“RICHARD”

He sighed, casting a woe-begone glance into the mirror, dimly conscious that he was a very heroic young person.  He kissed various objects dear to the little maid, and then, in lugubrious unrest, sallied out and mounted.

Again under the calm sky—­again the fleet limbs of the horse almost keeping time to his own inward impatience.  He holds to the soft, unpaved, outlying streets, that his pace may not attract remark.  He passes horsemen, like himself spurring fleetly in the darkness.  He is near the river at last—­dismounts and reconnoitres.  He easily finds a place to tie the horse, and, familiar with every inch of the outlying ground about the prison, crawls close to the wall, listening intently.  He can hear no sound save the weary clank of the sentry on the wooden walk.  He reaches the wall where the prisoners Jones and Barney were to emerge.  There is no sign of a break!  Where can Jack be?  Some disaster must have overtaken him, for it is past the hour set and soon it will be dawn, and then all action will be impossible.  Perhaps Jack has been caught reconnoitring?  Perhaps he has gone with the main body, not venturing to try for Jones and Dick without help?  No, that was not like Jack.  This was his special part in the plan—­if it were not done, Jack was still about.  He can find out readily—­thanks to the countersign.  He steals back over the low hillock, mounts the horse, and by a detour reaches the sentry guarding the river front of the prison.  He is challenged, but, possessed of the countersign, finds no difficulty in riding up to the guard-room doorway.

“Has Lieutenant Hawkins been here within an hour, sentry?” he asks, in apparent haste.

“No, sir.  I think he has been sent for—­leastwise, the sergeant went away about an hour ago to report the taking of a deserter, found prowling about the side of the prison.”

“A deserter?”

“Yes, sir.  He had a brand-new uniform on and no company mark, nor no equipments.”

“What has been done with him?” Dick asked, breathlessly, dismounting.  “I wonder if he isn’t one of my company from Fort Lee?  He went off on a drunk yesterday, though he was sent here on a commissary errand.”

“I dunno, sir.  He’s in the lockup there.  He was very violent, and the sergeant bound him with straps.”

“I will go in and examine him; he may be one of my men, and, as our brigade moves in the morning, I should like to know.”

“Very well, sir; the officer of the day is asleep in the room beyond the first door.  One of the men will call him.”

“Oh, no need to disturb him until I have seen the prisoner.—­Here, my man”—­addressing a soldier asleep on a settee—­“show me to the deserter brought in to-night.”

“Yes, sir,” the man cried, starting up with confused alacrity; then, noticing the insignia of major on Dick’s gray collar, he saluted respectfully, and, pointing to a double doorway, waited for his superior to lead the way.  Dick, who had been in the prison before, knew his whereabouts very well, and it was not until the soldier reached the room in which the deserter was detained that he seemed to remember that there were no lights.