The sight of the blue-coats made the boys jump. They would have crept back, but it was too late--they caught the eye of the man nearest them. They ceased talking as suddenly as birds in the trees stop chirruping when the hawk sails over; and when one Yankee called to them, in a stern tone, "Halt there!" and started to come toward them, their hearts were in their mouths. "Where are you boys going?" he asked, as he came up to them. "Going home." "Where do you belong?" "Over there--at Oakland," pointing in the direction of their home, which seemed suddenly to have moved a thousand miles aways. "Where have you been?" The other soldiers had come up now. "Been down this way." The boys' voices were never so meek before. Each reply was like an apology. "Been to see your brother?" asked one who had not spoken before--a pleasant-looking fellow. The boys looked at him. They were paralyzed by dread of the approaching question. "Now, boys, we know where you have been," said a small fellow, who wore a yellow chevron on his arm. He had a thin moustache and a sharp nose, and rode a wiry, dull sorrel horse. "You may just as well tell us all about it. We know you've been to see 'em, and we are going to make you carry us where they are." "No, we ain't," said Frank, doggedly. Willy expressed his determination also. "If you don't it's going to be pretty bad for you," said the little corporal. He gave an order to two of the men, who sprang from their horses, and, catching Frank, swung him up behind another cavalryman. The boy's face was very pale, but he bit his lip. "Go ahead," continued the corporal to a number of his men, who started down the path. "You four men remain here till we come back," he said to the men on the ground, and to two others on horseback. "Keep him here," jerking his thumb toward Willy, whose face was already burning with emotion. "I'm going with Frank," said Willy. "Let me go." This to the man who had hold of him by the arm. "Frank, make him let me go," he shouted, bursting into tears, and turning on his captor with all his little might. "Willy, he's not goin' to hurt you,--don't you tell!" called Frank, squirming until he dug his heels so into the horse's flanks that the horse began to kick up. "Keep quiet, Johnny; he's not goin' to hurt him," said one of the men, kindly. He had a brown beard and shining white teeth. They rode slowly down the narrow path, the dragoon holding Frank by the leg. Deep down in the woods, beyond a small branch, the path forked. "Which way?" asked the corporal, stopping and addressing Frank. Frank set his mouth tight and looked him in the eyes. "Which is it?" the corporal repeated. "I ain't going to tell," said he, firmly. "Look here, Johnny; we've got you, and we are going to make you tell us; so you might just as well do it, easy. If you don't, we're goin' to make you." The boy said nothing. [Illustration: THE BOY FACED HIS CAPTOR, WHO HELD A STRAP IN ONE HAND.]