("onHoUed at TFa.Mr.aton. D. 0.. by Noyilist Pitblishimq Co. Entered at thtyost ofict. Stw ^ork. a, immO-class mail matter 
 
 VOL. 1. 
 
 NEW YORK. 
 
 fiTiPllT:«''T"«M"^Bi^^^^^^ 
 
 BY BERNARD WAYDE. 
 
 FigMing Pat raises a commotion in the Guerrilla camp. 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 FIGHTING PAT; 
 The Boys of the Irish Brigade. 
 
 BV BERNARD WAYNE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ONE OF CORCORAN'S BOYS. 
 
 "We'll make another Fontenoy of it." 
 
 " Fontenoy, indeed ! Remember you have 
 not the same men to deal with. The French 
 and thei." Irish allies were at that time pit- 
 ted against the old oppressor, England. 
 Hang it, man, you make too much of a dis- 
 tinction. These men think like yourself 
 that they are right in protecting the land of 
 their hirth." 
 
 " That is, that they are to propagate and 
 protect slavery ?" sneeringly. 
 
 " Even so; and, whether they be right or 
 wrong, let us give them the praise their 
 valor deserves; for braver soldiers I never 
 met in this or the older country." 
 
 The foregoing conversation occurred to- 
 ward the fall of '62; and, it may not be 
 amiss to state, in the wine-room of one of 
 the most valiant Irish soldiers that ever 
 drew a sword for the preservation of the 
 land that generously extended to him a 
 home, when the old tyrant, Britain, had 
 driven him and his family from possessions 
 
 In all reverence, we answer. General 
 Michael Corcoran, the organizer and com- 
 mander of the brave and chivalrous Irish 
 Legion. . , ^ 
 
 The last speaker was an old and grizzled 
 veteran, who had on many a bloody field 
 distinguished himself as a tried and honor- 
 ed soldier. 
 
 Tlie majority of Irishmen presents-ana 
 there were nearly a score — applauded his 
 generous speech ; hut, like all assemblages 
 of the kind, there were a few dissentient 
 voices. 
 
 Among the rest, a dark-bearded, power- 
 fully-built man, who was of somewhat 
 doubtful reputation among his companions, 
 and not without a cause, either. 
 
 He had been in Ireland what is known as 
 a "middleman"— a class most abhorred by 
 all true men. ,j v, ,, 
 
 Neither in name nor feeling could he be 
 called Irish. In fact, he was of the " under- 
 taker" class whose ancestry came in with 
 William of Orange, and stole and confiscat- 
 ed the lands from their rightful owners. 
 
 Jerry Hynes, so long as his petty acts of 
 villainy paid, was one of the strongest sup- 
 porters of English ruie. 
 
 The moment his occupation as a robber of 
 the people failed him, he st-.irted for the 
 land of the stars and stripes, and took upon 
 himself, both in and out of season, to vin- 
 dicate the off-repeated cry: "Ireland for 
 the Irish." 
 
 The man's villanies had gone before him, 
 and he was looked upon in anything but a 
 favorable light by those with whom he 
 came in contact. 
 
 This did not abash this former traducer of 
 his so-called countrymen. 
 
 His brazen impudence carried him 
 through it all ; and, as the Irish race are 
 proverbially generous, they seemed in a 
 great measure to condone his shortcomings, 
 as they were known in the "old coun- 
 try." 
 
 As the man Hynes will figure prominently 
 in the following pages, this can be our only 
 excuse for introducing him at such length 
 to our readers. 
 
 The conversation had been progressing for 
 some time on the merits and demerits of 
 the Southern chivalry, the grizzled hero, to 
 ■whom we have refered, taking a prominent 
 part in the discussion, most of the others be- 
 Sig simply listeners to the arguments pro 
 and con, applauding any good point when 
 made by one or the other. 
 
 Jerry Hynes had what is vulgarly called 
 the "gift of the gab," and so far held his 
 own pretty well. 
 
 When the conversation had reached the 
 point we have described, a new arrival 
 nastily mitered the wine-room ; and, with- 
 out attempting to intrude on the company, 
 called, in a pure Connemara accent : 
 
 " A drink of the best potheen you have in 
 the house!" 
 
 The men at the bar were instantly attract- 
 ed to the stranger. 
 
 Not because he had uttered a name famil- 
 kkr to them aU— "potheen "—whisky. 
 ' Qmite the reverse. 
 
 The man himself was a wonder. 
 
 He was over six feet in height, of great 
 breadth of shoulders, and of a form that 
 wa^ singularly lithe and active. 
 
 Nnr was this all. 
 
 His lace was unmistakably Celtic, with a 
 regularity of feature and expressiveness that 
 was uncommon— nay, even handsome. 
 
 He was, moreover, a nenr arrival in the 
 country— a genuine importation from the 
 "Land of Saints"— for so has Ireland been 
 termed from remote ages. 
 
 The man behind the bar winked at the 
 company, as much as to say : 
 
 " We'll have some fun with the stranger 
 before we're done with him." 
 
 A few in the crowd winked in return, 
 while Jerry Hynes, from some unmistakable 
 cause, turned as pale as death. 
 
 " Potheen,did you say,my friend ?" queried 
 the barkeeper, approaching. 
 
 "Yes, that's what I said," with a sharp 
 
 The fresh arrival in New York knew at a 
 single glance that be was being made fun of. 
 
 " And what may potheen be, if it's a fair 
 questiou ? We have all sorts of drinks, but 
 never heard of that. Perhaps you are from 
 the great West?" familiarly. 
 
 " Yes— from the little Ivcsf^-a place called 
 Connemara. You may ■ 
 
 " SmKX LUO u 
 
 )mDanv. 
 
 ,^^ ^„. ^ did a few 
 
 others of the company 
 
 "Then it must be a Connemara drink," 
 continued the man of drinks, purposely mis- 
 pronouncing the word. 
 
 Then came a loud laugh— only from a few 
 of the assemblage, however— those who cur- 
 ried favor with the would-be wit. 
 
 The new arrival was getting both impa- 
 tient and angry. 
 
 "Confound you for an omadhaun!" he 
 cried. " Do you not know yet what potheen 
 whisky is!" 
 
 " Oh, you mean whisky then ? Why didn't 
 you say so? What is it to be ?" 
 
 " Oh, give him chain-lightning!" cried one 
 of the crowd. "Perhaps he's steel-plated 
 and copper-bottomed." 
 This was going beyond a joke. 
 " Look here.sir," said the new-comer, turn- 
 ing full upon the last speaker; " however I 
 may take the impertinence of the little jack- 
 anapes behind the counter, I take none from 
 
 you. Ha! " 
 
 The exclamation was hissed out, rather 
 than spoken, as the young Irishman caught 
 sight of Jerry Hynes. 
 
 The former land-grabber quickly averted 
 his face. 
 But too late. 
 He was recognized. 
 
 Then, without heeding the man who was 
 endeavoring to have a little fun at his ex- 
 pense, with one bound he sprung into the 
 midst of the company, and seizing Hynes by 
 the throat shook him as a terrier would a 
 rat. 
 
 " Aha ! and so we have met again, accursed 
 traitor, and murderer of my brother ! Oh, 
 but I would have given half my lite but yes- 
 terday for this meeting ! Curse you— curse 
 
 The voice and fiercely-spoken words of the 
 new-comer were terribleiu their significance. 
 
 Did any of my readers ever behold a scene 
 where the power of will, magnetic power — 
 call it what you liKe— inspired the bravest 
 and strongest with awe. 
 
 The man's passion was terrible ; his voice 
 made the boldest blanch, and, in his hands, 
 the powerful and brutal Jerry Hynes was 
 but as a child. 
 
 Even the barkeeper behind the counter 
 turned as white as a corose. 
 
 "Mercy! help! I choke! I die!" gasped 
 the wretched .Jerry. 
 
 It was then that a revulsion of feeling 
 came. 
 
 The grizzled veteran of n umerous wars 
 was the first to spring forward. 
 
 " Do not murder the man!" he thundered 
 out. " Release him at once ! If he has done 
 anything against j-ou, or your family, that is 
 no way to treat him." 
 
 The man who had nobly distinguished 
 himself on many a field of honor and blood 
 was fairly aroused to the .exigencies of the 
 occasion ; and his example was followed by 
 many others, who, up to this, had been spell- 
 bound and terror-stricken. 
 
 There was a combined rush made upon the 
 infuriated man. 
 
 They clinched with him ; but not before he 
 had hurled Hynes from him. 
 
 The nearly suffocated man fell to the floor 
 like a limp rag. 
 Crash he went, and lay as one lifeless 
 
 . The stranger, nothing daunted by the rush 
 made upon him, now, like an infuriated 
 tiger, turned his attention to the men who 
 grappled with him. 
 
 Had they known the real power tif his 
 arm they would have acted wisely to have 
 kept out of his reach, for down they went, 
 one after another, with a rapidity perfectly 
 indescribable. 
 
 Talking of the blows of your champion 
 prize-fighter : they were nothing in compar- 
 ison. 
 
 And now we come to think of a case which 
 occurred in a London street, where a broad- 
 shouldered, hard-fisted Irishman, late from 
 the Wexford hills, held his own against fif- 
 teen policemen, and, with a blow of his fist, 
 struck one of them dead; for which display 
 of prowess he was sentenced to twenty years' 
 penal servitude. 
 
 Poor fellow ! he might have distinguished 
 himself in a more noble field of action. How- 
 ever, he was the assailed and not the assail- 
 ant. 
 But to return. 
 
 In all directions went the men who had 
 rushed upon the "greenhorn," and, as they 
 tumbled over each other, the sight was of a 
 nature most ludicrous. 
 
 Blows rattled about their heads fast and 
 furious, and, the instant they came up, down 
 they again went. 
 
 The success of the combat was all too one- 
 sided to be pleasant. 
 
 No doubt more dangerous weapons than 
 fists would finally have been used but for the 
 advent of Michael Corcoran himself, who 
 had just entered. 
 
 "Halloo!" was his fir§t exclamation. 
 "What is this?" 
 
 The men on the floor presented a most 
 „orry appearance, and those who might, in 
 the heat of passion, have drawn revolvers, 
 were prevented from so doing by the timely 
 arrival of the gallant proprietor. 
 
 The stranger's back was turned to the 
 colonel of the Irish Legion, which was then 
 being organized, and it was not until Cor- 
 coran had spoken that he turned and faced 
 him with flashing eye and lowering brow, 
 boding little good to any new-comer who 
 might be likely to interfere. 
 
 The presence of Corcoran had, however, 
 an almost magical effect on the man. 
 
 The lowering brow for a moment became 
 wreathed in a smile of recognition. Next a 
 look of shame overspread it, then the eyes 
 were cast toward the ground. 
 
 What had caused this marvelous change in 
 one, who a moment before had given evei^ 
 proof of a lion-like courage? Not only that, 
 indeed, but a ferocity tigerish in its power- 
 in its fearful intensity and violence ? 
 
 It was simply that the two men had recog- 
 nized each other— that the one looked upon 
 the other as the only true friend he had ever 
 had. 
 
 Corcoran approached the young man, and 
 laying his hand gently on his broad shoul- 
 der, said : , , 
 " I expeot«d you, Pat. I am verv glad to 
 
 see that you arrived safely, but 
 
 " You did not expect to find me making a 
 blackguard of myself," said the other, 
 abashed. 
 
 " Do not say that, Pat ! You should not 
 apply opprobrious epithets to yourself. I 
 am sure if the truth were known," pointing 
 to his scowling opponents, " they were more 
 in fault than you. I should be sorry to 
 think otherwise." 
 
 "I shall blame no one but myself," was 
 the young fellow's simple reply. " I suppose 
 it's all due to my ignorance of the ways of 
 the country." ^ ^ ^ 
 
 In his shame and bitterness of heart at be- 
 ing caught in a low quarrel with strangers, 
 he had even forgotten for the time theexist- 
 ence and presence of his deadly enemy— J erry 
 Hynes. 
 Corcoran shook his head doubtingly. 
 It was evident that he did not attribute 
 the late unseemly broil to his protege. 
 Far from it. 
 
 There was something more in it all, how- 
 ever, than he could just then fathom. 
 
 Besides, those who had suffered at the 
 hands of the impetuous young Irishman, 
 were to a man unwilling to come forward 
 and give a true version of the affair. 
 
 It IS too late in the day to advance the ab- 
 surd aphorism that a good man likes the fel- 
 low who gives him a downright thrashing 
 better than he whom he thrashes. 
 
 Many in that company subsequently dis- 
 tinguished themselves as heroes, and yet 
 they looked with no little ill-will upon the 
 youth who floored them with such t^rriflo 
 right and left banders. 
 
 'Boys!' 
 
 said the gallant Michael, address- 
 
 i: m 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 ing the aasemblage, " however this row has 
 come about matters little. I want vounow 
 to be all good friends. Come, look up, Pat. 
 This, gentlemen, is my nephew, Pat Mfooney, 
 as good and true a man as ever left the old 
 sod. I may te'.l you I expected his arrival 
 this very day. By some means I had the 
 misfortune to miss him. However, here he 
 Is, and I want you to make up your little 
 differences and be friends, for he is one of 
 lad of the Irish Legion!" 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 An Irishman, proverbially, is quick to an- 
 ger, and quick to forgive. 
 
 No sooner had they heard the announce- 
 ment of Gen«ral Corcoran— at that time col- 
 onel—than with many hearty welcomes, they 
 gathered around their new comrade, shak- 
 ing him, each in turn, warmly by the hand. 
 
 " Caed millc fallthe /" said one. 
 
 "Glorv toyou!" said another. 
 
 "Arrah! but he's the boy for a shindy," 
 broke in a third. 
 
 " An' will be a great gineral yet afore he 
 dies, a fourth added,as he took the big brown 
 hand of the new arrival in his own and gave 
 it a hearty shake. 
 
 "So all IS forgiven," said Pat, delighted at 
 the turn of affairs. 
 
 " Be me sowl, I'd like to see who'd say 
 nay agm' that," rejoined a wiry Uttle man 
 
 led Byrne. "You came down on me like 
 re's me hand; and 
 3k on the strength 
 
 This proposal met with ready acquiescence 
 on the part of the rest of the company, and 
 thev all went up to the bar. 
 
 The bartender, the cause of the row in the 
 first instance, could not be found. 
 
 He m ust have got scared and bolted during 
 the fracas. 
 
 His name was called repeatedly, but as he 
 made no response, one of the others volun- 
 teeied to do the honors of the occasion. 
 
 While the drinks were being served, some 
 one bethought him of the half-strangled 
 Jerry Hynes. 
 This individual had also disappeared. 
 There was no doubt he had a wholesome 
 dread of the redoubtable Pat Mooney, and 
 for a very good cause had no wish to re- 
 main. 
 But more of this hereafter. 
 We can only say that the greater portion 
 of that night was spent very pleasantly amid 
 song and joke and story. 
 
 That day week the boys of the Irish Legion 
 would be fully equipped and on their way 
 to Washington, from which point they were 
 to join McClellan's army and the gallant 
 Meagher and his Irish contingent force. 
 
 "Yes, boys," said Corcoran, during the 
 evening, " my nephew, Pat, has come all the 
 way from the Green Isle to join us. You 
 have had a specimen of his prowess, and if he 
 does only half as well on the field, as he" has 
 done to-night, I'll be well satisfied with him." 
 Of course the company were unanimous 
 in their praises of the young fellows pluck, 
 and expressed themselves as only too proud 
 that he was to be one of themselves. 
 
 By the time they parted that night Jerry 
 Hynes and his past villanies were for the 
 time, at any rate, forgotten. 
 
 Hynes was a rough man, and had a rough 
 crowd to back him up— for who that has 
 mouey cannot get a following in New York 
 to obey his lightest behest? 
 
 Tnen under the circumstances Hynes could 
 be a dangerous enemy. 
 
 It had been his intention to have followed 
 the fortunes of the legion in the field, for 
 which purpose a captain's commission had 
 been offered by the state and accepted by 
 him. 
 
 However, let that for the present pass ; we 
 win deal more effectually with Hynes and 
 his aspirations, or whatever else they may 
 be termed, hereafter. 
 
 Michael Corcoran and his nephew were 
 about the last to leave the room, and when 
 they had issued into the open air they 
 walked along Prince street in the direction 
 of Broadway. 
 
 In fact, Corcoran at the time put up at one 
 of the hotels on that busy thoroughfare. 
 
 As they neared Broadway, conversing on 
 the prospects of their native land, a sudden 
 rush was made from their rear, and before 
 the stalwart Pat could turn to defend him- 
 self, he received a f eai-f ul blow from a slung- 
 shot that knocked him senseless. 
 
 Corcoran turned just in time to avoid a 
 second blow aimed at his own head. 
 
 The night was very dark as it happened 
 itad the feeble gutter of a lamp some di&l 
 
 tanco off served scarcely to dissipate the 
 gloom. 
 
 The colonel could, however, see about a 
 dozen black figures, emerging from the 
 shadow of the nouses on their side of the 
 street. 
 
 There seemed to be a score in all, with those 
 who liad already sprung forward. 
 
 Xi.t :i bit ihiiniti'il by till! number of his as- 
 sailaiil.-, till' ^:;ill:iiil Miihai-l. as quick as a 
 mi.sli. (Irrw his iim.Im r, luid standing over 
 his talk-ii iii-pliiw, (ii-ttiinined not only to 
 sell Ins hfo dcurlv, but to protect the fallen 
 I at Muuuey at all hazaras. 
 
 Their assailants seemed to hesitate for a 
 moment whether they should come on or 
 
 A word from one of the party, who kept 
 well in the background, decided them. 
 So on they came with a simultaneous rush. 
 
 that comes another step does so at the risk 
 of his life!" 
 
 There was no mistaking his demeanor. 
 
 They had now a man to deal with who 
 feared no mortal 11 viug— a born leader of men 
 —and those who were so intent on their 
 grand rush, drew back as though some pow- 
 erful electric shock had met them. 
 
 Such is the force that at rare intervals one 
 mind exercises over many ! 
 
 No one ever met Corcoran, but had to ac- 
 knowledge the same. 
 
 It was not the colonel's pistol that had 
 such a marvelous effect on his assailants— it 
 was, in fact, the man's whole nature— full 
 ? ''°,VP™istakable power to command, and 
 
 he beheld the effect of his speech. 
 
 "Do you call yourselves men," he con- 
 tinued, in tones of withering contempt, " for 
 twenty of you to attack two, and^behind 
 their backs at that ? I am quite ignorant as 
 to whom you are or the object of your mur- 
 derous assault^for I know not but you 
 have killed one as near to me as life. Oh 
 cowards! cowards! Dearly shall you rue 
 
 ithis night's work 
 
 heart was wrung 
 
 your part ^ 
 
 The gallant colonel 
 with anguish as his eyes fell on the motion- 
 less form at his feet. 
 
 For an instant the hand in which he held 
 the revolver trembled, and as if a spasm of 
 emotion had overcome him, the muzzle of 
 the weapon was instinctively lowered. 
 
 Then, and not till then, was the charm 
 broken. 
 
 The man who had been urging them on 
 before cried now in a hoarse whisper: 
 
 "Spring upon him— spring upon him! 
 Are you all afraid ? Now isyour time!" 
 
 It would have been impossible to have 
 recognized this man's voice, so fearfully 
 bitter were the words hissed out. 
 
 As to himself, he was completely hidden 
 m the gloom. 
 
 "Athim-athim! " urged the leader of 
 these desperadoes. 
 There was no longer hesitation. 
 There was a wild rush. 
 Crack! crack I crack! 
 'Three heavy thuds on the paved sidewalk 
 told thd accuracy of Corcoran s aim, as a 
 number of yells went up into the night. 
 
 Again and again went the startUne i-e- 
 ports of the deadly revolver. 
 Two more had fallen I 
 
 Then came a rush of heavy steps from 
 Broadway. Aid was at hand ! 
 
 Corcoran 's assailants did not wait to see 
 who were coming. 
 
 They broke and ran as fast as their leg'' 
 could carry them in the direction of thi 
 Bowery, leaving their ' 
 where they had fallen. 
 
 CHAPTER IIL 
 
 vice demanded, and Fighting Pat, as he wa« 
 now called, would be the last man to over- 
 step his duty as a soldier. 
 
 It was at first 
 join the Legion. 
 
 kind, for witli very little difficulty he ob- 
 tained a transfer to Meagher's brigade then 
 I on the Potomac. 
 
 ' In good truth there were few sorry that 
 he had clianged his mind, for every man 
 knew well that he would prove a veritable 
 tyrant the moment he got into power. 
 
 Michael Corcoran, having organized antf 
 equipped his <?ommaud, moved at once to 
 Camp Scott, Stateti Island. 
 
 Indeed, much had to be done before the 
 Legion could move to the front. The men 
 had to be inured to camp life, and taught 
 the rudiments of their miUtary education. 
 
 The art of war cannot be learned in a day, 
 and however apt therecruit is, it become.^ 
 necessary to familiarize him with company- 
 and battalion drill, as well as the value of 
 obedience— the first duty of a soldier. 
 
 For over five weeks Colonel Corcoran and 
 his oflicers had all on their hands they could 
 very well attend to. 
 
 DiscipHne had to be maintained. Undue 
 familiarity between officers and men, the 
 result of old-time acquaintance, had to be^ 
 relentlessly crushed out. 
 
 The latter at first was a thing of no little 
 difficulty. The soldier in the ranks could 
 not for his life see why he should not be on 
 the same speaking terms as previously with 
 major or captain so-and-so as he had been 
 before joining the Legion. 
 
 He presently found out his mistake, and 
 soon conformed to the principles involved 
 m his new life ; but not, however, before he 
 had been severely punished for disobe- 
 dience. 
 
 " I mean making the Legion a mode" one," 
 said Colonel Corcoran. And he did. . 
 
 Soldiers and officers were drilled from 
 morning till night, and the camp presented 
 a scene of bustle and activity seldom or ever 
 witnessed. 
 
 It was about closing of the sixth week 
 when the Legion got the order to proceed to 
 Washington. 
 
 Here they were met by thousands of their 
 countrymen amidst the wildest enthusiasm. 
 Fetes were given in their honor, and their 
 splendid soldierlike appearance was warmly 
 praised by all classes in the community. 
 
 They were not to remain long in the Capi- 
 tal; but a little incident occurred during 
 their brief stay which we shall now proceed 
 to relate, the more so as it is connected with 
 two prominent characters of our story. 
 
 The members of the Irish Legion had 
 pitched their tents somewhere in the vicinity 
 of the banks of the Potomac. 
 
 It was about the third night after their ar- 
 rival in Washington— acrisp, beautiful moon- 
 light night, by the way— that Fighting Pat 
 was pacing his post on the east side of the 
 camp in his turn at sentinel duty. 
 
 He enjoyed the beauty of the evening, and 
 more than enjoyed his new lite— so much so, 
 indeed, that he was chanting in half-sad, 
 half-merry cadences a once popular ballad, 
 that he had heard in his childhood. 
 
 Fighting Pat had about finished one verse, 
 when the sound of a horse's feet riveted his 
 attention. 
 
 A moment later and the horseman ap- 
 peared. 
 
 The sounds, which, evidently, came from 
 the direction of the river, grew louder. 
 
 As yet, however, the horseman was not in 
 sight, from the fact that he was still hidden 
 by a long, dark fringe of pine trees, extend- 
 ing on the east side of the camp for some 
 distance. 
 
 " It must be the officer of the day, ' ' thought 
 the sentinel. "Well, let him come. I think 
 he'll find that I know my duty." 
 
 ON THE POTOMAC. 
 
 A week elapsed since Corcoran's gaUant 
 stand on Prince street. 
 
 Pat Mooney, who had been stricken sense- 
 less on that night, recovered sufficiently to 
 ooin the ranks of the Irish Legion. 
 
 Though the two relatives had never dis- 
 covered who the instigator of their murder- 
 ous assailants were, Pat had nevertheless a 
 shrewd idea that it was none other than his 
 old and bitter enemy, Jerry Hynes. 
 
 Pat never mentioned his suspicions to 
 Corcoran, not wishing to embroil him in 
 any affair of his; and now that they were 
 •"^..P^ pom' of entering upon an active 
 military life, there was, in a great measure, 
 a gulf placed between them, whioh must 
 necessarily prevent their former meetinss 
 
 This, of course, the exigencies of tKr- dr^ii^' tlTe^b^itoT from" hTs'^h°o';ier^ 
 
 CHAPTER lY. 
 
 DEAUNO WITH AN OLD EKEMT. 
 
 On he came, into the full and brilliant 
 light of the moon, galloping rapidly as on 
 an errand of life and death. 
 
 Fighting Pat made two discoveries, almost 
 simultaneously. 
 
 First, that it wasnotthe officer of the day; 
 second, that it was his old enemy, Jerry 
 Hynes, in the full regimentals of a major of 
 
 Meagher's brigade 
 
 The discovery burst upon him like a 
 powerful electric shock, and he trembled 
 between emotions of rage and excitement. 
 
 Here was indeed a dilemma! 
 
 What was he to do, or how was he to act 
 under the circumstances 7 
 
 The natural feelings of the man suggested 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY 
 
 strangling him then and there — the feelings 
 of the soldier bespoke obedience and reapeeu 
 due to a superior. 
 
 CoulG he forget the fact that the man who 
 was approa<^hiug was the cause of his dear 
 brcther's death, and the ruin of his family' 
 
 Not only this, but the rival of his dearest 
 affections— whose lying tongue had placed a 
 barrier between himself and one dea.-'rtu 
 him than life. 
 
 The very sight of this man infuriated hiiu, 
 and yet he was placed in a position in which 
 he could not exercise his own free will with- 
 out disgracing himself. 
 
 What then was he to do ? 
 
 His last thought was to commit a breach 
 of military discipline— which he must neces- 
 sarily be guilty of if he failed to salute the 
 man. 
 
 Therefore, we say he was in as tight a fix 
 as ever man was placed in yet. 
 
 At that moment he most bitterly regretted 
 that he had ever become a soldier. 
 
 With a sigh of dejection and despair, he 
 stopped short in his walk, and tried to think 
 what was best to be done. 
 
 "Shall I let him pass as though I had not 
 recognized him ?" was his flrst mental inter- 
 rogation. 
 
 "No, no," was his second thought, " the 
 night is too bright for that, and " 
 
 He paused suddenly in his communings, 
 for Major Hynes was already upon him, and 
 unchallenged. 
 
 The major checked his horse, and without 
 appearing to have recognized the young 
 sentinel, said, half -flippantly : 
 
 " I presume you are the sentinel on this 
 post?" 
 
 "Do you know the punishment for being 
 so remiss in your duty ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Perhaps you will now tell me whose 
 camp I am approaching?" 
 
 " Brigadier-general Corcoran's." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" sneering supercilliously. 
 " Perhaps you will answer me another ques- 
 tion, if you feel so disposed?" 
 
 The major was gaining courage by the 
 other's apparent calmness. 
 
 His object was to have the sentinel com- 
 mit himself further, so that he would have 
 the pull on him. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" said Fighting Pat, 
 without betraying the rage that was consum- 
 ing him. 
 
 " It is this : Is this the usual way of doing 
 things in Corcoran's camp ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then why did you not challenge ?" 
 
 Pat was fast losing all command of him- 
 self. 
 
 He was resolved, however, to keep his tem- 
 per, so as not to give his old enemy a chanoe 
 to report him. 
 
 Breaches of discipline at that time were 
 punished severely. 
 
 Pat Mooney had yet another object in 
 
 He would permit this scoundrel to go to 
 the end of his tether, so to speak ; then show 
 him he was not to be insulted with impun- 
 ity. 
 
 His hands were itching to make a grab at 
 his throat, but he would wait until even his 
 endurance could stand it no longer. 
 
 "Why did you not challenge ?" repeated 
 Hynes, sharply. 
 
 "Are you particularly interested to 
 know 1^" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Because I did not choose to." 
 
 "You are a flne sentry," rejoined the ma- 
 jor, laughing;coarsely. " I must say you do 
 the Irish Legion credit, taking into consider- 
 ation that you have not yet even saluted your 
 superior officer. You are green to the busi- 
 ness, I take it." 
 
 "Think so?" 
 
 " I do, most assuredly. Now, I will ride 
 back a little way, and as I come up you will 
 challenge and salute ; and, hark you, sir, if 
 you make any mistake I shall have you put 
 under arrest I" 
 
 "Very good." 
 
 " You are an impertinent fellow," said the 
 major, hotly. " But we meet men of your 
 kind every day, and know how to tame 
 them." 
 
 Pat never knew from that day to this how 
 he had controlled himself so long ; but con- 
 trol himself he did, with a power that was 
 marvelous for one of his highly excitable 
 nature. 
 
 Major Hynes' attention was too plain to be 
 misunderstood. 
 
 enougl 
 
 had tlioiuuutersigu, or he would not have 
 Uaied acteu as he had. 
 
 "The scoundrel!" he muttered through 
 Ills grating teeth. "I have stood his inso- 
 leuce long enough. I've but one life to lose, 
 but I'd lose it cheerfully to choke the life 
 out of the villaiu!" 
 
 Had Major Hynes caught sight of the 
 young man's face at that moment, he would 
 have chosen another time and opportunity 
 for injuring him. 
 
 Unluckily fcir himself he had not. 
 
 Hynes' commentary was, as he rode away 
 from the young sentinel's post . 
 
 " I cannot understand him. It is not pos- 
 sible that he has not recognized me. No- 
 
 destruction ; I have sworn it ! According to 
 the rules of the service in time of war, strik- 
 ing a superior officer is punishable by death. 
 They want to make an example— he shall be 
 the flrst." 
 
 Other thoughts came into the gallant ma- 
 jor's head. 
 
 Corcoran had been called away that very 
 day to headquarters. A day before he had 
 got his brigadier-general's commission. 
 
 If he could only have the young sentinel 
 tried without delay by a general court-mar- 
 tial, Pat Mooney's fate would be sealed. 
 
 He and others of his friends had power 
 enough to guarantee that. 
 
 These thoughts passed rapidly through his 
 mind as he again wheeled his horse and ap- 
 proached the young soldier's post. 
 
 He expected a challenge, and received 
 none. 
 
 He came up in a furious rage, and began 
 growling out some coarse oaths, as to what 
 he would do. 
 
 But the now thoroughly aroused soldier 
 sprung upon him like a tiger, dragging him 
 from his horse with the suddenness of a 
 lightning flash. 
 
 There was a desperate struggle. 
 
 Then the sudden loud banging report of a 
 firearm. 
 
 The young soldier's gun had been acci- 
 dentally discharged as they both rolled over 
 on the ground. 
 
 Had Pat used boih hands at flrst, he would 
 have had no difficulty in overpowering 
 Hynes, strong a man as he was. But he had 
 not, and consequently the major managed 
 to get a pretty Arm hold of him. 
 
 Even under these circumstances the strug- 
 gle would not have lasted long; Major 
 Hynes knew it, and thanked his good luck 
 that the rifle had gone off in the way it had. 
 
 He could now bring a charge of attempted 
 murder as well as assault. 
 
 He felt that he really had the young man 
 in his power, and it would be no fault of his 
 if death were not his portion. 
 
 A combined look of joy and hate came 
 into the ruffian's eyes as he tugged and 
 struggled with his assailant. 
 
 "1 have you where I want you now," he 
 hissed. " You have signed your death war- 
 rant, my flne fellow— Norah and Conne- 
 mara will see you no more!" 
 
 "You at least shall not live to see it!" 
 fiercely retorted Pat, as with one wrench he 
 released himself and threw himself once 
 more upon the now really terrified major. 
 
 Hynes in his despair, made the place ring 
 again with his cries : 
 
 " Murder— help— murder!" 
 
 " You accursed scoundrel, I shall make it 
 murder!" shouted Mooney, as he fastened 
 his iron grip on the other's throat ; and no 
 doubt in another moment or two he would 
 have accomplished his threat, but for the 
 timely arrival of about a dozen of theguard. 
 
 They threw themselves upon him ; and, 
 after a desperate struggle, succeeded in re- 
 leasing the half-suffocated Hynes. 
 
 " This is a bad business for you, Pat," said 
 the officer of the guard, eying the young 
 man compassionately. "A very bad busi- 
 ness, indeed." 
 
 So thought the rest of the men, who had 
 learned something of the old feud between 
 private and officer. 
 
 The end was that Fighting Pat was march- 
 ed back a prisoner, while Major Hynes was 
 assisted into camp, more dead than alive. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 RELATING TO THE FEUD. 
 
 There was not a man in the whole Legion 
 vho was not sorry for poor Pat Mooney. 
 They aU knew that he was a good fellow, 
 
 and a most peaceful and painstaking soldier ; 
 but his offense was so serious in its character 
 that many shook their heads, pitying him 
 from the bottom of their hearts. 
 
 He had been guilty of " insubordination 
 and attempted murder "—that was his crime, 
 and the crime indeed upon which he was to 
 be charged and tried. 
 
 Major Hynes took care to paint the assault 
 made upon him in the very blackest color. 
 
 His version certainly was by no means fa- 
 vorable to Fighting Pat. 
 
 He stated that he was riding into camp 
 with a dispatch for General Corcoran when 
 the sentinel shot at him as he was in the act 
 of passing his post. 
 
 When asked at the preliminary proceed- 
 ings of a regimental court-martial, if the 
 man had seen him before, he answered in 
 the affirmative— and that he was his sworn 
 enemy. 
 
 It was not in fact the first time the prison- 
 er had threatened his life. 
 
 He had once before attempted it in New 
 York. 
 
 The cause of the feud was an old family 
 dispute on the other side of the Atlantic, and 
 that the prisoner's principal reason for com- 
 ing here was to have his revenge on him. 
 
 This ,and much more, said Major Hynes. 
 
 He told a straightforward and apparently 
 truthful story, corroborated to a certain ex- 
 tent by witnesses who knew both men. 
 
 Fighting Pat said nothing. 
 
 His time had not yet come to speak; when 
 it did he hoped to be able to meet the 
 charges brought against him, and prove the 
 major to be what he really was — a most un- 
 mitigated liar and scoundrel. 
 
 This was well enough. 
 
 But take the matter in another light it 
 was bad for Mooney. 
 
 With the kind reader's permission we will 
 now briefly recapitulate the cause of this 
 feud which was said to exist between Pat 
 and his accuser. 
 
 To do so we must go back about five years 
 from the date of our story. 
 
 In a picturesque little hamlet in the west- 
 ern part of Connemara lived one Nugent 
 Mooney— a farmer fairly well to do in the 
 world, but who was unmarried, and a bach- 
 elor, and likely to remain so, at least so said 
 the world. 
 
 He was not quite alone, however, for resid- 
 ing with him were two nephews and one 
 niece — the orphan children of his deceased 
 brother. 
 
 Nugent Mooney had the reputation of be- 
 ing a good and true man, but for sundry 
 causes had the misfortune to incur the dis- 
 pleasure of a certain "middlaman," with 
 whom we are already acquainted. 
 
 Hynes had sworn to ruin Nugent, and suc- 
 ceeded. The old man was driven from his 
 farm, mlsfortime followed upon misfortune, 
 until Nugent Mooney perished by the road- 
 side — a pauper and a wanderer. 
 
