“How do you know that?”
“Laying here in the bushes quite near them, but out of their sight, I overheard their talk—not all of it, nor half of it, for they spoke in a low tone—but I overheard enough to know that she is his sweetheart, and has served with him, disguised as a soldier, for the last year or so, and that she is a commissioned officer.”
“Ah-h-h, ha-a-a!” chuckled the Sergeant; “that’s the reason why she was so close! but her closeness shall not save her any more than her sex shall! We’ll treat her as a spy! her name, my man! did you hear her name?”
“Not the one she went by in the army; but I think he called her Bridget Martin, or some such name.
“Ah-h-h, ha-a-a! Miss Bridget Martin! I think we shall let in a little light upon you before long! I shouldn’t wonder if you were the very ‘orderly’ of Colonel Rosenthal who penetrated the camp of the Free Sword and betrayed him. We shall see! Keep up your courage, my man; I will send the stretcher back for you as soon as it has deposited the colonel.”
And so saying, the sergeant, instead of going to other parts of the field, as he had intended, turned and followed the prisoners.
The bearers supporting the stretcher upon which Colonel Rosenthal lay, moved rapidly onward over the rough ground to the great distress of the wounded man.
Britomarte was driven closely behind him—literally driven; for if, after her day and night of severe and exhausting battle and toil, her woman’s fragile limbs gave way for a moment, her steps were promptly quickened by the point of the bayonet thrust against her shoulders.
So over miles and miles of broken and rocky roads they were painfully marched to the rear of Lee’s army, and to an old barn that was used as a temporary depot for prisoners.
Here, to her consternation, Britomarte was thrust in with a number of fellow captives, who were waiting to be transported to Richmond, while Colonel Rosenthal was borne off to the field hospital to have his wound looked to.