,
as he came to a halt at the base of a sharp rock some four feet high.
"Don't expose yourself, Deck."

"I don't intend to, Life. But what can those sharpshooters be doing
here? They didn't know we were coming this way."

"That's true, Major."

"And they wouldn't be here just as an advance guard for some cavalry."

"Right again."

"Then why are they here?"

"I give it up."

"Well, I don't."

"What do you intend to do?"

"Find out why they are here."

"But that may be impossible, without an open fight."

"I wouldn't like to force an open fight until I know how those marksmen
are backed up."

"That's just the trouble. I agree that the Johnnies are there on the
island. To get to the island you have got to cross that stream. If you
show yourself in the water, you're a dead man--that goes without saying.
Now what are you going to do?" demanded the tall Kentuckian, with half a
smile, feeling certain he had cornered Deck.

"Going over on the island."

"But you'll be shot!"

"I sincerely trust not."

"But you will be! It's suicide to wade that stream!"

"I shan't wade the stream."

"You can't jump it, for it is fifteen or eighteen feet wide, and a jump
wouldn't be quick enough--to my way of looking at it. You'd land, and
drop, sure pop."

"I shan't wade across, neither will I attempt to jump across," smiled
the young major.

"Then how in thunder do you expect to get over to the island?" demanded
Life, earnestly.

"Wait and see, Life; and in the meantime keep that spot well covered,"
answered Deck; and he pointed up the stream a distance of twenty yards.

"What has that spot got to do with your getting over there?"

"Everything."

"The stream is wider there by five feet than it is down below."

"Perhaps you had better not ask any more questions, Life. But don't fail
to keep that point covered," concluded Deck; and in a moment more he had
glided off through the brush bordering the stream.

CHAPTER XXVII

MAJOR LYON PLAYS THE PART OF A SPY

Major Dexter Lyon had made up his mind that a portion of the hostile
sharpshooters were concealed upon the narrow island in the centre of the
stream known as Duff's Claim. Several shots had been fired, and both he
and Life Knox had come to the conclusion that these had come from the
heavily wooded strip of land.

The major was very anxious to know what the sharpshooters were doing in
this vicinity. No Union force had been in the neighborhood for