 Then followed the niece, dying of consump- 
 tion—the result of want and exposure. 
 
 But Jerry Hynes' vengeance was not yet 
 satiated. 
 
 He had a false charge trumped up against 
 Pat's elder brother, which landed him in a 
 convict prison. 
 
 He bore his bitter fate forabout a year and 
 a half, when he, too, passed away. 
 
 The last left was the hero of this story, 
 Fighting Pat, as his comrades preferred call- 
 ing him. 
 
 He returned from a long voyage to see the 
 rum and desolation of the old homestead— 
 his uncle gone, sister and brother dead, and 
 the girl of his heart meeting his return with 
 a coldness that froze his very soul. 
 
 He did not until long after find out the 
 ruin that had been worked by the villain 
 Hynes; nor did he discover the lies that 
 "gentleman " invented to estrange his love 
 from him. 
 
 mortgaged; and he finally became loaded 
 down with debt, and to save his precious 
 carcass from a debtors' prison he had to fly 
 the country for the states. 
 
 He had been away for some time when the 
 young man discovered the full extent of the 
 scoundrel's duplicity. Then, at the solicita- 
 tion of Corcoran— his mother's brother— he 
 in due time landed in New York, as we 
 have already seen. 
 
 That is the history of the Connemara fam- 
 ily in a nutshell. 
 
 But to proceed with our story : 
 
 The second night of our hero's oaptivitT 
 the rumor spread that on Corcoran's return 
 the Legion would proceed to the seat of war. 
 
 At length, then they would see some 
 fighting. 
 
THE WAR LIBRAKY. 
 
 This rumor caused a perfect thrill to pass 
 through the camp. 
 
 The meu were literally wild with enthusi- 
 asm ; and around the camp-fires that night 
 the whole thing was discussed with evident 
 relish. 
 
 Song, story, and jest went round, with a 
 merrier ring than ever before, and only for 
 one fact the men would be as happy as hap- 
 py could be. 
 
 That one thing seemed to some extent to 
 pall the spirits of everyliody. 
 
 Fighting I'nt Mocnu-y was a prisoner, 
 charged w itti an offense the most serious 
 against tljr iiulii:ir.\ ii.de. 
 
 An exainpl.- iiu'l 1.1 l.i' made in the army 
 somewlu-Ti-, ami " Uy not in his case? 
 
 Fancy a seutimi oommitting a murderous 
 assault upon liis superior officer; in fact, 
 shooting at lilm with intent to kill! 
 
 How was this to be met? 
 
 By death, uulucliily — and it seemed as 
 though Fifihting Pat'scareer had come to a 
 premature end. 
 
 " Ah 1 it we had but Fightin' Pat wid us," 
 said our Vormer acquaintance, Denny Byrne, 
 withasigLh; "if we only had, what a glor- 
 ious shintug we'd liick up. We'd show the 
 gray coat? a second Fontenoy." 
 
 "Houjj yer whist wid yer Fontenoy!" 
 said big Barney Hoolahan. " Isitcomparin' 
 Svjuthern jintlemen yez are to the dhirty 
 Sassenach?" 
 
 "An' isn't the dhirty Sassenach as good as 
 you, bad luck to you?" retorted Denny. 
 "Ain't they great solgers, an' great alters, 
 an' what more do you want?" 
 
 The camp-fire proceedings threatened to 
 wind up in a row, when some one restored 
 good humor by calliug on Denny Byrne for 
 Old Zoz's Story, which Denny, howerer, al- 
 ways gave as the experience of his father, 
 
 roarin' an' right, Denny shall go on with his 
 story." 
 
 A huge fire was built up in a twinkling ; 
 and amid the roar of the flames and the 
 laughter of his companions, Denny pro- 
 ceeded with what was called Old Zozimus' 
 story, as it was shrewdly suspected that 
 Byrne, notwithstanding his assertion to the 
 contrary, had obtained it from that source 
 like many a greater story-teller. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 DENNY BTBXE'S STORY. 
 
 " Well, it's a good many years ago," said 
 Denny, "my father 'listed in the North 
 Cork, just to oblige Mr. Barry, the landlord 
 there. 'For,' says he, 'Phil,' says he, 'it's 
 not a soldier ye'll be at all, but my own man 
 —to brush my clothes an' go errands, an' 
 the like o' that, and the king, long life to 
 him, will help to pay ye fur your trouble. 
 Ye understand me?' 
 
 "Well, my father agreed, and Mr. Barry 
 was as good as his word. 
 
 "Never a guard did my father mount, 
 nor as much as a drill had he, nor a roll-call, 
 nor anything at all, sAve and except wait on 
 the captain, his master, just as pleasant as 
 need be, and uo iuconveuience iu life. 
 
 " Well, for three years this weut on as I'm 
 tellin', and the regiment was ordered down 
 to Bantry, l)ecause of a report that the boys 
 was rising down there ; and the second even- 
 ing there was a night party patrolling, with 
 Captain Barry, for six hours in the rain, and 
 the captain, God be merciful to him, took 
 cowld and died ; more betoken, they said it 
 was drink, but my lather said it wasn't. 
 
 " ' For,' says he, ' after he tuk eight tum- 
 blers comfortable, my father mixed the 
 ninth, and the captain waved his hand this 
 way, as much as to say he'd have no more. 
 
 " ' Is it that ye mean ?' says my father, and 
 the captain nodded. 
 
 " ' Musha, but it's sorry I am,' says my fa- 
 ther, 'to see you this way, for ye must be 
 bad intirely to leave off in the beginning of 
 the evening.' . 
 
 " And true for him the captain was dead 
 in the morning. 
 
 " A sorrowful day it was for my father, 
 when he died ; it was the finest place in the 
 world, little to do, plenty of diversion, auda 
 kind man he was— when he was srber. 
 
 " Well, then, when the captain was buried 
 and all was over, my father hoped they'd be 
 for letting him away, as he said : 
 
 " ' Sure I'm no use in life to anybody save 
 the man that's gone, for his ways are all 1 
 know, and I never was a sodger.' 
 
 " But, upon my conscieuce. they had other 
 thoughts ill their heads; for they ordered 
 him into the rauks to be drilled just like the 
 recruits they took the day before. 
 
 " ' Musha, isn't this hard ?' said my father; 
 
 pence a'day, obliged to go capering about 
 the barrack yard practicing the goose steps 
 or some other nonsense not becoming my 
 age nor my habits; but so it was. 
 
 " Well, this weut on for some time, and, 
 sure if they were hard on my father, didn't 
 he have his revenge ? for he nigh broke tlieir 
 hearts with hisstupidity; oh 1 nothing in life 
 could equal him; not a thhig, no matter 
 liow easy he could learn at all ; and so far 
 from caring for him in confinement, it was 
 that he liked best. 
 
 "Every sergeant in the regiment had a 
 trial of him, but all to no good— and he 
 seemed striving so hard to learn all the while, 
 and they were loath to punish him, the old 
 rogue ! 
 
 " This was going on for some time, when 
 one day news came in that a body of the 
 reliels, as they called them, was coming 
 down from the Gap of Mulnavick to storm 
 the town and burn all before them. 
 
 "The whole regiment was of course under 
 arras, and great preparations were made for 
 a battle. Meanwhile, patrols were ordered 
 to scour the roads, and sentries posted at 
 every turn of the way and every rising 
 ground to give warning when the boys came 
 in sight. And my father was placea at the 
 bridge of Drumsnag, in the wildest and 
 bleakest part of the whole country with 
 nothiug but furze mountains on every side 
 and a straight road going over the top of 
 them. 
 
 " ' This is pleasant,' says my father, as soon 
 as they left him there alone by liiinself, 
 with uo human creature to speak to, nor a 
 whisky shop within two miles of him ; 'c owld 
 
 he, ' OB 
 
 d to give ye the slip.' 
 
 com for 
 
 faix, but I've .^ „..„„ .„ ^. 
 " Well, he put his gun d. 
 and he lighted his pipe, and 
 under 
 
 day; and 
 
 uld tree and began 
 
 ruminate 
 
 that's i 
 
 "Jus 
 
 him ; ii 
 
 wishin' it well I am,' says 
 :; and ill-will be the ham- 
 lie shillin' that 'listed me, 
 vas mighty low in his heart, 
 s. • came rattling down near 
 ami before he could get on 
 his l.'L'-i ilinvu conns the general, ould Co- 
 hoon, with an oidly after him. 
 " ' Who goes tliei u V says my father. 
 "'The round,' says the general, looking 
 about all the time to see where was the 
 sentry, for my father was snug under the 
 tree. 
 
 " ■ What round :-" says my father. 
 
 '"Tlio ^laiiil round,' says the general. 
 
 and God save ye 
 ttiug his pipe to 
 thought all was 
 
 here I am,' says he, 'and a cowld 
 place I have of it; and If it wasn't for the 
 pipe I'd be lost intirely.' 
 
 " The words wasn't well out of his mouth, 
 when the general began laughing till ye'd 
 think he'd fall off his horse. 
 
 " And the dragoon behind him — more by 
 token, they say it wasn't right for him— 
 laughed as loud as himself. 
 
 soon as h 
 
 " ' Begorra, it's little fun there's left in 
 me,' says my father, 'with this drilling aud 
 parading and thramping about the roads all 
 night.' 
 
 " ' And is this the way you salute your ofil- 
 cer?' says the general. 
 
 " 'Just so,' says my father; 'sorraa more 
 politeness ever they taught me!' 
 
 " ' What regiment do you belong to ?' says 
 the general. 
 
 "'The North Cork,' says my father, with 
 a sigh. 
 
 " ' They ought to be proud of ye,' says the 
 general. 
 
 "I'm sorry for it,' says my father, sorrow- 
 
 ; - '-—'11 -- "-- 
 
 longer.' 
 
 " ' Well, my good fellow,' says the general, 
 ' I haven't more time to waste here ; but let 
 me teach you something before I go. When- 
 ever your offloer passes, it's your duty to 
 present arms to him.' 
 
 "'Arrah, it's jokin ye are!' says my 
 father. 
 
 " 'No, indeed, I'm in earnest,' says he, ' as 
 ye might learn to yer cost if I brought ye to 
 a court-martial.' 
 
 " The general began to laugh again here, 
 but said : 
 
 " ' I'm coming back here, aud mind you 
 don't forget your duty to your officer.' 
 
 fully, 
 
 may be they'll keep me the 
 
 "'Never fear, sir,' says my lather, 'and 
 many thanks to you lor your kindness in 
 tellin' me.' 
 
 " Away went the general, and the orderly 
 after him, and in ten minutes they were out 
 of sight. 
 
 "The night was falling fast, and one hall 
 of the mountain was quite dark already, 
 when my father began to think they were 
 forgetting him intirely. 
 
 " lie looked one way, and he looked an- 
 othcr, lint sorraa liitof a sergeant's guard 
 was comin' to relieve him. 
 
 " There he was, frest and fastin', an' dare 
 not go for his bare life. 
 
 " ' I'll gi-e you a quarter of an hour more,' 
 .says my father, 'till the light le.ives that 
 rn'oK- up then'. After that,' says he, ' I'll be 
 ofi': aril (iKt nn- what it may !' 
 
 "Wrll Miro ciiongh, his courage was not 
 
 uccci.ii thisii ; for, what did he see at the 
 
 saino moment, imt the shadow of somethin' 
 comin' down L,he road opposite the bridge. 
 He looked again ; and then he made out the 
 general himself that was walking his horse 
 down the steep part of the mountain, fol- 
 lowed by his orderly. 
 
 ' My father immediately took up his mus- 
 ket off the wall, settled his belts, shook the 
 ashes out of his pipe and put it in his pocket, 
 making himself as smart and neat-lookin' as 
 could be, determining, when ould Cohoon 
 came up, to ask him for leave to go home, at 
 least for the night. 
 
 " Well, by this time the general was turn- 
 ing a sharp part of the cliff that looks down 
 upon the bridge, from where you might look 
 five miles all around on every side. 
 
 "■He sees me,' says my father; 'but I'll 
 be just as quick as himself ! ' 
 
 " No sooner said than done, for, coming 
 forward to the parapet of the bridge, he up 
 wid his musket to his shoulder, and present- 
 ed it straight at the general. 
 
 "It wasn't well there when the officer 
 pulled up his horse quite short, and shouted 
 out: 
 
 "'Sentry— sentry !' 
 
 " ' A7ia7i ;' says my father, still covering 
 him. 
 
 "'Down with your musket, you rascal! 
 don't you see it's the grand round ?' 
 
 " 'To be sure I do,' says my father, never 
 changing for a minute. 
 
 " 'The ruffian will shoot me,' says the gen- 
 eral. 
 
 " ' Not a fear,' says my father, ' av it does 
 not go off of itself.' 
 
 " '"What do you mean by that, you vil- 
 lain ?' says the general, scarce able to speak 
 with fright, for, every turn he gave on his 
 horse, my father followed with the gun. 
 ' What do vou mean '' 
 
 "Sure ain't I prcsentin""' says my fa- 
 ther; "tare an' ages! do you want me to 
 
 father. 
 
 " There thev both stood for five minutes, 
 lookiu' at ea'ch other, the orderly all the 
 while breaking his heart laughing behind 
 the rock. 
 
 "For ye see, the general knew av he re- 
 treated that my lather might fire on pur- 
 pose, and if he came on that he might fire 
 by chance ; and sorra a bit he knew what 
 was best to he done. 
 
 '"Are ye going to pass the evening up 
 there, grand round?' says my father, 'for 
 it's tired I am getting houldin' this so 
 long ! ' 
 
 '"Port arms!' shouted the general, as if 
 on parade. 
 
 " ' Sure I can't till yer passed,' says my fa- 
 ther, angrily, • and my hands trembling al- 
 ready.' 
 
 "By Jove! I shall be shot,' says the gen- 
 eral. 
 
 " ' Be gorra! it's what I'm afraid of,' says 
 my father.' and the words wasn't well out 
 of his mouth before off went the musket— 
 bang— and down went the general, smack on 
 the ground, senseless. 
 
 ""well, the orderly ran out at this, and 
 took him up and examined his wound. 
 
 " But it wasn't a wound at all, only the 
 wadding of the gun, for my father- God be 
 kind to him— ye see, could do nothing right, 
 and so he bit off the wrong end of the cart- 
 ridge when he put it in the gun, and by 
 reason there was no bullet in it. 
 
 " Well, from that day after they never got 
 sight of him, for the instant the general 
 dropped, he sprung over the bridge — " 
 
THE WA.R LIBRARY. 
 
 for what on earth 
 ust him y I have 
 ueer stories, but 
 about the 
 
 ever after took a civil situation, and ever 
 driv a hearse for years." 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CORCORAN ARRIVES. 
 
 Two or three davs more had passed before 
 General Corcoran had got back to camp. 
 
 It was the night before the trial of Fight- 
 ing Pat. and, perhaps, it was well for our 
 unfortunate hero that the brigadier had put 
 in an appearance so soon. 
 
 The first thing that the general was told 
 of, was the arrest of his nephew, and the cir- 
 cumstances that led to it. 
 
 Corcoran was not only astonished but 
 greatly annoyed at what he had heard. 
 
 When his anger had subsided, he said to 
 the young major, who had given him an ac- 
 count of the ren confer : 
 
 " Mahon, I fear there is something more in 
 this than I see at present. I know a little of 
 Hynes, aud that little not very much to his 
 credit. He was at first to have joined our 
 corps, but changed his mind the moment he 
 heard my nephew was to enter it; and be- 
 tween you and me, I am not sorry for his 
 decision— for, plainly speaking, I do not like 
 the mau a whit." 
 
 " You are not alone there, general," re- 
 plied Major Mahou. "" " " 
 here, whn knew Inm 
 aprettv haiil ikiuhv" 
 
 "I think lir.l.-.rv, 
 could Momii'v l];ivi. 
 certainly b«inl sou 
 never a word from my neph 
 fellow." 
 
 "Simply because he is not in the habit of 
 speaking about people behind their backs," 
 rejoined Mahou, warmly. " However, I 
 think it would be well to investigate this 
 matter at once." 
 
 " He is to be tried, you say, by a general 
 court-martial?" 
 
 " Then, in that case, we must make quick 
 work of it. The great military lights," pro- 
 ceeded Corcoran, "are determined to stamp 
 this kind of thing out, and poor Pat may be 
 theflrst to suffer for his impudence." 
 
 "It is a serious offense to be sure," said 
 Mahon, refieetively. 
 
 " Couldn't be more so. Au offense just 
 •now punishable with death." 
 
 '• I am very glad you have got back, how- 
 ever," said Mahon; " very glad, indeed." 
 
 "Not more than I myself am. The lad 
 Tnustbe saved come what will," added the 
 general, more to himself than to the officer 
 with whom he had been speaking. 
 ■" Mahon ! ' he ejaculated, suddenly. 
 
 "Yes. general." 
 
 " Is Hynes in camp just now ?" 
 
 "I believe he is." 
 
 " Will you ascertain whereabouts, while I 
 visit this impudent nephew of mine." 
 
 "Certainly, general. I will do it at once. 
 1 presume I will find you at your quarters ?" 
 
 "No; I think not. Say you call at the 
 grand tent in about twenty minutes or halt 
 an hour from now, as my interview with 
 Mooney may in all proliability last that 
 time. I nii^aii iin.liin;.' tliis matter to the 
 bottom, ami if my ireph.w is in fault let 
 him bear tin' l>i luit, that's all." 
 
 "I think y.m will liiid tlic boot on the 
 other leg," said Mahou, laushiug; "and, in 
 another moment he was gmie. 
 
 General Corcoran retlected iirofoundly for 
 a couple of minutes: then be, too, left the 
 t, and made for the guard tent wherein 
 
 spot 
 
 Figli 
 
 pproach of the general the guard 
 tui-ned out and piesented arms, as they were 
 in duty bound to do. 
 
 " Youmay dismi.ss Tour irn'ii, lieuti-naut," 
 said Corooran,asb.-a<.kiiu\i I.-,l;i, il tin- salute 
 ofthe young officn- in .•.iniiiiand. ">;■)«', 
 tell me, how isynur piisniui— ui. in-rhaps, 
 you have more than uue inside there ?' he 
 added, quickly. 
 
 He was gratified, however, to learn that 
 Fighting Pat was the only one confined in 
 the guard-tent since his departure. 
 
 " That speaks well for the discipline of the 
 Iiegion," said Corcoran, laughing, "and how 
 does Mooney take this restriction on his 
 liberty?" 
 
 " As well, general, as can be expected," 
 replied the lieutenant. " Come and see for 
 yourself." 
 
 Throwing the canvas of the tent aside, 
 they entered together. 
 
 T'ho tent, which was a pretty large one, 
 was liiihtHd l>y a solitary lamp, barely serv- 
 iutr. lio\\,.v(.i, ii, ilissipate the gloom. 
 
 Tlii-\- fiiund tlif |iiisom-r stretched out on 
 a euMplH cif army blankets— half-dozing, 
 half-dreamiug, perhaps, of the little green 
 
 isle, which he had quitted but a few short 
 months before. 
 
 It was evident that he did not hear the 
 approach of the two officers, and it was not 
 till the lieutenant had called him by name 
 that he responded. 
 
 Then he leaped quickly to his feet and 
 stood confronting his commander. 
 
 It did not for a moment occur to Fighting 
 Pat to take advantage of the relationship 
 existing between himself and Corcoran. 
 
 He stood, instead, to attention, and saluted 
 respectfully, as might any other soldier of 
 the command. 
 
 "Youmay go now, L/ieutenant O'Reilly," 
 said Corcoran. " I wish to speak with tlie 
 prisoner alone for a few moments." 
 
 The young officer touched his hat, aud in- 
 stantly left the guard-tent. 
 
 When they were alone, Corcoran said : 
 
 " Can you explain this, Pat?" 
 
 "What, general?" 
 
 " The uufortunate scrape 1 find you in. 
 This is very serious." 
 
 "I know that, general." 
 
 " It is .singularly unlucky at such a time," 
 proceeded Corcoran. " I suppose you have 
 heard we are about to go to the front ?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Fighting Pat still stood to attention. 
 
 " You need stand no longer that way, Pat. 
 We are alone. Now, tell me all about your 
 affair with Hynes. The mau charges you 
 with having pulled trigger on him." 
 
 " Yes, that is his charge, general," replied 
 Pat. 
 
 "Is it true?" said Corcoran, with some 
 severity. 
 
 " What would you think, general ?" 
 
 " I heard it to-night for the first time, and 
 could not believe my ears," was the reply. 
 
 " I am very glad of that." 
 
 "But did you, or did you not shoot at the 
 mau ?" asked Corcoran, in a stern tone. 
 "You know the rules of the service, I pre- 
 sume?" 
 
 " Well that, general. I, however, respect- 
 fully ask you one question." 
 
 "Put it." 
 
 "Did you ever hear of my stooping to a 
 falsehood ?" said the young man, in earnest 
 tones. 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " I thank you for that ; and now I will an- 
 swer you. I did not shoot at Major Hynes !" 
 
 The last sentence Fighting Pat emphasized, 
 solemnly." 
 
 "You did not?" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "Then the man brings a false charge 
 against you?" 
 
 "Even so." 
 
 " Why did you not say this at your pre- 
 liminary examination ?" demanded Corcor- 
 an, somewhat puzzled. 
 
 " I was waiting." 
 
 "For what?" 
 
 " For my principal examination.' 
 
 " The general court-martial?" 
 
 court-martial might have been your death. 
 You must be aware of that, surely?" 
 ■ ' was, and am," said the young man. 
 
 It was evident, even to himself, that he 
 understood little of his nephew's character. 
 At last he paused suddenly, and faced the 
 young soldier once more. 
 
 " You did not fire at Major Hynes, then ? " 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "Then his evidence was lies, from begiu- 
 ning to end?" 
 
 "To a certain extent, yes." 
 
 " And your rifle?" 
 
 " Was discharged accidentally." 
 
 " Did you not assault him ?" pursued Cor- 
 coran. 
 
 " Yes, after he had grossly insulted me." 
 
 "Wf ai.' ri.iiiiiiL' near to the bottom at 
 last," s:iiil iho uciioral, Inii-hiijf,'. "Pray ex- 
 plain al I a- lin. 11\ a- ' an— conceal noth- 
 ing, ami if it's possiiil.l . save you it shall 
 be doue." 
 
 that which 
 reader. 
 
 Corcoran listened with profound attention, 
 and as he learned the truth of the encounter 
 between his nephew and Hynes, his indigna- 
 tion was nieh getting the better of him. 
 
 Whatever he" was about to say was inter- 
 rupted by the entrance of Major Mahone. 
 
 The young officer perceiving uncle and 
 nephew still engaged, was about to leave the 
 tent, when the general beckoned him to 
 come forward. 
 
 '• Have ^■ou found him ?" he asked. 
 
 "I have." 
 
 " The scoundrel !" 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 "I repeat it. Major Mahon, Hynes is an In- 
 fernal scoundrel !" 
 
 "Ah, general," said Mahon, with a sly 
 wink, "please tell us something ive don't 
 know." 
 
 " Where is he now?" 
 
 " \yho— Hynes ?" 
 
 "Enjoying himself to the top of his bent 
 at Courtenay's quarters. He's as merry as 
 you please, smoking aud drinking wine at 
 Iioor Courtenay's expense." 
 
 " Courtenay, at least, is a gentleman," said 
 Corcoran. 
 
 " Quite true, general, quite true." said Ma- 
 hon, " and that, perhaps, is one of the rea- 
 sons that he is so easily imposed upon by a 
 blackguard like Hynes. By my soul," con- 
 tinued the youthful major, " there is noth- 
 ing in the world that would give me more 
 pleasure than to kick the villain out of 
 camp." 
 
 " I must see this man before I eat or sleep," 
 said Corcoran, with some excitement, 
 th you, then?" 
 
 ^'^; 
 
 Then turning to his nephew, he bade him 
 be of good heart, and left the tent, followed 
 by his subordinate. 
 
 On the way to Courtenay's quarters, Gen- 
 eral Corcoran briefly related Mooney's story 
 as told him a few minutes before. 
 
 When he had finished, he said : 
 
 " My nephew, under other circumstances, 
 would have been justified in acting as he 
 had done ; but there is no excuse for a sen- 
 try assaulting his superior officer, and such, 
 I take it, will be the verdict at to-morrow's 
 court-martial." 
 
 " I am afraid, general, you are right," said 
 Mahon. 
 
 " Now the question is what is to be done," 
 said Corcoran. " I can only see one way out 
 of the difficulty." 
 
 attending the court-martial." 
 
 " I understand. We must get him out of 
 the way." 
 
 "Decidedly." 
 
 " And that is to be done ?" 
 
 " In this wise— and I think the plan will 
 be a good one. We must make this ruffian 
 take water " 
 
 " Treat him to the Potomac?" 
 
 " Not quite that, ' ' said Corcoran, laughing ; 
 "although the soouer he's on the other side 
 of it, the better will it be for his skin. We 
 must make the villain fight." 
 
 " You can couut on me every time, gen- 
 eral.' 
 
 " But I was going to say that he won't 
 fight." 
 
 "Then he'll run. I see the drift. We 
 must get rid of him. When the court-mar- 
 tial assembles, the accuser will be absent." 
 
 "Exactly so." 
 
 " Leave the matter to me. I give you my 
 word, general, as a gentleman, that Mr. 
 Hynes will make himself scarce before to- 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 FIGHTING PAT BECOMES A SCOPT. 
 
 Voices proceeded from the tent, and it 
 seemed, indeed, as if Jerry Hynes was en- 
 joying himself to the top of his bent. 
 
 "Hear the blackguard," said Major Ma- 
 hon. "One would think that he was the 
 happiest crayture in the world. By the 
 powers but he's fooling poor Courtenay 
 nicely. 1 think I had better go in and an- 
 nounce you, general." 
 
 " Stay a moment," said Corcoran. " What 
 plan of action have you hit on?" 
 
 " Y'ou will see that in good time. Now 
 don't say another word, but leave the rest 
 to me." 
 
 "Very well," replied the brigadier; "but 
 above all things, act discreetly." , 
 
 "How?" 
 
 "I mean don't allow your jjlau to mis- 
 carry." 
 
 "Trust me for that. Here goes," and 
 Major Mahon, without ceremony, disap- 
 peared within the folds of Courtenay's tent. 
 
 He was not goTH* more than a few minutes 
 
 ■• It is all right," he said, "and now, gen. 
 eral, if you permit me, I will lead the way." 
 
 General Corcoran followed Mahon into the 
 tent. 
 
 The interior was lit by four or five big wax 
 candles, and the tent, in other reepecfi, was 
 quite comfortably furnished. 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 It was well known in the Irish Legion that 
 Caotain Courtenay was an exceedingly 
 wealthy officer, who had a penchant for 
 active service, and who, for that, and no 
 other reason had joined Corcoran's com- 
 mand. 
 
 He had been a lieutenant in the Enfilish 
 army, got tired of it, and, having disposed of 
 his commission, had come to this country. 
 
 For what purpose? 
 
 Simply to see service in the field. 
 
 Just as Corcoran entered. Captain Courte- 
 nay had opened a bottle of champagne, and 
 there were indications of the fact that others 
 had been opened prior to his coming 
 
 Major Jerry Hynes was smoking one of 
 the captain's fine cigars, and seemed to have 
 installed himself very comfortably for the 
 
 evening. 
 
 His face was flushed as if he had drunk 
 deeply, and it appeared, from the rapid 
 glance that Corcoran had given him, that he 
 was not over pleased with the fact of seeing 
 either him or Major Mahon. 
 
 He tried to look pleasant, however, as 
 Courtenay got up, and after welcoming his 
 two visitors, pressed upon them to partake 
 of what was going. 
 
 "I have plenty of seats, gentlemen; so 
 make yourselves at home," he said. " I 
 would advise you, general, to try a 
 glass of this excellent brand— best I've 
 tasted this side of the Atlantic. And you, 
 major, allow me to help you to a good cigar. 
 Don't stir, Hynes; you are all right. Pray 
 be seated, gentlemen. And so we are to 
 move to the front, general?" 
 
 " I understand that to bo the order, cap- 
 tain. Very excellent wine, indeed." 
 
 "This cigar is quite a treat," said Mahon. 
 
 " Pleased to hear you say so, major. Have 
 another glass of champagne : not a headache 
 in a dozen bottles of it, I assure you. Won't, 
 eh f Sorry for that. As I was telling Major 
 Hynes here, we'll be in the deuce of a fix for 
 want of the necessaries when we get into 
 campaigning trim. It will be then salt junk 
 and hard tack. Ah ! ha ! come, general, let 
 me fill your glass for you again. Excuse 
 me, Hynes, old fellow; I'm afraid I've tread 
 on vour corns." 
 
 "Ahem! No, you haven't," said Hynes, 
 leering round him. " No fear of that— 
 haven't any to tread on; so there's where 
 you are out. Ah, ha ! " 
 
 " Hynes, I'll wager that you have corns," 
 said Mahon. " I'll wager that you have even 
 bunions." 
 
 "Eh— eh!" said Hynes. "What's that?" 
 
 Mahon repeated what he had said, and in 
 such a manner that there was no mistaking 
 but that he meant to be offensive; and 
 Jerry's brain was not so clouded but he 
 
 lids 
 
 "Repeat that again, sir!" said Hynes, 
 fiercely, as he rolled his eye defiantly around 
 the tent. 
 
 " Egad, that's capital !" cried Courtenay, 
 whose brains were getting a little too mud- 
 dled to perceive that there was anything 
 wrong in his bellicose attitude. 
 
 " Capital— capital ! " reiterated Courtenay. 
 "Don't spare him, Hynes; let him have it, 
 old man !' 
 
 " I request that you repeat that again, sir," 
 said Hynes, more furiously than ever. 
 
 "I also make the assertion that you have 
 two ugly carbuncles on your nose, and that 
 you wear false teeth," said Mahon. "Not 
 only that, sir, but oracular demonstration 
 will prove that your calves are padded." 
 
 This was getting beyond a joke. 
 
 Major Hynes flew forward just in time to 
 get about half a glass of wine in his face. 
 
 This completely sobered him. 
 
 Even the muddled captain could not fail 
 but understand the insult. 
 
 Major Hynes howled with rage; Courtenay 
 cried, " Shame — shame !" General Corcoran 
 said nothing, but looked on, an interested 
 spectator. 
 
 "This calls for blood!" yelled Major 
 Hynes, beside himself with rage. 
 
 "You need not go very far to get that," 
 said Mahon, coolly. "If you want satisfac- 
 tion, I am the man to give it to yon." 
 
 " Allow me to second you, major," said 
 Court enay. 
 
 "I'll act for Mahon," said Corcoran ; " and 
 if Captain Courtenay has no objection, the 
 Hffair may as well be settled here as any- 
 where else." 
 
 "No objection in the least, unless the 
 >li:ii e is too limited," replied Courtenay. 
 ■ With your permission, gentlemen, I 
 will now produce the pistols; and. I may 
 ^■ay. they are perfect beauties in their line — 
 !ia tine a brace of dueling pistols as ever man 
 shipped eyes on." 
 
 Hynes turned deathly pale. 
 
 Corcoran saw in a moment that there was 
 no flght in him, but allowed, nevertheles, 
 he captain to produce the " beauties," as he 
 called them. 
 
 " It would be murder to flght here," stam- 
 mered Hynes. 
 
 "Not at all, my dear sir," said Courte- 
 nay. " The fact is, you couldn't flght in a 
 better place. You have most excellentlight 
 from the wax candles. Permit me to place 
 you ; or will you toss for places?" 
 
 " I tell you I won't flght here," said Hynes, 
 desperately, " It was all a mistake anyhow. 
 I freely pardon the gentleman for carrying 
 the joke a little too far." 
 
 "What!" cried Courtenay, hardly believ- 
 ing that he heard aright, "do you call it a 
 joke, sir, to throw the contents of a cham- 
 pagne glass in your face?" 
 
 " The major didn't mean it other than as 
 a practical joke, I am sure," said Hynes. 
 
 "There's where you are in error, Major 
 Hynes," said Mahon. "I did mean it; so 
 make no mistake with regard to it." 
 
 " Of course you meant it, sir," said Courte- 
 nay. " What ! will you not flght after his 
 avowal that he did mean it?" 
 
 "I will not," stammered Jerry, turning 
 the hue of a dirty green in the face. 
 
 ay to you. 
 
 "Now let me' give you a piece of ad- 
 vice. Major Hynes," saidMahon, "and that 
 is to clear from Washington and its neigh- 
 borhood as soon as you can. If I catch you 
 anywhere within twenty miles of this by 
 sunrise to-morrow I'll shoot you on sight." 
 
 They allowed the crestfallen major to 
 slink out of the tent. Then both Mahon and 
 Corcoran made ample apologies to Courtenay 
 for their manner of treating his guest. Not 
 only did they do this, but they very satisfac- 
 torily explained the cause of their thus act- 
 ing. 
 
 We need not say that Mahon's plan work- 
 ed well. 
 
 It worked even better than they had ex- 
 pected; for at the general court-martial 
 next day, the accuser, Hynes, failed to put 
 in an appearance. 
 
 This resulted, as it happened, in the release 
 of Fighting Pat. 
 
 The day following the liberation of 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 FIGHTING PAT'S DARING EXPLOIT. 
 
 "Bedad, ' said Denny Byrne, "I don't 
 know what to make of this scoutin' at all. 
 It seems to be all kicks an' no ha'pence, as 
 
 Frank O'Mahoney. " Sofaryou'vecomeout 
 pretty lucky. You haven't lost a leg or an 
 arm, an eye or an ear, so you may think 
 yourself fortunate. What do you say, Pat?" 
 
 "I think with you, Frank. Our friend 
 has nothing to complain of yet. We have 
 circumvented the graycoats with better 
 success than could have been expected. Be- 
 sides, we haven't gone twelve hours without 
 food in seven or eight days. Then why 
 grumble? You know the old saying, Den- 
 ny— ' It's time enough to bid the devil good 
 morning when you meet him.' " 
 
 " There's no denyiu' that," replied Denny. 
 "But canyon tell me what is the good of all 
 this thrani pin' round the counthry? There's 
 thegraycouts here to-day, an' there to-mor- 
 row— aii' ;u flit we thesame? It's like hide- 
 aii'-st'fk lor all tlm world, an' the more I see 
 
 "liiit>(inr fatlier before you didn't like 
 soldieiiiiK, IJeiiuy," said Frank, laughing. 
 " A man that smokes a pipe doing sentinel 
 duty over a magazine is much better in 
 civil life; don't you think so, Pat?" 
 
 "I decidedly do." 
 
 " Who smoked apipe over apowdher mag- 
 azine?" 
 
 " Why your father, didn't he ?" 
 
 "Who towld ye thatflamer?" demanded 
 Denny, tartly. 
 
 "Wuy yourself." 
 
 " Mesel'f— and when ?" 
 
 " Why, one night when you were three 
 sheets in the wind." 
 
 " I don't recollect the sarcumstance; and 
 I must have been more than four sheets in 
 the wind to have forgotten it." 
 
 "Hist!" said Fighting Pat, suddenly. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Byrne. 
 
 'Hist! 
 
 .say! 
 
 The foregoing conversation occurred about 
 two weeks subsequent to the incidents 
 chronicled in our last chapter. 
 
