dling a prisoner in
this country. Gossley ought to be an Italian brigand. I shouldn't wonder
if he sends a note to the colonel, threatening, if the money is not
forthcoming, to shoot me. And he will shoot me, too--there is no doubt
of that. The man has no more heart than a grindstone--he showed that
when he attempted to hang Price, the miller."

Artie was not one to sit down and kick his heels in dejection. To him,
'while there was life there was hope,' and having examined the sides and
front of his prison, he turned his attention to the rear. A little work
loosened one of the small boards previously mentioned. He was about to
tear the board away, when he heard footsteps in the cellar; and he
shoved the board back into place.

It was Martha Bradner who had come down, accompanied by the negro Joe.
Evidently the woman wanted nothing more than to render the young
Unionist uncomfortable.

"Hope you like the cell?" she began.

"Thank you, Madam."

"What is that strange smell? Have you been burning something?"

"Nothing of any consequence," returned Artie. He had put out the
pitch-pine torch and hid it behind him.

"My brother is going to get square for the terrible manner in which your
regiment treated him," went on the lady of the house, maliciously.

"He is holding me for a hostage, is that it?"

"You will find out fast enough, young man."

"Is he going to make his demands at once?"

"No. He has important work for General Bragg that must first be attended
to," answered the lady, who had not yet learned the value of silence
upon certain occasions.

"Then he is a messenger for the general, eh? That is quite a high
position to occupy."

"No higher than Daniel deserves," was the airy reply. "My brother is a
great soldier, were his real ability recognized."

"No doubt he is a big man,--if General Bragg trusts him to do his
scouting for him. It's hard work to play the part of a spy in a Union
camp, I can tell you that."

"Daniel is fully equal to the task," said the lady.

She seemed totally ignorant of the fact that Artie was "drawing her
out," and that she was letting her tongue run altogether too fast. Her
brother had told her something of his mission, and she wanted this
Northern mudsill to know what an important man that brother really was.

"Perhaps your brother won't get back into the Confederate lines to tell
all that he has learned," continued Artie.

"He'll be back to-morrow morning. He has a fir