“Yes, I know where it is,” said the Captain.

“Den what to do was de puzzle.  De country was all full ob secesh pickets, an’ dere was de ribber, an’ we had no boat,—­so Jim, he says, ‘I know what to do; fust I’ll hide you yere,’ an’ he did all safe in de woods; ‘an’ den I’ll git ye suthin to eat from de niggers round,’ an’ he did dat too, do he couldn’t git much, for fear he’d be seen; an’ den we, he and I, made some ropes out ob de tall grass like dat we’d ofen made fur mats, an’ tied dem together wid some oder grass, an’ stuck a board in, an’ den made fur de Yankee camp, an’ yere we is.”

“Yes,” said the black man Jim, here,—­breaking silence,—­“we’ll show you de way back if you kin go up in a boat dey can rest in, fur dey’s most all clean done out, an’ de capen’s wound is awful bad yit.”

“This captain,—­what’s his name?” inquired Coolidge.

“His name is here,” said Jim, carefully drawing forth a paper from his rags,—­“he has on dis some figgers an’ a map of de country he took before he got wounded, an’ some words he writ wid a bit of burnt stick just before we cum away,—­an’ he giv it to me, an’ tole me to bring it to camp, fur fear something might happen to him while we was away.”

“My God!” cried Coolidge when he had opened the paper, and with hasty eyes scanned its contents, “it’s Tom Russell; I know him well.  This must be sent up to head-quarters, and I’ll get an order, and a boat, and some men, to go for them at once.”  All of which was promptly done.

“See here!  I speak to be one of the fellows what goes,” Jim emphatically announced.

“All right.  I reckon we’ll both go, Given, if the General will let us,—­and I think he will,”—­which was a safe guess and a true one.  The boat was soon ready and manned.  ’Bijah, too weak to pull an oar, was left behind; and Jim, really not fit to do aught save guide them, still insisted on taking his share of work.  They found the place at last, and the men; and taking them on board,—­Russell having to be moved slowly and carefully,—­they began to pull for home.

The tide was going out, and the river low:  that, with the heavy laden boat, made their progress lingering; a fact which distressed them all, as they knew the night to be almost spent, and that the shores were so lined with batteries, open and masked, and the country about so scoured by rebels, as to make it almost sure death to them if they were not beyond the lines before the morning broke.

The water was steadily and perceptibly ebbing,—­the rowing growing more and more insecure,—­the danger becoming imminent.

“Ease her off, there! ease her off!” cried the Captain,—­as a harsh, gravelly sound smote on his ear, and at the same moment a shot whizzed past them, showing that they were discovered,—­“ease her off, there! or we’re stuck!”

The warning came too late,—­indeed, could not have been obeyed, had it come earlier.  The boat struck; her bottom grating hard on the wet sand.