at one would imagine the neighborhood
deserted. But Major Lyon was not to be taken unawares, and leading Ceph
back into the brush, he made a survey of the situation on foot.
Presently he found a safe path into the stream, with no picket guards
within a hundred feet on either side. This just suited him, and in a few
minutes more, horse and rider were braving the current of the rolling
Chickamauga.

"Ceph could swim well, but not noiselessly, and they had not advanced
over fifty feet before a command came out of the darkness from down the
creek.

"Who is that out there? Speak, or I will fire!"

"What's that?" called back the major, at the same time urging Ceph
forward, and up the stream.

"Who are you?"

"A friend."

"Come back here then and give the countersign."

"I can give you that without coming back," went on Deck, and did so,
speaking just loud enough for his questioner to hear him.

"What are you doing out there?" went on the picket, only half satisfied.

"I am bound for the other shore to pick up some information."

"Who are you?"

"Have you ever heard of Captain Brentford, of General Bragg's staff?"

"You bet I have," was the quick return. "If it's you, Captain, it's all
right, and I wish you luck," and then the picket relapsed into silence.
He had once met Captain Brentford personally, and was greatly pleased to
have the supposed spy take him into his confidence.

Much relieved, Major Lyon continued on his way, and in five minutes the
Chickamauga had been crossed and he was on his way to find his command.
Were it not for going too far into his confidence, we could state that
he felt like hugging both himself and Ceph over their combined escape.

CHAPTER XXXII

THE SECOND DAY AT CHICKAMAUGA

"Deck!"

"Artie!"

And the two brothers rushed into each other's arms, while Colonel Lyon
stood by, his face full of joy over the return of his son. Artie had
told the story of Deck's capture, and both he and the colonel had felt
almost positive that they would not see the major again for a long while
to come, and perhaps never again.

"Yes, I've had a very fortunate escape," said Deck, as he shook his
father's hand. "I wouldn't be here at all were it not for Tom
Derwiddie."

"Tom Derwiddie?" queried Artie.

"Yes. Don't you remember him--the Confederate soldier I assisted at the
burning cotton mill?"

"And you met him?" put in Colonel Lyon.

"I did. I was placed in his charge for a few