“This is Captain Barkwood, of the regulars.”

Somers saluted the quiet gentleman, who had hardly spoken during the interview. Major Riggleston was dressed in an entirely new uniform, and rode a splendid horse, which led Somers to believe that he belonged to one of the wealthy and aristocratic families of the state which so tardily embraced the cause of the Union. On the other hand, Captain Barkwood looked as though he had seen hard service; for his uniform was rusty, and his face was bronzed by exposure beneath the fervid sun of the south.

The party were excellently well acquainted with each other before they had ridden a mile. After the topics suggested by the first meeting had been exhausted, Somers mentioned his fear of the guerillas and rebel marauders, who kept a little way in advance of the invading army. The travellers were now farther north than Frederick, and some distance from the advancing line of the Union army. The road they had chosen was not one of the great thoroughfares of the state; consequently it was but little frequented.

“I don’t object to meeting a small party of guerillas,” said Major Riggleston; “for, gentlemen, if you are of the same mind that I am, we should show them the quality of true Union steel.”

“I hope we shall not meet any; but if we do, I am in no humor to lose my horse or my boots,” replied Somers. “But we may meet so many of them that it would be better to trust to our horses’ heels than to the quality of our steel.”

“True—too many would not be agreeable; but, say a dozen or twenty of them. We could whip that number without difficulty. The fact is, gentlemen, I am a fighting man. There has been too much of this looking at the enemy, and then running away. I repeat, gentlemen, I am a fighting man.”

“I am glad to hear it, and glad to have met you, for I am told there are a good many of these small plundering parties loose about this region; and I would rather fight than lose my boots,” laughed Somers.

“Three of us can do a good thing,” added the major.

“Four,” suggested Somers.

“Four?”

“My man can fight.”

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