 Fighting Pat and his companions had been 
 on a two days' scouting expedition for the 
 purpose of obtaining some knowledge of the 
 movements of the Confederates, who were 
 believed to be in considerable force in the 
 neighborhood. 
 
 lip to this time they had had some very 
 narrow runs for it, and on three or four oc- 
 casions had barely escaped capture. 
 
 They owed their escape to the coolness 
 and presence of mind of their young leader. 
 
 They were in the act of passing through a 
 dense piece of woodland toward the evening 
 of the second day when Pat's warning 
 brought them to a sudden halt. 
 
 "What's the matter?" asked Frank. 
 
 "Not a word," said Pat, "but dismount 
 as quietly as you can." 
 
 " There's some one in the wood!" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Yourhearin' is better than mine," said 
 Denny, " for sorra a thing I can hear at all." 
 
 Fighting Pat gestured him to silence, and 
 then they all leaped to the ground. 
 
 For a moment or two they listened in- 
 tently. 
 
 There could be no mistaking the fact^- 
 there were some persons in the wood beside 
 themselves, whether friends or enemies re- 
 mained to be seen. 
 
 It might be some of their own men; but 
 more likely a body of Confederates. 
 
 It behooved them, therefore, to act with 
 great caution. 
 
 " We cannot go any further in this direc- 
 tion," said Pat Mooney, "until weflndout 
 with whom we have to deal. Remain here 
 both of you, until I see." 
 
 " You expose yourself to too much dan- 
 ger," remonstrated Frank. "Just let me go 
 this once, will you ?" 
 
 "No— no; keep your eye skinned, that's 
 all. I'll return all right, depend upon it." 
 
 Darkness had already descended on the 
 gloomy forest, and after listening for a min- 
 ute silently and intently. Fighting Pat stole 
 like a shadow along the path. 
 
 Deeper and deeper he plunged into the in- 
 tricacies of the wood. 
 
 He proceeded as cautiously as an Indian 
 picking up the trail of an enemy. 
 
 Every now and then he stopped to listen, 
 so as to make sure of the exact direction 
 whence the sounds came. 
 
 He never moved without making sure of 
 this fact. 
 
 the path by which he had come, as it would 
 be no very pleasant matter to him to lose his 
 comrades, who might watch and wait for 
 him in vain had he not taken this precaution. 
 
 Fighting Pat had so far proved himself an 
 able scout, and he was not going to losepres- 
 tige in this last little effort of his. 
 
 It is remarkable to what a distance sound 
 can be conveyed amid the solemn stiUnessof 
 a wilderness of timber and undergrowth. 
 
 The sounds at flrst seemed to recede from 
 him, then grew louder, till he was finally as- 
 sured that he had struck the right path. 
 
 "I shouldn't l)e surprised," murmured Pat 
 to himself, " to find the enemy in force in 
 
 the direction I am going. I must now act 
 
 „ St cautic 
 
 hauled myself." 
 
 going 
 tion, ( 
 
 with the greatest caution, or I may get over- 
 
 Ou and on he went, deeperand deeper into 
 the recesses of the wood. 
 
 Finally he pulled up quite suddenly. 
 
 A red glare df light flashed in his eyes. 
 
 It came so suddenly upon him that he 
 dropped flat upon his face, fearitg he might 
 have been seen. 
 
 Such was not the case, however, as he 
 quickly found out. 
 
 y-" 
 
 he had come to a glen in the 
 le forest ; and in the center 
 s a huge camp-fire, around 
 
 hich were seated, in various attitudes, 
 about twenty or thirty rebel.'. 
 
 This was no doubt only a portion of the 
 force who were encamped in the glen, for 
 nuriu-rous indications pointed to three times 
 that number. 
 
 His second discovery was that the men oc- 
 cupying this great open space in the forest 
 were part and parcel of a band of guerrillas. 
 
 "The brigands of the Confederacy," mut- 
 tpr.'fl tlip si-nut. " Now, I have every respect 
 for tliM : iiinr of the regulars, but iioue for 
 tlio~o I, iio«^. I wish to Heaven I could give 
 
 Til. L'li.rrillas were laughing, talking and 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 sm •!; nj, aud seemed to be enjoying them- 
 .-!• > >., i ifilit merrily." 
 
 /'uliliiis Pat'd quick mind was at work. 
 
 II uimld dearly like to give tiiemafright. 
 
 N 1 'V how eoiild he do it without imperil- 
 \'i<-: Sisown safety ? 
 
 Within a dozen paces of him he caught 
 sisiht of a large pile of hand grenades, stolen 
 iiixloubt from some camp for a dark pur- 
 
 ■• Just the very thing," he muttered. "If 
 T can only get to them without being seen, 
 I'll give them a rare old scare, one which 
 ihey won't forget in a hurry." 
 
 We have witnessed a little already of 
 Fighting Pat's fearless and intrepid charac- 
 
 In fact he was a man who courted danger 
 for the sake of overcoming it. 
 
 The young scout's object was to steal to- 
 ward the pile of hand grenades without be- 
 ing observed— a task let it be understood not 
 attended without considerable risk. 
 
 The huge camp-fire lit the glen up with al- 
 most the brilliancy of day, and before the 
 scout could even reach the heap of deadly 
 missiles a shot from one of the guerrillas 
 might put a stop to him and his acts of dar- 
 ing forever. 
 
 This was what he had to consider. 
 
 Of course he hojjed to be able to surprise 
 them and make his escape in time to rejoin 
 his companions to give the alarm. 
 
 Was it prudent to thus imperil his and his 
 comrades' safety ? 
 
 For a moment he hesitated. 
 
 Indecision, however, lasted but a short 
 time with one of his nature. 
 
 " I'll chance it !" was his mental ejacula- 
 tion. 
 
 In another instant he would have stolen in 
 the direction of the hand grenades. 
 
 But hold! 
 
 There was a stir on the other side of the 
 glen— a confused commingling of voices- 
 then a tramp of feet — some one was ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 The voices grew louder, the steps heavier, 
 then half a dozen heavily Ijearili-d men 
 emerged from out of the darkm >s iuto the 
 lurid reflection east by the tlami-= of the 
 crackling logs and brush. 
 
 As the newcomers came nearer a sudden 
 exclamation, almost loud enough to betray 
 his presence, burst from the scout's lips. 
 
 What had caused it ? 
 
 Simply this : In the center of the men who 
 now came forward was his old and relentless 
 enemy. Major Hyues. 
 
 The major wore the uniform of a Federal 
 officer, minus the hat — this was brigandish 
 in the extreme, and partook largely of the 
 guerrilla type of head -dress. 
 
 Had the gallant Jerry turned guerrilla 
 then? 
 
 Had he deserted the Federal ranks ? 
 
 ident, 
 terms 
 with the new arrivals as well as with those 
 at the camp-fire. 
 
 Nor did he even attempt to disguise his 
 name or rank on Meagher's brigade. 
 
 "The infernal villam will end by betray- 
 ing his brave commander if I don't put a 
 stop to his game,"mutteredthescoutto him- 
 self. "I will listen first to what he has to 
 say, and after that I may perhaps be able to 
 settle up old scores. Oh, if I could only take 
 the rascal prisoner I should esteem it the 
 biggest night's work of my life. But that, 
 under the circumstances, is impossible. So 
 I must content myself with hearing what he 
 has to say." 
 
 Well, major, as you have come from the 
 
 they are about ?" said the leader of the guer- 
 rillas. 
 
 "lean give you all the information on 
 that head you want," answered Hynes. 
 
 " Then go ahead." 
 
 "I intended it for you privately. Who 
 knows but there may be spies listening to 
 us." 
 
 " Oh, I think you may rest your mind easy 
 on that score," said the guerrilla chief, a big 
 black-bearded man of a sinister-looking 
 countenance. 
 
 " I'd rather not leave anything to chance." 
 
 " Perhaps you are right." 
 
 " I have seen the result of so many failures 
 in . Misequence. Come this way and I'll tell 
 yo iall." 
 
 V > ry good." 
 
 The two men now walked some distance 
 from the camp-fire, and stood for some time 
 conversing earnestly together. 
 
 Of course Fighting Pat heard not a word 
 of what was said, which, the reader may be 
 Bare, considerably angered him. 
 
 That he was not a prisoner was evide: 
 he seemed to be on the most friendly 1 
 
 As it would be out of the question to move' 
 from where he was to follow the two men, 
 he awaited quietly their return to the camp- 
 
 to hii 
 
 them will pay dear for it. And now co 
 
 the time for action. 
 
 The time for action had indeed come. 
 
 Major Hyues and the chief of the guerril- 
 las having got through their conversation 
 had returned to the camp-fire. 
 
 All eyes at the moment were fixed with a 
 look of inquiry on them. 
 
 Now was Fighting Pat's time; while the at- 
 tention of the guerrillas was distracted, he 
 could CTsily possess himself of oue or two of 
 the destructive hand grenades, and dashing 
 into the glen scatter death and destruction 
 among them. 
 
 He did not now wait to consider the conse- 
 quences. 
 
 His blood was up, and some one must 
 suffer. 
 
 With a single spring he was in the glen, 
 and the next moment he had secured one of 
 those awful instruments of war. 
 
 Then like a flash he cleared the interven- 
 ing space, hurliug the hand grenade into the 
 center of the roaring camp-fire. 
 
 " Death to the guerrillas !" he shouted, in 
 a voice as clear as the blast of a cavalry 
 trumpet. 
 
 There was an explosion of tremendous 
 force, the flaming brands were scatteied 
 right and left, and without waiting to see 
 the deadly effect of his daring act he had 
 bounded from the spot and was lost in the 
 profound darkness of the forest. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WHAT PAT HEARS IN THE FOREST. 
 
 We say that the young scout did not wait 
 to see the effects of the hand grenade which 
 he threw into the camp-fire. 
 
 It had no doubt caused some destruction 
 and considerable confusion among the guer- 
 rillas; but as Fighting Pat's mind was set on 
 escaping the consequences of his daring act 
 he made the best of his way into the forest, 
 and then struck out for the spot where he 
 had left his comrades. 
 
 He ran ahead for some time at the top of 
 his sf.eed, when it suddenly struck him that 
 he might have taken a 'wrong path in the 
 darkness in spite of the precautions he had 
 employed in coming along. 
 
 It did not occur to him just then the prob- 
 abilities of his being pursued, so he drew up 
 and examined the locality narrowly. 
 
 Notwithstanding the intense darkness he 
 made one discovery. 
 
 In the hurry of his flight he had come the 
 wrong way. 
 
 But could he tell that ? 
 
 Quite easily. 
 
 He had a remarkably piercing eye, and was 
 also a keen and cautious observer. 
 
 He had not selected his path blindly when 
 he had left Denny Byrne and Frank O'Ma- 
 houey. 
 
 He had noted every landmark, so to speak, 
 in the size and shape of trees, any peculiarity 
 about undergrowth, and a hundred other 
 things that might have escaped the scrutiny 
 of an ordinary observer. 
 
 Amid the wildest and most intricate for- 
 ests he was at home, partly from experience, 
 and certainly to a very great degree from 
 intuition. 
 
 He had the keen perception of an Indian 
 for forest scenery. 
 
 He had roved through the wood from child- 
 hood, and this was the first time perhaps he 
 was ever at a loss. 
 
 He was now most certainly at a loss. 
 
 He had not heeded in his flight how far he 
 had come, but it must have been somewhat 
 closely approaching a mile. 
 
 He listened intently to discover if he had 
 been pursued. 
 
 No sound met his ears. 
 
 The whole woodland wore a dreary and 
 ominous stillness— the stillness of a vast wil- 
 deruess where no human sound had ever 
 penetrated. 
 
 The young scout next cast his eyes above. 
 
 The trees grew thick around and about 
 him, and the interlacing branches above his 
 head were crowned with an impenetrable 
 foliage which even in daylight might have 
 prevented a ray from breaking through. 
 
 Thenight was very dark certainly, but it 
 made little difference in this spot, where it 
 was never anything else. 
 
 "I am not pursued, that is evident," said 
 
 to retrace my steps, for Denny and Frank 
 must be anxious about this time for my safe- 
 ty. Besides," he continued, "I must get 
 back to camp and warn the general of that 
 traitor, Hynes." 
 
 Now the difficulty was which way to take. 
 
 He bad come thus far at a very rapid pace, 
 and his mind being occupied with the new 
 revelation of Hynes and his schemes he had 
 forgot almost all else in his laudable desire 
 to circumvent the villain and put the two 
 Irish commanders on their guard. 
 
 It was a vexatious business, to make the 
 best of it; and now there was nothing left 
 him tint t.i rctily tin' iiiistuke. 
 
 H;n in:; t:ikin liis linaiing as well as the 
 daikii.T-s \v,,iili] p. rniit Iiiiii, ho set at once 
 
 He (lid tliid VL-ry circumspectly, feET- 
 ing, naturally, that he might drop at ^-^y 
 moment on a party of the enemy; for the 
 guerrillas were, no doubt, imiwliiig about in 
 search of him, or just as likely might, before 
 he had time to defend himself, pounce out 
 from behind some tree or bush to intercept 
 and ca])ture Jiim. 
 
 The further he proceeded, the more cau- 
 tious, in consequence, became his move- 
 ments. 
 
 Still he heard not a sound. 
 
 All was aasilentas the grave. 
 
 This, at first, to Fighting Pat, seemed to 
 augur anything but a total absence of the 
 guerrilla force, which had made its encamp- 
 ment in probably the only open part in the 
 dense wood— the moreso, perhaps, that he 
 knew that he could not be far from the en- 
 campment, if he could at all judge of his 
 surroundings. 
 
 However, on he stole, using caution at 
 every step, and resolving not to be caught 
 nappiiiir even by the cunning, keen-eyed 
 
 i-rilhi 
 
 He had, at last, struck the path by which 
 he had approached the forest glade, and, 
 was pu.shing rapidly on for the spot where 
 he had left Deiiuy and Frank, when the 
 nearwMinil of a Imnian voice startled him, 
 and i:iii~ia inni I., dart behind the trunk of 
 ahu.uvcMi.ak ti.-e. 
 
 The vuiee was singing an unmistakably- 
 patriotic Irish song, to which Fighting Pat 
 listened with no little pleasure and sur- 
 prise. 
 
 The man, whoever he was, was at a stand- 
 still, and trolled out the following in a 
 voice which was, at least characteristically 
 Celtic : 
 
 " By memory inspired 
 
 The deeds of men I love to dw'ell upon : 
 
 And the piilriotii' plow 
 
 Of ray spirit nui.st bestow 
 A tribute to (.('Ciinnell that is gone, boys, gone. 
 Here's a memory to the. friends that are gone. 
 
 Here's the memory of poor Orr t 
 
 Shedf 
 
 Betrayed b 
 
 We mi 
 
 The poisoning of Maguir 
 
 I Armstrong, 
 
 } gone. boys. gone. 
 
 How did Lord Edwar( 
 Lilie a man, without a 
 
 But Sir 
 And coward heart at best, 
 us cease to mourn Lord Edward t 
 boys*, gone ; 
 
 : memory of < 
 
 : friends that a 
 
 When Emmet'; 
 
 Here's the memory of the iriends that are gone." 
 This song was sung in a low, plaintive 
 voice — for nothing stirs the Irish people so 
 much as any reference to the wrongs of 
 their unhappy <»untry, and the sufferings 
 of too many of her noble but unfortunate 
 sons. 
 
 "This is about the last place I should ex- 
 pect to hearsuchasong." muttered Fighting 
 Pat, to himself. " I wish it was light enough 
 so that I might eat<li a gliiiiiise of the sin- 
 ger. Whether be be fur the South or North 
 the man who sung that hasn't the bad drop 
 in him, I'll go bail. Upon my word I would 
 like to speak to him— if it were only to 
 thank him for the spirit of patriotism the 
 song breathes. I wonder what has brought 
 him here — he's not a guerrilla, I'm certain. 
 Perhaps he lives in the forest here— a wood- 
 chopper, or something of that sort. I wish 
 to Heaven the moon was up so I might get a 
 good, square look at him." 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 As neither irioon nor stars were out that 
 night, Fighting Pat's wish was not liliely to 
 be gratified. 
 
 The desire grew stronger and stronger on 
 the young scout to see the man who had 
 sung that Irish song— ay, and thank him, 
 
 longsi 
 
 ide of this 
 
 sanli into insignifl 
 
 " it's no use ; I'm bound to malse liis ac- 
 quaintance," muttered tlie scout. " By his 
 voice, he cannot be more than a score of 
 yards off at most. I wish he'd strilse up 
 something else so I could locate him." 
 
 He had scarcely given vent to the words, 
 when a bright light shot up out of the dark- 
 ness, and not more than a dozen yards from 
 him. 
 
 It came from a match, which the late 
 vocalist had struck, for the purpose, no 
 doubt, of lighting his pii>e. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 FIGHTING PAT DISCOVERS A TRUE FRIEND TO 
 
 The light of the match while it burned, 
 gave Pat Mooney a pretty clear view of the 
 man who had sung the Irish song. 
 
 He appeared to be between fifty and sixty 
 years of age, possessing an undoubtedly 
 good face, as well as a lithe active figure. 
 
 He, in fact, wore an uncommonly honest 
 expression, and his countenance was char- 
 acteristically Celtic. 
 
 There are faces and faces, however; and 
 the four or five different types in the Green 
 Isle are worthy the study of the most learn- 
 ed physiognomist. 
 
 East, west, north, and south, materially 
 differ— particularly the true old Milesian 
 type without mix or tainture to be found 
 in the west. 
 
 To the latter type the stranger in the wood 
 evidently belonged— he was of the most pro- 
 nounced Milesian class of feature ; and we 
 cannot help associating this class with the 
 imagery and poetry of a land where poetry 
 is as natural as the air one breathes. 
 
 "That's my man," said Fighting Pat; and 
 without more ado he hailed him. 
 
 " Hello !" responded the stranger. "Who 
 calls?" 
 
 "A friend," replied the scout. "I'll be 
 with you in a moment if you have no objee- 
 
 " Where are you?" 
 
 "Not far away, you may be sure. I saw 
 you strike a match just now, and can there- 
 fore get to you without difficulty." 
 
 " Are you sure you can find your way in 
 the dark?" said the stranger, in a voice that 
 wan entirely free from suspicion. 
 
 " Oh, yes, I guess I'll find you in a brace of 
 shakes." 
 
 The stranger laughed very heartily at this 
 odd expression, and said: 
 
 " You are an Irishman, I believe ?" 
 
 " You've struck it." 
 
 "Then, stop a minute and I'll light an- 
 other match, so there'll be no chance of your 
 breaking your neck. There are a few little 
 obstructions to get over, as you'll soon find 
 out." 
 
 "Thanks to you for the civility," replied 
 the scout ; and the next moment a tiny 
 light flashed up from the darkness, which 
 enabled Fighting Pat to pass over sundry 
 obstructions — trunks of fallen trees and thick 
 forked branches, and to escape falling into 
 two or three deep holes. 
 
 An instant or two later he was at the 
 stranger's side. 
 
 " I heard you singing," the young man ex- 
 plained, " and I couldn't quit the spot with- 
 out making your acquaintance." 
 
 "Oh, indeed!" the other ejaculated, in a 
 voice that sounded very pleasant to Pat's 
 ears. 
 
 "Yes," he continued, "the songs of the 
 .old land touch a very tender chord in my 
 nature. I love to hear them, and shake the 
 man's hand who can sing them with the 
 feeling with which they should be sung. 
 You are that man, so give me your hand." 
 
 " Upon my conscience, you are very flat- 
 tering, sir," said the elder man. "I wasn't 
 aware that my voice, or even the words of 
 that song should have any such effect. But, 
 leaving all jokes aside, my young friend, you 
 belong to the Union forces, do you not ?" 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Perhaps you are the man I am after ?" 
 
 "Eh?" said Fighting Pat, not a little aston- 
 ished. "Are you searching for any one in 
 particular?" 
 
 "lam— a young man named Mooney, of 
 Corcoran's Legion. You may be he ?" 
 "That is my name," replied the scout, 
 
 and I have the honor to be a member of 
 
 lied the stranger, " that song I just sung was 
 meant for your ears, and your ears alone." 
 
 "Indeed!" said Pat, "that sounds singu- 
 lar." 
 
 " Not so singular as you seem to think, if 
 you knew but all. You are in danger!" 
 
 "lu danger!" 
 
 Pat started back a step. 
 
 "No, no; not from me," laughed his com- 
 panion, "but from those who would not 
 hesitate to shed your blood if they came 
 across you. I mean the guerrillas who in- 
 fest this wood. Listen calmly to me for a 
 moment." 
 
 " Go on," said the scout. 
 
 " I had the good fortune to meet your two 
 friends a short while ago, and saved them 
 from the clutches of those confounded ban- 
 dits—I can call them nothing else. They 
 were within an ace of being run down, hav- 
 ing had to abandon their horses when I came 
 up and had the good fortune of concealing 
 them ; but the guerrillas are still scouring 
 the forest, right and left, and, what is more, 
 they have taken the precaution to shut up 
 every, or almost every avenue of escape 
 from this wood." 
 
 "This looks serious," said Fighting Pat, 
 reflectively. 
 
 " It would be serious enough if they caught 
 you, hut if you follow me, you can snap 
 vour fingers at them." 
 
 " Where are my comrades ?" 
 
 " They are where you can rest assured of 
 the same safety," replied his new-found 
 friend. " They are in a place in this forest, 
 known to no one but myself." 
 
 " And the guerrillas?" 
 
 The stranger laughed meaningly. 
 
 "Never you mind the guerrillas," here- 
 joined. "They know me too well to give 
 
 years," the strange man proceeded, "so 
 that I have carte blanche to go where I like, 
 and do what I like. They do not bother me 
 for my opinions, but they generally sup- 
 pose that my sympathies are with the Con- 
 federacy." 
 
 " And they are not?" 
 
 " Decidedly not," emphasized thestranger. 
 " I was forced to leave my own land for lack 
 of freedom ; and, think you, under the cir- 
 cumstances, I can have any sympathy with 
 enslaving another race, although that race 
 be of a different color ? No, rather would I 
 cut my rig" 
 
 ht hand off than to harbor such 
 ignoble thought ; but hark ! Did you 
 not hear that?" 
 
 The man gripped Fighting Pat's hand, ex- 
 citedly. 
 
 Sure enough there were sounds in the for- 
 est^sounds that indicated to the gallant 
 young scout the approach of danger. 
 
 " The guerrillas !" said Pat, in a whisper. 
 
 "You are right. I told you the forest was 
 alive with them, and it is. Look now at 
 those sudden flashes of light through th 
 trees, east, west, north and south. They are 
 coming!" 
 
 Suddenly a series of signals rent the night 
 air, and went echoing far and near. 
 
 Fighting Pat followed, with his eyes to the 
 points indicated, and beheld flashing lights 
 in all directions. 
 
 "We are environed,", he said, calmly, 
 "and now there is nothing left but to make 
 a dash through them." 
 
 "Hist— hist! Don't talk so loud," cau- 
 tioned his new friend, in an admonitory 
 tone. "The slightest sound travels in a 
 place like this. All is not lost yet. I will 
 save you." 
 
 " Bv making a dash for it ?" 
 
 "No: quick— come this way!" 
 
 The strange man did not speak in a voice 
 above a whisper, but the young scout heard 
 every word he said most distinctly. 
 
 For a moment a strange suspicion flashed 
 across his brain, 
 
 Was the man trustworthy, or was he play- 
 ing a deep game to get him into the clutches 
 of his enemies? 
 
 The thought no sooner flashed across his 
 mind than he blushed for very shame. 
 
 How apt we are to be suspicious, when, in 
 reality, there is little cause for it! 
 
 "Away with the doubt," the young man 
 murmured. " The man is too thoroughly 
 Celtic to play the role of a traitor. I will 
 trust him with my lite— ay, with twenty 
 lives if I had them." 
 
 The true Celt is incapable of treachery. 
 
 The informers who have sprung up from 
 time to time in Ireland, with Irish names, 
 were of that bastard breed in which little 
 dependence can be placed at any time. 
 
 They were the outcome of an amalgama- 
 tion of the DaDe, the Norman and the Saxon, 
 with the worst type of the Irish. 
 
 The true Celt is never a betrayer, and this 
 has been oouclusiTcly proven, without the 
 hazard of a doubt. 
 
 "Yes," murmured the scout, "I will trust 
 him with my life!' 
 
 CHAPTER XII. I 
 
 A NAarOW ESCAPE. 
 
 There was no time to bii lost now. 
 
 The flashing lights, looming up through 
 the dense darkness of the forest, were ap- 
 proaching nearer and nearer. 
 
 There wasavsritable living cordon around 
 the two men, from which, under other cir- 
 cumstances, there could be no possibility of 
 escape. 
 
 "Come," said the stranger, in his usual 
 cautious tones, " we have not a moment to 
 spare. I must hide you, and at once." 
 
 " But what about yourself?" 
 
 "Did I not tell you," said his new friend, 
 with a gesture of impatience, "that I have 
 nothing to fear." 
 
 "They won't suspect, then " 
 
 "No; and now no further waste of words, 
 if you please; but follow me." 
 
 'The stranger was apparently a man of ac- 
 tion, and he presently showed it. 
 
 " Take a hold of my hand and tread cau- 
 tiously. The least noise now may cost you 
 your life." 
 
 Fighting Pat obeyed the injunction of his 
 friend— for friend he indeed proved— and 
 was led about twenty or thirty feet to the 
 left. 
 
 Once or twice he trod on some dried branch 
 or twig, which gave out a peculiar cracking 
 noise; but these sounds were effectually 
 drowned in the repeated signals of the guer- 
 rillas as they drew nearer and nearer every 
 moment. 
 
 "We are far enough," whispered the 
 stranger, " and now I'll conceal you in a 
 place where it will puzzle them to find, even 
 though they should suspect that you are 
 somewhere in the neighborhood." 
 
 They had drawn up on the south side of 
 the bole of an immense tree— a giant oak of 
 tremendous girth, whose age could not have 
 been less than flve or six centuries. 
 
 "The trunk of this tree is hollow," the 
 stranger whispered, " and, once inside, I 
 think I can vouch for your safety." 
 
 The bole of the oak was literally covered 
 with a mass of vegetation, whose luxuriant 
 foliage served to effectually conceal the fact 
 that it was hollow inside. 
 
 The stranger quickly drew aside the creep- 
 ers and climbing vines that so thickly envel- 
 
 jed theoak.and, withoutcei 
 
 ighting Pat into the hollow. 
 
 " Remain there, and don't speak," he cau- 
 tioned. " When I have disposed of them I 
 will let you know." 
 
 " I hope you'll dispose of them very 
 quickly." 
 
 "That will remain to be seen. However, 
 I will do my best, and no man can do more," 
 saying which Le mbJe the bole of the tre« 
 look as if the vegetation had not been dis- 
 turbed, then waited calmly for the guei^ 
 rillas to come up. 
 
 gain the lone forest rung with the criee 
 the searchers, lights flashed hither and 
 thither as the circle narrowed very mar 
 
 terially. 
 
 "Halloo— halloo ! " rolled the voice of the 
 stranger, above all other sounds. 
 
 " Halloo— halloo ! " came back the answei^ 
 ing response; and then the men who had 
 carried the lights came forward with a rush 
 —from north, south, east and west. 
 
 Fii 
 his 
 could not understand what it meant. 
 
 Did the man mean betraying him after 
 all?" 
 
 Again a suspicion of his new friend's in- 
 tegrity flashed across his brain. 
 
 thought he brought me here for the 
 
 heart out. But no," he again murmured, 
 " I will never believe that a man of his kind 
 would meditate such a dastardly act. These 
 suspicions are unworthy of me." 
 
 They were, indeed. 
 
 How is a man to know who is his friend 
 under the conditions in which our gallant 
 young scout was placed ? 
 
 The best of us grow suspicious under such 
 circumstances, and Fighting Pat was no ex- 
 ception to the rule. 
 
 He was environed by dangers, and con- 
 sequently more liable to suspect people. 
 _ The young scout was instantly conscious 
 
10 
 
 THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 of one thing, however— the fact that his 
 strange friend had mored away from the 
 oak in the hollow of which he was hidden 
 from his foes. 
 
 ' ' Halloo — halloo — halloo ! " rung once more 
 through the wilderness of timber and under- 
 growth. 
 
 The pattering of feet and cracking of 
 branches still continued. Then suddenly all 
 sounds ceased. 
 
 Fighting Pat knew from that moment 
 that the scouting party of guerrillas had 
 come up. 
 
 He now strained his listening to its utmost 
 intensity to hear what was said. 
 
 He even removed the thick vegetation 
 partly concealing his hiding-place to hear 
 what was said; for, it must be admitted, he 
 was not altogether easy in his mind, some 
 lurking suspicion yet remained as to the 
 good faith of his guide. 
 
 Fighting Pat now settled himself down to 
 listen to all that was passing. Beyond him 
 was a dense, impenetrable darkness, but not 
 a, word of the conversation that passed es- 
 <!aped his keen ear. 
 
 The first voice he at once recognized as the 
 one he had previously heard in the glade— 
 the voice, in fact, of the guerrilla chief tian. 
 
 "I am very glad you're here, Morgan," 
 «aid this man. " Why didn't you shout be- 
 fore?" 
 
 " I did as soon as I heard and saw you," 
 was the reply of Pat's friend." 
 
 " Have you beeu long here?" 
 
 "Just a short time." 
 
 **How long?" 
 
 "About five minutes. It may be ten— I 
 wouldn't be sure." 
 
 "So! Did you come across any Yanks in 
 the forest?" 
 
 " When— to-night?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "I saw no Yankees for more than a 
 month," was the truthful reply. 
 
 He had not. He had seen three Irishmen, 
 but no Yankees; and it never struck the 
 coarse mind of the guerrilla to correct him- 
 self, and put the question in the way it 
 ought to have been put. 
 
 "There are three of them in the forest 
 nevertheless," was the guerrilla's rejoinder ; 
 " and if I happen to drop on any of 'em I'll 
 cut their cursed hearts out. what do you 
 say to this, Morgan— one of the blank cusses 
 had the impudence to steal into our camp 
 and throw a hand-grenade into the fire." 
 
 "That was serious," said Morgan, sadly. 
 
 "Serious! Serious is no name for it," ex- 
 claimed the guerrilla chieftain, swearing out 
 a horrible oath. " It killed two of cur men 
 straight off, and wounded three more. I 
 should like to catch the Yank as did it, and 
 if I wouldn't make him smell brimstone, 
 blank me!" 
 
 " Catch him by all means," said Morgan, 
 quietly. 
 
 " This wouldn't be a bad hiding place for 
 the cuss," said the guerrilla, examming the 
 spot with a curious eye. " Let us search 
 round these trees and among the under- 
 brush. We may find our quarry here. ' ' 
 
 "That may be, too," said Morgan, laugh- 
 ing. " Shall I help you?" 
 
 "If you like— yes. Let the bullets whizz 
 about, boys," continued the leader of the 
 party; "and prod the undergrowth well 
 with your sabers." 
 
 The lurid lights of the pine torches went 
 
 Every bit of undergrowth was scrutinized 
 carefully. 
 
 Tne repeated reports of revolvers and car- 
 bines told Fighting Pat that the guerrillas 
 were doing all in their power to make it hot 
 for any one who might be concealed in their 
 Tioinity. 
 
 Even the very trees had not escaped. 
 
 Bullets went whizzing into their very tops 
 among the branches and foliage — not even 
 the boles escaped. 
 
 Two or three of the leaden messengers 
 passed so close to Fighting Pat's head that 
 he concluded he was about to be made an 
 animated target of; and once they came 
 within an ace of discovering his hidiug- 
 
 glace ; but they fortunately passed on, and 
 e bi-eathed freely once more. 
 Suddenly all sounds once more ceased, and 
 the deuse forest wore its usual impressive 
 stUluess. 
 
 Fighting Pat had had a very narrow es- 
 cape. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 THE CAVE IX THE WOOD. 
 
 Nearly an hour had passed. 
 
 Th* young scout was getting impatiant as 
 
 to the return of the man who had so nobly 
 befriended him, when suddenly a stealthy 
 footstep caught his ear. 
 
 "One of the prowling guerrillas," he 
 thought. 
 
 He was wrong. 
 
 It was Morgan, who seeing that he could 
 do so safely had come back. 
 
 " It's all right," said the man, as he parted 
 the thick vegetation that concealed the hol- 
 low in the trunk. " It's all right — come." 
 
 IJAre they gone?" 
 
 " Still scouring the wood for me ?" 
 
 "No. They have gone back to their en- 
 campment in the glade; though every 
 avenue of escape from the forest is still 
 guarded." 
 
 " They must be in considerable force here, 
 then," said Pat, leaping from his place of 
 concealment and rejoining his friend. 
 
 " They are— about six or seven hundred of 
 them altogether, independent of a troop of 
 
 " I reckon you'll have to be mjr guest for a 
 day or two," said Morgan, laughing. 
 
 " But that will be impossible," said Pat 
 
 " Why impossible?" 
 
 " I must be off to warn Corcoran of his 
 danger." 
 
 "He is already warned," was Morgan's 
 quiet reply. " I dispatched my son for that 
 purpose some hours ago." 
 
 "Your sou !" exclaimed Pat, surprised. 
 
 "My sou! There's nothing very extra- 
 ordinary in that, is there ? I have two of as 
 flue fellows as you'd wish to see in a day's 
 walk. But come, you shall join your two 
 friends, who are anxious about your safety. 
 Your horses are all right. My other boy got 
 them wandering about in the forest, and, 
 securing them, brought them to the cave." 
 
 "The cave?" ejaculated Pat. "I thought 
 you lived iu the log hut ?" 
 
 " And so I do. But when my friends are 
 in danger the cave is the best hiding place for 
 them." 
 
 No more was said. 
 
 The two men moved stealthily through 
 the mazes of the forest for about a mile and 
 a half. 
 
 Here the guide drew up before a tall, per 
 
 There seemed no possibility of a cave be- 
 ing there ; but still, there was one, as Fight- 
 ing Pat very soon discovered. 
 
 "This is something like the hollow oak," 
 observed Morgan. "Come!" 
 
 He drew the gorse, and shrubs and creep- 
 ers aside, disclosing the entrance to ex- 
 tensive apartments in the solid rock — not 
 one room, indeed, but half a dozen, leading 
 from one to the other. 
 
 If the first cavernous apartment was spa- 
 cious, the second was more so, and could 
 amply accommodate a couple of hundred 
 men, in case they should be necessitated to 
 hide in the wood. 
 
 In this second room there burned a bright 
 wood fire, at which were seated Denny 
 Byrne, Frank O'Mahoney, and, a third, a 
 stalwart -looking young fellow, a stranger to 
 Fighting Pat, but who was Morgan's second 
 son and namesake. 
 
 It is needless to state, at this stage, how 
 glad the three comrades were to meet each 
 other, or of the manner in which they thank- 
 ed their kind entertainer and preserver for 
 the loyal and generous manner in which he 
 had acted. 
 
 The five men, during the evening, partook 
 of as delieiously a cooked meal as Fighting 
 Pat had eaten for many a long day. 
 
 Strange as it may seem, the accommoda- 
 tions and conveniences of the cave appeared 
 to be endless. 
 
