red, but the word was still on his lips when Deck
ducked, caught the gun barrel with his left hand, and with his right
levelled his pistol full into the sentinel's face.

"Surrender, or you are a dead man!" commanded Major Deck, sternly. "Let
go of the gun."

The fellow, taken completely by surprise, hesitated, as if inclined to
argue the point. "Wha--what?" he stammered. "See yere, this ain't fair,
nohow!"

"Let go, or I'll fire," was Deck's only answer, and he fingered the
trigger of his revolver nervously.

In a second more he had the gun in his possession, and then he compelled
the man to throw up both hands. "Now march up the road away from the
bridge," he continued. "And no treachery, or I'll put a ball through you
on the spot."

"I reckon I have fell in with Deck Lyon," said the sentinel, with a
sickly grin, as he moved on as the major had commanded.

"I am Deck Lyon; but I don't know you, although I've seen you at Bowling
Green. What do they call you?"

"They call me Sergeant Hank Scudder in our company."

[Illustration: "SURRENDER, OR YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!"

_Page 32._]

"And what company is that?"

"Cap'n Casswell's command--unattached."

"Casswell's guerillas, eh?"

"We ain't guerillas--we belong to the boys in gray."

"Does your captain hold a commission from headquarters?"

"'Tain't fer me to answer thet question, Major."

"From the fact that you refuse to answer it, I infer that he does not;
consequently he is nothing but a guerilla, and worse, and you are--"

"Hold on, Major, don't be too hard on a poor fellow who has his living
to make."

"This isn't making a living--it's stealing one. Tell me truthfully, is
Gaffy Denny with your company?"

"Gaffy Denny is first leftenant, Major."

"Where are the others?"

"Somewhere around the house and barns."

"How long since you arrived here?"

"'Bout an hour and a half ago."

"How many are there here? Answer me truthfully, or, my word for it, I
and my friends will hang you to one of yonder trees."

"Got many friends with yer, Major?"

"Enough. Now answer my question," and again Deck's weapon came up on a
level with the guerilla's head.

"There air twenty-five on us, I reckon."

"Were you the only man left on guard?"

"I dunno."

"Who put you on guard?"

"Leftenant Denny."

"Isn't Captain Casswell in command?"

"No, the cap'n was shot down in a skirmish three days ago--back of
Edmonton, and he's laying at the house of a fri