"I have to sit down," remarked Tom suddenly. "Sorry, but my legs don't seem to be much good."
"We've got to be getting on and report to the Captain. You'd better climb on your horse," remarked the Sergeant.
"I'll walk the rest of the way, thanks," said Tom. "Star's done about enough work for one night. Wait a minute and I'll be all right."
"Have a hard time getting through?" asked one of the men.
"Oh, not so very hard," replied Tom. The memory of all the miseries of that long chase seemed dulled in his mind now. "The worst of it was that I was wet all the time, wet to the skin. Then I didn't have anything to eat for about two days. Got a little touch of the fever."
"Pshaw!" exclaimed the Sergeant. "Say, that's a good horse you've got there! Where did you find it?"
"Maybe I'll tell you after the war's over," answered Tom.
"Ah! Well, you had luck, anyhow."
"Yep," answered Tom. He put his hand into his pocket and clutched Marjorie's handkerchief. "Yep, I had luck, all right enough. I can walk now, I guess. Let's go report to the Captain."
It was daylight when they reached the headquarters of the guard. The Sentry posted before the door watched them approach, then called out: "'Lo there, Serg. Got a Johnny Reb for our breakfast?"