In spite of the strict orders which had been issued for preventing foraging, either the memory of the feast for which the pig that Dennis had secured had provided the main course, or the restlessness due to the monotony of camp life, caused the practice to be renewed by some of the more restless spirits. Among these was Dennis O'Hara.

A few days afterward Dennis said to Noel, "Come on, lad, we'll take a walk over these hills."

"What for?" inquired Noel suspiciously.

"Shure, and 'tis to see the scenery."

"I want the walk," said Noel promptly, "and if you'll promise to behave yourself and not get either of us into trouble with any of your pranks, I'll go with you."

Accordingly, early in the afternoon leave was obtained and the two young soldiers departed from the camp at Harper's Ferry.

As yet they had no fear of an immediate approach of the Confederates. It was well known that General Lee, after his success in preventing General McClellan and his great army from advancing up the Peninsula to take Richmond, and his success in the second battle of Bull Run, or Manassas, had decided to cross the Potomac into Maryland. General Pope had been relieved of his command and General McClellan had been reinstated as the leader of the Northern armies.

The action of General Lee in deciding to invade the North produced a consternation that was followed almost by a panic. There were expectations that if he was successful he might not only take Washington, the capital of the nation, but also that he might move against Philadelphia and other Northern cities.

The soldiers of the Southern army were following Lee with a devotion and enthusiasm that at the time were without a parallel in the armies of the North. General McClellan doubtless was a more able engineer than General Lee, but his lack of prompt decision and quick action was known to his opponent, for both were graduates of West Point. Either his knowledge of the lack of decision on the part of General McClellan, or his desire for the armies of the North to withdraw from the vicinity of Richmond, because its defenders might not be able to withstand a well-directed and concerted attack, or both reasons, may have influenced him in his daring, not to say dangerous, attempt.

It was not until later in the war that a man was developed who commanded the confidence of the North and the enthusiastic loyalty of the Northern troops.

At this time, in 1862, there were divisions and jealousies among the men and almost a total lack of preparation among the bodies of troops.

With McClellan in command again there was a prompter action on his part than had been manifest throughout his Peninsula campaign. It was a critical time for his army and himself, and a time of peril for the cities of the North not far from the border.

Early in the preceding spring Noel and Frank Curtis, twin brothers, whose home had been on the shores of the far-away St. Lawrence, had enlisted, and had been assigned to the army of McClellan. Since they had been little fellows they had been familiar with the use of the rifle and had acquired such skill that both, soon after they had joined the army, were assigned to the sharpshooters.

In the battle of Malvern Hill, Noel had been wounded and sent home for a time. His brother Frank also had been home on a furlough. At the beginning of the fall campaign, Noel, now having recovered from his wound, and Frank were both ordered to rejoin the army.

For some reason, which Noel did not fully understand, his brother had been assigned to a different corps, while he, together with eight thousand of his comrades, had been assigned to the holding of Harper's Ferry. Another small division had been stationed at Martinsburg and at Winchester.

It was not known among these garrisons that General Lee had expected, upon his advance into Maryland, that these troops would quickly be withdrawn. It is now understood that General McClellan had written General Halleck to recall these men and attach them to the Army of the Potomac; but Halleck had decided to retain the garrisons in the Valley, and his decision has been sharply criticized on the ground that he violated every principle of sound strategy.

Among the friends that Frank and Noel had made there was young Dennis O'Hara, a bright, happy young Irishman, about twenty years of age, just two years older than the twin brothers.

The friendship had been strengthened and the intimacy increased after the brothers had been separated. Dennis and Noel now were not only tent-mates, but almost inseparable companions.

As yet there had been slight call for their labors at Harper's Ferry. It was not known that the Confederate army was near, and in their sense of security most of the men were becoming somewhat careless in the observance of their duties.

"There's one place," said Dennis, when the two young soldiers had gone a mile or more from their quarters, "where I don't want to go to-day."

"Where's that?"

"'T is where that fat nager woman lives."

"But she said she was one of the best friends you had."

"'Friends'!" snapped Dennis. "'Friends'! I think she's the first cousin, and maybe she's the sister, of ould Satan himself. You don't catch me goin' anywhere near that place again. If she thinks I came down here to set such nagers as she free, she's very much mistaken. No, sor! Niver again! If she should run after me any more, she'll only reach me through me dead body."

"But suppose, Dennis," laughed Noel, "that you found another pig somewhere. Which would you do, drop the pig or keep off the fat darky?"

"I'd keep off the darky, anyway, though I don't think I should let go me pig. 'T was good of you, Noel, to give me your word that you would niver tell anybody in the camp about it."

