advancing cautiously towards the captain.

“I haven’t that pleasure.”

“Yes, you have; though it is rather dark here for a man to make out even his best friend. I am Major Riggleston.”

“Are you, indeed?” exclaimed Somers, taken all aback by the announcement.

He would rather have met Stonewall Jackson under the circumstances. He could not imagine what the major could possibly be doing in such a place at such an hour of the night, unless he was crawling into the rebel lines, to take a part with the foe in the expected battle. He was tempted to shoot him on the spot, and thus, while he removed an obstacle in his own path, rid the country of a traitor and a dangerous enemy; but Somers never had the nerve to do anything that looked like deliberate murder.

“Major Riggleston, you are a mystery to me,” said he.

“So I am to all who know me,” replied the major. “Come, captain, let us sit down and talk over the matter. If we speak low, the pickets will not hear us. You are a man after my own heart, and I desire to have you understand me better.”

“I think I understand you very well.”

“No, you don’t; you just now said I was a mystery to you,” chuckled the major.

“I mean that I understand your objects—that you are a traitor to your cause and country.”

“My dear captain, you never made a greater blunder in your life.”

“I don’t see it.”

“You shall see it, in the course of ten minutes, if you will hear me.”

“It is useless for me to hear you. I shall not believe a word you say, after what passed between us yesterday.”

“What was that?”

“Didn’t you deny all knowledge of the affair at the Hasbrouk house.”

“’Pon my word I did not.”

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