Some one was asking for General Foster. The next moment a man dressed like a teamster entered. His clothes were ragged and dirty. One arm was wrapped around with a piece of blood stained cloth and hung limp and useless at his side. His face was pale under the wide brim of his torn hat, and the blood had trickled down one side from a fresh wound in his forehead, making a wide mark along his cheek. The man showed his utter exhaustion in every movement, and staggered from side to side as he went across the tent and dropped half fainting onto a stool.
Captain Guilfoyle took a flask from off the bed and held it to the man's lips, eyeing him closely, until recovering somewhat, he straightened up and removed the hat which partly shaded his face. As he did so the Captain recognized him as one of the scouts whose return they were anxiously hoping would bring them the sorely needed intelligence and whose report General Foster had ordered him to receive if he got in during his absence.
"Yes, I'm here at last," replied the man to Captain Guilfoyle's hurried interrogation, "and I've nothing to report but a total lack of success."
"I left poor Dedrick and Allison over there, and barely succeeded in getting back myself. You know what they were,—the best scouts in the whole army. We did all men could do, but luck was against us. We have learned nothing except that the enemy are across the Potomac, something any straggler can tell. I have been four days getting back," said the new comer, going on to give a full account of what he and his companions had tried to do. "I tell you," he added wearily, "I doubt if any one can find out what they mean to do until they do it, for I don't believe they know themselves. They are——." There the low voice stopped abruptly and the speaker's head sank until it touched the table.
Calling in an orderly waiting outside, the officer applied restoratives, and as soon as consciousness returned the sufferer was helped away to a place where his wounds could receive much-needed attention.
Captain Guilfoyle returned to his seat by the table to await General Foster's return. After noting down some items in a well worn dispatch book, he leaned his head on his hand and gave himself to deep and serious thought, until, finally, a look of grim determination settled on his smooth, boyish face.
When the General returned, Captain Guilfoyle rose to report his work finished. "McClandish has come in without any news of importance; the two scouts with him were killed and he is badly wounded," he reported further, after receiving orders relating to the disposition of the papers he had copied.
The grave, anxious look that settled over General Foster's face as he listened, showed how he regarded the failure of an undertaking from which so much had been hoped. In obedience to a word from his superior, the young officer went on to give a full account of all he had learned from McClandish. When he had finished he made a moment's pause, then added quickly, leaning forward and speaking almost in a whisper, "If you will allow me to go, I believe I can bring full and reliable information of the strength of the enemy's forces and of his plans and intentions."
The General stopped his rapid pacing across the tent and looked keenly at the slim, boyish figure standing before him. "If you could: if we knew the strength of the Rebel forces and where they mean to strike, worn out and demoralized as our troops are, we could surely intercept them and turn them back," he said.
"I can try," replied Captain Guilfoyle.