us may be mistaken,"
rejoined the young captain of Company D. "We will try that direction,
anyway."

They continued on their way through the cane-brake until they reached
a small stream. Here the ground was soft and full of treacherous
bog-holes, and both looked at each other in dismay.

"Sure, an' this is more than we bargained fer, eh, captain?" remarked
Casey, as he pulled himself out of a hole into which he had gone
almost to his knees. "If we don't look out we'll git stuck so tight
there'll be no budgin' av us."

"The ground to the right seems to be firmer," replied Ben. "Come, we
will move in that direction."

But to get out of the soft spot was not easy, and soon they found
themselves between the tall cane and up to their knees in a muck that
seemed to stick worse than glue.

"Sure, an' this is fightin' wid a vengeance," said the Irish
volunteer, smiling grimly. "It's sthuck we are like flies on a fly
paper, eh, Captain Russell?"

"We've got to get out somehow, Casey," answered Ben, half desperately.
"Our command is marching farther and farther away, and we'll have all
we can do to get up to them."

"Sure thin, an' Major Morris betther send a detail back wid a long
rope to pull us out. We couldn't fly from the inimy now if we thried,
could we?"

"This is no joke, Casey."

"Joke, bedad? No, captain, I'm afther thinkin' it's a mighty sarious
difficulty. But there's no use av cryin', no matther how bad it is,"
finished the Irish soldier, philosophically.

A moment of reflection convinced Ben that the best thing he could do
was to go back part of the distance they had come, and make an
endeavor to cross the little stream at another point.

They retreated with difficulty, first one sinking into some
treacherous hole and then the other. Once Casey went flat on his back,
and gave a loud yell of dismay when he found himself covered with a
mud that was more like a paste than anything else.

"Sure, an' I'll not go in such a cane-field again, bedad," he
muttered, as he started to pick up the gun he had dropped. As he did
so a cracking of cane-stalks near them caused both to straighten up in
alarm.

"Who comes?" cried Ben, and drew the pistol he had shoved into his
belt.

There was no answer and he repeated the demand. "Are you Americans?"
he added.

Still there was no reply. But the cracking of the stalks continued,
and the sounds seemed to move around the pair in something of a
circle. Then came a s