“And you will accomplish more,” he added meditatively.  “Yes; you will be in less danger, and you will accomplish more.”

“I should be glad to be in less danger, as well as to do more,” said I.

“You should always do such work unarmed.”

“You are right, Doctor; entirely right.  Arms are encumbrances only, and a man might easily be tempted to fire when he ought to be silent.”

“My reasons are a little different from yours,” said the Doctor; “you will be safer if you are unarmed, and other people’s lives will be safer from you.”

“Why should I not also wear Confederate uniform?”

“And be a spy, Jones?”

“Hardly that, Doctor; merely a scout near the enemy’s lines, not in them.”

“I cannot vote for that yet,” said the Doctor.

The Doctor’s servant entered, bringing a written message addressed:—­

PRIVATE BERWICK,
On detached service,
At Sanitary Camp,
Rear of General Hancock’s division.

“Who gave you this?” I asked.

“A man has just come with it—­a horseman—­two horsemen; no, a horseman with two horses.”

“Is he waiting?”

“Yes, sir.”

I tore open the envelope.  The Doctor was showing no curiosity; the thought went through my mind that he already knew or suspected.

There were three papers,—­a sketch, a sort of passport which contained only the countersigns for the past five days, and an order from General Hooker.

The order itself gave me no information of the reasons which had influenced General Hooker to choose me for the work required; I could merely assume that General Grover had nominated me.  I read the order thoroughly three times, learned by heart the countersigns, impressed the map on my mind, and then destroyed the three papers in accordance with an express injunction comprised in the order itself.  This mental work took some minutes, during which the Doctor sat impassive.

“Doctor, I must go.”

“Well, Jones, we can finish, our talk when you return.  I suppose you are on secret service.”

“Yes, Doctor,”

“Can I help in any way?”

“Please let me have that gray suit.”

He brought it himself, not wishing his servant to see it.

“Anything else, Jones?”

“Yes, sir; I shall need food.”

“How will you carry it?”

“In my pockets.  Bread will do.”

“I think I have a better thing,” said he; “I have provided that you shall not starve again, as you did on the Warwick.”

He produced a wide leathern belt, made into one long bag, or pocket; this he filled with small hard biscuits; it was just what I wanted.

“Doctor, you are the most extraordinary man in this army.”

“I am not in this army,” he said.

The belt was put on beneath my waistcoat.

“I’ll leave my gun and everything with you, Doctor; I hope to get back in two or three days.”