 As the night passed away, and the supper 
 things were removed, whisky, wine and 
 cigars were served out with no stinted 
 hand. 
 
 Song and story claimed a fair share of the 
 night's entertainment ; and as the one told 
 by Morgan— who, by the way, was a great 
 Irish antiquarian— would be worth repro- 
 ducing, we shall forthwith proceed to 
 give it. 
 
 The story is one of remarkable beauty and 
 power, and no doubt our readers will agree 
 with us in our estimate. 
 
 We reserve it, however, for a long and in- 
 teresting chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 lOROAN'S STOKr. 
 
 "On a certain day," proceeded the story, 
 teller, "a fair and a gathering were held at 
 Beneadar, by the seven ordinary and the 
 
 "In the course of the day, on casting a 
 look over the broad expanse of the sea, thev 
 beheld a large, smooth-sided and proud- 
 looking ship plowing the waves from the 
 east, and approaching them under full sail. 
 
 " Wheu the capacious vessel touched the 
 shore and lowered her sails, the Fenians of 
 Erin counted upon seeing a host of men dis- 
 embark from her, and great was their sur- 
 prise when one warrior, and no more, came 
 out of the ship and landed on the beach. 
 
 "He was a hero of the largest make of 
 body, the strongest of champions, and the 
 finest of the human race; and in thiswise 
 was the kingly warrior equipped— an im- 
 penettiihle helmet of polished steel incased 
 his ample and beautiful head, a deep fur- 
 rowed, thick-backed, sharp-edged sword 
 huiij; ;it bis left side, and a purple-bossed 
 sliiclil was slung over his shoulder. 
 
 "Hiuh were his chief accoutrements, and 
 arm. (1 in this fashion and manner did the 
 siniiitj.T (■(.nic into the presence of Finn 
 Mm I '.".l.- and the Fenians of Erin. 
 
 ■!l was Hull that Finn, the King of the 
 Fcuiaiis addi isstd the heroic champion and 
 questioned him, saying: 
 
 "'From what quarter of the globe hast 
 thou come unto us, oh, goodly youth, or 
 fi'om whicli of the noble or ignoble races of 
 the universe art thou sprung? Who art 
 thou ?' 
 
 im,' answered the stranger, 'Ironbo 
 
 far 
 
 every country, peninsula and island un- 
 der contribution to my sword and my arm— 
 this I have done even to the present hour; 
 and my desire is to obtain the crown and 
 tribute of this country iu like manner; for 
 if I obtain them uot, I purpose to bring 
 slaughter of men and deficiency of heroes 
 and youthful warriors on the seven ordinary 
 and seven extraordinary battalions of the 
 Fenian host. Such, O king, is the object 
 of my visit so this couniry, and such is my 
 design in landing here.' 
 
 "Hereupon uprose Conau the Bold, and 
 said : 
 
 " ' Of a truth, my friend, it seems to me 
 that you have come upon a foolish enter- 
 prise, and that to the end of your life and 
 the close of your days you will not be able 
 to accomplish your purpose, because from 
 the beginning of ages until now no man 
 ever heard of a hero or ever saw a champion 
 coming with any such mighty design to 
 Ireland who did not find his match in that 
 same country.' 
 
 " Ironbones replied : 
 
 "' I make but very little account of your 
 speech, Conan,' said he, 'for if all the 
 Fenian heroes who have died within the 
 last seven years were now in the world, and 
 
 death, and show all of them the shortness of 
 life in one day; nevertheless I will make 
 your warriors a more peaceful proposal. I 
 challenge you, then, oh, warrior, to find me 
 a man among you who can vanquish me in 
 running, in fighting, or in wrestling. K 
 you can do this, I shall give yon no further 
 trouble, but return to my own country 
 
 named will it please you to select for the 
 first trial of prowess ?' 
 
 "To this, Ironbones answered: 
 
 " ' If you can find for me any one cham- 
 pion of your number who can run faster 
 than I can, I will give you no further an- 
 noyance, but depart at once to my own 
 country.' 
 
 "'It so happens,' said Finn, 'that our 
 Man of Swiftness, Keelte MacRonan, is not 
 here at present to try his powers of running 
 with you, and as he is not it were better. 
 O hero, that ynu should s.ijourn here a 
 season with the b'rniaiis that > "U and they 
 may mutually make ami appn^ciate each 
 ottier'saii|uaiiitanii- li\ iiua i is ot conversa- 
 tion and aiiiiisfiiMiits, as is oiirwnnt. In the 
 mraiiwhil.s 1 will ii-pairloTaia utthe Kings 
 in uurst ..I Kn-lti. Mar Kouaii ; and if I have 
 nol 111.' -..."1 fi.itiinc to Hud him there I 
 shall ciataiiilv nu'i-t with hiui at Cis Corawn 
 oftheFenii, tiom wlu-nce 1 shall without 
 delay briii;; liim hither to meet you.' 
 
 "The this Ironbuuts aKreed, saying that he 
 was well satisfied with what Finn proposed, 
 and thereupon Finn proceeded on his way 
 toward Tara of the Kings, in search of 
 Keelte. 
 
 " Now it fell out that as he journeyed 
 along he missed his way, so that he came to 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 11 
 
 a dense, wide and gloomy wood, divided in 
 the midst by a broad and miry road or path- 
 way 
 
 " Before he had advanced more than a 
 very little distance on this road, he per- 
 ceived coming directly toward him an ugly, 
 detestable-looking giant, who wore a gray 
 frieze coat, the skirts of which reached down 
 to the calves of his legs, and were bespat- 
 tered with yellow mud to the depth of a 
 heroe's hand, so that every step he made the 
 lower part of the coat struck with such vio- 
 lence against his legs as to produce a sound 
 that could be distinctly heard a full mile of 
 ground off. 
 
 " Each of the two legs that sustained the 
 unwieldly carcass of this homMe. hideous 
 monster was like the mast cf a great ship, 
 and each of the two shoes tbat were on his 
 
 shapeless, homy, lone-nailed hoofs resem- 
 ■ " ■ ay long-sided boat, and every 
 
 time he lifted his foot, and at every step 
 
 bled a roomy 
 
 that he walked, he splashed up from each 
 shoe a good barrelfuU of mire and water on 
 the lower part of his body. 
 
 " Finn gazed in amazement at the colossal 
 man ; for he had never before seeu any one 
 so big and bulky. Yet he would have passed 
 onward and continued his route, but the 
 giant stopped and accosted him, and Finn 
 
 [changing a few ; 
 
 ; giant. 
 
 ' What desire for traveling Is this that 
 seized on youj and how far do you mean to 
 go upon this journey?' 
 
 " 'Oh,' said Finn, 'as to that, my trouble 
 and anxiety are so great that I cannot de- 
 scribe them to you, and, indeed, small is the 
 use,' added he, ' it would be of to me to at- 
 tempt doiug so ; and I think it would be bet- 
 ter for you to let me go on my way without 
 asking any more questions of me.' 
 
 " But the giant was not so easily put off. 
 
 " ' Oh, Finn,' said he, 'you may keep your 
 secret if you like ; but all the loss and the 
 misfortune attending your silence will bo 
 your own ; and when you think well upon 
 that, maybe you would not boggle any 
 longer about disclosing to me the nature of 
 your errand.' 
 
 " So Finn, seeing the hugesize of the giant, 
 and thinking it advisable not to provoke 
 him, began to tell him all that had taken 
 place among the Fenians of Erin so short a 
 time before. 
 
 " ' You must know,' said he, ■ that at the 
 meridian hour of this very day, the great 
 Ironbones, son of the King of Thessaly, 
 landed at the harbor of Biueadar with the 
 
 the young and old of our heroes 
 he has challenged us to find a man able to 
 surpass him in running, fighting or wrest- 
 ling ; and if we can find such a man, then he 
 agrees to forego his pretensions and to re- 
 
 the history I have for you.' 
 
 " ' And now do you intend to oppose the 
 royal warrior ?' asked the giant. 'I know 
 him well, and I know he has the vigor in 
 his hand and the strength in his arm to 
 carryevery threat he makes into effect.' 
 
 " ''Why, then,' said Finn, in answer to 
 this, ' I intend to go to Tara of the Kings 
 for Keelte MacRonan, and if I do not find 
 
 ' whom I mean to bring with me for the pur- 
 pose of vanquishing this hero in running.' 
 
 " ' Alas !' said the giant,' ' weak is yourde- 
 pendence and feeble your champion for 
 propping and preserving the monarchy of 
 Ireland ; and if Keelte MacRonan be your 
 tree of defiance, you are already a man 
 without a country.' 
 
 " ' It is I, then,' said Finn, ' who am sorry 
 you should say so ; and what to do in this 
 extremity I cannot tell.' 
 
 "'I will show you,' replied the gigantic 
 man. ' Just do you say nothing at all, but 
 accept me as the opponent of this champion, 
 and it may happen that I shall be able to 
 
 do if you can carry your big coat and drag 
 your shoes with you one half mile of ground 
 m a day without trying to rival such a hero 
 as Ironbones in valor or agility.' 
 
 " ' You may have what notions you like,' 
 returned the giant, ' but I tell you that if I 
 am not able to give a battle to the fighting 
 hero, there never has been, and there is not 
 
 now, a man in Ireland able to cope with 
 him. Never mind, Finn MacCoole, let not 
 your spirits bo cast down, for I will take it 
 upon myself to deliver you from the danger 
 tliiit presses on you.' 
 " ' What is your name?' demanded Finn. 
 " ' Bodach-an - Chota - Lachtna (the churl 
 with the gray coat) is my name," the giant 
 answered. 
 
 " ' Well, then,' said Finn, ' you will do well 
 to come along with me.' 
 
 "So Finn turned back, and the Bodach 
 went with him, but I have no account of 
 their travels till they reached Bineadar. 
 
 " There, when the Fenians beheld the 
 Bodach attired in such a fashion and trim, 
 they were all very much surprised, for they 
 had never before seen the like of him ; and 
 they were greatly overjoyed that he should 
 make his appearance among them at such a 
 critical moment. 
 
 " As for Ironbones, he came before Finn 
 and asked him if be had got the man who 
 was to coutend with him in running. 
 
 " Finn made answer that he had, and 
 that he was at present among them ; and 
 thereupon he pointed out the Bodach to 
 him. 
 
 " As soon as Ironbones saw the Bodach 
 he was seized with astonishment, and his 
 courage was dampened at the sight of the 
 gigantic proportions of the mighty man; 
 but he pretended to be only very indignant, 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 "'What! do you expect me to demean 
 myself by engaging in a contest with such an 
 ugly, greasy, hateful-looking Bodach as 
 that?' 
 
 " ' It is myself that will do no such thing,' 
 said he ; and he stepped back and would not 
 go near the Bodach. 
 
 " When the Bodach heard this, he burst 
 into a loud, hoarse, thunderous laugh, and 
 said: 
 
 " ' Come, Ironbones, this will not do. I 
 am not the sort of a person you affect to 
 think me, and it is you that shall have proof 
 of my assertion before to-morrow evening. 
 So now let me know,' said he, 'what is the 
 length of the course you propose to run 
 over, for over the same course it is my in- 
 tention to run along with you, and if I do 
 not succeed in running that distance with 
 you, it is a fair conclusion that you win the 
 race ; and, in like manner, if I do succeed in 
 outstripping you, then it stands to reason 
 that you lose the race.' 
 
 " ' There is sense and rationality in your 
 language," replied Ironbones, for he saw 
 that he must submit, and 1 agree to what 
 you say, but it is my wish not to have the 
 course shorter or longer than three-score 
 miles.' 
 
 "'Well,' said the Bodach. 'that will an- 
 swer me, too, for it is just three-score miles 
 from Mount Loocra, in Munster, to Binea- 
 dar, and it will be a pleasant run for the 
 pair of us, but if you find that I am not able 
 to finish it before you, of course the victory 
 is yours.' 
 
 " Ironbones repUed that he would not con- 
 tradict so evident a proposition, whereupon 
 the Bodach resumed : 
 
 "'What it is proper for you to do now,' 
 said he, 'is to come along with me south- 
 ward to Mount Loocra this evening, in order 
 that we make ourselves acquainted with the 
 ground we are to go over to-morrow on our 
 return, and we can stop for the night on the 
 mount, so that we may be able to start with 
 the break of day.' 
 
 "To thisalso Ironbones acceded, saying it 
 was a judicious speech, and that he had 
 nothing to object to it. 
 
 " Upon this the two competitors com- 
 menced their journey, and little was the de- 
 lay they made until they arrived at Mount 
 Loocra, in Munster. 
 
 "As soon aa they got thither, the Bodach 
 again addressed Ironbones, and told him 
 that he thought their best plan would be to 
 
 build a hut In the adjoining wood so they 
 might be protected from the inclemency of 
 the night. ' For it seems to me, O son of the 
 King of Thessaly,' said he, 'that if we do 
 not, we are likely to have a hard couch and 
 cold quarters on this exposed hill.' 
 " To this Ironbones made reply, thus : 
 " ' You may do so if you please, O Bodaoh 
 of the Big Coat, but as for me, I am Iron- 
 bones, and care not for dainty lodging, and 
 I am mightily disinclined to give myself the 
 trouble of building a house hereabouts only 
 to sleep in it one night, and never see it 
 again ; howbeit, if you are desirous of em- 
 ploying your hands, there is noboby to cross 
 you. You may build, and I shall stay here 
 until you have finished.' 
 
 "'Very good,' said the Bodach, 'and 
 build I will, but I shall take good care that 
 
 a certain person who refuses to assist me 
 shall have no share in my sleeping-room 
 should I succeed in making it as comforta- 
 l)le as I hope to do ;' and with this he betook 
 him.self into the wood, and began cutting 
 down aud shaping pieces of timber with the 
 greatest expedition, never ceasing until he 
 had got together six pair of stakes and as 
 many of rafters, which, with a sufficient 
 quantity of brushwood and green rushes for 
 thatch, he carried bound in one load to a 
 convenient spot, and there sat them up at 
 once in regular order. 
 
 "This part of his work being finished, he 
 again entered the wood, and carried from 
 thence a good load of dry green sticks, 
 which he kindled into a fire that roared from 
 the back of the hut to the door. 
 
 " While the fire was blazing merrily, he 
 left the hnt, and again addressing his com- 
 panion, said to him. 
 
 "'O son of the King of Thessaly, called 
 by men, Ironbones, are you provided with 
 provisions tor the night, and have you eata- 
 bles and drinkables to keep you from hun- 
 ger and thirst?' 
 
 " ' No ; I have not,' said Ironbones, 
 proudly, ' it is myself that used never be 
 without people to provide victuals for me 
 when I wanted them,' said he. 
 
 '"Well; but,' said the Brodach, 'you 
 have not your people near you now, and so 
 the best thing you can do is to come and 
 hunt with me in the wood, and my hand to 
 you, we shall soon have enough of victuals 
 for both of us.' 
 
 " ' I never practiced pedestrian hunting,' 
 said Ironbones, ' and with the like of you I 
 never hunted at all, and I don't think I 
 shall begin now,' said he, in a very dignified 
 sort of a way. 
 
 " ' Then I must try my luck myself,' said 
 the Bodaoh ; and off again he bounded into 
 the wood, and after he had gone a little way 
 he roused a herd of wild swme, and pursued 
 them iuto the recesses of the wood, and there 
 he succeeded in separating from the rest the 
 biggest and fattest hog of the herd, which 
 he soon ran down and carried to his hut, 
 where he slaughtered it, and cut it into two 
 halves, one of which he placed at each side 
 of the fire on a self-moving holly spit. 
 
 " He then darted out once more and stop- 
 ped not until he reached the mansion of the 
 IJaron of Inchiquin, which was thirty miles 
 distant, from whence he carried off a table 
 and chair, two barrels of wine, and all the 
 bread fit for eating he could lay his hands 
 on, all of which he brought to Mount Loocra 
 In one load. 
 
 " When he again entered his hut, he found 
 his hog entirely roasted, and in nice order 
 for mastication, so he laid half the meat and 
 bread on the table, and sitting down dispos- 
 ed of them with wonderful alacrity, drink- 
 ing at the same time precisely one barrel of 
 the wine and no more; for he reserved the 
 other as well as the rest of the solids for his 
 breakfast in the morning. 
 
 ''Having thus finished his supper, he 
 shook a large number of green rushes over 
 the fioor, and laying himself down, soon fell 
 asleep, which lasted until the rising of the 
 sun next morning. 
 
 " As soon as the morning was come, Iron- 
 bones, who had got neither food nor sleep 
 the whole night, came down from the 
 mountain's side and awoke Bodach, telling 
 him that it was time to commence their con- 
 test. 
 
 " The Bodach raised his head, rubbed his 
 eyes, and replied : 
 
 " ' I have another hour to sleep yet, and 
 when I get up I have to eat a half hog and 
 drink a barrel of wine; but as you seem to 
 be in a hurry you have my consent to pro- 
 
 " So saying, he laid his head down, and 
 fell again snoring; and upon seeing this 
 Ironbones began the race by himself, but he 
 moved along heavily and dispiritedly ; for 
 
 which the Bodach appeared to regard the 
 issue of the contest. 
 "When the Bodach had slept some time he 
 
 pedition, and then washed them down with 
 his barrel of wine, after which he collected 
 together all the bones of the hog, and put 
 them into a pocket in the skirt of his coat. 
 Then setting out on his race in compasy 
 with a pure and cool breeze, he trotted oq 
 and on ; nor did he ever halt in his rapi^ 
 course, until he had overtaken Ironbones, 
 who, with a dejected air and drooping head, 
 was wending his way before him. 
 
12 
 
 THE WAR LIBRARY 
 
 " The Bodath threw down the bare bones 
 of the hog iu his path, and told him that he 
 was quite welcome to them, and that if he 
 could find pickings on them, he might eat 
 them. 
 
 " ' For,' said he, ' you must surely be hun- 
 gry by this time, and myself can wait until 
 you finish your breakfast.' 
 
 " But Ironbones got into a great passion 
 on hearing this, and he cried : 
 
 " ' You ugly Bodach, with the big coat, 
 
 fou greasy, lubberly, uncouth tub of a man, 
 would see you hanged, so I would, before 
 you catch me picking such dirty coTimon 
 bones as these hog's bones, that have no meat 
 on them at all, and have moreover been 
 gnawed by your own long, ugly, boarish 
 tusks.' 
 
 '"Oh, very well,' replied the Bodach; 
 'then we will not have any more words 
 about them few bones ; but let me recom- 
 mend to you to adopt some more rapid mode 
 of locomotion if you desire to gain the 
 crown, sovereignty, and tribute of the king- 
 dom of Ireland this turn, for, if you go on 
 at your present rate, it is second best that 
 you will be after coming oft, I'm thinking.' 
 " Having spoken, off he darted as swift as 
 a shadow, or a roebuck, or a blast of wind 
 rushing down a mountain declivity on a 
 March day ; Ironbones in the meantime be- 
 ing about as much able to keep pace with 
 him as he was to scale the firmament ; nor 
 did he check his own speed until he had pro- 
 ceeded thirty miles on the course. 
 
 " He then stopped for a while to eat of the 
 blackberries which grew iu great abundance 
 on the way, and while he was thus employed 
 Ironbones came up with him, and spoke to 
 him . 
 
 " ' Bodach,' said he, ' ten miles behind us I 
 saw one skirt of your gray coat, and ten 
 miles further back again I saw another skirt; 
 and it is my persuasion, and I am clearly of 
 the opinion, that you ought to return for 
 those two skirts without more to do, and 
 pick them up.' 
 
 " ' Is it the skirts of this big coat that I 
 have on me you mean?" asked the Bodach, 
 looking down at his legs. 
 
 " ' Why, to be sure it is them that I mean,' 
 answered Ironbones. 
 
 " ' Well,' said the Bodach, ' I certainly must 
 get my coat-skirts again, and so I will run 
 back for them if you consent to stop here 
 eating blackberries until I return. 
 
 " 'What nonsense you talk!' cried Iron- 
 bones. ' I tell you I am decidedly resolved 
 not to loiter in the race, and my fixed deter- 
 mination is not to eat any blackberries.' 
 
 " ' Then move on before me,' said the Bo- 
 dach, upon which Ironbones pushed on- 
 ward, while the Bodach retraced his 
 steps to the different spots where the skirts 
 of his coat were lying ; and having found 
 them, and tacked them to the body of the 
 coat, he resumed his route, and again over- 
 took Ironbones, whom he thus addressed: 
 
 " ' It is needful and necessary that I should 
 acquaint you of one thing, O Ironbones! 
 and that is you must run at a faster rate 
 than you have hitherto used, and . . 
 with me on the rest of the course, or else 
 there is much likelihood and considerable 
 probability that the victory will go against 
 you ; because I will not again have to 
 back either for my coat-skirts or anything 
 else.' 
 
 "Having given his companion this warn 
 inghe set oil once more iii his usual manner, 
 nor did he stop until he reached the side 
 of a hill within ten miles of Bineadar, where 
 he again fell a-plucking blackberries and eat 
 an extraordinary number of them. 
 
 " When he could eat no more, his jaws be- 
 ing tired, and his stomach stuffed, he took 
 oft his great-coat, and, handling his needle 
 and thread, he sewed it into a form of a ca- 
 pacious sack, which he filled with black- 
 ■berries. 
 
 "This he slung over his shoulders, and 
 then off he scampered for Bineadar, greatly 
 refreshed, and with the speed of a young 
 buck. 
 
 " In the meantime, Finn and his troops 
 were awaiting, in great doubt and dread, for 
 the result of the race, though, without know- 
 ing who the Bodach was, they had a certain 
 degree of confidence in him, and there 
 
 hither by 
 Finn, and had been therefrom an early hour 
 of the morning to see which of the competi- 
 tors would make his appearance first in 
 view. 
 "When this man saw the Bodach coming 
 
 over the nearest eminence, with his heavy . . 
 
 burden on his back, he thought that, to a the stern, which sent it seven miles 
 €)ertainty, it was Ironbones whom he beheld, I waters at once, 
 and fled back quite terrified to Finn and the 
 
 p carrying tne uoaacn aeaa over his shoul- 
 ders. 
 
 This news at first depressed Finn and 
 the troops; but Finn by and by exclaimed : 
 ill give a suit of armor and arms to 
 the man who brings me better news than 
 that.' 
 
 " Whereupon one of the heroes went forth, 
 and he had not proceeded far when he espied 
 the Bodach advancing toward the outposts 
 of the troops, and, knowing him at a glance, 
 he flew back to Finn and announced to him 
 the glad tidings. 
 
 "Finn thereupon went joyfully out to 
 meet the Bodach, who speedily came up and 
 threw down his burden, crying out aloud : 
 
 " ' I have good and famous news for all of 
 you; but,' added he, 'my hunger is great 
 and my desire for food pressing, and I can- 
 not tell you what has occurred until I have 
 eaten a very large quantity of oatmeal and 
 blackberries. Now, as for the latter— that is, 
 the blackberries— I have got them myself in 
 this big sack, but the oatmeal I expect to 
 be provided for me by you, and I hope i hat 
 you will lose no time in getting it and laying 
 it before me, for I am weak for the want of 
 nutriment, and my corporeal powers are be- 
 ginning to be exhausted.' 
 
 "Upon hearing this Finn replied that his 
 request should at once be attended to, and, 
 in a little space of time, accordingly there 
 was spread under the Bodach a cloth of great 
 length and breadth, with a vast heap of oat- 
 meal in the middle of it, into which the Bo- 
 dach emptied out all the blackberries in his 
 bag, and, having stirred the entire mass 
 about for some time with a long pole, he 
 commenced eating and swallowing with 
 much vigor and determination. 
 
 " He had not long been occupied in this 
 way before he descried Ironbones coming 
 toward the troops with his hand on the hilt 
 of his sword, his eyes flaming like red coals 
 in his head, and ready to commence slaugh- 
 tering all before him, liecause he had been 
 vanquished in the contest. 
 
 " He was not fated to put his design into 
 execution, for, when the Bodach saw what 
 wickedness he had in his mind, he took up a 
 handful of oatmeal and blackberries, and, 
 dashing it toward Ironbones with an unerr- 
 ing aim ; it struck him so violently upon his 
 face that it sent his head spinning through 
 the air half a mile from his body, which fell 
 to the ground and there remained, writhing 
 in all the agonies of its recent separation 
 until the Bodach had concluded his meal. 
 
 "The Bodach then rose up and went in 
 quest of the head, which, after a little 
 searching about, he found, and, casting it 
 from his bauds with an unerring aim, he 
 sent it bowling along the ground all the half 
 mile back again, until, coming to the body, 
 it stopped and fastened on to it as well as 
 ever, the only difference being that the face 
 was now turned completely around to the 
 back of the neck, while the back of the head 
 was in front. 
 
 "The Bodach, having accomplished this 
 feat, much to his satisfaction, now grasped 
 Ironbones firmly by the middle, threw him 
 to the ground, tied him hand and foot so 
 that he could not stir, and addressed him in 
 these words : 
 
 "'O Ironbones! justice has overtaken 
 you. Thesentence your own vaiu mind had 
 passed on others is about to be pronounced 
 against yourself, and all the liberty that I 
 feel disposed to leave you is the liberty of 
 choosing what kind of death you think it 
 most agreeable to die of. 
 
 "' What a silly notion you did get into 
 your noddle, surely, when you fancied that 
 you, single-handed, could make yourself 
 master of the crown, sovereignty and trib- 
 utes of Ireland, even though there had been 
 nobody to thwart your arrogant designs but 
 
 " ' Take comfort and be consoled, for it 
 shall never be said of the Fenians of Ireland 
 that they took mortal vengeance on a single 
 foe without any warriors to back him, and, 
 if you be a person to whom life is a desirable 
 possession, 1 am willing to allow you to live 
 on condition that you will solemnly swear, 
 by the sun and moon, that you will send the 
 chief tributes of Thessaly every year to Finn 
 MacCoole herein Ireland.' 
 
 " With many wry faces did Ironbones at 
 length agree to take the oath, upon which 
 the Bodach loosed his shackles and gave him 
 liberty to stand up ; then, having conducted 
 him toward the seashore, he made him go 
 into the ship, to which, after turning its prow 
 from the shore, he administered a kick in 
 •' the 
 
 executed his vainglorious project; and in 
 this way he was sent off from the shores of 
 Ireland, without victory, honor or glory, 
 deprived of the power of ever again boast- 
 ing himself to be the first man on the earth 
 in battle orother contests. 
 
 "On the return of the Bodach to the 
 troops, the sun and the wind lighted up one 
 side of his face and head in such a way that 
 Fin and the Fian at once recognized him as 
 Manannan MaeSir, the tutelary fairy of 
 Cruachan, who had come to afford them his 
 assistance in their exigency. 
 
 "They welcomed him accordingly with all 
 the honor that was due to him, and feasted 
 him sumptuously for a year and a day. 
 
 " These are the adventures of the Bodach- 
 an-Chota-Lachtna. ' ' 
 
 "An' very amusin' adventures they are, 
 too," said Denny Byrm-. " Bedad if the Fe- 
 nians of to-day war as good as the Fenians 
 of Finn MacCoole's time, what a glorious 
 country ould Ireland 'ud be. Begob, I don't 
 think I'll ever beable to get the Bodach out 
 of me mind ; and now for a sleep, for we are 
 all tired and weary." 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 TERRIBLE 
 
 ' Such was the manner in which Ironbones 
 
 FIGHTING PAT MENACED 
 DANGER. 
 
 Major Hynes had, by the most extraordi- 
 nary good fortune, escaped the fatal effects 
 of the hand-grenade thrown into the camp- 
 fire by Fighting Pat. 
 
 Two men on his right were instantly 
 killed, while three on his left were seriously 
 wounded. 
 
 The explosion was deafening, throwing 
 the guerrillas into such confusion that Fight- 
 ing Pat, ei e they could recover themselves, 
 was a considerable distance on his way— the 
 wrong way, however, as he subsequently 
 discovered, to his no little annoyance and 
 disgust. 
 
 As the reader is, of course, acquainted 
 with all this, it remains now for us to fol- 
 low the guerrilla chief back to his camp. 
 
 Never were men more disgust-ed than the 
 rebels when they had re-entered the glade ; 
 for a Unionist to come into their camp, as 
 Mooney had done, work so much destruc- 
 tion, and then escape, was more than they 
 could understand. 
 
 In fact, they did not believe that any man 
 living had the hardihood to attempt, let 
 alone accomplish such an act of daring — for 
 daring it was, beyond the question of a 
 doubt; and yet, had they been but acquaint- 
 ed slightly with Fighting Pat's character, 
 they would not have been greatly surprised 
 at what he had done. 
 
 As it was, there had been only one person 
 in the glade at the time who had recognized 
 him— and this was Major Hynes, the treach- 
 erous officer ot Meagher's brigade. 
 
 Hynes did not at first let on that he knew 
 the scout— oh, dear, no. He kept that to 
 himself. 
 
 Some members of the command of the 
 guerrilla leader had made the discovery 
 long before that there were two other Un- 
 ionists concealed in the forest. 
 
 In fact, about seven or eight of them had 
 come suddenly upon Frank and Denny, 
 while they were anxiously awaiting the re- 
 turn of Fighting Pat. 
 
 These the guerrillas had pursued for some 
 time, then finally lost sight of them alto- 
 gether, and returned to report the fact to 
 their chief, which had the effect of putting 
 the whole force on the alert. 
 
 Over a hundred men were sent in various 
 directions to intercept them, and every 
 avenue from the forest was jealously 
 
 tuarded, in the hopes of being enabled 
 nally to effect their capture. 
 Now we come to a point where Jerry 
 Hynes and the colonel of the "Irregulars" 
 were holding a quiet discussion, which, in 
 the main, referred to Corcoran and his 
 Legion. 
 
 The colonel had obtained from Jerry that 
 which he considered information of value to 
 the Confederacy, and he had no doubt that 
 if matters were worked properly be, his 
 men, and a certain Tennessee cavalry regi- 
 ment, would succeed iu making Corcoran 
 and his force prisoners. He had also simi- 
 lar designs on Meagher's brigade, and hoped, 
 with reinforcements of infantry and caval- 
 ry, which the Confederacy would place at 
 his disposal, to be able eventually to scoop 
 the Irish forces into Southern military pris- 
 ons, at least those who were left of them; 
 - — ■■ nan to 
 
 He very frankly intimated that he was in 
 no great love with Federals or Confederates, 
 simply looking upon the whole thiug as a 
 
THE WA.n LIBRARY. 
 
 13 
 
 ith little 
 
 "p'lra*.'' ol'srui," he explained, "that 
 thou^li I li;i\.- iv>hh'il iu tlie Nortti for a 
 fewyia.s, 1 .In iioi care one jot for the peo- 
 ple. "Thr SiuitlHMH.as I know nothing of, 
 therefiiro cannot speak for or against them 
 —from the very fact that I have not lived 
 
 amoujist thena 
 
 " Frankly spoker 
 chieftain, laughing, 
 thing else under the circumstances 
 
 said the guerrilla 
 Had you said any- 
 
 iug else under tue cn-cumstances, I should 
 
 t have believed you— pardon me for so 
 saying. And now about your Irish 
 fnends?" , ...,., 
 
 " I love them about as much as the devil 
 loves holy -water," said Jerry, bluntly. "I 
 am neither Irish by descent, nor am I Irish 
 in sympathy." , „,, 
 
 "Then why did you join their ranks?" 
 
 " Simply because it suited ray purpose," 
 the rascal answered. "You perceive," he 
 added, with a disagreeable chuckle, " I 
 mean to be frank and truthful to the 
 end." 
 
 " That is so long as it suits your purpose,' 
 said the other, with a slight touch of sar- 
 casm in his tones. 
 
 "Exactly so." 
 
 " How would a command in our service 
 suit you?" . .^„ 
 
 "Not at all. There's uo money in It. 
 
 "How do you know that?" asked the 
 guerrilla colonel, sharply. 
 
 " I can form a pretty shrewd guess." 
 
 "That I have been told before to-day," 
 replied the traitor. "But, joking aside," he 
 continued, "lean do all I have told you, 
 and more, too; but I have my price." 
 
 "Men of your kind generally have," was 
 the guerrilla's contemptuous reply. 
 
 He was unable even to suppress a shrug of 
 disgust at Jerry's coldblooded manner of 
 viewing things ; for. bad as he was 
 veritable angel of light when com 
 Jerry Hynes. 
 
 But he was a man, nevertheless, who cared 
 little for the instrument he employed 
 loug asthatinstrumentenabled him to carry 
 out his plans successfully. 
 
 "What is your opinion of Corcoran 
 merits as a general ?" was the next query. 
 
 Major Hynes shrugged his shoulders with 
 contempt, as he replied : 
 
 "I don't think much of his general- 
 ship." 
 
 " He has not been tried yet? 
 
 " Granted." 
 
 "You cannot deny that he is a brave 
 man?" ^ , , 
 
 " A brave man does not always make a 
 good general," said Hynes, and very truth- 
 fully. "You have many brave commanders, 
 for instance, in the Confederacy, but few 
 good generals. Corcoran, in my opinion, " 
 rash and imnetuous— brave and daring 
 
 impetuous— brave and daring he 
 undoubtedly IS— but these are quaUties very 
 often possessed by fools. Betweeen you and 
 me," continued Hynes, "you'll have no 
 trouble in gobbling Corcoran up if you act 
 circumspectly. Follow my advice, pay well 
 for that advice, and, my word for it, Gen- 
 eral Corcoran will be in a Southern prison 
 ere another month passes over his head. If 
 von don't follow my advice, he is likely to 
 eucounter Pryor; and, as Pryor's general- 
 ship don't amount to a row of pins, using 
 your own classical phrase, Pryor will be 
 worsted, and Corcoran promoted. That is 
 just how the matter stands." 
 
 " How do you know that Corcoran will 
 meet Pryor?" asked the guerrilla colonel, 
 curiously. 
 "Everything points that way " 
 "Sure?" ^ , 
 
 " As sure as I have two hands on my body. 
 And let me further tell you— if they are al- 
 lowed to meet, the fight will take place m 
 the neighborhood of the Black water." 
 
 "You seem to be pretty well posted, 
 laughed the colonel. "The fact is, Pryor 
 means fortifying some heights in that direc- 
 tion. He may have already done so. And 
 now, about Meagher ?" 
 " He is a man of different caliber.' 
 
 "You seem to know nothing about him?" 
 " Very little." „ . 
 
 " Then, let me enlighten you. He is one 
 of the few impetuous, headstrong men, who 
 possess real military genius; and m my 
 opinion, as an all-round man^^ he hasn t his 
 superior on this continent, 
 ad general, a great oi 
 on, a great statesma_ 
 once give him the chance, and he 11 
 show them what he is made of." 
 " This is your hero." 
 
 "You eulogize Meagher, because you 
 have a grudge against Corcoran— isn't that 
 it?" 
 
 "You are wrong— the two men, however, 
 are not fit to be named in the same breath. . 
 Personally, I don't like either of them— 
 ■ hey're too Irish for me ; consequently there 
 s no love lost between us." 
 
 There was little doubt of one fact, how- 
 ever—Jerry Hynes hated the gallant Michael 
 with a tierce and bitter hatred. 
 
