The scene between Captain Somers and his son was very affecting and very exciting; and if the soldiers had all been uncles and first cousins of the parties, they could not have manifested more interest on the joyous occasion. The father wept, and the son wept; for each, amid the terrible experience of these troublous times, had hardly expected to meet the other.  
For several minutes they held each other by the hand, laughing and weeping alternately, and neither being able to express the intense emotions which agitated him. The men shouted and laughed in full sympathy with the reunited sire and son.
 
“I’m glad to see you, Tom,” said Captain Somers, as he wiped away the tears that were sliding down upon his grizzly beard. “I haven’t cried before for thirty years; I’m ashamed of it, Tom, but I can’t help it.”
 
“I didn’t expect to find you here, father, and clothed in the rebel uniform; but I’m glad to see you in any uniform,” replied the soldier boy.
 
“So you’re in the army, Tom,” continued the father, gazing with satisfaction at the neat appearance of the sergeant.
 
“Yes, sir; I enlisted within a fortnight after we heard that the traitors had bombarded Fort Sumter.”
 
“I see you’ve got three stripes on your arm.”
 
“Yes, Cap’n Somers,” said Hapgood; “Tom was made a sergeant for gallant conduct on the river in December; and he deserved his promotion too.”
 
“I’m glad to see you with that uniform on your back, Tom; and glad to hear that you have behaved well.”
 
“I was in the battle of Bull Run, father, and was taken prisoner, but I got away.”
 
“Well, Tom, we’ll hear about that bimeby,” said the old man, stopping and looking nervously into the face of his son. “I want to ask a great many questions, Tom, but I hardly dare to do it. You know I haven’t heard a word from home since I left, and it’s almost a year now.”
 
“You needn’t be afraid, father; the folks are all well. I have got a heap of letters at the camp, and you shall read them all as soon as we get there.”
 
“Is your mother well, Tom?”
 
“First rate.”
 
“And John?”
 
“Yes, sir; but he’s gone into the navy. He was bound to be in the fight any how.”
 
“John’s a chip of the old block. He wanted to snuff the salt water afore he was a week old. John’s a good sailor, and he ought to have a good lay wherever he goes,” added the father.
 
Captain Somers and Tom sat upon the ground for half an hour, until the fugitive from the rebel army was in some degree rested after the hard run he had had through the woods. The soldiers gathered around them, as much interested as though they had been members of the Somers family. Tom’s father had a multitude of questions to ask about Pinchbrook and its people, all of which were answered to his satisfaction.
 
The sergeant thought it was time for the party to move on, and his father declared that he was able to walk any distance which would bring him nearer to the home of his wife and children. The order was given, and the little band resumed its march.
 
“How have you been all this time, father?” asked Tom, as he walked along by the side of Captain Somers.
 
“I’ve been pretty fairly most of the time. I’m tough and hardy, or I should have been dead afore this time. We’ve been half starved and half frozen in the camp; but I managed to live through it, hoping and expecting to get away from those rascally rebels.”
 
“Where have you been all the time?” asked Tom. “Have you been in the rebel army long?”
 
“About four months; but I may as well begin at the beginning, and tell you the whole story,” added the captain. “I got to Norfolk all right, and was there when the news came up that the rebels had taken Sumter. Every body was mad, and I was as mad as the rest of them, though not exactly in the same way. I let on a little with my tongue, and came pretty near being tarred and feathered, and I think I should have been, if your uncle Wyman hadn’t interfered.”
 
“Did he settle with you, father?”
 
“After a while he did. He had some fifteen thousand dollars in New York, which had just been sent over from England, and as he was secesh, he was terribly afeard the Lincoln government would confiscate it; so he settled with me, and gave me a power of attorney to draw his money, pay myself, and take care of what was over. I’ve got the papers safe in my waistbands now.”
 
“Good! Glory, hallelujah!” shouted Tom. “We can pay off old Pemberton now, for it goes against my grain to owe a dollar to a traitor. But if uncle Wyman is a rebel, and I suppose he is, I hope the government will confiscate what’s over after you have paid yourself.”
 
“Well, I don’t know. We will see about that bimeby. He used me fair, and I don’t wish him any harm; but I hate his principles. Well, just then, Tom, when I had got my accounts squared, the rascals took my vessel, and sunk it in the channel to keep the union fleet out. My pipe was out then, and I couldn’t do any thing more. I hung round the city of Norfolk till I saw there was no chance to get out in that direction; and then I left. I was up near Bull Run—the rebels call it Manassas—when the battle was fought; but our folks got licked so badly, that it was no use to try to get through there.
 
“I tried half a dozen times to crawl through, and had nearly starved to death in the woods; but some rebel cavalry pickets spied me out, called me a traitor, and sent me back. My money was all gone by this time, and I went over to Norfolk again. Your ............