all take to grass like young partridges," said the hunter. The
boys were flattered, for they considered any notice from him a
compliment.

"What made you fool us, and send us to catch that conscript-guard?"
Frank asked.

"Well, you ketched him, didn't you? You're the only ones ever been
able to ketch him," he said, with a low chuckle.

"Now, Mills, you know how things stand," said the General. "It's a
shame for you to have been acting this way. You know what people say
about you. But if you come back to camp and do your duty, I'll have it
all straightened out. If you don't, I'll have you shot."

His voice was as calm and his manner as composed as if he were
promising the man opposite him a reward for good conduct. He looked
Mills steadily in the eyes all the time. The boys felt as if their
friend were about to be executed. The General seemed an immeasurable
distance above them.

The deserter blinked twice or thrice, slowly bit his shred of straw,
looked casually first toward one boy and then toward the other, but
without the slightest change of expression in his face.

"Cun'l," he said, at length, "I ain't no deserter. I ain't feared of
bein' shot. Ef I was, I wouldn' 'a' come here now. I'm gwine wid you,
an' I'm gwine back to my company; an' I'm gwine fight, ef Yankees gits
in my way; but ef I gits tired, I's comin' home; an' 'tain't no use to
tell you I ain't, 'cause I _is_,--an' ef anybody flings up to me that
I's a-runnin' away, I'm gwine to kill 'em!"

He rose to his feet in the intensity of his feeling, and his eyes,
usually so dull, were like live coals.

The General looked at him quietly a few seconds, then himself arose
and laid his hand on Tim Mills' shoulder.

"All right," he said.

"I got a little snack M'lindy put up," said Mills, pulling a
substantial bundle out of his game-bag. "I 'lowed maybe you might be
sort o' hongry. Jes' two or three squirrels I shot," he said,
apologetically.

"You boys better git 'long home, I reckon," said Mills to Willy. "You
ain' 'fraid, is you? 'Cause if you is, I'll go with you."

His voice had resumed its customary drawl.

"Oh, no," said both boys, eagerly. "We aren't afraid."

"An' tell your ma I ain' let nobody tetch nothin' on the Oakland
plantation; not sence that day you all went huntin' deserters; not if
I knowed 'bout it."

"Yes, sir."

"An' tell her I'm gwine take good keer o' Hugh an' the Cunnel.
Good-bye!--now run along!"

"All right, sir,--