 Ho never I'lirKave the nighu that Major 
 Mahon threw thi^ glass of wine in his face, 
 114, r the fact that he had been driven igno- 
 miniously Iroiii the camp. 
 
 Whenever the chance presented itself, 
 therefore, the poisonous drop in his nature 
 would show Itself in his lying abuse of Cor- 
 coran's generalship. 
 
 This at last had become a favorite theme 
 with him. 
 
 The man to whom he was speaking, how- 
 ever, weighed his criticism for what it was 
 worth— in fact, he had put its true value 
 upon it. . ^^. 
 
 During one of the pauses in this conversa- 
 tion, about half a dozen guerrillas entered 
 the glade. , ,. ^ ^ ^ 
 
 Thev were men, apparently, who had Deen 
 on duty of some kind, for, as the lurid light 
 of the camp-fire fell upon them, Jerry 
 Hynes discovered that each man carried, 
 besides his carbine, a brace of revolvers and 
 a saber. ^ „ , 
 
 They were all burly, strong fellows, of an 
 aspect not altogether pleasing— m fact, a 
 more ferocious looking lot of bandits the eye 
 of man never beheld. 
 
 The leader— a stalwart six-footer— left his 
 men, and, approaching his colonel, saluted 
 him. 
 
 "Well, Jonkin," said his commander, 
 brusquely, "what is it?" 
 
 " I would speak with you alone," said the 
 man, " if you have time." 
 " Very well. Is it anything important ? 
 
 The man stole a furtive glance at Major 
 Hynes. ^ . .„ 
 
 " Will you excuse me a moment, major? 
 said the colonel. 
 
 "Most certainly." 
 
 The two men walked to one side, and 
 stood talking earnestly for a couple of 
 minutes. .. ,, 
 
 "What's in the wind now," thought 
 Hynes; "and why did that black-muzzled 
 fellow look so scrutinizingly at me ?" 
 
 The colonel of the guerrillas dismissed the 
 man, and came back. 
 
 " Did you recognize the fellow who chuck- 
 ed the hand-grenade into the camp-fire ? he 
 asked, abruptly. 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 "Did you?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "That man is going to give us some 
 trouble before he is done," said the colonel. 
 
 "I have no doubt of that," rejoined 
 Hynes; " that is, if you are fool enough to 
 let him." 
 
 "Who is he?" ^ . , ^ . , 
 
 " A simple private m the Irish Legion. 
 
 "And his name?" 
 
 "You seem to be greatly interested m 
 him ?" said Hynes, with a slight sneer. 
 
 " I am so, and have good cause to be ; as I 
 fear he will be the means of upsetting all my 
 plans. As you know him, you must likewise 
 know his name?" . i,. t • 
 
 " His name is Mooney, and in the Legion 
 he is known under the sobriquet of ' Fight- 
 ingPat,'andan incarnate devil to fight he 
 is, as 1 have discovered to my cost.' 
 
 " You've had a taste of his handiwork ? 
 asked the guerrilla. 
 
 "Ay indeed, and more than once ; and, to 
 tell the good, honest truth, I'd rather have 
 no more of it. He's the worst man m a row 
 I ever came across." 
 
 " A regular fire-eater," said the colonel. 
 " That's the very man I want to meet. We 
 
 will put a stop ■ ■'- " '■■- »^-'"*°*"- 
 
 mon-ow's sun. 
 who came up t 
 
 his fire-eating befote to 
 You saw the man, Jonkin, 
 me a few minutes since ?" 
 
 " Well, xt was he that brought me word of 
 this fire-eater of yours." 
 
 " He is in the forest then stdl ? 
 
 The guerrilla nodded. ^ -, ,, , 
 
 "Yes, in the forest," he proceeded, 'and 
 sheltered by a man on whom I would have 
 depended my life - 
 
 nature enveloped it with thick masses of 
 vegetation that it would have remained un- 
 discovered till the crack of doom for me. 
 I have passed the spot five hundred times, 
 and never once dreamed of such a place. 
 
 "What do you propose doing?' asked 
 Hynes, who experienced a fierce joy at the 
 prospect of Pat falling into the hands of the 
 guerrilla chief . , . . 
 
 "What do I propose doing?" hissed his 
 companion. " I propose putting them all to 
 death by the most horrible means I can 
 think of. I shall throw enough combusti- 
 bles into the cavern to inflict on them the 
 tortures of the damned. The man who de- 
 ceives me once has no second chance. He 
 dies with the rest!" 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 COLONEL O'SHAUGHNESSY OF THE BOYAL 
 RASPERS. 
 
 The Irish Legion, after several brushes 
 with the enemy, had encamped on the banks 
 of a small stream, from which the general 
 had dispatched the three scouts to ascer- 
 tain the state of the country south of them. 
 As Fighting Pat and his two companions 
 were longer away than was expected, very 
 grave doubts began to be experienced by 
 Corcoran and his officers as to their safety. 
 Perhaps they had been shot down, or, what 
 was more likely, made prisoners by the 
 enemy, so that considerable uneasiness was 
 manifested in camp on their account. 
 
 General Corcoran, Mahon and Courtenay 
 satin the latter's tent enjoving some flue 
 Havana cigars and a glass or two of wine. 
 
 " I tell you what, general," said Courte- 
 nay, breaking the silence, " that young fel- 
 low. Fighting Pat, as he's called, would be a 
 greatloss to us justnow." 
 
 "A great loss to us at any time," said Ma- 
 jor Mahon. "He is one of the best and 
 most fearless scouts I ever met." 
 
 "He Is the king of them all," echoed 
 Courtenay, enthusiastically, " and a fine, 
 jovial fellow he is, too. Why not give him a 
 commission, general?" appealing directly 
 to the gallant Michael. 
 "Why?" ^ „„ 
 
 "Yes, I should like to know why ?" 
 " Simply for one good, honest reason— he 
 would not accept it. He entered the Legion 
 a private, and 'tis his fixed determination to 
 go out as one." 
 "That's a pity," said Mahon. 
 "It's more than a pity— it's a shame," 
 added Courtenay. " How the devil any man 
 can object to a commission is more than I 
 can quite understand ; and, coming to think, 
 I believe my principal reason for leaving the 
 British army was from the fact that promo- 
 tion came too slow, and I didn't care about 
 buying above men who had grown gray m 
 the service. Now, I really don t think I 
 should feel ofEended if they sent me my 
 colonel's commission to-morrow— I mean 
 these snail-paced people in Washington, 
 who by Jove, have as much red tape about 
 them as the English. Welcome, O'Shaugh- 
 nessy! Welcome, my boy ! Come m here, 
 and join us! Hows every bit of you, old 
 
 The last words were addressed to a young 
 officer who had suddenly entered the tent, 
 and finding that Courtenay had company, 
 was about to beat a hasty retreat when 
 Courtenay pinned him, so to speak. 
 
 "I presume you know General Corcoran, 
 
 " I haven't that honor," replied the young 
 lieutenant, who was a member of the Irish 
 brigade and on General Thomas Francis 
 Meagher's staff. , , . ^ ^. . _ 
 
 "This, general, is ray old friend. Lieuten- 
 ant O'Shaughnessy, late of KilUnhalpn Cas- 
 tle, County Dublin; and this, Tom, is Gen- 
 eral Corcoran, the gallant chief of the Insh 
 Legion, to which I have the honor to be- 
 long." 
 
 As Mahon had been introduced to him 
 nreviously, a simple hand-shaking took 
 place, and after a glass of wine and a cigar 
 all round, the conversation was resumed. 
 
 " Do you think, general, that your scouts 
 are in the hands of the graycoats?'' said 
 Courtenay, leading him back to the subject 
 upon which they had been speaking prior 
 to the entrance of Lieutenant O'Shaugh- 
 
 ■jcuuc^ ^j ..*- -- J this happened. . 
 
 ■The old woodcutter you were speaking 
 
 " I really don't know what to think," re- 
 plied Corcoran. "They are certainly niuch 
 beyond their time, but they may have been 
 delayed through various causes." 
 
 of? „ „ x_ , ,1 "ithink wemay safely conclude," said 
 
 Mahon, " that Pat will steer clear of difficul- 
 tracKtne^Lwaiu u^ .„^ i"n 'the"'face of'a ties, if there be a possibility of doing so; and 
 ll^m'arofl^nite.lnf so^bountifSu/b^ 1 ^ou may depend L ha. got everytlmg con- 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 oerning the graycoats by this down to a fiue 
 point. 
 
 "That is, if they haven't gobbled him up," 
 said Courtenay, laughing. " But this is a 
 dry subject, gentlemen— drink!" 
 
 " You'll have us three sheets in the wind 
 before we kuow where we are," said Mahon, 
 jocularly. "Good health, gentlemen!" 
 
 "Good health!" "Good health!" came 
 Irom around the table. 
 
 " I hear Pryor is going to give yo\i a tough 
 "time of it, general," said young O'Shaugh- 
 
 " He's already fortifying the heights above 
 the Blackwater, and he says he will hold 
 out till the crack of doom, if necessary." 
 
 "Pryor is a boaster," said Corcoran, con- 
 temptuously ; " but, really, this is the first 
 time I have heard that he has formed such 
 an intention. However, let him fortify 
 away, and then we'll fall upon him and take 
 his impregnable position." 
 
 The general emphasized " impregnable," 
 scornfully. 
 
 More than ever at that moment did he 
 long for the return of Fighting Pat. Nor 
 did he really intend allowing Pryor to go on 
 longer than he could possibly help with his 
 work of fortifying the heights above the 
 Blackwater. 
 
 By this time the whole party was getting 
 pretty jolly over their wine and cigars. 
 
 Courtenay called upon O'Shaughnessy to 
 relate a particular incideut in his father's 
 life, with which he was wont to wind up a 
 convivial evening. 
 
 After considerable urging, Tom O'Shaugh- 
 nessy was prevailed upon to go on with his 
 narrative. 
 
 It is a very amusing experience, as the 
 reader will be apt to agree ; and here goes, 
 without further preamble : 
 
 " My father," said Tom, " for reasons best 
 known in the King's Bench, spent a great 
 many years of his life in thatpart of Ireland 
 geographically known as lying west of the 
 law, and was obliged for certain reasons of 
 family, of course, to come to Dublin at cer- 
 tain long intervals. 
 
 " He never proceeded on a journey of the 
 kind without due caution — two trusty serv- 
 ants formed an advance guard, and patrolled 
 the county for at least tive miles in advance ; 
 after them came a skirmishing body of afew 
 tenants, who, for the cousidei-ation of never 
 
 gayiug rent, would have charged the whole 
 ourt of Chancery, if needful. 
 
 " One fine morning, a stout escort of his 
 followers were, as usual, under arms, to see 
 him safe in the chaise, the passage to and 
 from which every day being the critical mo- 
 ment of my father's life. 
 
 " ' It's all right, your honor,' said his own 
 man, as, armed with a blunderbuss, he open- 
 ed the bedroom door. 
 
 "'Time enough, Tim,' said my father; 
 ' close the door, for I haven't finished my 
 breakfast.' 
 
 from his own coucems by a scene which was 
 taking place in a field beneath his window. 
 
 "Afew moments before a hack had stopped 
 upon the roadside, out of which sprung 
 three gentleman, who, proceeding to the 
 field, seemed bent upon something, which, 
 whether a survey or a duel, my father could 
 not make out. 
 
 " He was not long, however, to remain in 
 ignorance. 
 
 " One, with an easy lounging gait, strode 
 toward a distant corner; another took an 
 opposite direction; while a third, a short, 
 pursy gentleman in a red handkerchief and 
 a rabbit-skin waistcoat, proceeded to open a 
 mahogany box, which, to the critical eyes of 
 my respected father, was agreeably sugges- 
 tive of bloodshed and murder. 
 
 "'A duel, by Jupiter!' said my father, 
 rubbing his hands. ' What a heavenly morn- 
 ing the scoundrels have — not a leaf stirring, 
 and a sod like a billiard table.' 
 
 "Meanwhile, the little man who ofBciated 
 as second, it would appear to both parties, 
 bustlea about with an activity little congenial 
 to his shape; and, what with snapping the 
 pistols, examining the flints and ramming 
 down the charges, had got himself into suf- 
 floient perspiration before he commenced to 
 measure off the ground. 
 
 " • Short distance, andnoquarter !' shouted 
 one of the combatants. 
 
 "'Across a handkerchief, if you like!' 
 roared the other. 
 
 "' Gentlemen— every inch of them!' re- 
 sponded my father. 
 
 "' Twelve paces!' cried the little man. 'No 
 more and no less. Don't forget that I'm 
 
 alone in this business.' 
 
 " ' A very true remark !' observed my fa- 
 ther ; ' and an awkward predicament yours 
 will be if they are both shot!' 
 
 " By this time the combatants had taken 
 their places, and the little man, having de- 
 livered his pistols, was leisurely retiring to 
 give the word. 
 
 "My father, however, whose critical eye 
 was never at fault, detected a circumstance 
 ■v\ hich promised an immense advantage to 
 one at the expense of the other ; in fact, one 
 of the parties was so placed with his back to 
 the sun, that his shadow extended in a 
 straight line to the very foot of his antago- 
 nist. 
 
 " 'Unfair— unfair!' cried my father, open- 
 ing the window as he spoke, aud addressing 
 himself to him of the rabbit-skin. ' I crave 
 your pardon for the interruption,' said he; 
 ' but I feel bound to observe that that gen- 
 tleman's shadow is likely to make a shade 
 of him.' 
 
 "'So it is,' observed the short man; 'a 
 thousand thanks for your kindness ; but the 
 truth is I am totally unaccustomed to this 
 sort of thing, aud the affair will uotadmitof 
 delay.' 
 
 " ' Not an hour!' said one. 
 
 " ' Not five minutes !' growled the other of 
 the combatants. 
 
 Put them north and south,' said my fa- 
 
 ther. 
 
 it thus?' 
 
 "Exactly so; but now again the gentle- 
 "aan in the brown coat is covered with the 
 ash tree.' 
 
 "'So he is!' said rabbit-skin, wiping his 
 forehead with agitation, 
 
 "'Move them a little to the left,' said he. 
 
 " ' That brings me upon an eminence,' said 
 the gentleman in blue. ' I'll not be made a 
 cock-shot of.' 
 
 " ' What an awkward little thing it is in 
 the hairy waistcoat!' said my father; 'he's 
 lucky if he don't get shot himself.' 
 
 "'May I never! if I'm not sick of you 
 both'' ejaculated rabbit-skin, in a passion. 
 ' I've moved you round every point of the 
 compass, and the sorrow a nearer we are 
 than ever.' 
 
 " ' Give us the word,' said one. 
 
 " ' The word!' 
 
 " ' Downright murder!' said my father. 
 
 "'I don't care,' said the little man; 'we 
 shall be here till doomsday ! ' 
 
 " ' I can't permit this,' said my father. 
 
 ' Allow me ' So saying, he stepped upon 
 
 the window-sill and leaped down into the 
 field. 
 
 " ' Before I can accept of your politeness,' 
 said he, of the rabbit-skin, ' may I beg to 
 know your name and position In society ?' 
 
 "'Nothing more reasonable,' sai.l my fa- 
 ther. ' I'm Miles O'Shaughnessy, colonel of 
 the Royal Raspers; here is my card.' 
 
 " The piece of pasteboard was complacent- 
 ly handed from one to the other of the party, 
 who saluted my father with a smile of most 
 courteous benignity. 
 
 " 'Colonel O'Shaughnessy,' said one. 
 
 " ' Miles O'Shaughnessy,' said another. 
 
 " ' Of Killenhalon Castle,' said a third. 
 
 " ' 4.t your service,' said my father, bow- 
 ing as he presented his snuff-box ; ' and now 
 to business, if you please; for my time also 
 is Umited.' 
 
 hereby arrest you in the king's name, 
 is the writ: it's the suit of Barnaby Kelly, 
 of Loughrea, for the sum of i:l,58319s. 7., 
 which ' 
 
 " Before he could conclude the sentence, 
 my father discharged one obligation, by im- 
 planting his closed knuckles in his face. 
 
 "The blow, well aimed aud well inten- 
 tioned, sent the little fellow somerseting 
 like a sugar hogshead. 
 
 " It was of no avail. 
 
 "The others, strong and able-bodied, fell 
 both upiiu him. and after a desperate strug- 
 gli- ?^uc.ii-.l,.cl ill getting him down. 
 
 "■]'<i th III- liaiiils and convey him to the 
 (•lj;ii-i \>:i- lii.' wurkof afew moments, and 
 as iiiv lalli. r ilnive by the inn, the last ob- 
 JL. I u lii.ili raught his view was a bloody en- 
 cuuutur between his own people, and the 
 myrmidons of the law, who in great num- 
 bers had laid siege to the house during his 
 capture. 
 
 ■■Tlius was my tath.T takrn, and thus, in 
 n-waiil <if ^ ii'Miiin to a virtuous weakness in 
 liisriiarariri', «as In- .•(.ii>i-ii,-(i to the ig- 
 
 Thc story was oapitally told, and produced 
 considerable amusement as well as laughter, 
 whereupon they had another drink; then 
 Corcoran was suddenly called away, an im- 
 portant messenger having arrived in camp. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 GENERAI, CORCORAX'S BRUSH WITH THF 
 GUERRILLAS. 
 
 The messenger who had aiTived in camp 
 happened to be Morgan's son, who, as the 
 reader is already aware, had been dispatch- 
 ed by his father with an account of the peril 
 of the three scouts, as well as other matters 
 off ■ ■ 
 
 where the messenger 
 
 Thee 
 coran, led hii 
 stood awaiting him. 
 
 Morgan's son had dismounted from his 
 tired sT;eed, and had the reins thrown over 
 his left arm, as the general came up. 
 
 In his right, he was toying with a riding 
 whip. 
 
 handsome, athletic soldier in the Legion.; 
 
 As the general came up, the messenger sa- 
 luted respectfully. 
 
 " Do you bear dispatches?" said Corcoran. 
 
 "Not quite, general. I have been sent 
 here by my father to give you certain in- 
 formation." 
 
 " Your father ! Do I know him, then ?" 
 
 " I believe not, general. I don't think you 
 have ever even met him." 
 
 "Then why," said Corcoran, with a tinge 
 of suspicion, " does he take so much interest 
 in my affairs?" 
 
 " He is a good Unionist." 
 
 "Ah, yes?" 
 
 " And an Irishman. Besides " 
 
 The messenger hesitated. 
 
 " Well?" said the general. " Proceed." 
 
 " I have come to inform you of the danger 
 threatening three scouts claiming to belong 
 to your command." 
 
 Corcoran was at once interested. 
 
 "Three scouts, you say?" 
 
 "Yes," was the messenger's reply. 
 
 " Do you know their names ?' ' he asked. 
 
 " Yes, I have heard them. Have you three 
 men out, general, who answer to the follow- 
 ing : Fighting Pat, Denny and Frank ?' ' 
 
 " Those are the very men," said Corcoran, 
 hurriedly. "But tell me the nature of the 
 danger that threatens them ?" 
 
 Young Morgan briefly recapitulated most 
 of what is already known to the reader; also 
 the fact that the forest was a hotbed of guer- 
 rilladom, and had been so for a considerable 
 time. 
 
 "That den wants wiping out," said Cor- 
 coran, grimly; "and, instead of attacking 
 and surprising us, we'll attack and surprise 
 them. Are the three scouts in any immedi- 
 ate danger?" 
 
 " Ha, that is more than I can say. General 
 Corcoran," said the young man. "The gner- 
 rillas are guarding every outlet from the 
 forest, and in this they are assisted by two 
 Tennessee regiments encamped on the other 
 side of the wood. Again let me tell you, 
 general," continued the stalwart messenger, 
 eagerly, " that if any great troub e had be- 
 fallen your command, you might owe mostly 
 all of it to a pretended officer of Meagher s 
 brigade— Major Hynes, he calls himself!" 
 
 "What? Jerry Hynes!" exclaimed Cor- 
 coran, scarcely believing his ears. " I can 
 hardly credit this. Coward he is, and villain ; 
 but I can hardly think that he would have 
 the temerity or boldness to play the role of 
 traitor and spy. By my honor, if that which 
 you advance against him turns out to be 
 true, he shall dearly rue the day and hour he 
 joined Meaeher's brigade!" 
 
 " I will vouch for the truth of what I state 
 with my life, general," said the messenger, 
 earnestly. "The man Hynes is a double-dyed 
 traitor and villain, and he may be even now 
 bartering the blood of the noble Meagher. I 
 was an eye-witness to his treachery, not two 
 nights since, and, believe me, he means to 
 sell you both." 
 "Both?" 
 
 " Yes ; the gallant Meagher and yourself." 
 " This must be seen to, and at once," said 
 
 Legion together to consult as to the best 
 means of relieving the three scouts, as well 
 as administering severe chastisement to the 
 guerrillas. 
 
 It was decided to march at once. 
 
 Six hundred men were selected and pushed 
 forward, and, as they neared the wood where 
 the guerrillas were encamped, a perfect fus- 
 illade of bullets met them. 
 
 They had been fired at by a troop of the 
 enemy. 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 15 
 
 "ForwardI Charge 1" exclaimed the offi- 
 cers of the various companies. 
 
 Then the men, with a loud cheer, broke 
 for the timber, and, in flTC minutes, not a 
 pueirilla was to be seen. 
 
 Tliey had scampered o£E through the wood 
 as fast as their legs could carry them. 
 
 Led on by young Morgan, the boys of the 
 Irish Legion pushed for the Klade, some scat- 
 tering shots met'tiug them as they went. 
 
 To these they paid little heed, and, reach- 
 ing the open, they were confronted deter- 
 minedly for the first time. 
 
 Nothing could withstand the onset of the 
 
 In less than twenty minutes not a rebel 
 ,vas to be seen ; l)ut it must be confessed that 
 Corcoran had a force of over two to their 
 •cue. 
 
 Where were the scouts ? 
 
 They were evidently not prisoners, or they 
 would have been discovered bound in the 
 glade upon the flight of the Coufederates. 
 
 Wheae were they ? 
 
 This was a question at that moment most 
 difficult to answer, for even young Morgan 
 bad disappeared. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 We may now return to the rocky cavern in 
 which we had left Fighting Pat and his 
 companion the previous night. 
 
 Morning had scarcely broken when the 
 sound of many voices came upon their ears. 
 
 Fighting Pat, a light sleeper at any time, 
 leaped instautly to his feet. 
 
 He listened to the sounds that came float- 
 ing into the cavern. 
 
 There was no mistaking them ; and who- 
 ever the parties were it was evident that 
 they took no pains to conceal their presence 
 or the work in which they were employed. 
 
 There were quite a number of them, too- 
 throwing the dried branches of trees and 
 other combustible matter into the cave. 
 
 ment was an ordinary everyday occurrence. 
 We can all understand how a man will 
 feel after being suddenly disturbed out of a 
 sound sleep ; and Fighting Pat was no ex- 
 ception to the rule. 
 
 were employing themselves so industriously ? 
 
 Who were they ? 
 
 If enemies, and knowing of their presence, 
 could they not easily have rushed into the 
 cave and captured the five men while still 
 wrapped in profound slumber? 
 
 Mooney gradually awoke to the perils of 
 his position. 
 
 The fact gradually dawned upon him that 
 the dark figures plying themselves so indus- 
 triously were the very men from whom he 
 had the most to fear— in fact, his acquaints 
 ances of the preceding evening— the guer- 
 rillas of the glade ! 
 
 And their work ? 
 
 Now thoroughly aroused, the truth flashed 
 across his mind— these men were about to 
 doom them to the most lingering and hor- 
 rible of deaths— that of burning and suffoca- 
 tion ! 
 
 The manner in which they took to revenge 
 themselves was brutal; nay, fiendish ! 
 
 "May God have mercy on usi" groaned 
 the young scout; and for the first time in 
 perhaps his whole lite his firmness seemed to 
 completely desert him. 
 
 He was appalled— horrified ! 
 
 There are circumstances under which the 
 strongest and bravest of the whole human 
 species give way to feelings of terror. 
 
 Fortunately in the latter class, this feeling 
 is only of momentary duration. Then comes 
 the reaction— tlie nerves are strung to the 
 utmost tension — the blood circulates with 
 
 ! than its wonted rapidity, and once 
 
 3ng to 
 
 that which is dear to us all— life and lib 
 
 : we feel ourselves str 
 
 battle for 
 
 erty! 
 
 Thus felt Fighting Pat, when he had fully 
 realized the danger which threatened him- 
 self and friends. 
 
 The four men still slept unconscious of 
 their great peril— slept peacefully, never 
 dreaming for an instant of the horrible death 
 that menaced them. 
 
 The time for action had indeed come, and 
 the young scout crept back to where his 
 comrades lay and shook the slumbering 
 forms one after the other. 
 
 "Awake! awakel" he said, in a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 " What's the trouble?" said Morgan, as he 
 sat up, drowsily rubbing his eyes. 
 
 "Come, come," replied Pat, "there's no 
 time for fooling just now. The cave is dis- 
 covered, and they mean burning us alivel" 
 
 "Who?" was the query. 
 
 "The guerrillas I" 
 
 "Thedevil!" and the old man was on his 
 feet in an instant. 
 
 The rest followed suit, not even yet realiz- 
 ing the full extent of Fighting Pat's words. 
 
 This dreaminess soon passed away, as they 
 caught the voices of their gray-coated en- 
 emies, and beheld dark figures moving back 
 and forth in front of the cavern's entrance. 
 
 "Ha! and so they have discovered your 
 hidingplace," said Morgan, as he matched 
 for a moment or two the work that was pro- 
 gressing at the entrance. 
 
 The calmness of the old man's demeanor 
 had an electric effect on the three scouts. 
 
 His tones were so reassuring that it braced 
 them up considerably. 
 
 Perhaps there was some other entrance to 
 those wonderful cavernous apartments by 
 which they could escape, and defy those sav- 
 age and bloodthirsty guerrillas. 
 
 ■" perceive they mean making it hot for 
 
 of their intentions 
 
 " They certainly take no trouble to dis- 
 guise the fact," rejoined O'Mahoney. " The 
 devils are working like beavers." 
 
 " I am amazed at the discovery," said the 
 old man, musingly. 
 
 "The discovery!" 
 
 " I mean the discovery of this cavern. 
 They must have tracked us last night." 
 
 They unanimously agreed that this was 
 the only true solution of the matter. 
 
 As the fire in the cavernous apartment had 
 long since died out, nothing could be seen 
 from the outside of what was transpiring in 
 the interior. 
 
 Perhaps it was well it was so, and no 
 doubt the guerrillas labored under tlie idea 
 that the occupants of the cave still slept. 
 
 "This will be a hiding-place no more," 
 said old Morgan, regretfully. 
 
 "And who the devil cares about that?" 
 said Denny Byrne. " What we want now is 
 to get out of it. I, for one, don't want to be 
 roasted alive, or smothered with smoke. So 
 let us get out of it with as little delay as pos- 
 sible." 
 
 " But the difficulty is to get out," said 
 Frank O'Mahoney, dubiously. " If there is 
 no other way but that," pointing to the en- 
 trance, " then all I can say is we are caught 
 like rats in a trap." 
 
 " Do not speak so loud," cautioned Mor- 
 gan. " The scoundrels think we are still 
 asleep, and let them think so. This wood 
 has been my home for nigh onto twenty 
 years," coutmued the old man, sadly. " Here 
 indeed have I spent many a pleasant, peace- 
 ful hour. Well— well, home it is no 
 longer " 
 
 " To the divil I pitch such a home," 
 growled Byrne, interrupting him. "The 
 question now is, how are we to get out of it ? 
 
 I don't think any of ye's are in love wid the 
 soort o' death them blaggard guerrillas— bad 
 luck to them !— have in store for us, that 
 ye's should remain palaverin' here, when 
 we can either Hght or find our way into the 
 open air. Begob, I'm now smotherin' as It 
 is. The very thought of settiu' fire to the 
 place has knocked me all of a heap. Be 
 the mortal powers! if I was burned up here, 
 I'd never forgive meself the longest day I 
 lived." 
 
 " Fear not," said the elder Mor gan, reas 
 suringly. 
 
 " Arrah, what gab are ye givin' us ?" inter- 
 rupted Byrne, with a gesture of impatience. 
 " Isn't it enough to make a man's heart 
 thremble wid a Christian sowl in his body? 
 We're not martyrs yet, thanks be to Heaven ! 
 an' don't mane to be aither, if there's the 
 laste chance of gettin' out o' this." 
 
 " My father told you to have no fear," 
 said the younger Morgan, " and you need 
 have none." 
 
 "Then there are two entrances to the 
 cave ?" said Fighting Pat, eagerly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " But likely the guerrillas are guarding the 
 other?" 
 
 " They've not discovered the second en- 
 trance," replied the old man, confidently. 
 
 "How do you know that?" 
 
 The young scout had no desire to leave 
 anything to chance. 
 
 "Simply," replied the elder Morgan, "that 
 if they had found entrance number two, 
 they would immediately see the utter futility 
 of the work upon which they are at present 
 engaged. Bah! the only thing that now 
 
 troubles me, is the fact, that I will be com- 
 pelled to leave the old forest forever, and it 
 comes very hard at my time of life to part 
 with scenes so fondly familiar ;buteuough! " 
 said the old man. "The dawn has come, 
 and we must make our way into the open 
 
 "Be the mortal powers! but that's the 
 wisest thing I've heard ye say yet," rejoined 
 Byrne. 
 
 "Hal" cried Fighting Pat, as his eyes 
 wandered to the entrance of the cave. 
 " They have already fired the brush— look!" 
 
 Scarcely had he uttered the words when a 
 vast sheet of flame shot up from the cavern- 
 ous entrance, and loud yells of triumph 
 from the guerrillas without came echoing 
 with terrible significance into the cave. 
 
 Higher and higher shot the flames, and, as 
 they mounted to the cavern's roof, the' yells 
 of the men outside grew perfectly fiendish. 
 
 They still continued their devilish work. 
 
 Pile after pile of brush was thrown on the 
 seething, roaring mass, and, as it continued 
 to burn fiercely, clouds of suffocating, black 
 smoke were wafted into the cavern. 
 
 Suddenly the triumphant shouts of the 
 rebels were drowned amid a rattling dis- 
 charge of musketi'y. 
 
 Then came a second and a third volley. 
 
 What could all this firing mean ? 
 
 The little party, headed by Morgan, paused 
 as they were making their way toward the 
 second entrance; they paused with wildly- 
 beating hearts and listened. 
 
 They were not left much longer in doubt. 
 
 The fire which had been built at the en- 
 trance of the cave was suddenly scattered 
 right and left, and through the fiames and 
 smoke they caught sight of the uniforms of 
 the Irish Legion ! 
 
 The guerrillas had received a crushing 
 blow. 
 
 Had their leader anticipated the trouble 
 that was in store for his command he would 
 have devised other means of ridding himself 
 of the obnoxious scout, but as it was he had 
 lost valuable time in giving way to a mean 
 and unmanly spirit of revenge. 
 
 The result was that he and his whole force 
 were cut up to a man. 
 
 The cruel, not to say barbarous and un- 
 civilized, action of the guerrillas had so in- 
 censed the boys of the Irish Legion that they 
 shot these brigands down right and left with- 
 out evidencing any disposition to give them 
 quarter or to expect it from them. 
 
 Need we say that Morgan, his son, and the 
 three scouts found it unneccessary to carry 
 the former's project into effect. 
 
 Their foes were vanquished, the roaring, 
 seething fire at the entrance of the cave ex- 
 tinguished, and they were soon folded to the 
 breasts of the victors, and hurried out into 
 the open, where they once more breathed 
 freely, and forgot the perils to which they 
 had so shortly before been exposed. 
 
 Their danger had been much greater than 
 they had imagined. 
 
 By some means the guerrillas had discov- 
 ered the second entrance to the cave, so 
 that there was no earthly possibility of the 
 escape of our five friends ; and should they 
 have attempted to leave in that direction, 
 even, they would have found the exit most 
 effectually blocked up. 
 
 Everything considered, they were ex- 
 tremely fortunate. 
 
 In fact, the prompt arrival of General 
 Corcoran and his men had saved them a 
 horrible and lingering death. 
 
 Among the slain guerrillas there was one 
 discovered wearing the uniform of Meagher's 
 brigade. 
 
 It was Fighting Pat's old enemy, Jerry 
 Hynes. 
 
 The traitor had met the fate he richly 
 merited— a minie-ball had passed through 
 his heart. 
 
 We have little more to add. 
 
 Having rid the forest of the guerrillas. 
 General Corcoran and his men marched 
 back to their old camp. 
 
 After remamiug there ashort time, during 
 which Figli ting Pat and his two comrades 
 passed through many hairbreadth escapes, 
 the order came from McClellan to stoi m the 
 heights overlooking the Blackwater. 
 
 These, as the reader is already aware, were 
 occupied by the Confederate chief. General 
 Pryor. 
 
 This proved the most disastrous effort of 
 poor Corcorau's life, and only ended in de- 
 feat and death to many a gallant Irishman. 
 
 Three times they scaled the heights, and 
 as many times were they repulsed with ter- 
 rible slaughter. 
 
 Fighting Pat performed prodigies of valor, 
 
16 
 
 THE WAR LIBRARY 
 
 and was finally borne off the field severely 
 wounded and unconscious. 
 
 For weeks and weeks he horered between 
 life aud death, but his robust constitution 
 stood liiiu ill good stead, and he finally re- 
 covered. 
 
 His soldiering days were over. He had 
 lost an arm in the defense of his adopted 
 country. 
 
 His false love on the other side of the At- 
 lantic was forgotten, and as time passed on, 
 and toward the close of the war, our hero 
 took to himself a wife, and is now occupying 
 a prominent position in a great Western 
 city, where he lives respected and happy. 
 But he is still known by the sobriquet of 
 Fighting Pat I 
 
 [THK END.] 
 
 THE SCOUT OF NANSEMOND; 
 
 The Siege of Suffolk. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ance, situated in Southeastern Virginia, 
 which, at the commencement of the late 
 war, boasted a population of about one 
 thousand inhabitants. 
 
 The village is pleasantly located on the 
 south side of theNansemond.river, just at the 
 head of navigation, and is twenty miles di- 
 rectly southwest of the great central Atlan- 
 tic seaport city of Norfolk. 
 
 Beside having navigable communication 
 with Norfolk and the coast, it is also an im- 
 portantrailroad Junction, as it is here that 
 the Norfolk and Petersburg, and the Sea- 
 board and Roanoke railroads cross each 
 oth er. 
 
 The Great Dismal Swamp of Virginia, a 
 large tract of marshy land some fifty miles 
 long by fifteen wide, extends from the 
 Nansemond river at Suffolk, south into 
 North Carolina, and all commuuication be- 
 tween that section of Virginia south of the 
 James, is cut off from the coast, except by 
 way of Suffolk. Consequently, all travel 
 betwi'.-u th.' iiit('ri(U' and the coast must 
 pL'.ss tliroii-li ihc latter place, which also 
 
 Will II ilic I'.ilcial army cameinto posses- 
 i 'on 111 >..i; > Ik ill u;.', it was thought best 
 \ .c.\i. lid Im. ir!iijrS(,ul :is far as Suffolk. 
 ^.jiiM',;ii(iitly, iliat i.iaci- was seized and 
 ; '.riisnii.a li; lui.iii ii.i.ips, who held un- 
 i! sputed coulrul o£ the town for nearly a 
 : ar. 
 
