turned towards the door leading to the second story. He was
evidently in a great hurry to get his guests up-stairs. Watson, Macgreggor
and George looked at one another, as if trying to fathom the cause of
their peculiar reception at the hands of Farmer Hare. But each one
silently decided that their only cue was to be as polite as possible, and
refrain from any altercation with their host.

"After all," thought Watson, "if we can spend the night here we will be
off again at dawn--and then let our surly host take himself to Kamchatka,
for all we care."

Half an hour later Watson and Macgreggor, thoroughly tired out, were sound
asleep, in one of the small rooms in the second-story of the house.
George, however, lay tossing from side to side on a bed in the adjoining
room, directly over the kitchen, with Waggie curled up on the floor close
by. The more he thought of the strange behavior of Hare the more uneasy he
became. Why had the farmer regarded him and his two companions with such a
suspicious glance? Then George suddenly recollected where he had seen that
face before. Yes! There could be no mistake. While he, Macgreggor and
Watson were dining that day at the village tavern in Jasper, Hare was
loitering on the porch of the place. But what of that? The three pretended
Kentuckians had told their usual story, and professed their love for the
Confederacy, and no one there had seemed to doubt their truthfulness for a
moment.

In vain the boy tried to fall asleep. At last, hearing voices in the
kitchen, he rose quietly from his bed, stole out of his room, and
stealthily walked to the little hallway that led to the kitchen stairway.
At the head of the staircase he halted. It was clear that Farmer Hare was
saying something emphatic, while his wife was entering a feeble protest.
An intuition told the listener that his own party was the subject of
discussion. Slowly, cautiously, he crept down the stairway, until he
almost touched the closed door which led from it to the kitchen.

"I tell you, woman," Hare was saying, "these three fellows are spies of
some sort, and the sooner we have them under arrest the better."

"I can't believe it," murmured the wife.

"I don't care whether you believe it or not," rejoined the husband, in a
harsh tone. "Don't I tell you that when these two men, and the boy, were
at the tavern in Jasper to-day, one of the men was recognized by John
Henderson. Henderson is a spy in the service of General