ons to him, such as: "Who are you? Where are you? What day of the
week is it? How much is nine times twelve?" and so forth. Satisfied with
Eggleston's answers, Davis sat in thought a moment, and then continued:

"I am anxious to send some one through the entire line of the
Confederate armies in such a way that he will be present at all the
great battles and end up at the battle of Gettysburg. Can you do it?"

Randolph looked at his chief with a flush of pride.

"I can."

"Good!" resumed Davis. "To accomplish this task you must carry
despatches. What they will be about I have not yet decided. But it is
customary in such cases to write them so that they are calculated, if
lost, to endanger the entire Confederate cause. The main thing is, can
you carry them?"

"Sir," said Eggleston, raising his hand in a military salute, "I am a
Randolph."

Davis with soldierly dignity removed his hat. "I am proud to hear it,
Captain Randolph," he said.

"And a Carey," continued our hero.

Davis, with a graciousness all his own, took off his gloves. "I trust
you, _Major_ Randolph," he said.

"And I am a Lee," added Eggleston quickly.

Davis with a courtly bow unbuttoned his jacket. "It is enough," he said.
"I trust you. You shall carry the despatches. You are to carry them on
your person and, as of course you understand, you are to keep on losing
them. You are to drop them into rivers, hide them in old trees, bury
them under moss, talk about them in your sleep. In fact, sir," said
Davis, with a slight gesture of impatience--it was his _one_
fault--"you must act towards them as any bearer of Confederate
despatches is expected to act. The point is, can you do it, or can't
you?"

"Sir," said Randolph, saluting again with simple dignity, "I come from
Virginia."

"Pardon me," said the President, saluting with both hands, "I had
forgotten it."

CHAPTER III

Randolph set out that night, mounted upon the fastest horse, in fact the
fleetest, that the Confederate Army could supply. He was attended only
by a dozen faithful negroes, all devoted to his person.

Riding over the Tennessee mountains by paths known absolutely to no one
and never advertised, he crossed the Tombigbee, the Tahoochie and the
Tallahassee, all frightfully swollen, and arrived at the headquarters of
General Braxton Bragg.

At this moment Bragg was extended over some seven miles of bush and
dense swamp. His front rested on the marshes of the Tahoochie