CHAPTER XIV. IN THE .phraim was not long in following out his own recommendation to Lucius, but unfortunately, instead of bearing away to the left, he took a straighter line, and before he had gone fifty yards, found himself surrounded by a dozen men, who had approached the scene of conflict with more caution and less noise than their fellow-soldiers. The Grizzly, indeed, was among them before he was aware of their presence, and ere he could attempt to resist or break through the circle, was firmly seized and held fast.  
‘I guess we’ve got some one,’ said a rough voice. ‘Who may be, and whar air yew running to?’
 
Ephraim did not answer at once. His first thoughts, as usual, were of Lucius, and he was listening intently for any sign which might indicate his capture. Presently he heard the boy’s voice shouting misleading directions as he practised his simple de guerre, and once more at rest upon this point, gave attention to the question, which was now repeated in a more tone.
 
‘Waal,’ answered Ephraim slowly, feeling, as it were, for his words, ‘I heard a fuss, and I was runnin’ to see what the trouble was.’
 
‘I reckon yew must have an fine bump of locality,’ said another man , ‘seeing that yew’re making tracks in a teetotally wrong direction.—Hi! Pete, hurry up with the lantern, and let’s have a look at this coon.’
 
‘Ef I don’t keep a level head,’ thought Ephraim, as he heard this, ‘I’m a goner, shore. Waal, it don’t matter much, ez long ez Luce is safe, and I reckon he is, so fur, fer I don’t hear any row.—Oh! Ugh!’
 
The expression of pain was from him as the grasp of one of his captors upon his wounded shoulder.
 
‘What’s the matter with yew?’ inquired the man. ‘My land! My hand is all wet. So’s his shoulder. Quick with the light! Why, it’s blood! I guess, corporal, he war running from the trouble, not towards it. No wonder he war in sech a hurry.’
 
The corporal stepped up and examined Ephraim’s torn coat and lacerated shoulder by the light of the lantern.
 
‘Humph!’ he ejaculated. ‘A nasty rake, and a fresh wound, too. How did you come by this?’
 
‘I reckon something must hev struck me,’ returned Ephraim, as though he were now receiving news of his wound for the first time. ‘Thar’s sech a heap er things flying around these days, ye can’t tell whar they come from or whar they go ter.’
 
‘This is no bullet wound, though,’ said the corporal, examining it again. ‘It’s been done by a bayonet.—Come, you, tell us what happened. Did you meet the Reb?’ For he that Ephraim was clad in the Federal blue.
 
‘I ’magine it must hev been suthin’ er thet sort,’ replied Ephraim cautiously. ‘Ennyway, I run up agin suthin’ or somebody, and thet’s the fact.’
 
‘Where did it happen?’ asked the corporal.
 
‘Somewhar round. It mought hev been hyar and it mought hev been thar. I can’t ezackly say.’
 
‘Did your assailant bolt after wounding you?’ was the corporal’s next question.
 
‘I didn’t stop ter see,’ began Ephraim, when a loud shout close by announced that the question had received a practical answer by the discovery of the body of Mason.
 
‘Hi! Help!’ shouted a voice. ‘Thar’s a dead soldier over hyar. No, he ain’t dead; but he’s got it pretty bad. Help!’
 
The corporal rushed in the direction of the hail, and the soldiers hurried Ephraim after him. Presently they came to the scene of the late scrimmage, where the sergeant still lay upon his back, moaning faintly.
 
‘Why, if it isn’t Sergeant Mason!’ cried the corporal, bending over the man.—‘Did you do this?’ he demanded fiercely, straightening up and facing Ephraim.
 
The Grizzly recognised that further was useless, so he answered firmly: ‘It war in fair fight, corporal. I reckon ef it hadn’t been him lyin’ thar, it would hev been me, so maybe it’s ez well ez it is.’
 
‘Then I guess you’re the man we want,’ cried the corporal.—‘Boys, this is the pesky Secesh, what’s given so much trouble to-day, going round in Federal uniform. I bet it is.—We’ve got you now, Johnny 226Reb, so you may as well own up. Who are you, any how?’
 
‘I reckon you make me tired with your questions,’ answered Ephraim. ‘I shan’t answer no more. Ye ain’t the provost-marshal, air ye?’
 
‘Ho! if it’s him you want to see,’ mocked the corporal, ‘I guess we won’t be long gratifying your desires.—Hey, boys?’
 
A low muttering among the men suddenly into a shout, and there was an ugly rush in the direction of Ephraim. The corporal threw himself in the way of it.
 
‘No, no, boys,’ he cried. ‘I guess his time is short enough without your cutting it shorter. Besides, fair’s fair, and the fellow that could get the best of Sergeant Mason in a must be a fighter and a pretty average kind of a man. Let him take his chance with the provost-marshal. I reckon it’s his business, not ours.’
 
The men, appealed to in this soldierly fashion, fell back, and at the corporal’s direction four of them raised the fallen Sergeant Mason and started for the camp, bearing him between them.
 
‘Now, you,’ said the corporal, ‘since you’re in such a hurry, step out, and we’ll call on your friend the provost-marshal. I shouldn’t wonder if he was waiting up to receive you.—Fetch him along, boys.’
 