 Shortly after the evacuation of Norfolk 
 by the Confederates, the leaders of that gov- 
 ernment discovered that a great blunder 
 had been made, in thus withdrawing their 
 forces from that town, by means of which 
 the coast by way of the James river, which 
 was now placed completely in the hands of 
 the Union Navy. 
 
 Accordingly, it was determined to make 
 one grand effort to re.iiaiii Norfolk, and to 
 this end General Luugstiect, with an army of 
 forty thousand men, was sent against that 
 place. 
 
 It was in thelatterpart of March, '63, when 
 Longstreet reached Suffolk, and here he 
 found General Peck with fifteen thousand 
 Union troops, backed up by three gunboats 
 on the Nansemond ready to dispute his fur- 
 ther advance. 
 
 Peck held possession of the town, and was 
 strongly fortified along the south bank of 
 the river, and in every way was prepared 
 and determined to make a desperate re- 
 sistance. 
 
 Longstreet quickly realized that the Union 
 troops held a position (if very great advan- 
 tage, and that iidtliing short of a regular 
 siege would rcdinc the I'hiie; consequently, 
 he brought his aiiii\ into jMisition upon the 
 north bank of till.' livrr and directly oppo- 
 site the town. 
 
 Once here, he commenced throwing up 
 earthworks, and mounting heavy guns 
 within easy range of the Union lines, as the 
 ■ i very narrow at this point, and 
 
 week after, Longstreet 
 was confering with one of his officers. Col- 
 onel Glaser, when he stated to the latter 
 that he wished he could find some one who 
 
 strength of the enemy. 
 
 " There is a young man in my regiment 
 who 1 think will answer your purpose," the 
 colonel leplied. 
 
 " What is his name, and what kind of a 
 man is he V" Longstreet asked. 
 
 " His name is (Tharles Radcliffe," the col- 
 onel answered; "he is about twenty-one years 
 of age, a well bred, highly educated young 
 man and a good soldier. Bold as a lion, and 
 ever ready to do his duty; he is also a man 
 of great presence of mind, and I think just 
 the one you want." 
 
 " Go and have him report to me immedi- 
 ately," said the general. 
 
 An hour later a young man dressed in 
 Confederate uniform entered Longstreet's 
 quarters and, raising his cap, saluted the 
 gdueral. The general returned the salute, 
 and then said : 
 
 " Young man, your name, if you please?" 
 
 " Charles Radcliffe." 
 
 "Take a seat," said the general, motion- 
 ing him to a chair ; and continued : " Young 
 man, I was this morning telling Colonel 
 Glaser that I greatly needed a scout — some 
 person that I could send across the river to 
 learn the e.xact position and strength of the 
 enemy, and he informed me of you as 
 one likely to answer my purpose. Would 
 you be willing to undertake the work ?" 
 
 " General," the young man replied, " I aid 
 not know that I was in any way qualified 
 for a scout ; yet I am always ready and will- 
 ing to undertake any work required of me 
 by my superiors." 
 
 "Then report immediately to Colonel 
 Glaser, and from him you will receive your 
 orders, and to him make your reports while 
 you act as scout."' 
 
 Radcliffe retired in a rather strange state 
 
 well as very important 
 work. 
 
 As he walked toward his own camp, he 
 resolved the matter over in his raiud, and 
 although he realized that the position was 
 not a very desirable one, yet he determined 
 •hance he 
 btedly be 
 
 the meams of helping him to a higher posi- 
 tien, which he very much desired. 
 
 He proceeded to Glaser's quarters and en- 
 tering, said : 
 
 " Colonel Glaser, I feel very much flatter- 
 ed by the good opinion j^ou have given 
 General Longstreet concerning me." 
 
 " I only told the general what I thought 
 to be true," the colonel replied. " What ar- 
 rangement have you made with him ?" 
 
 " I agreed to act as his scout," Radcliffe 
 answered; "and he informed me that I 
 would be subject to your orders." 
 
 " Well, I am very glad to learn that you 
 have consented to act as such," the colonel 
 replied: " Now what I want of you is this: 
 This night will be dark and rainy, and I 
 want you to cross the river and enter the 
 town; once there, inquire for a person by 
 the name of Samuel Caton. This man is in 
 sympathy with our cause, and from him 
 you will learn the exact strength of the 
 enemy; also the number of regiments they 
 have, how many pieces of artillery and how 
 and where they are posted. Hero is a note 
 that you will give Caton that explains who 
 you are and what is expected of him." 
 
 Radcliffe took the note, and asked : 
 
 "How am I to cross the river." 
 
 "You will find a boat in charge of the 
 picket up here by the creek on the right," 
 answered the colonel ; " and here is a pass 
 that will allow you to get it and also to pass 
 out and in the lines any time of day or 
 
 aighl 
 Ra< 
 
 ht." 
 
 dcliffe took the pass, and parting with 
 the colonel, proceeded down to the river, 
 where he spent the remainder of the day in 
 looking over the situation, and laying plans 
 for his night's work. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE SCOUT AT WORK. 
 
 It was about nine o'clock at night when 
 Radcliffe, dressed in a suit of citizen's 
 clothes, presented himself at the picket 
 post on the right, and to the sergeant in 
 charge showed the pass that was to procure 
 for him the boat and allow him to pass out- 
 side the lines. 
 
 Examining the pass, the sergeant pro- 
 nounced it all right, and then at the scout's 
 request aided in pushing the boat into the 
 creek. 
 
 Seating himself in the boat, RadcUffe 
 seized the oars, and bidding the pickets good- 
 
 but through the gloom and rain the scout 
 slowly moved on and in a short time reached 
 the river. 
 
 Toward the village he could plainly see 
 the lights of several Federal camp-tires, and 
 bending to the oars again he pulled off down 
 stream some distance, and then turning the 
 skiff toward the south bank, effected a land- 
 ing near a clump of bushes, pulled the 
 boat on shore and secreted it in the shrub- 
 bery as best he could in the dark. 
 
 Taking the camp-fires asaguide,and mak- 
 ing his way so as to pass between them, he 
 started for the village. But he soon found 
 his path a difficult one, bushes, logs and 
 mire holes he encountered at every step, 
 but making his way over and through them 
 as best he could he proceeded along for some 
 distance, when suddenly he found that he 
 was approaching a picket line. 
 
 Working his way up as near as he dared, 
 he then paused and listened. 
 
 Plainly he could hear the tramp of the 
 pickets as they paced to and fro, and also 
 heard them converse with each other as they 
 met, at the end of their beats. 
 
 Waiting until they had parted and again 
 started out upon their monotonous tramp, 
 he then cautiously approached the line and 
 passed safely across. 
 
 Once inside, he pushed on; and in about an 
 hour reached the road that enters the town 
 from the south, and a few moments later 
 was in the village. 
 
 was now about eleven o'clock, but yet 
 
 Proceeding along until he reached the 
 main street, he then stopped the first negro 
 he met, and asked if he could tell him where 
 Samuel Caton lived. 
 
 The negro took him a short distance down 
 a back street, and pointed out a small dilap- 
 idated frame house where he said Caton 
 resided. 
 
 Through the windows a dim light was to 
 be seen, and approaching, the scout rapped 
 upon the door. 
 
 A young woman answered the summons 
 by opening the same, and seeing our hero 
 standing in the rain, asked him in. 
 
 Entering he found a colored boy of about 
 fourteen years of age, reposing half asleep 
 in one corner, and the woman, the only oc- 
 cupants of the room. 
 
 " Does Samuel Caton live here?" inquired 
 Radcliffe, seating himself. 
 
 " Yes, sir, my father lives here," the wom- 
 an replied, " but he went to Norfolk to-day 
 and win not return before to-morrow." 
 
 " I am very sorry he is away," said Rad- 
 clife, " as I wished to see him on some very 
 important business." 
 
 " Did you come from over the river?" the 
 woman asked. 
 
 "I did," answered Radcliffe, after a mo- 
 ment's thought. 
 
 "Well, father has been expecting some 
 one from across the river for a couple of 
 days, and he told me if any one came during 
 his absence to have them remain until he re- 
 turned." 
 
 "Then, I suppose I may as well stay imtil 
 to-morrow," Radcliffe replied. 
 
 For an hour Charlie and the woman sat 
 and talked in a low tone of voice, and he 
 found that she knew his business, and from 
 her he learned considerable that was of great 
 importance. 
 
 About midnight he expressed a wish to re- 
 tire, and calling the negro boy whose name 
 was Jake, the woman gave him a light and 
 directed him to show the gentleman to bed. 
 
 Conducting him up stairs and into a room 
 that contained a bed, the boy then left him, 
 and retiring, Radcliffe was soon fast asleep. 
 
 After the scout had retired to rest, the 
 young woman, whose name was Jane Caton, 
 sat for a long time in deep study. 
 
 " He is a noble looking young man," she 
 thought to herself, "and "I wonder if he is 
 single. If he is, I will play my cards upon 
 him, and if I should be lucky enough to suc- 
 ceed, then Corporal Harper can go to the 
 four winds. But I must be very careful, lest 
 he finds out there is black blood in my veins. 
 Oncemarried, I will make him take me and 
 leave the country,and never will the people of 
 Suffolk see me again. Curse them," she said, 
 half aloud, " they know my mother was part 
 negro, and they despise me for it, but I'll 
 be victor over them yet or die in the at- 
 tempt." 
 
 Thus her thoughts ran for some time, but 
 finally she retired, leaving Jake, the negro 
 boy, to fix himself a bed upon the floor 
 where he usually slept. 
 
 Jane Caton was about twenty-two years 
 
THE WA.R LIBRARY. 
 
 17 
 
 the goldeu hue which is the pride of all Cre- 
 oles and which added greatly to her beauty. 
 Yet at times a savage scowl was to be seen 
 upou her face, which always detracted from 
 her beauty to a considerable extent. 
 
 Her mother, who was now dead, had been 
 a mulatto, and, although it was almost an 
 impossibility tor any one to discover by Jane 
 Caton's looks that black blood coursed 
 through her veins, yet it was known to every 
 oneinSufifolk that such was the case, and 
 for it she despised and hated them; and 
 made herself very diasigreeablo to all with 
 whom she came in contact; and many were 
 actually afraid of her on account of her vio- 
 lent bad temper. 
 
 For years Jane Catou had tried to inveigle 
 and marry almost every young man with 
 whom she had formed an acquaintance; but 
 with poor success. 
 
 When the Union forces first occupied Suf- 
 folk she formed the acquaintance of a young 
 corporal by the name of Robert Harper. 
 
 This young man was somewhat smitten 
 with her and paid her considerable atten- 
 tion ; she also seemed to love him ; but now, 
 having met our hero, and taking a fancy to 
 him, she was quite ready to "off with the old 
 love and on with the new," providing there 
 was any " new " for her. 
 
 The uz-xt morning, when Eadcliffe awoke, 
 he found it was broad daylight, and, going 
 down stairs, was pleased to find that break- 
 fast was ready. 
 
 While eating, Jane Caton did her best to 
 entertain him, and also impress him favora- 
 bly in her behalf. She furthermore took 
 the opportunity to ask him if he was a man 
 of family, to which he answered in the neg- 
 ative. 
 
 After breakfast, Radeliffe strolled out and 
 about the town, and, falling in with several 
 soldiers in a saloon, asked them to drink with 
 him. 
 
 By treating them a couple of times he 
 soon had them on good terms, and from 
 them learned considerable that he wished to 
 know. 
 
 Toward night, Radeliffe returned to Caton's 
 house, and was pleased to find that Mr. Caton 
 had just returned from Norfolk. 
 
 He found the latter to be a man of about 
 fifty years of age, who was apparently a 
 rough, desperate fellow, and a few minutes' 
 conversation with him convinced the scout 
 that he was a man who would sell his soul 
 for gold, and was not to be trusted very far. 
 
 From him Radeliffe learned all he wished, 
 and, about ten o'clock that night, he started 
 for Longstreet's camp, which he reached in 
 safety about midnight. 
 
 Proceeding to Glaser's quarters, he caused 
 that offlcer to be aroused, and to him made 
 his report. 
 
 Colonel Glaser was well pleased, and, hav- 
 ing reduced it to writing, dismissed the scout 
 for the present. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DOWN IN NORFOLK. 
 
 The scout was idle but a couple of days. 
 When he was again summoned to appear be- 
 fore Colonel Glaser. 
 
 Hastening to the colonel's quarters, he was 
 informed that the army was greatly in need 
 of ammunition of all kinds, and that he 
 
 wished him to go down to Norfolk, and have 
 
 ag of Confer 
 secretly accumulated a large quantity of the 
 
 I gang of Confederate smugglers. 
 
 had 
 
 needed goods at that place, run a load of the 
 same to Suffolk immediately. 
 
 "Here is a letter I have written to Captain 
 Chadwick, the head smuggler, teilling him 
 who you are, and what I want. When you 
 reach Norfolk, go up Church street to No. 
 — , enter this door, and pass up stairs to 
 room 1.3, there you will find Captain Chad- 
 wick, or some one who will tell you where 
 he is to be found, and to him you are to give 
 this letter which is not addressed. By the 
 way," he continued, "here is another letter 
 which you will also deliver in person, to the 
 one to whom it is directed." 
 
 Radeliffe took the two letters, and promis- 
 ing the colonel to do his best in the matter, 
 he bade him good-afternoon and started 
 forth to prospect. 
 
 Proceeding down the river some distance, 
 he came to afarm-house, and looking around 
 he found a large boat which was drawn up 
 out of the water upon the beach. Then 
 returning to camp, he, as soon as it was 
 dark, accompanied by two soldiers, started 
 forth upon his mission. 
 
 Arriving near the place where the boat 
 was, they soon found it, and together pushed 
 it into tlie river. Then embarking, the sol- 
 diers seated themselves at the oars, while the 
 scout occupied the stern, and with the tiller 
 
 In hand guided the boat directly out into 
 
 the stream. 
 Some distance above them, and near the 
 llage, were plainly to be seen the lighti 
 
 l)oat moved as quietly as possible; but after 
 a time the how grated upon the pebbly 
 shore, announcing that the river was 
 crossed. Stepping on shore, Radeliffe or- 
 dered his companions to return, and then off 
 across the Belds he started in the direction 
 of the road that leads to Portsmouth. 
 
 In due course of time, and after encoun- 
 tering many difficulties, he reached the 
 road ; then at a brisk pace he set out for the 
 city, which by this route, running around 
 Dismal Swamp, was distant some twenty- 
 three miles. 
 
 It was about eleven o'clock at night, and 
 although it had been somewhat dark in the 
 fore part of the evening, the clouds now 
 broke away, and the stars coming out af- 
 forded plenty of light by which to travel. 
 
 It was near daylight when he reached 
 Bower's Hill, having traveled some fifteen 
 miles since entering the i-oad. At this place 
 he found a regiment of Union soldiers sta- 
 tioned, and from a citizen learned that it 
 would be impossible to get through the lines 
 without a pass. 
 
 By inquiring, he learned that the western 
 branch of the Elizabeth river had its head at 
 this place, and also that at the landing near 
 by, were several flat-boats loading with 
 wood in order to start for Norfolk at high 
 tide. 
 
 Proceeding down to the landing, the scout 
 offered to hire passage upon one of these 
 boats to the city, but was informed that it 
 required two men to manage each boat, and 
 that each man had to have a pass, in order 
 to go by the pickets posted further down 
 the river. 
 
 After some bantering, Radeliffe hired one 
 of the boatmen to remain, thus allowing 
 him to go in his place and on his pass, he 
 agreeing to help manage the boat. 
 
 At high tide the boats swung out from the 
 landing and slowly proceeded down the 
 
 Our hero found it no easy matter to per- 
 form the work required of him, and very 
 glad he was when they reached Norfolk that 
 afternoon. 
 
 Hastening to a hotel, the scout procured 
 supper, and then he started for Church 
 
 A short distance above the corner of Main 
 he came to the number where Colonel 
 Glaser had informed him he would find the 
 smugglers. 
 
 Proceeding up the stairway, he readily 
 found room number 13, and, opening the 
 door, entered. 
 
 Half a dozen men dressed in half sailor 
 garb, were seated around the room mostly 
 engaged in smoking, and, at a table in one 
 corner, a well dressed man sat writing. 
 
 As Radeliffe entered, they all looked up 
 with some curiosity, and, approaching the 
 man at the table, he asked : 
 
 " Is this Captain Chadwick ?" 
 
 "That is my name, sir," the man re- 
 plied. 
 
 Taking from his pocket the unaddressed 
 letter, Radeliffe handed it to him, and then 
 by invitation, seated himself in a chair near 
 the table. Captain Chadwick liroke the let- 
 
 last 
 
 • You are from Suffolk, it seems ?' 
 
 "Yes, sir; I came from there s: 
 night," replied the scout. 
 
 " Well, boys," said Captain Chadwick, ad- 
 dressing his companions, "we have at last 
 got work to do." 
 
 " What is it?" asked one of the men. 
 
 "We have got to run a load of ammuni- 
 tion to Suffolk as soon as circumstances will 
 permit." 
 
 " When do you think we will go ?" the man 
 asked. 
 
 " If it is anyways dark, we will go to-mor- 
 row night," answered the captain. Then, 
 turning to Radeliffe, he said : " Well, my 
 friend, when do you propose to return to 
 Suffolk?" 
 
 "Just as soon as I possibly can," the scout, 
 replied. 
 
 " If you wish, you can go up with us on 
 the boat," the captain answered. 
 
 None in the least," replied the captain ; 
 " the fact is you can go just as well as 
 not." 
 
 " Then I shall be on hand," said Radeliffe, 
 and, bidding the smugglers good-night, he 
 left them and jiroceeded to his hotel. 
 
 The next day about ten o'clock, Radeliffe 
 thought he would go and deliver the other 
 letter that had been intrusted to his care. 
 Taking it from his pocket, he found it was 
 addressed to Miss Julia Gardner, No. — , 
 Cumberland street, Norfolk. 
 
 Inquiring of a person who was passing, he 
 learned that Cumberland street was but a 
 short distance away, and thither he bent his 
 steps. 
 
 A walk of flveminutesbrought him to the 
 street, and passing along up he soon reached 
 the number designated. 
 
 The house was a neat brick structure, 
 with a small yard in front, in which stood 
 several beautiful shade trees, and all the 
 surroundings bespoke wealth and refine- 
 ment. 
 
 Entering the gate, he ascended the steps 
 and rang the bell. 
 
 The door was opened by a colored woman, 
 who asked what he wanted. 
 
 " I wish to see Miss Gardner," the scout 
 answered. 
 
 Through the hall the woman led the way 
 to the sitting-room, and ushered him in. 
 
 Upon a sota sat a beautiful young woman 
 of about eighteen years of age, who, as he 
 entered, looked at him sharply for a mo- 
 ment, and then, in an excited manner, arose 
 from her seat, but composing herself, she 
 said : 
 
 " Good-morning, sir." 
 
 "Good-morning," answered the scout. 
 "Is this Miss Julia Gardner?" 
 
 "That is my name," she replied. 
 
 " Then I have a letter for you," he said, 
 procuring it and handing it to her. 
 
 She took the letter, and requested her 
 guest to have a chair. Then, seating herself, 
 broke the seal of the letter and perused its 
 contents; after which she turned to the 
 scout, and said : 
 
 "This is from my cousin. Lieutenant 
 James Gardner, telling me that my uncle, 
 Major Samuel Gardner, lies badly wounded 
 at Suffolk. Are you acquainted with either 
 of them ?" she asked in an excited manner. 
 
 "I am not," he replied. "I do not recol- 
 lect of ever having seen, or even heard, of 
 any lieutenant by that name, but I knew 
 that a major by the name of Gardner was 
 wounded a few days ago in a fight between 
 the pickets." 
 
 " My cousin informs me that through the 
 kindness of Colonel Glaser, this letter will be 
 forwarded by a scout; I presume you are 
 the person lef erred to?" 
 
 "I am," replied Radeliffe. 
 
 "When, and how do you return to Suf- 
 folk?" she asked. 
 
 " Before answering your question. Miss 
 Garner, I must know what your sentiments 
 are," answered the scout. 
 
 "I love the suuny South— my birthplace 
 and home," she replied, " but I am in full 
 sympathy with the North, because I believe 
 secession to be wrong, and that the Union 
 and the old flag should be preserved. But," 
 she continued, " it there is any secret con- 
 
 nected with your answer to my question, 
 you may rest assured that it is safe with me, 
 for it is not my purpose to betray those who 
 
 jgglers, I expect to return to 
 _ht by boat." 
 If it is no secret, I would like to know 
 your name," she asked. 
 
 "My name is Charles Radeliffe," he an- 
 swered. 
 
 At mentiou of this name, she appeared 
 somewhat agitated, but composing herself, 
 said : 
 
 "Mr. Radeliffe, I wish very much to go to 
 Suffolk, in order that I can nurse and take 
 care of my uncle. Can I not accompany 
 you?" 
 
 " Miss Gardner, in regard to your accom- 
 panying us, you must know that we will 
 have to run the blockade, and that the trip 
 will be one of danger." 
 
 " I care not for that," she replied with 
 spirit. "Please promise me that I can go, 
 and I shall ever feel greatly indebted." 
 
 " Well, it will be just as the captain of the 
 boat says," replied the scout. I will go and 
 see what arrangements lean make with him 
 
 else will answer, offer him any amount of 
 money you choose, and I will furnish the 
 
18 
 
 THE WAR LIBRABY. 
 
 As soon as he had departed, the young 
 lady commenced pacing back and forth 
 through the room. 
 
 As before stated, she was about eighteen 
 years of age, of medium size, and well built, 
 having a round, plump figure, also blonde 
 liau-, sparkhng blue eyes, and was in eyery 
 respect a handsome and attractive woman, 
 liut, in spite of her great beauty, there was a 
 sad and careworn look upon her face tell- 
 ing very plainly of some secret grief and 
 sorrow. 
 
 After pacing to and fro for some time in 
 apparently deep thought, she said, half 
 aloud, and to herself : 
 
 "Howl hate tliat man; he is the author 
 of all my sorrow and trouble. But," she 
 ■continued, her eyes flashing fire, and her 
 «0UDteuance putting on a determined look, 
 VW^*' P.^^P.^y revenge on him. lam 
 «alled beautiful by all who know me, and if 
 1 can but get hira to love me, then after 
 leading him on sufficiently I will cast him 
 off, and thus mete out to him what he does 
 to others." 
 
 After a time the bell rang, and Miss Gard- 
 ner hastened m person to answer the sum- 
 
 ^^ ^°7*u^°?'^ "P°" *'"" «*«P»' and as she 
 opened the door he handed her a letter and 
 then departed. 
 
 Returning to the sitting-room, she perused 
 Its contents, which ran thus: 
 3'!?h'^'''""'^'' : After considerable coaxing, I have 
 
 anaged to procure passage for you to S We start 
 
 Y?* T'£iSS'i"';°'*''^ ..^^ 'here on time if you wish 
 o. Thirdboatonriehthandsldeof the ferry 
 
 ■• C. R." 
 
 So far everything appears to be working 
 
 id, as 8b« fiiitaiio.^1 ».«n^;^™ +K^ 
 
 ,, ,, *-■ ^ ' ^v *""*"& »jtJt'«ars Lu ue worKing 
 
 J^}' ^.f ^'*"',' ?« she finished reading thi 
 note. Then ealhng her servant, she ordered 
 her to pack her traveling valise, as she — - 
 to be gone for a few days. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 KUNNING THE BLOCKADE. 
 
 It was half-past eight o'clock at night 
 when Charles liadcliffemade his appeafance 
 gn^^d the boat that was to take him to 
 
 He found Captain Chad wick and foursea- 
 
 JSo^„ "J^ll'^Z .1" ^''^'"^' and from them 
 learned that the cargo was safely in the 
 hold, and that as soon as Miss Gardner came 
 on board, they should beat out for Suffolk 
 T«I«t ^ K "'^ ^ *"''"' trim-built, two- 
 masted schooner, with a cabin above deck, 
 and her sharp bow and heavy sails denoted 
 that she was made for great speed. 
 
 About a quarter to nine a carriage drove 
 up the wharf where the smugglei^ay^ and 
 a lady closely veiled and enf eloped in a 
 bTthe d'riv'er"^''°°' ''^°^^' ^"^ ^^^^^t^d out 
 
 Radclifi-e was at her side by this time, and 
 taking her valise,_ conducted her on board 
 the schooner and into the cabin, 
 niii Jtll ,^o<.?^ff '?K^ °,-'<iers the sailors now 
 u^thl^J^ f^ P? '■?« that held the boat 
 to the wharf, and loosing a few sails, they 
 hari"r •^O'-king their way out of the 
 
 The night was not only dark, but the rain 
 came gently down, and a better night^m- 
 the.r work the smugglers could nSt have 
 
 onV'^.lf'ih'i'h^ ^J""^ "'<'?5'^ t*"* ""le schooner 
 v^h^-^^?'^'""' ^""^ •'0'''° the river until 
 Fort ISorfoIk was passed, then crowding on 
 
 Ske'?h"e'';;L1:' """"^ ^'^^'■' '"''^y '^Ped afoSg 
 
 +hi'J t^<^°"^ '"^ ^°"'' ''°'3 a tialf they found 
 that they were approaching the mouth of 
 the Nansemond, where the lights on a Fed- 
 eral gun-boat, which lay at anchor in and 
 ^la^iI^^^^^lI'L^e^'^^ '"°"^'' °* '^^ '•'-^- "- 
 scmJFwh'i .F^'''''^'^H now informed the 
 MUs r^rH„^''^;''??L"'''J '" the cabin with 
 Misb Gardner, that they were about to trv 
 f"drunby the blockader, and when Ra/. 
 chffe stated that he would go out on deck 
 and render what assistance hIcouW, his fa^ 
 companion insisted on accompanying him 
 torXl^?u^'^Tl°° T,"^.-^^ prevail up'on her 
 bow.Trf? iJ"'""^**^"'' ^t'ltion near the 
 waTci^JAk ^ ^°°"*' ''"<* *>'« companion 
 
 in'^som'?of"thr'''''V *° ^''J''^'^ '^"^'•y taking 
 
 i&%^li'Z -^^sS^^- near Pig 
 ^fn-in^S^t-h^ern-l-wSI 
 
 rupted by the C! 
 
 how the woundea sailor was. 
 
 f^'.' P^'esume you will only run up within 
 
 four or five miles of the town, will you, cap- 
 
 tain? 'asked the scout. *^ 
 
 " If we can get up to the mouth of the' 
 western branch without encountering any of 
 the enemy's boats, I intend to run into that 
 ?h'^''n T,;.?i'a1,"P '^ ""'' "'■ *^°' '^'lere we can 
 mnSo!i?tv.^^°"J ^^^^° within about five 
 miles of the Confederate camp." 
 
 A very good idea," remarked the scout. 
 
 to-morrow night we will have the fun— 
 If sueh I may call it-of trying to get out of 
 here." said the captain, as he left the cabin 
 
 An hour later he returned and informed 
 the scout that they were entering the west- 
 e™^branch, and together they went on 
 
 Sailing along this stream some distance, 
 the schooner was at last brought up to a 
 little rickety landing and made fast, 
 ini 3 whTi ''%"■ *''"'■ <''?1°«*' i" the morn- 
 ing' th^ lo " *'if smugglers were unload- 
 ing the cargo, Radcliffe went to a farm- 
 house situated near the landing, and hired a 
 m^i to carry Miss Gardner and himself to 
 
 About seven o'clock they reached the Con- 
 federate camp, and, leaving his fair charge 
 at the farmhouse where her uncle lay 
 wounded the scout hastened to Glaser's 
 quarters to make his report. 
 
 Immediatelj; the colonel dispatched sever- 
 al teams to bring up the cargo. 
 
 passed, they were suddenly startled bv the 
 sharp cry directly ahead of them of "Ship 
 
 Rushing to the rail, the smugglers saw a 
 
 large boat, containing nearly a score of men, 
 
 pull up to the side of the schooner 
 
 "A picket boat," cried one of the smug- 
 glers, as soon as he got his eye upon her. 
 
 r^u vepare to repel boarders," said Captain 
 
 Chadwick, in a low tone of voice. At this 
 
 ''O'nmand, his men gathered around him 
 
 and drawing their revolvers, the sharp click 
 
 of the hammers were heard, as they prepar- 
 ed for action. Requesting Miss Gardner to 
 
 hasten to the cabin, the scout drew a revol- 
 ver, and joined his companions at the rail. 
 
 l^evehng their pistols as best they could in 
 
 the darkness, the smugglers flred upon the 
 
 approaching boat. ^ 
 
 Immediately, a sharp, wild (!ry rang out 
 
 ")P1° i^l ft;" °'^'^t »'""' telling that their 
 
 shots had taken effect, and the next moment 
 
 a volley was poured into the smugglers. 
 Captain Chadwick saw one of his men fall 
 
 wounded, and realizing that he must manage 
 
 m some way to leavethepicket-boat behind 
 
 he sprang to the helm, aud ordered the man 
 HM.t''i'^?/t°*'"°St?^ ^^*sel around to the 
 right as it to run out of the river 
 anTi'^i' I'if'?!!S''° complied with the order, 
 and as the little schooner came around her 
 o?.H'"^*t, "'■onS'Jt her nearer the blockader, 
 and the smugglers reaUzed from the loud 
 S^?^*"]*!.* "^'*t ■"'^'■'^ to be heard given on 
 f ha^'^♦H°^'''"■: '"'"* f™"" the beat of a drum" 
 ci,^?.1n °pIT ^f °€ "^^'"'''"^ f"'- action ' 
 Captain Chadwick having watched the 
 picket-boat as long as it remained in sight 
 and seeing it make off toward thegunblat 
 en1:;:rh'e^r?vi°r. '""'''' ""'' ""''^ atfemprt*o 
 "Run her out a little further," he said to 
 the helmsman, " then fetch her on arou"S 
 to the right; hug Pig Point as close asvou 
 them^'S^f r\A '•"'? '"' in spitV"of 
 inl two ^,fn/^ *'''' '?^P"'*° finished speak- 
 
 fsiyTn irdThTbtfa^ranl'S-c^.^S^re 
 rea^/tSTi^uSSr'"^ '''''' ^"'' '" *^« 
 "Those are pretty dose shots, Imt we 
 trevd?n?;h?t^''*?.'^°*.l?".t<'t'><^-" »s longl! 
 thl^scou".' *"* "'' '""^ ^^P*^'° Chadwici to 
 
 ar;'''charliTreph7d"""'*^"^' ''■'' "^'^''^ "« 
 
 boIrd°tZl^'iitarrbu?Theffitw^°Se°o°f 
 wellTufof'^tVi^rV^^?"'"''^'- -^^' '^^ '^^^'^^'' 
 Ordering one of the sailors to carry his 
 wounded comrade into the cabin the can 
 tain then took the helm in his own hands" 
 Tofst^^e^eTs^if *'^''°*''-^ to imm"eiSS^l^y 
 
 Jie^fofhfKwTJcSo^JSeX^ifis 
 ^^^lared^and^she glided along into the rivei 
 
 In a quarter of an hour they were saf elv in 
 while f hi; f^'^-i"^. *'"' present, out of danler 
 ^.^ifi ^*V''"''^'"''''"'as still to be seen lying 
 quietly at her auchorage. ^ ^ 
 
 said^hppTa^nTf-aTd^-hVll^tt^^a^rl'^^It';?!;' 
 iSed^l^ff^ J;*' "■'^ -"• -akJ^otJ^Ain^ 
 " J^^t was a very good trick, and well ex 
 ecuted ; but they came very near capturfng 
 ward'thirbln*"' ''"'''' "' '^'^ ^^'^'^^^^ to? 
 
 A"hr'^^' *"-' ^""""^ ^'^^ Gardner and one 
 ^f the sailors engaged in bandaging the 
 
 ha°cn;S'd"?^"^ ''™' »''™"^'' -''-•^ a bulTet 
 Radcliffe informed the sailor that he might 
 go on deck, as probably he was needed Silre 
 the w^uTd"''* ''""' *"^^ «-<'°- - d-ssfn^g 
 ^r^^ ^°°^^ they were done with the wound- 
 scout :' '' '^'"■''°^'' '''"'' addressing ?he 
 not r*" ^'"^ ^ ^^""^ °^'''"°''' escape, did we 
 „„'J,^'"^i! 't "^as indeed a very narrow es- 
 ^^P^^j,*?" answered, "were yoi frirhtlned 
 
 fi.'I''^?*^" ?!"''■'' "^y their shots as I was bv 
 
 him forfdnnL^'''"^ /'"'S" P"^""^^ ^^ 
 ^iT^'i .jt do not care to have it known 
 
 with'a smile ^'""P^^y ^ "eep," she rephld" 
 ^i,')^'il'' ^*^?'''' now safe and on our wav I 
 Wnft "^f'^r^'^^PP'^'-to think wL hav4 ^;-, 
 t^h^e'^tL^y'' V^So'/ts^'^^.'w"' n^ °"? °^ ' "-• 
 sh<,uld chLce^.o be^^^LiTdo^^nt^d SI|[ I "^V 
 
 Miss Gardner and the scout sat and talked Jth'' ""'"J, '="">"«. they often visited each 
 tor about an hour, when they ^e^^tl^ I s^r^VSlcrs^m^ell^t^^i^^^rd^Vlficn^a^d 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE GIRL WIFE. 
 
 Let us go back a few years to the city of 
 Alexandria, Virginia, in the year 1858 
 
 in trout of an elegant mansion, one pleas- 
 ant afternoon in the month of April, was to 
 be seen a noble pair of well matched iron- 
 gray horses, attached to a carna|e ip°n 
 
 lf!t^! "l^'"^ sat a liveried blacl dr"?er 
 
 fcuddenly the front door of the palatial 
 residence on Main street was throwE open 
 and a group of persons came out and down 
 tlie graveled walk to the carriage 
 
 The foremost young couple, a boy and a 
 giri, advanced hand in hand whose looks 
 chiidrtn. ^**'"'^'^^'"'^"°*'''°S '°°'-« than 
 UfT^V'f?^ '^'^? an inteUigent looking, manly 
 httle fellow of about sixteen years of age, 
 ,T„w"'J'r"*y' however, was marred by an 
 rif (ft .vS w",?"!! ,^^t forehead just over the 
 utH ^f' ^nich he had received some years 
 coich '° thrown from off a stage 
 
 tJhl^^il^f^.l^'^''''"-^'''"'^'^' '^'ne eyed lit^ 
 tie beauty of thirteen, upon whose sunnv 
 face a pleasant smile was playing 
 th!:^''f'^'U^""u-'^''''"^Se, they lalted; and 
 the boy°saidf ^''""P^"'''" f"" '" the'face, 
 " Darling little wife! I must now leave 
 you, and although it will be a long time bl! 
 J^rJ!^''Ji"''''t again, yet you will ever be in 
 S^,°"^*^' "*'!'* ^f'^''" ^^P««t that you w 11 
 r!"enc"." ^^ °'"'^ "" ''^"^ ''""°S ™y 
 "Dear Charles," the girl replied, " vou 
 know my parents are deld, and I ha^e only 
 y^'^J^l^'^^^O'^l^d yon will think no more 
 of me thau I shall of you, and rest assured 
 that you will hear from me regularly, and I 
 ?ef, r,f Pm»* *° ^''"^ ^^^ y"" ^"ite often in 
 return. May you reach Boston in safety," 
 ^^^^T*'°"u'''?' ^""^ '^«'ar in mind to be a 
 good boy while you are absent." 
 
 there was a shaking of hands all around, 
 the young couple exchanged kisses, the boy 
 entered the carnage, and amid a waving df 
 handkerchiefs was driven rapidly away.^ 
 .fL T^ ^''''" '^'^^"'■'^ the opening of our 
 fiJI two young men who had been attend- 
 M?rt''''i'°i ^i *''•' ''""^^e^ of William and 
 Mary and who were warm friends, gradu- 
 n^;?., r.°'°,*'V?t institution and started forth 
 upon the duties of life. 
 
 wt*"", Monteith, the older of the two, em- 
 barked in the mercantile business in the citv 
 nf Au.v.„„],.j., .,„j t^g „j^gj._ Edward Rarf- 
 iniij.-i,,-,.,! the practice of law in the 
 
 and, in due ci 
 with a child— 
 anjl John Moi 
 
 ilh Monti 
 
 stablishing themselves in 
 'uiig men both married, 
 ' "'time each was blessed 
 vnvil K;,dcliff,. with a son, 
 h withaiiaughter. 
 and Radcliffe prospered 
 "■••live business, and, in a 
 i:i(l accumulated an im- 
 
 ived many miles apart, yet, 
 s. they often visited each 
 
THE W/AlR library. 
 
