While conversing with Captain DeLacy, I had become as familiar with the interior of the tent as I could by the light of one inferior candle and the use of my eyes. There seemed nothing there to invite investigation.

Even after Captain DeLacy had reluctantly left me, a closer inspection revealed nothing more promising. I sat on a camp stool, in a corner; near was a pile of blankets; a rough camp chair stood between me and the bed; a bayonet stuck in the ground did duty for a candlestick, and on an empty wooden box near me lay a paper-covered book.

I had just had time to run a hasty glance through the book, when the fly was raised and an officer entered. As was only natural, he started when he saw me, then lifted his hat with a half-spoken apology, tossed a newspaper carelessly on the bed, threw his overcoat over the chair and went out again.

I recognized him instantly as General Dare. His actions and looks struck me as those of a man who felt at odds with the world and who was nursing a grievance, but I was too deeply concerned about my own affairs to be more than casually impressed with what I learned afterwards was the case.

It is a strange fact that in times of most intense suffering, deadly peril and deepest thought, the eye will be attracted by the most trivial objects. While I anxiously pondered my next move, my eye mechanically followed in and out the fantastically curved line made by the shadows cast by the pile of blankets, then by the edge of the coat cape as it trailed along the floor. I had followed it almost to the end when my gaze was arrested by a spot of color differing from the rest. With a start, I realized that I was looking at a flat, long book. I could not tell then and I cannot tell now whether it fell from the overcoat or was lying there when I entered, but I do not see how it could have been there at first and escaped my observation.

I determined at once to see the contents of that book. There was not one instant to be lost. I well knew that even then some one might be standing at the entrance and that the Captain would return at any moment. But examine that book I must, even at the risk of surprise, detection and death. It was the most critical moment I had yet encountered. I had to think and act together.

Throwing myself at full length on the grassy floor, with my head screened from the first glance of any one entering, intending to feign a swoon if any one did come, I extended my arm above my head, in the shelter of the chair, and had the book in my impatient fingers.

Opening it hastily, I scanned it in the dim light which came over my shoulder from the flickering candle. I was confronted by a series of blank pages. General Dare's name was on the fly leaf. Only the first three pages were written on, and they contained nothing except detached items of interest to him only. Evidently, the book had been newly purchased, for the dates ran but a few days back.

Bitterly disappointed, I ran over the pages again, and a folded paper slipped into view. Even to this day I can distinctly feel the wild bound of exultation my heart gave when I knew that I held in my hands a copy of Special Order No. 000, issued by the Rebel Commander in Chief only four days before, and regulating the movements of all the divisions of his army for several days to come.

At the sight of that paper every drop of blood in my body seemed to rush to my heart, only to leave it again with a wild speed that turned me faint and dizzy. The letters danced before my eyes, but even in that one hasty glance I took in enough to know that I need seek no further information. I had succeeded even beyond my hopes and expectations. If I could get safely back with that paper, and whatever else I had learned, I felt check to the Rebels must be insured.

Hastily concealing the paper, I pushed the book under the bed, and had barely regained my place when Captain DeLacy re-entered with the passes. There was no time for further private conversation between us, which I regarded as a piece of good luck.

Captain DeLacy told me, while he hastily assorted the papers in his hand, that he was obliged to proceed without delay on the important duty for which he was preparing when Colonel Sofield had called him to me; that as the first part of our way lay the same as his, he could act as my escort until his road turned off from the one I was to follow. From where he had to leave me, to H—— was only ten miles, and he exacted a promise that I would remain there with friends until morning.

I could not but be touched at his anxiety about me, impatient as I was at the delay which it caused.

We started almost immediately. Captain DeLacy rode at the side of the buggy and the squad of men with him a short distance in advance. The road was clear, and we made excellent time.

At last the moment of separation came. His real farewell had already been said, so before following his men down the dark path, into which they had turned, the Captain paused only for some cautions to Ned and a quickly spoken "good bye" to me, which held as much as was ever put in that simple word.

I realized fully what the parting was to him. He had accepted me as Salome, without doubt or question, and to leave me with no other protector than Ned tried him sorely.

I leaned out of the buggy and looked back after him, with a feeling of pain that surprised me. As he disappeared, a presentment that I should never see him again crept over me, followed by an idle speculation whether it was he or I who was first to meet our fate, a feeling which I remembered well a few months later, when I received the news that Captain DeLacy had been shot in battle.