‘Corporal,’ asked the Grizzly in a weak voice, ’ I hev a drink er water? I’——The words failed on his lips, he staggered and would have fallen, but for the supporting arms of the two men who held him.
 
‘My land!’ exclaimed the corporal. ‘I’d forgotten 227his wound. Lay him down on the ground.—Hyar, drink this. We may be Yankees, Johnny Reb; but we are not by a good deal.’ He held his canteen to Ephraim’s lips, and when the latter had satisfied his thirst, rapidly cut away his coat and made a fresh examination of the wound.
 
‘There,’ he said, arranging his own handkerchief as a pad over the , and it in its place with another which one of the men handed to him—‘you’ll do now till the surgeon can get his paws on you. It’s only a scratch, though it’s a pretty deep one. Feel better?’
 
‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ said Grizzly, sitting up. ‘I’m all right agen now. It war water I wanted.—No,’ as he rose to his feet, ‘ye needn’t carry me. I kin walk well enuff.’
 
‘Are you sure?’ the corporal, who was prepossessed in Ephraim’s favour on account of his prowess in having such a man of valour as Sergeant Mason. ‘It’ll be easy enough to have you carried.’
 
‘I’ll walk while I kin walk,’ returned Ephraim with grim humour. ‘Ye kin carry me after the shootin’. Or I reckon it’s hangin’ when ye’re ketched spyin’ around; ain’t it?’
 
‘I’m afraid it is,’ answered the corporal as they moved along. ‘And I wish it wasn’t, for you’re a brave man, and I’d sooner see you with an ounce of lead in your brain than at the end of a rope.’
 
‘That’s real kind of you, corporal,’ said Ephraim. ‘The selection is very ch’ice; but I ’low the result won’t make much difference ter me.’
 
The corporal seemed to feel the force of this, for he made no reply, and they continued their way in silence until the groups of smouldering bivouac fires showed that they had reached the outer line of the camp. Passing through the long rows of soldiers, they came at last to the guard tent, and here the corporal, on making , was referred to the officer of the day, who in his turn directed them to the provost-marshal.
 
They found that this had left word that, in the event of the capture of the spy, he was to be at once, no matter what the hour; but as a matter of fact he arrived upon the scene in a very bad humour, for after waiting up till past midnight, he had thought that he might safely turn in, and now his first sweet, sleep had been rudely broken. That this was due to the strictness of his own orders did not tend to him, for there was nobody to shift the blame upon, and to be reduced to at one’s self is a state that offers little . Yes, there was some one, though, upon whom the vials of his might be emptied, and the provost-marshal that the spy—if spy he really proved to be—should have nothing to complain of on the score of .
 
‘Bring that prisoner in here,’ he said, appearing at the entrance to his tent.—‘Now, corporal, is this the spy?’
 
‘Can’t say, sir,’ answered the corporal; ‘but I shouldn’t wonder if it were. I captured him as he was attempting to escape after clubbing Sergeant Mason.’
 
229The provost-marshal, who had seated himself at a small table with a note-book before him and a pencil in his hand, looked up in surprise at this. ‘Do I understand you to say,’ he asked, ‘that this weedy creature actually got the best of Sergeant Mason?’
 
‘It’s a fact, sir,’ replied the corporal. ‘Mason has got a crack on the head that will keep him quiet this long time. Of course I didn’t see the fight myself, but this fellow here don’t deny that he is the man, and he has a bayonet wound in the shoulder to speak for the truth of what he says.’
 
‘Humph!’ muttered the provost-marshal. ‘I shouldn’t have thought it possible. Well, I’ll question him.—By the way, corporal, did you hear or see anything of those other two fellows?’
 
‘No, sir,’ answered the corporal, understanding the reference; ‘but I heard, sir, that Colonel Spriggs was still out on the hunt for them.’
 
The provost-marshal’s moustache was slightly . So grim a person could not be expected to smile; but his amused thought was evidently: ‘Spriggs will take precious good care not to return to camp until Jackson moves from Port Republic, or we move from here.’
 
For Ephraim, too, the announcement had a special interest, for it showed him that his identity with one of the escaped aeronauts was not, so far, suspected, and hence the provost-marshal could have no idea that any one else had been concerned in the affair of the . Lucius, he hoped, was by this time out of harm’s way; but at all events Spriggs was not there to matters by referring to him. The Grizzly was quite prepared to take the of the theft of 230the despatch upon his own shoulders, and he awaited calmly the discovery of the packet. Casting his eyes to his , he saw with some slight surprise that the flap was unfastened. He had been very particular about the fastening, lest by any chance the papers should be lost, and he wondered whether it had come during his combat with Sergeant Mason. He was roused from his by the voice of the provost-marshal questioning him.
 
‘Are you a soldier or ?’
 
‘Civilian, sir. I am a factory hand at the ironworks at Staunton. I came into your lines by accident, and ’cause I wanted ter git out agen without comin’ ter grief, I put on these clothes thet I found in the wood.’
 
‘Ah! I suppose it was also by accident that, thus disguised as a Federal soldier, you played the part of , and became fraudulently of a despatch belonging to General Shields and addressed to General Frémont? And I imagine that if, by another and very lucky accident, you had fallen in with your friends, the enemy, you would have felt compelled to hand the despatch over to them. It is fortunate that we got hold of you first.’
 
This was a shot on the part of the provost-marshal, for he had as yet n............