, and deserves a better fate."

"Come along, Somers! You are an odd stick, when you are wounded, to
trouble yourself about your enemies. Let me see your arm."

The captain examined the wounded member, which was now bleeding very
freely. He tied a handkerchief around the arm, and did the best which the
circumstances would admit for his friend. He then led the way
down-stairs, where the horses were impatiently waiting for their riders.
Jenny was a noble mare, and the orderly's horse was an excellent animal.
De Banyan, knowing how much might depend upon the endurance of the horses
in the flight before them, filled the bag with corn in the loft, after he
had helped Somers to mount the horse of Peters, which appeared to be the
steadier beast of the two.

The noise of the affray in the loft had probably been heard by some of
the occupants of the house; and, just as the fugitives had mounted the
horses, a black woman from the dwelling approached the stable. She gazed
with astonishment and alarm at the riders, and seemed to be satisfied
that all was not right.

"Your master is up in the loft," said Somers, as they rode by her. "He is
hurt, and wants attention."

"Now whip up, Somers. We must make quick time; for we shall have the
whole city after us in ten minutes," said De Banyan, as he urged Jenny to
the top of her speed.

The spirited animal seemed as willing to exert herself for the enemies as
the friends of the Southern Confederacy; thus proving that she was a
neutral horse, or cherished Union sentiments. But the other horse could
not keep pace with her, and De Banyan was compelled to restrain her
speed. The fugitives had scarcely appeared in the street before a hue and
cry was raised; for the place had been thoroughly aroused by the clamor
which the troopers had created. Still, there was nothing in sight which
promised to offer any serious resistance to their progress.

A few moments brought them to the outskirts of the town; though in what
direction, or to what point, the road they had taken would lead them,
neither De Banyan nor Somers had the most remote idea. To go in the wrong
direction was equivalent to plunging into certain ruin; to go in any
direction was hardly less perilous; for the rebel cavalry was out upon
every road, intent upon capturing the deserter and the Yankee. As they
emerged from the more thickly settled parts of the city, they discovered
a negro approaching them.

"Where does this road lead