As he spoke, he put spurs to his horse, and dashed madly up the road in pursuit of the defeated guerillas.

“Your hand, Captain Somers,” said the regular. “You are a trump.”

“Thank you; and I am happy to reciprocate the compliment,” replied the young staff officer, as he took the proffered hand of Captain Barkwood.

“As a general rule, I don’t think much of volunteer officers,” continued the regular; “but you are a stunning good fellow, and as plucky as a hen that has lost one of her chickens.”

“I am obliged to you for your good opinion, and especially for your ornithological simile,” laughed Somers, who, we need not add, was delighted with the conduct of his companion.

“My what?”

“Your ornithological simile.”

“My dear fellow, you must have swallowed a quarto dictionary. If you had only used that expression before the fight, the rebels would certainly have run away, and declined to engage a man who used words of such ominous length. No matter; you can fight.”

“I can when I am obliged to do so. You remarked, a little while ago, that you were a coward by nature.”

“So I am; but it was safer to fight than it was to run.”

“You did not behave like a man who is a coward by nature.”

“But I am a coward; and I dislike these hand-to-hand encounters.”

“You didn’t appear to dislike them very much just now,” added Somers, who was filled with admiration at the gallant bearing of the regular.

“I do; war is a science. I play at it just as I do at chess. By the way, Captain Somers, do you play chess?”

“Only a little.”

“Well, it’s a noble game; and I may have the pleasure of letting you beat me some time. War is like chess; it’s a great game. I like to see a well-planned battle, and even to take a part in it. But these little affairs, where everything depends on brute force, are my particular abomination. There is no science about them—no strategy—no chance to flank, or do any other smart thing.”

“Here comes the major; he didn’t catch his 

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