 19 
 
 grown stronger with each year from their 
 boyhood days. 
 
 Once, when Radcliffe and his wife were 
 Tisiting their friends in Alexandria, the for- 
 mer proposed to Monti-ith that, when theii 
 
 children should become of suitable age, they 
 
 • _ ", by this 
 
 families more closely 
 
 arriage, and, by 
 
 ^''lo 
 
 to this proposition Monteith readily as- 
 sented, providing that the parties most in- 
 terested were like-minded. 
 
 The two children, named respectively 
 Charles and Fanny, and who had seen each 
 other several times, were in time informed 
 of their parent's wishes, and both were well 
 pleased, as they had always manifested a 
 warm attachment for each other from the 
 first. 
 
 Long before either had reached their ma- 
 jority, or the plans of their parents had been 
 consummated, both families were stricken 
 down with grief, and both houses were made 
 houses of mourning. 
 
 When Charles Radclifle was fourteen years 
 of age his mother died of yellow fever, and, 
 two years later, when Fanny Monteith was 
 just thirteen years of age, her father and 
 mother, while returning home from a jour- 
 ney North, were both seriously injured in a 
 railroad accidentr— her mother was brought 
 home dead and her lather dying. 
 
 As soon as John Monteith realized that he 
 could not live he made u will, giving all his 
 
 her aud Charles Radcliffe united in marriage 
 before he should pass away. 
 
 Accordingly Edward Radcliffe wasiiiform- 
 ed of his friend's request, aiul, accuuiiianied 
 by his sou, whom he was about to send to a 
 Northern school, they started immediately 
 for Alexaiuliia. 
 
 Arriving fliere, the young couple were 
 married by I he bedside of dying John Mon- 
 teith, who, with his last breath, blessed tliem 
 both, and invoked the Great Ruler to watch 
 over aud protect them through life. 
 
 After tlie body of John Monteith had been 
 laid to rest in the toml). it was ari-auged 
 that ChaiU'S Uad.-lilTc -houlcl go North, aud 
 remain until lie liud .■ |>lcted his educa- 
 
 her uncle, Thoi'nas MnnU-ith, who resided 
 at Beaufort, North Carolina; and it was 
 thus that we saw Charles Radcliffe iu the 
 commencement of this chapter, taking leave 
 of his young wife, father and friends, as he 
 was starting lor the North. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE CAPTURE AND ESCAPE. 
 
 " Well, Jake, where have you been all this 
 time? " asked Jane Caton, of the negro boy, 
 who lived with her lather, as he reappeared 
 alter lieiug aljsent a couple ol days. 
 
 "I hab just been ober de riber to Massa 
 Lougstreet's camp," he replied with a grin, 
 showing his ivories. 
 
 "To Lougstreet's camp! How did you 
 manage to get over there '/" she asked. 
 
 "■Well, I just went outside de lines, den I 
 cross de riber in a borrowed boat; by deway, 
 de pusson I borrowed it ob was not at home 
 at de time, you understand 1 Well, when once 
 ober de riber, I proceeded down to Massa 
 Lougstreet's without delay." 
 
 " Now, stop your joking, and tell me all 
 you learned while over there," said Jane Ca- 
 ton, "and ilyou saw anything of that young 
 man that was here a lew days ago ?'' 
 
 "Saw him! I s'pecs I did saw him, my 
 honey; and a right smart gar he had wid 
 him, too, you bet!" the darky replied. 
 
 "Had a gal with him, did he? Who could 
 it be, and where did you see them?" she 
 asked. ^ , 
 
 "Now, seeing as how you want to know, 
 I'll just tole you all 'bout it. Dis mornin' 
 a young ofacer, by de name ob Gardner, gib 
 a dime to carry a bird to his lader, who is 
 wounded. You see, I went down to de 
 house whar de old gentleman was, wid de 
 bird, and wliilc dar, up drobe a wagon con- 
 taining two fi'Uers and a gal. One :^b de fel- 
 lers was de same one who was ober here, and 
 he and de gal got out, I tell you, my honey, 
 he was mighty sweet on her, and a mighty 
 sweet kind ol> a gal she was— all dressed up 
 kind a highflalutiu', as de big bugs say." 
 
 "That's enough," said Jane, as the darky 
 finished his story, " and now, Jake, I want 
 you to go and find Corporal Harper, and 
 tell him that I desire to see him immedi- 
 ately." 
 
 The boy started forth in search of the cor- 
 poral, and Jane Caton threw herself into a 
 chair, and exclaimed, in a bitter tone ol 
 voice : 
 
 ' That explains why he has not been over 
 
 else; but," she continued, "when he does 
 come, I don't think he will get back very 
 easy. I'll j.ust put that dupe ol mine, Har- 
 per, upon his track, and nave him arrested, 
 and then 11 he don't comply with my wishes, 
 he shall be shot as a spy ; but il I can tame 
 him, then, llni.u^'li I I'aiper, I'll manage to 
 release biin, c.i makr sail havoc with the 
 Unionists in Saflolk in (he attempt." 
 
 In the iiiin >.■ ..I iIm> day. Corporal Harper 
 called iiiiini .lane (atnn, who received him 
 with sinili s an.l iiiss.s, and to whom she dis- 
 closed licr ]ii.n tdi- iln' capture ol a Conled- 
 eratespy. wlio w as in the habit ol visiting 
 the town almost ni''litly. 
 
 Promising to aid her at any time, the cor- 
 poral took an affectionate farewell of this 
 scheming woman, who held him completely 
 in her power, aud returned to camp. 
 
 Ala 
 
 quently he was obliged to remain until the 
 ne.Kt night, before returning. 
 
 Toward morning, Samuel Caton, who had 
 been away gathering information for the 
 Confederates, returned. 
 
 The next day, the scout, in company with 
 the former, visited the different camps 
 around the village, and having learned all 
 they possibly could, the scout concluded to 
 cross the river at an early hour. 
 
 Accordingly, he left the village a short 
 time before dark, and walked leisurely out 
 toward the picket line. 
 
 When about a mile from the town, he was 
 overtaken by a couple of soldiers, who level- 
 ed their guns at him, and informed hip that 
 he was their prisoner. 
 
 Realizing that there was no chance to es- 
 cape, the scout complied with their wishes, 
 and with them immediately started on their 
 return to the village. 
 
 One of the soldiers was a corporal, and as 
 they walked along, he informed Radcliffe 
 that it was kuown that he was a scout, and 
 that they had been put upon his track in 
 order to capture him. 
 
 This information somewhat surprised as 
 well as alarmed the scout, and he deter- 
 mined to make one bold effort to escape be- 
 fore reaching the town. 
 
 They were now within about a quarter of 
 a mile of the village, and by this time it was 
 quite dark. 
 
 Watching his chance, the scout pulled a 
 revolver from one ol his boots, and leveling 
 it at the soldier nearest him, which happeu- 
 ed to be the private, he pulled the trigger, 
 and with the report ol the pistol, sent a 
 bullet crashing through his brain. 
 
 Then, belore the astonished corporal could 
 place himsell on the defense, the scout stuck 
 the muzzle ol his pistol into his lace, and 
 ordered him to drop his gun and put off 
 lor the village, or he would shoot him on the 
 spot. 
 
 The corporal readily accepted the terms 
 by dropping his gun, and started off as last 
 as his legs could carry him. 
 
 As soon as the corporal was well out ol 
 sight, Radcliffe set out again at a rapid pace 
 lor the river, which he salely crossed, andan 
 hour later he made his appearance at Glaser's 
 quarters in the Conlederate camp. 
 
 " Back again 1" said the colonel, as he en- 
 tered. 
 
 "Yes," replied the scout, "but I came 
 very near stopping on the other side ol the 
 river for a season." 
 
 After seating himself, he related to the 
 colonel an account of his adventure ivith the 
 two Federal soldiers. 
 
 " What do you propose to do now?" asked 
 the colonel, as the scout finished his story. 
 
 " It is plain that some oue has peached on 
 me. and I don't see who it can be, unless it 
 is Caton. He is a fellow I don't like, at best, 
 and it will not be very safe lor me to go over 
 there again, I lear." 
 
 "But," answered the colonel, " it is very 
 essential that you should go, as the inlorma- 
 tiou you are securingfer us is of the greatest 
 importance. By tin' way, den't you think 
 you can disguise ycnusiUsii that it will be 
 safe for you to cross wheiievei- occasion re- 
 quires?" 
 
 " I wUl tell you what I was just thinking 
 of," Radcliffe replied: "Just belore I made 
 my escape, I heard the corporal (whosename 
 I learned was Harper,) tell his companion 
 that he had been detailed to go on picket to- 
 morrow morning, down on the extreme 
 
 to go down to-morrow night with a few 
 men, and capture the entire outpost. Once 
 in my power, I think I can learn from the 
 corporal who exposed me." 
 
 "But how are you to get over with a body 
 ot men?" asked the colonel. 
 
 "There is a flat boat up above here in the 
 creek, and il the night should be somewhat 
 dark we can go down on that; of course," 
 he continued, "we will have to run by the 
 village and also their gunboats, but I think 
 it can be done." 
 
 "It is a good idea, but quite a dangerous 
 one," the <»lonel replied, " nevertheless, il 
 you conclude to go, you can have all the 
 men you think you will need." 
 
 Bidding the colonel good-night, the scout 
 now took his leave and proceeded to his own 
 quarters in order to get a little sleep before 
 dawn. 
 
 The next day proved to be quite dark and 
 cloudy, and about nine o'clock the scout 
 
 ijiaii 
 
 ad da 
 
 1 thetial-l.oat anil started 
 fortll ui>on theii' liazaidnns niideitakiiig. 
 
 With iiiullled oars they j.addled along 
 down the cicek aud out iut<i tlie river. Then 
 down the river the lioat slowly crept along, 
 propelled by the steady strokes of the long 
 sweeping oars, which inashort timebrought 
 them directly opposite the town. 
 
 A multitude ol lights were to be seen inthe 
 village, and just below the same and near 
 the southern shore, a Federal gunboat was 
 quietly riding at anchor. 
 
 Keeping well under the north bank ol the 
 river, so as to make land and escape if dis- 
 covered, the adventurers quietly worked 
 their way along aud alter a time salely 
 passed the village and the gun-boat ; then 
 the oars were applied more vigorously and 
 the boat swept along at a fair rate of speed. 
 
 Just alieve the h.ivei- Feder:il pieket post, 
 the boat was landed on the senth s- ie of the 
 river, and then lianh-liffe, l.ilUiwed by his 
 comrade-, pi eii.d eantiously inthe direc- 
 tion of (he )iiekei,' beadiiuarters. 
 
 Arrivin,:,' there, they found the doors and 
 windows el the l.nilding, in which there- 
 serve had tlieii' ipiai teis, thrown wide open, 
 and looking in at one of the windows, Rad- 
 cliffe saw the corporal who had captured 
 him the night before, and five comrades, 
 seated around an old table engaged in play- 
 ing cards. 
 
 Their arms were stacked iu one corner of 
 the room, and they were so engaged in the 
 game, that the scout saw their capture was 
 to be an easy matter. 
 
 Returning to his comrades, Radcliffe or- 
 dered them to advance by twos to the open 
 windows while he alone crept up to the 
 door. 
 
 The sharp click of gun-locks first aroused 
 the Federals, and looking up they saw with 
 some surprise, four rifles leveled at them 
 through the windows, while in the door- 
 way, with an aimed revolver in his hand, 
 stood Radcliffe, the scout. 
 
 " Don't give an alarm or attempt to move; 
 il you do you are dead men !" the scout said, 
 advancing into the room. 
 
 The Federals, although somewhat sur- 
 prised and discomfited, wisely accepted the 
 situation and remained in their seats, while 
 the scout passed their arms out through a 
 
 men proceeded to bind the six prisoners 
 together. 
 
 " Well, Mr. Scout, you have rather eucher- 
 ed me this time," said the corporal, as Rad- 
 cliffe advanced to bind him. 
 
 "I am only retaliating," answered the 
 scout. 
 
 " Well, I'll not find any fault if I can man- 
 age to get away as easily as you did," the 
 corporal replied with a smile. 
 
 "I don't intend you shall get away from 
 me if I know myself," answered the scout. 
 " By the wav, corporal, where Isyourpicket 
 posted ?■' he asked. 
 
 " You just tind out if you can ; I don't in- 
 tend vini « ill 1)V me, if I know myself," re- 
 plied'the eel p,.ial, indignantly. 
 
 "It makes tint little difference whether 
 we capture the either <:»ue or not," the scout 
 answered, aud immediately he gave the 
 order, "forward!" aud away they marched 
 toward the river with their prisoners. Once 
 there they immediately boarded the flatboat, 
 and half an hour later they were safe on the 
 other side of the Nausemond. 
 
 Arriving with his prisoners at camp, Rad- 
 cliffe caused them to be coiifluert iu an old 
 deserted farmhouse, around which he 
 placed a heavy guard. 
 
 Early the next morning he visited the 
 prisoners, and taking the corporal into an 
 adjoining room, interviewed him as follows : 
 
THE WAR LIBRARl?. 
 
 " Corporal, if it is no secret, I would very 
 mucli like to know who it was that inform- 
 ed you that I was a scout, and who it was 
 that sent you to arrest me?" 
 
 "To be frank with you," replied the cor- 
 poral, "I will tell you all. Since my regi- 
 ment has been at Suffolk, I have paid con- 
 siderable attention to a young lady, who 
 lives in the village; her name is Jane Caton. 
 It was she who informed me that you was a 
 scout, and it was by her special request that 
 I made you my prisoner. The reason 1 tell 
 you this," he continued, " is because I think 
 Miss Caton is making a fool of me, and only 
 using me as a tool." 
 
 "What makes you think so?" inquired 
 the scout. 
 
 " After you had killed my companion and 
 made your escape," replied the corporal, "I 
 hastened to Samuel Caton's house; and 
 when I informed Miss Caton of what had 
 taken place, she raved like a wild person. 1 
 was never more astonished in my life. She 
 called me a cursed fool, a blockhead, and an 
 idiot, and also ordered me to leave the house 
 immediately, which order I complied with 
 as soon as possible. Early the next morn- 
 ing she sent for me, and reluctlaiitly I went 
 to see her. She received me with a smile, 
 and besought me to forget what had taken 
 place the day before. Promising her this, 
 she then commenced laying plans for your 
 capture, and I am satisfied that she is de- 
 ceiving me, and is only trying in some way 
 to promote her own interest." 
 
 "I am very much obliged to you, cor- 
 poral, for the information you have given 
 me," said Rjidclifie, and conducting the 
 prisoner to the room where his companions 
 were confined, proceeded toward his own 
 quarters, and as he went he wondered why 
 Jane Caton was so anxious for his capture. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 PROMOTED. 
 
 On the afternoon of April 18, the scout 
 of the Nansemond, was summoned to appear 
 immediately before General Longstreet. 
 Arriving at that worthy 's quarters, he found 
 Colonel Glaser, who was the general's right- 
 hand man, also there. 
 
 "Well, Radcliffe," said the general, as 
 soon as he was seated, " I have a very pleas- 
 ant duty to perform this day. For the gal- 
 lant services you have rendered the Con- 
 federacy as a scout, I have orders to confer 
 upon you the rniik of secoud lieutenant, 
 your commis^ioll to ilati' from this day. 
 Hereitis," tin- j_.iHi;ii (.intiuued, handing 
 him aparchuiiut sIhpI. "and allow me to 
 state that tin- roniiiKiiiiler of the army 
 places great confidence in you, and this pro- 
 motion is but a just reward for the noble 
 services you have rendered our cause here 
 before Suffolk." 
 
 "General Longstreet," Radcliffe replied, 
 " what services I have rendered as a scout, 
 were performed only as any other duty re- 
 quired of me would have been, for I con- 
 sider that it is asoldier's duty to always obey 
 his superiors, even though it may cost him 
 his life. I feel very grateful," he continued, 
 "for the honor bestowed upon me in this 
 commission, by those in authority far above 
 me, and rest assured that I shall ever con- 
 sider it a pleasure to carry out and ex- 
 ecute any schemes you may intrust to 
 me." 
 
 Then for an hour the three sat and dis- 
 cussed the prospects of the campaign, as only 
 experienced soldiers could, and at the ex- 
 piration of that time, the scout bade his fel- 
 low ofBcers good-day and withdrew, turn- 
 ing his steps toward the house where Miss 
 Gardner was staying. 
 
 Leisurely wending his way, he thought of 
 how well he had liked her appearance from 
 the first time he saw her, and that he was 
 gradually becoming more and more pleased 
 with her. 
 
 The fact is, he thought to himself : 
 
 "I'm dead in love with this woman, and 
 why should I not be? She is the most at- 
 tractive person I ever saw, and then so 
 brave and courageous. 
 
 "The night we ran the blockade she ap- 
 peared as unconcerned as any one on 
 board, and one would have thought she was 
 at a ball instead of a battle. 
 
 " Now, what to do, I do not know, for her 
 ways completely puzzle me. There is some- 
 thing very mysterious about her, she al- 
 ways welcomes me and appears to be 
 pleased with my company, yet she is con- 
 siderably concerned lest her uncle shall see 
 me ; and what it all means I am unable to 
 make out. 
 
 *' I must know what my chances are, and 
 
 if I have the courage when I get there, I'll 
 propose to her, let the consequence be what 
 it may. 
 
 "Then, if she accepts me, I'll tell to her 
 the history of my life, and she shall be the 
 judge of what is right. But if I am rejectr 
 ed, then it shall yet remain a secret within 
 my breast." 
 
 Arriving at his destination, Radcliffe asked 
 for Miss Saiduer, and by one of the servants 
 was conducted within. 
 
 "Good-afternoon, Miss Gardner." 
 
 "Good-afternoon, Mr. Radcliffe," she an- 
 swered, handing him a chair. 
 
 " Why is it that you have not called on me 
 for so long a time?" she continued. 
 
 "The only reason I can give. Miss Gardner, 
 is that my business has kept me away. I 
 have ever fouud your society very agree- 
 able; aud should have called of teller than I 
 have if ray duties had not prevented." 
 
 "Thank you for the compliment," she re- 
 plied, with a smile. " With regard to your 
 duties, do you not expose yourself roore 
 than you should. If you are caught you 
 are undoubtedly aware that you would be 
 shot as a spy." 
 
 "Miss Gardner, I fully realize that I am 
 engaged in a very dangerous work, but it is 
 a duty I owe my country, and as long as I 
 am a soldier, so long I shall consider that my 
 life is at the service of the Confederacy." 
 
 " From the way you view the matter, you 
 must beagood soldier," she answered ; " but 
 do you receive a just compensation for your 
 services, and for the Imminent danger of 
 your particular role?" 
 
 received, through General Longstreet, 
 lieutenant's commission as a reward for my 
 faithfulness to the Confederacy." 
 
 " I am very happy to learn that your serv- 
 ices are duly recognized by those in author- 
 ity, but I would advise you to be very care- 
 ful and not throw your life away unneces- 
 sarily." 
 
 "Miss Gardner, it is not my intention to 
 throw my life away needlessly, but some 
 one most perform this part, and it is better 
 that 1 should do it than almost any other. 
 For, ill ail lliis wide world, I have not a rela- 
 tivi- 111' fi i.'ud that I know of, and if I should 
 li)se my life it would be nothing compared 
 with those who have many to mourn their 
 loss.' 
 
 " Please do not talk so to me," she replied, 
 " for no one is so forsaken but must have, at 
 least, a few friends." 
 
 "I don't think I have one," he answered, 
 "and if you knew my history as wellas I do, 
 you would agree with me, I'm sure." 
 
 "Be your history as it may, I will not agree 
 with you, for I know you have at least one 
 friend." 
 
 " May I have the liberty to inquire who 
 that friend is ?" he asked. 
 
 "Certainly," she replied, " that friend is 
 myself." 
 
 " Miss Gardner, if you are my friend, I am 
 most happy ; for your good wishes are very 
 much to me. And now as you have pro- 
 fessed to be my friend, I propose to test you. 
 To be plain, I love you; and although my 
 
 prospects at present are not very flattering, 
 yet I am determined by the aid of my saber 
 to win for myself a name as a soldier, and 
 also try and better my circumstances. Can 
 you. Miss Gardner, give me one word of 
 hope ; but one word to encourage me." 
 
 "Am I to understand that you wish me to 
 become your wife?" she asked. 
 
 "That is just what 1 would have you to 
 understand," he answered; "I told you I 
 loved you, and words cannot express the af- 
 fection that I have felt for you since we first 
 met. If you will become my wife, or even 
 promise to be, when I am in circumstances 
 to marry, you will make me one of the hap- 
 piest of men." 
 
 " Charles Radcliffe, if I wished to marry 
 you your circumstances would make no dif- 
 ference to me. I cannot give you one word 
 of eucouragement. Difficulties that are be- 
 yond my power to control, and which I am 
 not at liberty to explain, stand in the way, 
 provided I was ever so willing." 
 
 "Am I to consider this a direct refusal ?" 
 he asked. 
 
 " You are to consider that I have refused 
 to become your wife, because, as I stated, 
 there are difficultiea iij the way that cannot 
 be put aside. I am your friend, aud wish to 
 see you prosper, and would advise you to 
 strive just as hard to rise in the world as if I 
 had complied with your request, for you 
 will, beyond a question, some day find 
 another who will willingly and undoubtedly 
 better fill my place in your affections." 
 
 "No other woman will ever occupy the 
 
 place in my heart that you do," he replied; 
 "and now with regard to the difficulties 
 that you speak of as standing in the way of 
 our marriage, do they not arise from the 
 fact that you are a Unionist, while I am a 
 Confederate?" 
 
 "No, sir; that is not the case," she re- 
 plied, " and, although you fight for a cause 
 I believe to be wrong, and against the dear 
 old flag I love so well, yet the barrier be- 
 tween us is greater than that." 
 
 " What it can be, then, I have not the least 
 idea," he answered; then, looking at his 
 watch, he observed : " it is near four o'clock 
 and I must be going," and with a "good- 
 day," he departed. 
 
 As soon as Miss Gardner was alone, she 
 dropped her head upon her hands, and for a 
 long time remained thus in deep medita- 
 tion. 
 
 At last, she murmured to herself : 
 
 "Do I love this man, or do I hate him? 
 He is so handsome and lirave, and appar- 
 ently so manly, I can but love him. But 
 then, again, I know he is a villain ; for he 
 comes making love to me as passionately as 
 if I was his first love, when I know that he 
 has at present a wife living whom he has de- 
 serted, and of her he says not a word." 
 Whereupon she burst into tears, and, wom- 
 an-like wept for a long time. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A BATTEKT LOST. 
 
 When Lieutenant Radcliffe parted with 
 Miss Gardner, he proceeded directly to Colo- 
 nel G laser's quarters. 
 
 " Glad to see you, lieutenant, as I have 
 some news for you," said the colonei, as the 
 scout entered. 
 
 " Anything of importance ?" 
 
 "Yes; of considerable importance. One 
 of your prisoners managed to escape last 
 night." 
 
 " Which one, and how did he get away?" 
 the scout asked. 
 
 " It was the corporal, I believe. It appears 
 that while the other prisoners were asleep, 
 he forced one of the windows open, and, in 
 the darkness, is supposed to have slipped out 
 by the guard and escaped." 
 
 " Well, I am quite sorry that he has got 
 away," replied Radcliffe, " for he knows me, 
 and may make me considerable trouble some 
 time. I think, colonel, I had better go to 
 Suffolk to-night," he continued, " for, if I 
 give the corporal much time, he may be pre- 
 pared and on the lookout for me when I do 
 go." 
 
 " Do just as you think best," the colonel 
 replied. 
 
 " I will," answered the scout, 
 le started forth, i 
 was safely across the 
 aud within the Union lines, and at once pro- 
 ceeded to Caton's house and rapped upon the 
 door. 
 
 As the scout approached, another person, 
 who was just in the act of entering the 
 house, saw him, and, unobserved, slipped 
 around in the rear of the same. 
 
 'The door was opened by Jane Caton, and, 
 recognizing our hero, she invited him to 
 enter. 
 
 He complied with her request, and, clos- 
 ing the door behind him, asked for her 
 father. 
 
 " Father's somewhere about the village," 
 she replied. " Please be seated ; he will un- 
 doul)tedly be home before long." 
 
 Looking at her sharply, the scout said : 
 
 " I don't care to remain here very long, for 
 fear you may send Corporal Harper after me 
 again." 
 
 At this remark, the woman looked as if she 
 would like to sink through the floor, but, 
 
 rallying, she said : 
 " Mr. Radcliffe, are yo 
 
 he replied ; " I know very well 
 
 . Radcliffe, are you not mistaken ?" 
 
 all about that affair, and, if you are willing 
 to tell, I would like to know what prompted 
 you to do as you did." 
 
 "Mr. Radcliffe," she said, beseechingly, 
 approaching him, " I will tell you my object, 
 and 1 implore you to forgive me for that 
 rash act. Itwasmylove foryou thatprompt- 
 ed me. You will forgive me, will you not ? 
 for I love you as I never loved before ; and 
 I thought if you was but a prisoner, I would 
 in some manner effect your release, and, by 
 that means, win you to me." 
 
 " Miss Caton, I freely forgive you, and also 
 pity you from the depth of my heart, but 
 your love I cannot return. Now, we must 
 part forever ; for your treachery has once 
 nearly cost me my life, and to further jeo- 
 pardize it, would, I think, be very unwise." 
 
 "Stay! stay! " she cried, giving way to 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 21 
 
 tears, and seizing him by the arm as he arose 
 to depart, but he gently put her away, and 
 hastened from the house, and procewied to 
 a retired boardiiig-housc, where lie passed 
 the remainder of the night. 
 
 On the morning of the nineteenth, the 
 scout was up bright and early, iind liaving 
 procured brealifast, he then'stolleil about 
 the village for some time, picking up iii; the 
 information he possibly could with regard 
 to the movements of the Union troojis. 
 
 In the latter part of the day he wandered 
 down to the river, where he found quite a 
 crowd of people viewing a mysterious look- 
 ing craft that was fastened to the shore. 
 
 It was a large, Hat boat, and all around its 
 sides a heavy awning had been raised, com- 
 pletely hiding from view its interior. 
 
 "What is the meaning of this?" asked the 
 scout, of a bystander, pointing towaid the 
 boat. 
 
 "It's not generally known," the man re- 
 
 Slied, " but the Eighty-ninth New York In- 
 mtry, is to go dowu the river on this boat, 
 and try and capture the Confederate battery 
 that has annoyed us so much of late." 
 
 " Who is in command of the Eighty-ninth ?" 
 the scout asked. 
 
 "I don't know who has command of the 
 regiment," the man replied, " but Captain 
 Stevens, a young staff officer, is to lead the 
 charge." 
 
 Radcliffe was well aware that Longstreet 
 had planted a battery some days before, in a 
 clearing near the river, and about a mile be- 
 low the town. 
 
 Four guns of this battery commanded the 
 
 clearing was approached. 
 
 "I must try and save the battery," the 
 scout thought to hiuiself ; and forth he 
 started, determined to do his best in the 
 matter, or die in the attempt. 
 
 Accordingly, he proceeded along up the 
 
 iver, and a short distance above the village 
 he found a small boat, which lay bottom 
 upward upon the shore. 
 
 Turning it over and pushing it into the 
 water, Eadcliffe then sprung on board, and, 
 raising the oars, headed the boat down 
 stream, in order to mislead several soldiers 
 who were watching hira. 
 
 By cunning maneuvers, he managed to 
 reach the middle of the stream, and then 
 heading the boat directly toward the opposite 
 shore, he plied the oars with a will, which 
 drove the bark through the water like a 
 thing of life. 
 
 "Halt!" shouted one of the soldiers, as 
 soon as he discovered what our hero's inten- 
 tions were. 
 
 The scout paid no attention to the order, 
 consequently, the soldiers ran down to the 
 river and opened fire upon him. 
 
 Several bullets whistled near him, some of 
 which struck the boat, but, unmindful of 
 them, he kept on his way, and a few mo- 
 ments later reached the shore. 
 
 Springing from the boat, he started off on 
 a sharp run in the direction of the battery, 
 making a circuit to the left, in order to keep 
 well away from the river. 
 
 When within about a quarter of a mile of 
 the battery, the scout came upon a number 
 of infantry pickets, who were under the 
 command of a young lieutenant 
 
 came up. 
 
 " An attempt is to be made within a few 
 minutes to capture this battery, and I have 
 come to inform you of it," the scout replied. 
 "The enemy are coming down the river on 
 a large flatboat, which is inclosed by a 
 hea\ y awning, in order to mislead the pick- 
 ets above." 
 
 " The pickets down by the river have just 
 sent up word that such a boat was slowly 
 drifting down this way," rejjlied the lieuten- 
 ant, "but I thought that it was probably 
 some old scow set adrift for the purpose 
 of having our artillery waste their shots 
 upon it." 
 
 "Ahl there they come now," said the 
 scout, pointing toward the river. 
 
 Lookmg in the direction indicated, the 
 pickets saw hastily approaching, a regiment 
 of Union soldiers. 
 
 The pickets posted near the river, and 
 some distance below where the Federals 
 landed, had deserted their post, and were 
 falling back toward the battery. 
 
 '* Ko use of our making any resistance to 
 ■ - • jpick- 
 Ibaok, 
 
 and give the artillery a chance at them." 
 
 Accordingly, the pickets commenced fall- 
 ing back slowly, while the scout hastened on 
 to the battery. 
 
 "Do you know what regiment that is, 
 and who is leading it," asked the com- 
 mander of tlie artillery, of the scout, as he 
 came up. 
 
 "It's the Eighty-ninth New York, and is 
 lead by a Captain Stevens, of General Get 
 ty's staff," answered the scout, "andlsome 
 what fear they will give us considerable 
 trouble before we get through with them." 
 
 "They come like a tidal wave," replied 
 the commander ; " but we will make it red- 
 hot for them Ijefore they get here," and he 
 went to put his threats into execution. 
 
 Under the lead of gallant Captain Stevens, 
 the New York boys came sweeping boldly 
 on toward the battery, and when the guns 
 were opened upon them, and the death deal- 
 ing canister went tearing through the ranks, 
 they quickly closed up the spaces made 
 vacant by the dead and wounded, and 
 pressed on more determined than ever. 
 
 Radcliffe seized a disabled soldier's gun, 
 and following the example of the infantry, 
 commenced tiring upon the advancing Fed- 
 erals. 
 
 The scout had only time to load and fire a 
 couple of shots when the enemy with fixed 
 bayonets rushed upon them, and the flght 
 became hand to hand. 
 
 The artillerymen fought desperately in de- 
 fense of their pieces, but all to no avail, as 
 the enemy now had the advantage, and with 
 the bayonet drove them by main force from 
 their guns, capturing many of them as pris- 
 oners. 
 
 Radcliffe soon realized that the battery 
 could not be saved, and that further resis- 
 tence would only give the enemy more pris- 
 oners, consequently he joined tbe infantry 
 who were now slowly retreating back to- 
 ward the timber. 
 
 But a short distance had they proceeded, 
 when a volley of musketry was poured into 
 their disordered ranks, and the young in- 
 
 side 
 
 The scout saw that the lieutenant was only 
 wounded, and stepping up to where he lay- 
 he asked if he could render him any assist- 
 ance. 
 
 " Only tell my friends you left me dying 
 on the field of battle," he answered. 
 
 " What is your name?" asked the scout. 
 
 " My name is James Gardner," replied the 
 wounded men. 
 
 At mention of this name, the scoutstooped 
 dowu and raised the wounded officer from 
 the ground, then placing him upon his 
 shoulder, he strode rapidly away. 
 
 branches made a rude Utter, and, together, 
 they carried him on toward the Confederate 
 camp. But before half the distance was 
 gained, the young officer breathed his last, 
 and the scout and his companions carried 
 only the corpse of a once brave young sol- 
 dier. 
 
 Arriving at camp, Radcliffe procured an 
 ambulance, and by it forwarded the body 
 to the house where his friends were then 
 staying. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE EVACUATION. 
 
 On the morning of the third of May, an 
 orderly waited upon Lieutenant Radcliffe, 
 informing him that Colonel Glaser wished 
 to see him immediately. Accordingly, he 
 proceeded to the colonel's quarters without 
 delay, and was informed that the enemy 
 were demonstrating along the river, and it 
 was thought intended a general advance. 
 
 "I want you," the colonel said, "to go 
 down toward the river and learn if possible, 
 what regiments, and how many of them the 
 enemy is throwing forward, and then report 
 to me as soon as you can conveniently." 
 
 " I will do all I can in the matter," the 
 scout replied, and bidding the colonel good 
 morning, he started forth to reconnoiter. 
 
 Tohisown quarters the scout flrstproceed- 
 ed, and arming himself with a couple of re- 
 volvers, he then turned his steps toward the 
 river. 
 
 Arriving in the vicinity of the same, he 
 found that a small force of the enemy had 
 crossed over, and that a lively skirmish 
 flght was going on. Working his way well 
 down toward tne Union lines, he found that 
 the sturdy Eighty-ninth New York, was do- 
 ing the greater part of the skirmishing, and 
 although the Confederate sharpshooters 
 were picking thom off considerably, yet 
 
 these invincil>le8 pressed steadily forward, 
 and many a Confederate bit the dust before 
 their unerring aim. 
 
 As soon as the Federals were within 
 range, the Confederate artillery opened upon 
 them, and shot and shell went flying over 
 the field dealing out death and destruction 
 on every side. 
 
