SOMERS heard all that was said in the front room, and judged from that, and the sounds which reached him, what was taking place there. The two men who were stunned came to their senses, after a while, and they were sent off with the dead and the wounded ones; for it appeared that the general wanted the apartment for a consultation with his officers. It was expected that Major Riggleston would be present at this place with fresh information from the Yankee lines; and the listener congratulated himself that he had been able to disappoint them in this respect.

The major had chosen the ravine for his passage through the pickets, and it was now evident that he intended to resume his work as soon as he had disposed of his prisoner. The fellow was armed with a pass, and, Somers well knew, was regarded in the loyal lines as a major of the —nd Maryland Home Brigade, and could therefore go where he pleased, even into the very councils of the general commanding the army of the Potomac.

Somers believed he had made a great discovery. The rebels always knew precisely when and where the army of the Potomac were going to move. When McClellan had actually made up his mind to attack the forces fortified at Manassas, they suddenly decamped. All his movements for months were mysteriously communicated to the enemy, even before the general officers of the loyal army were informed in regard to them. People wondered, the press commented severely, and the government was perplexed.

Captain Somers thought he understood all about it now, and believed that he had laid out the man who had done all this mischief. Much as we admire the captain, our hero, we are compelled to say that he was mistaken. He had really made no such discovery, and had achieved no such tremendous result as the killing of the one who had done this immense injury to the loyal cause, as future pages in our history will show. But he believed Major Riggleston, whom he had seen in the staff of the general commanding, was the man who had conveyed all this information; he believed he had made this great discovery, accomplished this big thing; and he took courage accordingly.

Major Riggleston was not there to speak of what the Yankees had done, and what they intended to do; but for all this, the consultation of officers proceeded. Somers heard them discuss their own position and that of the enemy; he heard them suggest all manner of possibilities and probabilities, and how to meet them; but they did not speak so definitely as he wished they would. They alluded to a line of field-works, which the listener was unable to locate.

Somers was coiled up behind a chest of drawers, and did not concern himself at all about his personal safety. He was too deeply interested in the labors of the council to think of himself. He had a tolerably good idea of the rebel plans, and wondered whether the man who was called “general” was really Stonewall Jackson. He could not reach a satisfactory conclusion on this point, but he was strongly in favor of the supposition.

“It is one o’clock, and we must get a little sleep,” said the mysterious general, as Somers heard the rattling of chairs when they rose from the table.

“Some of us will probably make a long sleep of it to-morrow,” added one of the officers.

“Don’t trifle with a matter so serious,” continued the general, solemnly. “Ah, here is the colonel,” he added, as the door opened, and two or three persons entered the house. “What news do you bring? Have you captured those Yankees?”

“I have neither captured them nor heard a word of them. Not a soul within our lines knows anything about them,” replied the colonel, in tones of disgust and mortification.

“That’s singular. Our sentinels are sleepy; they must be stirred up. The miscreants had not been gone from this house more than twenty minutes when we arrived, according to the statement of the lady.”

“Nothing was ever more thoroughly done than the search we made; but I am positive they have got through.”

“Perhaps not,” suggested the general.

“I have searched every house, grove, and clump of trees; every hole, ditch, and cornfield within two miles of this spot. I am satisfied, but I believe there are traitors within our camp. They could not have got through without help from our side of the line.”

“We will look into that matter at the first opportunity,” replied the general, with a long gape.

They left the house in a body, and all was silent within, except the step of Maud Hasbrouk, as she attended to the wants of the sufferers in her care. Somers had done all he could do in this place, and he was satisfied that the search for himself and Captain Barkwood had been abandoned. He crawled out of the corner in which he had been coiled away for over two hours, intent upon the great duty which was still in a measure unperformed. He had some doubts whether his friend in the closet had been patient under the long delay; and he was in haste to relieve him from the suspense and discomfort of his situation.

There was no one in the house but Maud and her three patients. There was, therefore, nothing to fear, and he crept towards the door leading from the entry into the kitchen. He softly opened it, and was stealthily making his way towards the shed, when the door of the front room was thrown wide open, and Maud, apparently in a great hurry, stepped into the kitchen. She had a bowl in her hand, and was intent upon the object which had brought her there, so that she did not at first see Somers, who stood in the middle of the floor.

When she discovered him she screamed, and started back in astonishment and terror, dropping the dish; but she still held the light which she had brought from the sick room. Somers regarded the meeting as a very unfortunate occurrence, and wished he had been prudent enough to go out at the front door; but it was too late to indulge in vain regrets, and the situation was sufficiently perilous to induce him to resort at once to decisive measures, for the tongue of the woman was hardly less dangerous than a squad of rebel cavalry.

“Who are you?” asked the lady, when she had recovered herself sufficiently to speak.

“It matters not who I am,” replied Somers, disguising his voice as much as he could.

“Captain Somers!” exclaimed she, shrinking back still farther.