"About what?" inquired Noel innocently.

"About what took place the other day when that nager woman chased me."

"When did I promise?"

"Shure, you promised right there where we were whin I got away from her," said Dennis, as he stopped abruptly and looked into the face of his companion.

"But I don't remember making any such promise," said Noel slowly.

"Indade, an' you did," declared Dennis. "You gave me your word, and your word is better nor your bond. You haven't breathed a word of it to a livin' soul."

"How do you know I haven't?"

"Because if you had whispered it even to the sutler 't would have been all over the camp in no time. I knew I could rely on you, me boy."

"But I tell you," protested Noel, "I don't remember making any such promise."

"You shure did, and if you didn't you'll give it to me now."

"How do you know I will?" protested Noel, whose opportunities of teasing his joke-loving tent-mate were not numerous.

If there was any mischief in the camp every one by common consent declared that Dennis O'Hara had a share in it, if he was not the prime mover. But like all practical jokers, Dennis, so fond of playing pranks upon others, was usually easily angered when he himself was made the victim of the pranks.

"Shure, Noel," he begged, "you'll give me your promise now? Just think what it would mane for me. Ugh!" he added, as he closed his eyes and shuddered at the recollection of the "attack" of the huge field-hand.

"But, Dennis," protested Noel, "she was simply trying to show her love for you. She said she had been waiting years for you to come down here. Indeed, she declared that with you here the year of Jubilee had nothing to offer."

"She didn't!" spoke up Dennis promptly. "Indade, an' she said nothin' of the kind! If you won't mind, Noel," he added, "I think I'll make a deetour about that cabin yonder," as a little log cabin in the distance was seen.

"What's the matter now, Dennis?" laughed Noel. "You aren't afraid there will be more field-hands there?"

"I don't feel like takin' great chances. I tell you, Noel, one such chase is enough to last a man a lifetime."

"I don't know, Dennis, whether or not we had better go much farther," said Noel, hesitating as he stood on the hillside and looked anxiously about him. "We must be five or six miles from camp now and we ought to get back long before sunset."

"What's scarin' ye, Noel?" demanded Dennis.

"Nothing is scaring me," answered Noel; "but I don't want to get a reprimand for being late in the camp. We wouldn't get leave to be away again very soon if we did."

"There are no Johnnies around here, anyway."

"You don't know that," said Noel positively.

"We haven't seen any."

"That doesn't mean that General Lee has not sent some division over this way. He has a trick of doing that, you know, and making his men show up where they aren't always expected."

"I don't mind the Johnnies," said Dennis boldly, "if we can only keep away from the nagers. Did you mind, lad, the cockle-burrs that were in the wool of that ould field-hand that tried—"

Dennis stopped abruptly, and turning sharply listened to the sounds which had apparently come from the valley below them.

"What's that?" he whispered.

"That sounded like a rifle shot," said Noel seriously. "I tell you, Dennis, we must get back to camp. I don't want to take any chances of being cut off, and it would be mighty easy for some Johnnie to get between us and the picket. I don't like the sound of that shot."

"No more do I," agreed Dennis. "I'm with you, lad, we'll start for the camp."

More anxious than either of the young soldiers was willing to admit to his companion, Noel and Dennis started hastily down the hillside, on their way back to the garrison at Harper's Ferry.

Even thoughts of foraging apparently were ignored or forgotten by Dennis. Success had not crowned their efforts that day. Not a pig had been seen, and if there were any chickens in the region they had been successfully hidden by their owners. A few withered beets and a bunch of onions comprised the entire stock which Dennis had secured with all his efforts.

"Look yonder, will ye!" exclaimed the excited young Irishman in a loud whisper, pointing as he spoke to a small body of men in gray who could be seen not far away in the road before them.

"We'll have to hide," whispered Noel. "It may be that they have seen us already, but if they haven't we might stand a chance of getting past them. Come on!" he added as he seized his companion by the arm and drew him to the roadside.

The discovery which the two young soldiers had made was doubly threatening because the road now was not near any woods.

The partly cleared fields were inclosed by rude fences of rails. Hastily leaping over the fence, Noel and Dennis crouched on the ground behind the rails.

Before they had taken their position Dennis whispered hoarsely, "They have seen us, lad. There must be twinty men in that band. If we try for the woods yonder, they'll get us both."

"We'll have to stay right where we are, Dennis, and do the best we can to defend ourselves."

"The odds are only tin to one," said Dennis, chuckling as if the fact was more of a joke than a peril. "They're comin', too," he added as he pointed toward a small body of men who could be seen advancing up the side of the hill.