ld not help saying. "Where in the
world have you been? Oh, how I have missed you! They shan't take you
again, not if I can help it!" And he leaped into the saddle.

"Wha--what do dis mean, massa?" stammered the negro. "What right hab
you-un to dat hoss?"

"Every right in the world, Sambo," answered Deck. "The horse belongs to
me, don't you, Ceph?"

For answer Ceph gave a low snort of satisfaction.

"Belong to yo'? I fink dat's a mistake, massa. Dat am Captain Loring's
hoss, fo' suah," and the colored man shook his head decidedly. Then as
he came close enough to note what uniform Deck was wearing, he gave a
gasp of horror. "Fo' pity sake, massa, is you-un a--a Yankee?"

"Yes, I am, Sambo, and I want you to keep your mouth shut about this,"
replied Deck, sternly. "The horse is mine and always was mine, and I am
going to ride off on him. If you make any outcry I will shoot you."

"Don't go fo' to do dat, massa orsifer!" came with a shiver. "I won't
say a single word, 'deed I won't. But--but who's to take the
'sponsibility when Captain Loring find dat hoss ain't heah no mo'?"

"You'll be telling the truth when you say he got away from you,
Sambo,--for he did get away just now. Is this the way to Hall's Ford?"

"No, massa; dat's de way to Lee and Gordon's Mill."

"I don't know whether to believe you or not," said Deck, simply in order
to get the negro "mixed." "I guess I'll find Breckinridge's camp
somewhere around here. Now I'm off. If you give the alarm, remember,
I'll come back and put half a dozen bullets through your body."

"Won't say a word, massa orsifer," returned the negro in a more shaky
voice than ever.

"Very well, you'll be safe then--but not otherwise," concluded Deck, and
continued on his way down the brook.

He passed along as rapidly as Ceph could travel over the rocks and dirt,
keeping to the brook just so long as the negro remained in sight. As
soon as the colored man was lost to view, he turned at right angles to
the direction he had been travelling, to throw any possible pursuer off
the trail.

Having left the brook which had been his guide, the major found it no
easy matter to set himself right again concerning the direction of
Chickamauga Creek. The way was dark and uncertain, and it was not until
eleven o'clock that he came out at a point where a ledge of rock several
yards in height overlooked the stream that divided the armies of the
North and the South.

All was quiet; so quiet th