“I am sorry, for your sake, that you have recognized me,” replied he, dropping the collar of his coat, which he had drawn up over his face. “Miss Hasbrouk, your discovery endangers my life; I am compelled either to shoot you, or—”

“To shoot me!” exclaimed she, with horror.

“What is the matter, Maud?” said a voice from the front room, which was followed by the appearance of Major Riggleston, whose head was tied up with bandages, as the surgeon had dressed it.

“It is Captain Somers,” said she, in trembling tones.

“It seems that I did not fully do my work,” added Somers, taking a pistol from his belt.

“Don’t fire, Somers, don’t,” said the major, in tones so feeble and piteous that Somers could not help being moved by them. “You have nearly killed me now, and you ought to be satisfied.”

“It is your life or mine, Major Riggleston, and I have no time to argue the matter. In five minutes more you will have the whole Confederate army at my heels. I run no risks with a villain like you,” replied Somers.

“Don’t fire!” begged Maud; “I will do anything you desire, if you will spare me.”

It was something to see a brawling rebel woman, the most pestilent and inveterate enemy the government had in the contest, in a pleading posture. It was something to expose the ridiculous pretensions of one of that army of female rebels, fiercer and more vindictive than the men, and to demonstrate that she had none of the courage of which she had boasted. Maud regretted that her sex compelled her to be a non-combatant; it was doubtful whether she would ever again regret it.

“I wish not to take the life of either of you; but my own safety compels me to use strong measures,” said Somers, as he cocked his pistol.

“For mercy’s sake, don’t fire!” gasped Maud.

“Don’t kill me, Somers; I will pledge you my word and honor not to expose you,” added the major.

“What are your word and honor good for, after what has happened this night?” sneered Somers.

“I will give you all the information you require, if you will spare my life.”

“That would not save my life.”

“I will give you the countersign.”

“That’s something towards it.”

The wretch gave him the word, and while he received it, he despised the major more than ever before. He was now a traitor to both sides; but all this, and more, would he give in exchange for his life. Somers then questioned him in regard to the position of various bodies of rebel troops, and the miscreant answered him promptly, and, as it was afterwards shown, correctly.

“You know me now, Major Riggleston and Miss Hasbrouk; and you must understand that I go about with my life in my hand. I am not to be trifled with. I will not take your life yet.”

“I will swear never to reveal your presence to a living soul,” exclaimed the major.

“You need not; you have given me better security than your oath that you will not expose me. If I am taken, I shall be taken with the countersign in my keeping. I had it from you. If you have given me the wrong word, I shall be turned back.”

“I have given you the right word,” interposed the major.

“If I am turned back, I shall come here first, and complete my work,” added Somers, sternly.

“You shall have my pass.”

“I have it already. I have not yet exhausted all my resources,” said the scout, producing the two passes, which he had neglected to return in the ravine.

He opened them; but though the wounded major was surprised, he was too weak and broken in spirits to ask any questions, or even to care where his late companion had procured them.

“All I ask of you, Major Riggleston, and of you, Miss Hasbrouk, is to keep still,” continued Somers.

“I will,” replied Maud, eagerly.

“And I will, Captain Somers. What I have done here to save my life has ruined me. I shall never be seen in the service again.”

“I think you are coming to your senses, major.”

“May I ask you to keep quiet in regard to what I have done? for you know the penalty of that which I could not have done if I had not stood on the brink of the open grave.”

“That will depend on your own conduct. Return to your bed; and if you are treacherous, you will suffer for it.”

“I may die,” groaned the major, who had sunk into a chair, for he believed his wound was much worse than it really was.

Perhaps some twinges of remorse had induced him to aid Somers in his mission more than he otherwise would; he was not a man of nerve, or a man of much nobility of purpose, and his severe wound had worked a great change in his moral and mental organization. The fear of death had deprived him of what little manliness he possessed, and under the pressure of that terror, he had sunk lower down in the scale of humanity than it would have been possible for him under any other circumstances. He had absolutely betrayed the cause for which he professed so earnest and sincere a devotion. His boasted honor was a delusion. He was an exception, even in the ranks of southern heroes.

Somers was satisfied with what was promised, and with what had already been performed. He restored his pistol to his belt, and hastened to the back room, where Captain Barkwood was no doubt anxiously waiting to hear from him.

“Come out, captain,” said he, as he threw open the door.

“Is that you, Somers?” replied the regular, as he stepped from his narrow quarters. “I had given you up for lost, and was just thinking of engaging in a little enterprise of my own. Where have you been?”

Somers, as briefly as possible, explained the events that had transpired during his absence, to which the regular listened with wonder and admiration. It was now two o’clock in the morning, and there was much still to be done before they could return to the camp. Somers, still wearing the coat and feathered hat of Major Riggleston, left the back room, followed by Barkwood, and for three hours wandered about the camps of the rebels. They were often challenged; but Somers gave his name as Major Riggleston, and produced the pass when called upon, or gave the countersign. The day was breaking in the east when they finished the examination.