Without stopping to take more than a hasty survey from his lofty perch Curt, leaving his slouched hat so it might be seen by those below, cautiously began to descend, hugging closely to the tree.
Swiftly yet silently he retraced his course until he stood on the branch that, reaching around the corner of the dwelling, had boldly pushed its way through one of the windows.
Hearing nothing as yet from his enemies to alarm him, he glided out along the branch concealed by the matted growth of boughs above and below.
“Helloa!” called out Lieutenant Boggs, cautiously, when he was about midway in the passage, “what do you see?”
Of course Curt made no reply—only quickened his progress knowing that his time would soon be up.
“I say where are you?” called out Boggs a little louder, as he listened in vain for an answer to his first call.
“Hang the fool! why don’t he speak!” muttered the officer. Then louder than before he called out:
“Are you going to keep us here all night? Come down at once.”
At this moment Curt’s hand touched the window-sill, when with the agility of a cat he noiselessly drew himself forward allowing the branch to sway back to its normal position as gently as possible.
Still the Confederate received no reply to his appeal and he began to grow first uneasy, then furious.