought to bear upon his victim. Our lieutenant at once understood the humor of the fellow; and, having recovered his self-possession in the momentary pause, he determined not to be behind his foe either in word or in deed. "I say, reb, when did you shave last?" demanded Somers, with something as near akin to a laugh as he could manufacture for the occasion. "'Fore you was born, I reckon, Yank," replied the rebel; "and I sha'n't shave ag'in till after you're dead. But I reckon I sha'n't hev ter wait long nuther." "I suppose you don't know what a comb is for, do you?" continued Somers, who was, however, thinking of some method by which he might get out of this scrape. "I reckon I've heerd about such things; but Joe Bagbone ain't a woman, and don't waste his time no such way. I say, stranger, you've got about three minutes more to live." "How long?" "Three minutes, stranger, I've sat here by them clothes, like a dog at a 'possum's nest, all the arternoon. Now I've treed the critter, and I'm gwine to shoot him." "Is that so?" "That's so, stranger." "Do you usually shoot any man you happen to meet in the woods?" "Well, I don't reckon we do, every man; but some on 'em we does. I calkilate you got on Tom Myers's clothes now, and yer shot the man 'fore you took the rags." "I didn't shoot him." "No matter for that, stranger; he was shot by a Yank, and you've got to settle the account." Somers began to be of the same opinion himself. The grayback had evidently found the clothes, and suspected the purpose for which they were concealed. It was possible he had even more definite information than this; for he seemed to be prepared for precisely what had taken place. "My friend----" "I'm not your friend, stranger. You kin say anything you like, if yer don't insult me; Joe Bagbone don't take an insult from any live man." "Well, Joe Bagbone," continued Somers, who was disposed to parley with the fellow to gain time, if nothing else, "if you shoot me, you will make the worst mistake you ever made in your life; and I can prove it to you in less than five minutes." "No, yer can't, stranger. Don't waste yer time no such way. If yer want ter say yer prayers, blaze away lively, 'cause three minutes aren't long for a man to repent of all his sins." "I have a pass from General M----, which permits me to go in safety through these lines," persisted Somers. "The sergeant above just examined it, and passed me through." "Don't keer nothing about yer pass. I respects Jeff Davis just as much as the best man in Mississip'. If yer had a pass from him, you mought as well not have it as have it. Tom Myers was killed, and somebody's gwine up for him." "But I have important business on the other side."