Alberta went on with her preparations for breakfast. She cut slices from a stale loaf of bread and set them down before the fire to toast. And then she sat down to wait for two events—the appearance of Gill and the awakening of Elfie. She had to wait some time before either event occurred.
Then came another rap at the door. She got up and opened it, inquiring:
“Is it you, Gill?”
“No, Madam, it is Haddycraff,” answered a voice.
“Haddycraff! Why, where is Gill?” inquired Alberta.
“Can’t be found, Madam, anywhere in the camp. Seems he hasn’t been seen since the height of the storm last night. The men think he has deserted, and that he is no better than a Yankee spy!”
“Is that possible?” exclaimed the guerrilla’s wife, in amazement.
“It is certain that he has gone, madam, and it is likely he was a spy!”
“That boy—that mere child! Why, he didn’t look to be more than sixteen years old!”
“Madam, some of the men say now that they don’t believe he was a boy at all, but a woman in disguise.”