“A suspicion of my fidelity to the Confederate cause has crossed the mind of my commanding officer, Lieutenant-Colonel A. M. Price, simply because I consented to assist Miss Nettie Morton to reach Springfield, from which point she might be able to rejoin her friends, who formerly resided in Ozark, but are now in St. Louis. I was condemned, in consequence, to be the executioner of a _wounded_ Federal officer. At this cowardly act my whole nature revolted. Chance has favored me, and I have determined to save him. In what manner I can not here write, fearing this paper should fall into Confederate hands, and my plans be thus interrupted. I can not learn who he is. I asked his name, and I have some reason to believe that Miss Morton may throw some light upon the subject, as the only words he spoke were ‘Net—murdered—sister—.’ He bore the rank of captain. CHARLES CAMPBELL.” The colonel turned toward Miss Morton, who was seated in his tent, and asked: “Do you feel any _especial_ interest in any Union officer now with us?” Miss Morton hung her head and blushed. “Do not fear to speak, and frankly, too, Miss Morton. Perhaps the welfare of one you love—perhaps his safety, may depend upon your candid confession.” “I—I—” “Have you ever _met_ one of our officers?” “But once. And then I only passed the evening in his society. He was kind, but he has forgotten me!” “It is enough, you love him. But the short time he was with you could scarcely have made an impression so deep that he would mutter your name in his delirium. And yet, the wounded man was near your residence. And he exclaimed ‘Net—’. Your name is Nettie, is it not?” “It is.” “And what is the name of him you refer to?” “Captain HARRY HAYWARD!” The officer was visibly affected. “‘Nettie.’ ‘Net—.’ ‘Nettleton!’ ‘_Murdered._’ ‘Sister.’ It is very strange. Harry Hayward’s body was not found, but he was assassinated. Ah, I begin to fathom the mystery.” He murmured all this in words not audible to the astonished Miss Morton, and left the tent slowly, as if oppressed with the weight of a momentous thought. CHAPTER IV. _Nettleton’s Adventure in a Noose—Some Important Information._ THE surprise of Walker was very great at the unexpected movement of Nettleton. His sword flashed from its scabbard, and he made a half-pass at his breast. But, checking himself, he said: “William, I can forgive you in consideration of your grief, and I spare you, that you may assist in the care of Miss Hayward. Curse him!” he muttered to himself, “I would strike the infernal dog dead at my feet, but the act would only place a greater barrier between me and my prize. Miss Hayward,” he added aloud, “you will always find me ready and most anxious to serve you.” “Miss Hayward will not lack for friends, sir!” replied Alibamo, in a tone of contempt.