life."

The speaker was George Knight. There was mud on his face, and the natty
drummer boy in blue uniform had given place to a young fellow who
outwardly resembled an ordinary farm hand. But there could be no doubt,
from the light which shone in his bright eyes, that he was enjoying
himself to the full.

"Humph!" returned Watson. "When you get as old as I am, my boy, you won't
take such keen delight in walking through mire."

The boy laughed, and turned to the third member of the party. "Are you
tired, too, Macgreggor?" he asked.

Macgreggor, a compactly built, athletic young man of twenty-seven or
thereabouts, with a light-brown beard and mustache which made him look
older than he really was, shook the rain from his hat and said cheerily,
"I've done a good deal of mountain climbing since Tuesday morning, but I'm
not too tired to eat a good supper, if we are lucky enough to find one in
this place."

It need hardly be repeated that Watson and Macgreggor were the two men in
whose care Andrews had placed George Knight. They were both brave,
resourceful men. During their long trudge across the mountainous country
between Shelbyville and the Tennessee, Watson had uttered many a grumble,
but his complaints meant nothing more than a desire to hear himself talk.
When it came to fording a stream, climbing a precipice, or fairly wading
through the slush, he was quite as willing and energetic as the other two
members of his party.

George knocked loudly at the door of the house, as he and his companions
hastily sheltered themselves under the little piazza which ran along the
front of the place.

"Be on your guard, boys," whispered Watson. "Stick to your story about our
being Kentuckians, and say nothing imprudent that may arouse suspicion.
Remember! we _must_ be in Marietta by to-morrow night."

The meeting at Marietta had, at the very last moment, been postponed by
Andrews from Thursday night to Friday night. "It is well he did postpone
it," thought Macgreggor; "we are far enough from Marietta as it is."

The door was suddenly thrown open by an old negro "aunty" behind whom
stood a neat, bustling little white woman. The latter was evidently
engaged in the business of preparing supper, if one might judge from the
fact that her bare arms were almost encaked in flour.

"We are three Kentuckians from Fleming County on our way to enlist in
Chattanooga," spoke out Macgreggor, in a voice which seemed to have the
ring of t