ally free."

"The very thing!" cried the boy. "You're a genius!"

Watson smiled.

"Not a genius," he said, "but I have what they call horse-sense up our
way--and I'm not anxious to return to the delights of the Atlanta
prison."

Acting upon this new theory the wanderers began their long journey. This
they pursued amid many hardships, not the least of which was hunger. Even
poor Waggie grew emaciated. First they reached the banks of the
Chattahoochee River, after which they secured a boat and rowed their way
down via the Apalachicola River, to Apalachicola, Florida, on the Gulf of
Mexico. Here they found, to their great delight, that a Federal blockading
squadron was patroling on the Gulf, near the mouth of Apalachicola Bay.

The two fugitives now pushed their little boat out into the open sea. They
were a sorry looking couple, with their old clothes fairly dropping from
them, and their thin, gaunt figures showing the consequences of many days
of privation. Watson was feverish, with an unnatural glitter in his eyes,
while George's face was a sickly white. Waggie reposed at the bottom of
the rickety craft, as if he cared not whether he lived or died.

"Look!" cried Watson, who was at the oars. He pointed out towards the
south, where were to be seen a collection of masts and smoke-stacks,
rising above long black hulls.

"It's the Federal fleet," said George. He was glad to have a look at
it--glad to know that deliverance was at hand--but he felt too exhausted
to put any enthusiasm into his voice.

"Can you see any flag?" he asked, wearily. "Perhaps we have been fooled
after all. The ships may belong to the Confederate navy."

Soon they could detect, as they drew nearer, a flutter of bunting from the
vessel nearest to them.

"It's the old flag!" cried George, jumping from his seat in the stern with
a precipitancy that threatened to upset the boat. "See the blue--and the
red and white stripes! Hurrah!" But he was too weak for much enthusiasm
even now and he soon had to sit down once more.

Watson uttered a cry which was meant to be triumphant, although it came
like a hoarse croak from his parched throat. Then the tears gushed into
his eyes as he gazed again upon the flag. It almost seemed as if he were
home again.

Nearer and nearer they rowed to the squadron. There were four ships of
war, and now they could see the sailors walking the decks and the guns in
the portholes.

"We'll be there in ten minutes now,"