"What's the matter now, sergeant?" inquired that gentleman, appearing at the door with his boots in his hand.
"The prisoners, sir," began the sergeant——
"Well, what's the trouble with them?" asked the colonel, who was very far from guessing the facts of the case. "Won't the lazy Yankees get up? Punch 'em with your bayonet a little if they get unruly; that will put life into them, and keep them civil at the same time."
"I could manage them easy enough, sir, if they were here," answered the sergeant; "but, sir, they"——
"If they were here," repeated the colonel, who now began to suspect the truth. "If they were here! Have you allowed them to escape?"
"No, sir, we didn't let them; they went without asking us!"
"A plague on you lazy scoundrels," shouted the colonel, in a rage. "Let loose that blood-hound at once, and pursue them. No; stop! Tell the officer of the day that I want to see him."
The sergeant started off to execute the order; and the colonel, after pulling on his boots, entered the house, where Lieutenant Somers and the people of the plantation were assembled, awaiting breakfast.
"What's the matter, colonel?" inquired the lieutenant. "Any thing wrong?"
"Don't bother me with your foolish questions now," replied the colonel roughly, pacing up and down the floor with angry strides. "It's enough to upset any one's patience. That little Yankee has escaped again."