 The flght by this time had become general, 
 and the scout soon found that he was in 
 about as much danger from the shots of his 
 friends as he was of those of the enemy. 
 Consequently, he turned his steps to the 
 right, and entered a small piece of timber, 
 which served him as a cover from the flying ' 
 shots, and which course took him further 
 from the field of battle. 
 
 For upwards of an hour the scout prowled 
 around in the vicinity of the Union lines, 
 during which time he learned considerable 
 with regard to their position and numbers. 
 
 short distance, when he ran smack upon a 
 Federal picket line. 
 
 "You are my prisoner," cried one of the 
 pickets, leveling his piece at him. 
 
 "All right," answered the scout, advanc- 
 ing. 
 
 This answer put the picket off guard, and 
 he lowered his gun to the ground. 
 
 In an instant, Radcliffe drew a revolver, 
 leveled it at his antagonist and pulled the 
 trigger. With the report of the pistol, a 
 wild shriek pierced the air, and the picket 
 dropping his gun, threw up his arms and fell 
 back lifeless. 
 
 Then before the astonished Federals had 
 recovered from the surprise which his re- 
 sistance had created, the scout bounded 
 away through the timber like a deer; and, 
 although they gave chase and also dis- 
 charged their pieces at him, yet he managed 
 to elude them, and an hour later reached 
 the Confederate lines, through which he had 
 no trouble to pass, and after some difficulty 
 he found Colonel Glaser. 
 
 "Well, lieutenant, how did you make 
 out?" 
 
 " Very good," he rejoined. " I found the 
 Eighty-ninth New York with a heavy skir- 
 mish line, and supported by the One Hun- 
 dred and Twenty-seventh, One Hundred 
 and Forty-third and One Hundred and 
 Forty-fourth New York regiments, slow- 
 ly but steadily pushing back our ad- 
 vance, while several other regiments, 
 which I think belong to the Connec- 
 ticut brigade, have later gotten into 
 position, and are now engaging our 
 forces in good earnest. Prom what I can 
 learn, I think General Peck has been heavily 
 reinforced, and now means to openly give 
 us battle." 
 
 "That is my impression," the colonel re- 
 plied. " And now, lieutenant, I have to tell 
 you that the commander has concluded to 
 evacuate our position, and the orders have 
 already been given for the army to fall 
 back." 
 
 " I am very sorry to hear it," the scout re- 
 plied; "but I suppose our general knows 
 what is best. What further assistance can I 
 give you, colonel?" 
 
 "None at present," the colonel replied; 
 " and if you have any business of your own 
 you wish to transact before leaving, you 
 are at liberty to attend to it." 
 
 Immediately parting with the colonel. 
 Lieutenant Radcliffe turned his steps toward 
 the house where Miss Gardner was staying. 
 
 t was quite late in the afternoon when he 
 reached the place, and rapping lightly at 
 tne yo 
 3stion, who gave him 
 come. 
 
 Good afternoon, lieutenant; you are just 
 the person 1 was wishing to see," she said, 
 extending to him her hand. 
 
 am very glad that I am here," he 
 rejoined. "I thought as the army was to 
 leave, that possibly I might be of some ser- 
 vice toyou, thatishowl happened to come. " 
 " Well, lieutenant, you can be of sorvic-e to 
 me by assisting me to get over to the vil- 
 lage, from which place I can easily reach my 
 home at Norfolk." 
 
 As soon as it is dark I will put you safely 
 across the river," the scout repUed. "By 
 the way. Miss Gardner, how is your uncle at 
 present?" 
 
 ■ He has been improving considerable of 
 late, and to-day, as soon as he learned that 
 the army was to be withdrawn, he, with 
 other disabled officers, set out for Peters- 
 burg in an ambulance. This being the first 
 time 1 have seen you since my cousin met 
 his death," she continued, "allow me to 
 thank you, both for my uncle and myself, 
 for the great service you rendered us by 
 
22 
 
 THS WAR LIBRARY. 
 
 bringing, at the peril of your own life, my 
 cousin from the field of battle, and in for- 
 warding his body to us after his death. " 
 
 " Miss Gardner, I never saw your cousin, 
 Lieutenant Gardner, until that day. We 
 were in the fight together and fought side 
 by side. He was brave and undaunted, and 
 to the enemy never yielded an inch of 
 ground until after the guns were silenced 
 and the conflict became hand to hand, and 
 until he saw that we were overpowered, and 
 were to be bayoneted or taken prisoners. 
 Then, when we sought safety in Hight, the 
 enemy poured a volley into our ranks, and 
 among those that fell was your cousin. I 
 saw that he was mortally wounded ; and 
 when he told me his name, and re(juested 
 me to carry a message to his friends, I 
 could not bear to see him fall into the hands 
 of the enemy; consequently, I carried him 
 from the field, and in so doing, did only 
 what I considered my duty as a soldier." 
 
 " It was a noble act, for which we feel 
 very thankful, as it gave us a chance to 
 bury the body where we can have it disin- 
 terred at our will. What a charmed life 
 you lead, lieutenant," she coutiuued. "Amid 
 all the dangers by which you are constantly 
 surrounded, you have thus far escaped with- 
 out a scratch." 
 
 "I have been very lucky, ' the scout re- 
 plied ; " but how long it will last nobody 
 knows." Then he related to her the adven- 
 ture he that day had had with the Federal 
 pickets. 
 
 That night, as soon as it was dark, our 
 hero and heroine entered a carriage and 
 were diiven out to the place where the for- 
 mer's boat was concealed. 
 
 Dismissing the carriage, the scout then as- 
 sisted his fair companion into the boat and 
 quietly rowed out into the river. 
 
 Heading the boat directly toward the vil- 
 lage, he vigorously bent to his work, and in 
 a short time landed near the upper end of 
 the town. 
 
 They proceeded to the residence of an 
 acquaintance of hers, where she proposed to 
 spend the night. 
 
 Arriving at their destination, the lieuten- 
 ant Siiid : 
 
 "Miss Gardner, we must now part, and, 
 for all we know, it may be forever; but, be- 
 fore I leave you, I must again tell you that 
 I love and worship you with all my heart 
 and soul; and if you could but promise to 
 be my wife, it would make me the happiest 
 man that exists." 
 
 " Lieutenant Radcliffe, you have rendered 
 me many a good service, for which I feel 
 very grateful, but I have again to tell you 
 that X cannot be your wife. As I before in- 
 formed you, circumstances that are beyond 
 my power to control, prevent any such ar- 
 rangement between us." 
 
 For a short time they stood hand in hand, 
 deep emotions surging in the bosoms of 
 each. Then, bidding each other farewell, 
 they parted. 
 
 She rang the door-bell and was admitted, 
 and warmly welcomed by her friends, while 
 he recrossed the river, and started on in pur- 
 suit of the already retreating army. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 CONCLtrSION. 
 
 April 1, 1865. 
 
 It was the battle of Five Forks, and the 
 army of Northern Virginia was in full re- 
 treat. 
 
 The Federal dragoons hung close upon the 
 retiring columns of the Confederates, cap- 
 turing and making prisoners all those who, 
 by chance, became cut off from the main 
 body. 
 
 In a little ravine, by the side of a sluggish 
 flowing stream, where the beautiful cypress 
 trees grew thick and tall, and made a gor- 
 geous, pleasant shade, a sharp flght had 
 taken place between a small party of troop- 
 ers and a score of Confederate infantrymen, 
 and an old, gray-haired officer, a major, who 
 commanded the Confederates, had been 
 mortally wounded, and upon the field had 
 been left to die, with no other companions 
 but the dead braves who had fallen in the 
 conflict. 
 
 Half an hour later, a dozen Confederate 
 stragglers passed that way, and discovered 
 the dying veteran. 
 
 One, a young man in the uniform of a cap- 
 tain, stopped and knelt beside him. 
 
 " Comrade, what can I do for you?" the 
 captain asked. 
 
 " For the love of Heaven, give me a drink 
 •f water." the wounded veteran replied. 
 
 The young captain raised the old man's 
 head, and to his lips pressed his canteen. 
 "Tbat makes me feel much better," the 
 
 old man said, iis the captain gently laid him 
 back uijou the ground after he had quenched 
 his thirst. 
 
 "Can I do anything more for you?" the 
 captain asked. 
 
 " No, comrade, I think not. I am mortaln 
 ly wounded, and beyond all aid. I am eve- 
 now fast passing away, and I would advise 
 
 ment." 
 
 "I care not for the enemy," the captain 
 replied, "and if it is in my power to relieve 
 your sufferings in any way, I am willing to 
 doit." 
 
 "Comrade," the old man rejoined, with 
 some difficulty, his breath coming short and 
 hard, "one favor I will ask of you, 
 and I want you to promise me that you will 
 see my request complied with." 
 
 " Anything that lies in my power I will do 
 to;accommodate you," the captain replied. 
 
 " Then, here in my side-pocket, a letter 
 you will find. This letter I wrote a few days 
 ago, and was intending to forward it as soon 
 as a chance presented itself to the one to 
 whom it is addressed, so that in case I never 
 saw home again, a great wrong which I once 
 committed might be made right. Now, what 
 I ask of you is to see, as soon as it is conven- 
 ient, that this letter is forwarded to the one 
 to whom it is directed." 
 
 From the pocket designated the captain 
 drew forth a letter and glanced at the ad- 
 dress which was this : 
 
 '' 31iss Julia Gardner, Norfolk, Fo." 
 
 "I will see that the letter reaches the 
 young lady." the captain said, after reading 
 the address. 
 
 " Then you will confer a great favor upon 
 a dying comrade," the major answered. 
 
 " If it is no secret, major, I would like to 
 know your name," said his companion. 
 
 "In the army I am known as Major 
 Thomas Gardner," he replied with great 
 difficulty ; " years ago I was known as— as— 
 
 half-sitting position, then his strength ga^ 
 
 ..__, Jl ... . ... j^^^ 
 
 dead. 
 
 way and with a heavy groan he fell back 
 
 For a moment the young captain remained 
 silent, then to himself he murmured : " Both 
 father and son upon the field of battle have 
 I seen die." 
 
 Then Captain Charles Radclifiie hastened 
 on in pursuit of one of his companions, leav- 
 ing the old warrior and his dead comrades 
 to sleep their last sleep beneath the 
 shade. 
 
 way up the Elizabeth River, her huge wheels 
 lashing the water into foam as she sped on 
 toward her destination, Norfolk. 
 
 noble appearance hastened on shore and 
 calling a cab took his seat within and order- 
 ed the driver to proceed immediately to No. 
 — Cumberland street. 
 
 Arriving at the number designated the 
 young man paid and discharged the cabman, 
 and then ascending the steps rang the bell. 
 
 "You here! Charles Radcliffe," said a 
 young woman with some surprise, as she 
 opened the door. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Gardner; I am here as the 
 bearer of a message from your uncle." 
 
 "Then come to the sitting-room," she an- 
 swered, leading the way 
 
 ' When and where did you 
 
 [ig hii 
 'ItVas at the battle of Five Forks that : 
 
 uncle," she asked, handing him a chair. 
 
 first and last saw him. On the retreat 
 found him lying by the roadside mortally 
 wounded, and by his side I remained until 
 he breathed his last." 
 
 " My last friend is then dead !" she replied 
 with emotion, as tears coursed down her 
 cheeks. 
 
 " Here is a letter your uncle requested me 
 to forward to you, and knowing of no better 
 way, 1 brought it in person," Radcliffe said, 
 handing her the same. 
 
 Miss Gardner broke open the letter, and 
 as she perused its contents, her tears sprink- 
 led down upon the paper. When she had 
 finished reading, she said : 
 
 "Mr. Radcliffe, I am greatly indebted to 
 you for the pains you have taken in deliver- 
 ing this letter, as it contains information 
 that is worth more than gold to me." 
 
 "That being the case, I feel well repaid 
 for all the trouble it has been to me, Miss 
 Gardner," he continued; "you just said in 
 speaking of your uncle that your last friend 
 
 was dead. Can 1 not be your f ririMi ? For 
 the third time, will you be my wile?" 
 
 "Charles Radcliffe," she answered, "you 
 ask me to become your wife. Have you not 
 
 have never seen 
 since." 
 
 " Please to tell me all about it," she asked. 
 
 "When I was but a boy, at my father's 
 request I was married to a mere girl, a love- 
 ly, beautiful creature, whom I had seen but 
 a few times, yet I loved her with all my boy- 
 ish heart. Immediately after my marriage. 
 I went North to complete my education, 
 and my wife, who was an orphan, went to 
 live with au uncle. 
 
 "My father was quite wealthy, and lived 
 at Lynchburg, Virginia, at the time of my 
 marriage. But shortly after, he was strick- 
 en down with fever, and after a brief ill- 
 ness, died. Then it was found that just pre- 
 vious to his death he had invested nearly all 
 hisfortuuein a bogus mining speculation, 
 and when his affairs were settled, not a dol- 
 lar was left. About the time I was Inform- 
 ed of this, I also received a letter from my 
 wife's uncle, stating that my father had died 
 bankrupt, and that it was now apparent 
 his only object in my marriage was to se- 
 cure to me the Immense fortune which my 
 wife was known to be heir to. 
 
 "The letter further stated that for this 
 act, of which I must have known and been a 
 party to, my wife now looked on me with 
 contempt, and wished me to understand 
 that henceforth we were two ; and also that 
 it would do me no good to seek for her, a.s 
 by the time I received' the letter she would 
 be ia Europe. 
 
 " It was a heavy blow for me, as I loved 
 my girl-wife dearly. I was among strangers 
 without money or friends, and in my per- 
 plexity I returned to Lynchburg. There I 
 remained about a year, then the war broke 
 out and I entered the army. In due course 
 of time I met with you, and from that day 
 to this I have loved you with all my heart 
 and soul. What my life has been since we 
 first met matters but little, sufllce to say 
 the Confederacy, as you well know, has 
 gone down in ruin, and the old flag, against 
 which I have fought so long, and which I 
 could but love at the same time, again waves 
 triumphant from the Canadas to the Gulf." 
 
 "Charles RadcUffe," said Miss Gardner 
 when' he had finished his recital, "your 
 story agrees so well with this letter that I 
 can but believe you. Now allow me to tell 
 you that the wife which you profess to have 
 loved so much, still lives, and at this mo- 
 ment is not far away, and also that she has 
 ever and does at the present time, love you 
 as much as you ever did her." 
 
 "If .that is the case. Miss Gardner," he re- 
 plied, with emotion, "please to tell me 
 where she is to be found f" 
 
 " Charles Radcliffe," she answered, rising 
 to her feet, " yovr wife stands before you!" 
 
 "What! you my wife?" he cried, advanc- 
 ing toward her. 
 
 " Yes, Charles, I am your wife, she an- 
 swered, and the next moment they were 
 locked in each others arms, and raining 
 sweet kisses upon each other's lips. 
 
 "My darling! this explains why I have 
 loved you so much," said our hero, as they 
 seated" themselves upon the sofa, " and you 
 must haveknowu me all the time." 
 
 " Yes, Charles, not only did I recognize 
 you by that soar on your forehead, but if 
 you recollect, I asked and you told me 
 your name." 
 
 — " ' " ^idyou 
 
 and was leading the wild, desperate life of i 
 gambler, and that you disowned me as your 
 wife. Consequently, it was an easy matter 
 for him to influence me to accompany him 
 to New Orleans. There we remained until 
 the wai broke out, and then, under the as- 
 sumed name of Gardner, which he took for 
 reasons I forbear mentioning, we came to 
 this city, where my uncle and cousin soon 
 entered the Confederate army." 
 
 " What reason could your uncle have had 
 to have been so cruel as to separate us in 
 such a manner?" Charles asked. 
 
 " Read that letter, and it will explain all," 
 said his wife, handing him the one he had 
 brought her. Charles took the lett«r, and 
 read its contents, which were as follows : 
 
 '* PETERSBtmo, VA.. March 25. 1865. 
 
 " MY Dear niece Fanny :-Slnce we first Bettled »t 
 Norfolk many cUantjes buve taken place that I did not 
 
THE WAR LIBRARY 
 
 23 
 
 I have cruelly deceived you, 
 make it right. 
 
 story that 1 told you about yoi; 
 every particular, and, for nil 1 
 
 this: I thought if 
 
 about It miirrit 
 
 5 life M f 
 th. But 
 ly I now 1 
 
 and } 
 
 r toys after the Confederate army 
 3W from before Suffolk, Corporal 
 
 to us your great w€ 
 myplans, consegue 
 
 band if he la to be found. 
 
 " Kanny, I realize that I have committed a great 
 crime, for which 1 earnestly iisk your forgiveness, 
 knowing that although I have greatly wronged you, 
 you can but grant the request of one who has duly re- 
 pented. From your uncle, Thomas Monteith." 
 
 f" Fanny," said her husband as he finished 
 reading the letter, "I was by both your 
 uncle and cousin's side when they breathed 
 their last, aud they died like brave soldiers 
 that they were. I asked your uncle his 
 name, he told me his assumed one, aud, dy- 
 ing, tried to tell the real one but failed; and, 
 although through him we have been greatly 
 wronged, yet I am willing to forgive him, as 
 I e.xpect to be forgiven for my sins by our 
 Father above." 
 
 " I, too, freely forgive him," answered his 
 wife. 
 
 A few 
 withdrew from before Suffolk, Corporal 
 Harper penned and mailed the following 
 letter : 
 
 " MISS Jane Caton ;— There ] 
 how much I have loved you : y 
 how it was yourself. Many tii 
 abused me, yet I overlooked them all until one circum- 
 stance which I will explain transpired. 
 
 "You undoubtedly recollect of my being taken pris- 
 oner by the Confederates. Well, 1 made my escape, 
 and the next night called to make you a visit. Just as 
 I approached the bouse 1 saw that Confederate scout 
 Radcliffe enter, and, playing the spy, 1 heard your de- 
 claration of love for him. Then I realized what a fool 
 you bad made of me, and with this keen sense of 
 humiliation comes the desire to live no longer. 'May 
 Heaven forgive and unite us ' is the farewelfprayer of 
 "Robert Harper." 
 
 A few days after Jane Caton received the 
 above letter, she learned of Corporal Har- 
 per's death ; she then mysteriously disap- 
 peared from Suffolk, and a week later her 
 body was found by some boatmen at low 
 tide upon a bar in the Nansemond but a 
 short distance below the town. 
 
 Her father, Samuel Caton, turned guer- 
 rilla, and in 1864 was shot near Suffolk by a 
 Federal cavalryman. 
 
 To-day Charles Radcliffe and his noble, 
 loving wife reside in a beautiful mausion 
 situated on the Elizabeth river, but three 
 miles from Norfolk. 
 
 They have been blessed with two beauti- 
 ful children, a boy and a girl, and many 
 times, seated by their father's side, they at- 
 tentively listen to the stories he tells of the 
 time when he was The Scout of the Nan- 
 8EMOND, and their mother, who knows some- 
 thing about it, vouches for the truth of his 
 statements. 
 
 [THE END.] 
 
 T. J.'s Cavalry Charge. 
 
 BY CONFEDERATE GRAY. 
 
 It was on a bright morning in the fall of 
 1862, that a man clad in a soiled and tattered 
 suit of Confederate gray might have been 
 seen astride a fiery, though somewhat jaded 
 steed, on the principal street of a straggling 
 village situated in the mountains of Western 
 North Carolina. Timothy J. McSnorter was 
 his name, known in all that region of coun- 
 try as "T.J." 
 
 He was an original character— a flrst-class 
 ranter; a rude kind of eloquence, a stentor- 
 ian voice, and certain pecuUarities of ora- 
 torical style, had won for him among his 
 unsophisticated neighbors and acquaint- 
 ances the reputation of a powerful lawyer. 
 
 Tall, raw-boned, angular, and cadaverous, 
 with eyes large, wide, and turning almost 
 over in their sockets, a mouth so wide that 
 it seemed as if it had been made by a trans- 
 verse blow with the edge of a hatchet, his 
 cheek bulged with a quid of '"baooa" as 
 large as a ben's egg, a voice as harsh as the 
 
 mg of the biggest bull of Bashan. 
 
 T. J. now presented an object of side-split- 
 ting interest, as with unkempt hair, slouch- 
 ed hat, and an old-fashioned horse-pistol at 
 his left side, and his left knee resting on the 
 pommel of his saddle, he thus let off to his 
 gaping admirers the pent-up eloquence of 
 eighteen months : 
 
 " Gentlemen, you have asked where I have 
 been, and where I am going. I have been to 
 the tented field, where banners wave, where 
 sabers gleam, where ba.yonets shimmer, 
 where muskets rattle aud where cannons 
 peal! I need not remind you that I once 
 thought the bar was the fittest place for the 
 display of the remarkable talents with 
 which my (^reator, in His unerring wisdom, 
 was pleased to endow me. I was 'some 'at 
 the bar; yes, a whole team, with the tar- 
 bucket hung on the coupling-pole, and a big 
 yaller dog under the wagon. Bill Simmons, 
 you know who 1 was, for who saved you 
 from the damning infamy of the whipping- 
 post? You know it, too, Tom Snickers, for 
 had it not been for my profound legal ac- 
 quirements and Demosthenean eloquence, 
 you would be, at this very hour, with crop- 
 ped hair and zebra pants, making yourself 
 useful in the public jail and penitentiary of 
 the state, sir ! 
 
 " And you, Dave Wilkins, cannot be ignor- 
 ant on this subject, for it was my legal acu- 
 men and my pathetic appeals to the sympa- 
 thies of a brainless jury composed of such 
 sap-headed men as you, Sam Jones, and you, 
 John Smith, that sent Dave forth, not as a 
 convicted felon to the scaffold, where he 
 ought to have gone, but to the enjoyment of 
 a worthless existence and an unappreciated 
 liberty, sir!" 
 
 Each of the gentlemen thus courteously 
 appealed to, bowed acquiescence as he was 
 individually addressed, and when T. J. fin- 
 
 ished they all bowed together. 
 "Yes," he continued, "that 
 
 so, gentle- 
 men ; but, as I was about to remark, there 
 was reserved for me a still more appropriate 
 and exalted sphere of action That sphere 
 is the theater of war— war, the noblest of 
 sciences— war, the migh test and the grand- 
 est of all the games of chance — war, a game 
 in which steel-panopUed battalions are the 
 cards, and empires the stakes, sir! Yes, 
 gentlemeu, war is T. J.'s natural element, 
 sir! 
 
 " At first I joined the infantry, and a 
 grand arm of the service it is, too. Hoosiers, 
 hke you, reared in these mountain gorges, 
 have no conception of the part played by in- 
 
 works, sir! First, a line of crack shots is 
 thrown to the front to feel the enemy and 
 to gain time for the formation of the grand 
 line of battle. 
 
 " These men are called skirmishers. When 
 they see the enemy they begin to pop at 
 them at ' long taw,' but, by and by they are 
 forced back by superior numbers, and then 
 the main column begins to play its part. It 
 is not the 'pop— pop— pop,' as it was with 
 the skirmishers, but at first the united fire 
 of a company here and there, then of a re- 
 giment; and then, all of a sudden, a deafen- 
 ing roar from battalions, regiments, bri- 
 gades, divisions, and whole corps, rends the 
 air, sir ! 
 
 Soon comes the thrilling order : ' Charge 
 
 ighty enginery emerges from its curtain 
 of smoke and flame, and sweeps onward to 
 grapple in fearful embrace with the eager 
 ' on-rushing foe, sir ' 
 
 backs, sir, its drawbacks! 
 
 " Tired going through the mud from day- 
 light until dark, and often far into the 
 night; weighted down with knapsack and 
 musket and cartridge-box ; sometimes 
 double-quicking for miles, sometimes stand- 
 ing still for hours in the drenching rain or 
 driving snow, bespattered with mud by the 
 
 " Artillery means cannon, gentlemen. Do 
 you want to know what a cannon is, sir ? It 
 la a big gun, sir; so big that it has to be 
 pulled by horses, air. It shoots a ball as big 
 as Dave Wilkins sugar kettle; and so far 
 that you can't get away from it; and it 
 cracks louder than all the shot-guns in this 
 county put together would ; and it tears a 
 hole big enough for a three-year old bear to 
 crawl into. That's what it is, sir; that's 
 what it is. 
 
 " Infantry is a grand arm of the service, 
 gentlemen, but it won't compare with ths 
 artillery. Boom ! boom ! boom ! aud then, 
 from a hundred brazen, belching throats, 
 comes a simultaneous crash, shaking earth 
 and heaven, and rolling through the firma- 
 ment like the voice of doom through the 
 caverns of the damned ! And such execu- 
 tion ! The solid shot tear through the for- 
 ests like a tornado ; the shell shriek through 
 the air like distracted fiends; grape and 
 canister mow down companies and regi- 
 meuts as a first-class McCormick's reaper 
 lays wheat in a harvest field; while with 
 each discharge the grim monsters leap high 
 
 air, as if exulting in their capacity 
 uestruction of our race. Ah, ttia 
 indeed sublime 
 
 artillery is 
 
 ■• But I soon got tired of it. It is very con- 
 venient and comfortable to ride along on a 
 caisson while on the march ; but in action 
 there is too much hard work lifting those 
 
 " r tell you, gentlemen, a battery with the 
 concentrated fire of three or four of the 
 enemy's batteries upon it, is not the health- 
 iest place in the world, sir. So I concluded 
 to quit the artillery and join the cavalry. 
 
 " You may talk about infantry and about 
 artillery, but after all the cavalry is just tha 
 thing for a man of spirit like J. T. It is after 
 the infantry and artillery have broken and 
 shattered the columns of the enemy, that 
 the cavalry arm of the service is brought 
 into play. First, you hear a rumblingsound 
 as of an earthquake rapidly approaching. 
 Clear the track, it is a cavalry charge ! Here 
 they come, column upon column, horses 
 and riders ; a thousand spurs pressed to a 
 thousand quivering flanks; a thousand 
 streaming plumes on a thousand helmeted 
 heads ; a thousand sabers raised in air ! The 
 very horses seem infused with the spirit of 
 their riders. With fiery eyes, expanded nos- 
 trils, and every nerve and muscle in full 
 
 play, they thunder down upon the af- 
 frighted, flying, shrieking foe, while pistol- 
 shot and saber-stroke are doing their work 
 
 of carnage and of death ! 
 
 " But, gentlemen, why try to describe that 
 which, in itself, is indescribable? I will 
 show you how the thing is done!" 
 
 So, fixing his feet firmly in his stirrups, T. 
 J. rode proudly down the street some two 
 hundred yards. Here he halted, about-faced, 
 and drew his pistol. 
 
 vpice, h! 
 
 Straight, iniij; himself up, grasping the 
 reins with his left hand, and inclining his 
 body forwai il ;it an angle of about forty- 
 five degrees, T. J. drove his spurs into the 
 flanks of his horse. The animal responded 
 
 of the steed at every furious bound. 
 
 Having passed over about halt the dis- 
 tance, T. J. suddenly leveled his pistol di- 
 reitly tothefrout.andas heshouted "Fire!" 
 pulled the trigger, and in an instant horse 
 and rider rolled in the dust. 
 
 The horse, shot directly through the back 
 of his head, gave one groan and was dead. 
 
 AsT. J. slowly gathered himself up, he 
 cast a rueful glance at his horse; then with, 
 "There now, won't Betsy give me particular 
 fits!" he slowly hobbled to the sidewalk. 
 
 Reader, if you wish to avoid a personal 
 difficulty, never say a single word to T. J. 
 about his grand cavalry charge. He now 
 swears that the cavalry is a humbug—" an 
 
 unmitigated humbug, sir ! 
 
24 
 
 THE WAR LIBRABY. 
 
 TIE WAR LIBRAE! 
 
 The Unwritten History of the Wan 
 
 Historically true, as to dates and occurrences; graphically true as regards possibiUties, these tales will interest as weU 
 as entertain the reader. To the veteran, who will fight his battles over between the lines, as well 
 ever eager to read of deeds of patriotism and heroism, this Library will be a welcome visitor. 
 
 The War Library is issued weekly, complete in each number 
 free from ultra partisanship. Price ten cents a copy. 
 
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 Fresh and original, it occupies a new field, and is 
 
 o^T^x-ooxjE OF tii:ej -c^r^n. liibii^ii-s-. 
 
 I-MAJOR HOTSPUR; or, Kilpat- 
 rick's Dashing Rider. By Marline 
 
 Manly. A rousins,' .stoi-y of .Sherman's March 
 to the Soa. 
 2-BLUEORCRAY; or, Hunted Spy 
 of the Chickahominy. By Ward 
 
 Edwanls, •• Hi-h Private." f.S. V. 
 
 3-CAVALRY SAM; or. The Raiders 
 of the Shenandoah. By capt. Mark 
 
 Wilton. A thrilling tale of Sheridan and his 
 
 4-ON TO RICHMOND; or,Scoutand 
 Spy of the Grand Army. By Major 
 
 5 VICKSBURC; or. The Dashing 
 Yankee Middy of the Gunboat 
 Flotilla. By Corporal Morris Hojuc. A 
 story of the Great Siefre. • 
 
 eSHILOH ; or. Only a Private. By 
 
 Ward Edwards, U. S. V. A stirring romance 
 of a Kontiukian'B Campaig-n. 
 r BULLET AND BAYONET: or 
 Guerrillas of the Ozark. By Captain 
 
 Mark Will,.u. .i. tal.> ..f the Missouri battle- 
 
 9 PRISON PEN ; or. Dead Line at 
 
 Andersonville. Hy Marline Manly. 
 lO BIVOUAC AND BATTLE : or, The 
 
 Rivals in Blue. By Corporal Morris 
 
 Hoyne. A Honianee of Sherman's North 
 
 Carolina Canipjjian. 
 II-BEFORE DONELSON; or. The 
 
 Troopers of the Cumberland. By 
 
 Edgar L. Vincent. A StirrinK Uomance of 
 Grant's Tennessee Campaign. 
 12-SOLD FOR A SOLDIER; or. The 
 Life of His Regiment. By Ward 
 Edwards, " High Private," U. .'<. V. A story 
 
 13-TRUE BLUE; or, The Union Scout 
 
 of Tennessee. Hy Major A. F. Grant. 
 A Itousin^^ Tale of Hoi)d s Last Campaign. 
 14-CROSSED SWORDS; or. The 
 Last Charge at Antietam. By 
 
 ('..rponil .Morns Hovne. 
 
 (5-FIGHTING PAT; or, The Boys of 
 
 the Irish Brigade. By Bernard Waydc. 
 
 I«-UNDER TWO FLAGS; or, The 
 
 Field of Stone River. By Morris Hed- 
 
 17-STARSAND STRIPES; or, The 
 Siege of Fort Pulaski. By Major 
 Hush Warren. 
 
 18-BATTLE ECHOES; or, Baudin's 
 Boys at Chantilly. By Major Walter 
 Brisbane. 
 
 ig-CANNONEER BOB; or. The 
 
 Blockade Runner. A story of the 
 
 Late War Afloat and Ashore. By Major A. 
 
 2 1 SHOULDER-STRAPS; or, In the 
 Nick of Time, a stirring Eomance of 
 Gettysburg. By Major Walter Wilmot. 
 
 22-SEVEN PINES; or. Shot, Shell 
 
 and Minie. By Warren Walters. 
 
 24 FIGHTING FOR FAME; or. The 
 
 Confederate Raider. A Story of 
 South Mountain. By Morris Redwing, 
 25-DASHING O'DONOHOE ; or, The 
 Hero of the Irish Brigade. A story 
 of the .Se\ en Days' Battls^s. Bj- Lieutenant 
 Carlton. 
 
 26-IRON AND STEEL; or. The Fall 
 of Port Hudson. By Major A. F. Grant. 
 
 27 THE FATAL CARBINE; or, A 
 Harvest of Death. A story of Cedar 
 Mountain. By Major Walter Wilmot. 
 
 28-MALVERN HILL ; or. The Union 
 Spy of Richmond. By Corporal Morris 
 Hoyne. 
 
 29 GUNBOAT DAVE; or. A Whirl- 
 wind of Fire. A Rousing Story of the 
 Ited Ri\er Campaign. By Morris Redwing. 
 
 30 RIVAL CAPTAINS; or, The Hero 
 of the Pontoon Bridge. A Story of 
 Fredericksburg. By Colonel Oram Efior. 
 
 3 I -HARD-TACK ; or. The Old War 
 Horse of Winchester. By Major 
 
 Walter Brisbane. 
 
 32-YANKEE STEVE ; or. The Scout 
 of the Rappahannock. A Komanco 
 
 of the Army Under Burnside. Dy Morris 
 Redwing. 
 
 33 FARRAGUT'S SPY; or. The Hero 
 
 of Mobile Bay. A Story of the Great 
 Bombardment. By Major A. F. Grant. 
 34-MISSION RIDGE; or. Into the 
 Jaws of Death. A story of the Most 
 Desperate Battle on Record. By Major Wal- 
 ter Wilmot. 
 
 35-CHAIN-SHOT;or, Mosby and His 
 
 Men. A Tale of the Death Struggle at 
 Chancellorsville. By Colonel Oram Eflor. 
 
 36 FIVE FORKS; or. The Loyal 
 Hearts of Richmond, a story of the 
 
 Last Days of the Confederacy. By Corporal 
 Morris Hoj-ne. 
 
 37 CAPTAIN IRONWRIST; or. The 
 
 Soldier of Fortune. By Major Walter 
 
 38-THE LOST CAUSE; or. The Fall 
 
 of Atlanta. A Thrilling Tale of Sher- 
 man and his men. By Morris Redwing. 
 
 39-CAMP FIRES; or. Marching 
 Through Georgia. B.^ Warren Wal- 
 
 40-M0RGAN'S ROUGH-RIDERS; or. 
 
 The War in Ohio. By Major A. r. 
 
 41-BETWEEN THE LINES; or, Fortr 
 unes of a Young Marine. A story 
 of the Bombardment of Island Number Ten. 
 By Morris Redwing. 
 
 42-THE CAVALRY GUIDE; or, In the 
 Saddle and Bivouac, a Thriuing 
 
 Romance of the Great South-side Raid. By 
 John W. Southard. 
 
 43-HARPER'S FERRY; or. From the 
 Chevron to Shoulder-straps. By 
 
 Major Walter Wilmot. 
 
 44-SHERIDAN'S RIDE ; or. The Bat- 
 tlefield of Cedar Creek. A Thrilling 
 
 Narrative of the Shenandoah Valley. By 
 Roland Dare. 
 
 45-CLEAR GRIT; or, A Soldier in 
 Blue. By Marline Manly. 
 
 46-THE RIVAL COURIERS; or. Car- 
 rying Grant's Dispatches. AStory 
 of the War in the Old Dominion. By Harry 
 St. George. 
 
 47-BEFORE PETERSBURG ; or. The 
 Yankee Cannoneer. A story of 
 
 Lee's Last Campaign. By Major A. F. Grant. 
 
 48-DOWN IN DIXIE; or. Perilous 
 Adventures of a War Correspon- 
 dent. A Story of Stoneman's Raid and 
 Gettysburg. By Hugh Allen, of the New 
 York press. 
 
 For sale by all Newsdealers in the United States. Subscription price, $5.00 a year ; 
 Single copy, by mail ten cents. Address, 
 
 NOVELIST PUBLISHING CO. 
 
 _ No. 20 Rose Street, New Yorlfc