rough voice.
"Still we must take no chances. The poor devil has reason to toss in his
sleep and talk. I doubt if he were doing anything else."

The need was desperate. Andy crawled like a snake through the grasses.
Escape seemed impossible. He passed the two searchers in the friendly
gloom, and breathed freer. This was a lucky move, for the two men
examined thoroughly the spot where Andy had been. They discovered the
broken glass, and one remarked that the weeds had been crushed.

"Some animal has been prowling about, there are no footprints," said the
other.

Andy's Indian training was serving him well. In a few minutes the two
passed on. "We'll walk around the place. Daybreak is near. The dangerous
spy's time is short."

Andy made the most of that time. Stealing cautiously in and out of the
shrubbery, he worked his way out of sight of the greenhouse. The chill
of the morning made him shiver. How many hours he had passed without
food or drink he did not consider; but his heart seemed dead within
him.

Painfully he came at last to the shelter of the woods. Then he sat down
upon a fallen tree, clutching the scraps of paper against his throbbing
breast. In imagination he seemed to see the master being led forth to
die. See! the east was rosy. Now, even now, the brave soul was marching
on undaunted and undismayed. Andy could see nothing in the brilliancy of
that lovely morning light, but the uplifted face of the man he loved. A
pride and joy came to the boy. That hero was his friend! The world might
call him a spy--but he, Andy McNeal, knew that he had given all for the
country's cause, and regretted nothing, even in the face of a dishonored
death.

"And Washington shall know!" breathed Andy. "As soon as I can reach
headquarters, the General shall have these!" Fiercely he pressed the
papers. Then he arose. He was stiff and deadly weary.

"I will go to Ruth!" he sighed. "I must have food and rest. I dare not
go to mother. My plight is too sad. I will save her the sight."
Bedraggled and blood-stained--for the fall of the night before had left
its mark--Andy went on, looking, as indeed he was, a soldier of the
cause.

CHAPTER VII

ANDY HEARS A STRANGE TALE

Andy made but poor time to the minister's house. It was well on toward
noon when the shouts of the children at play cheered his heart. He had
been obliged to rest many times, and once he had fallen asleep and slept
longer than he knew.

As he drew n