"O no sheneral, I pelieve not," said the captain, quietly, "cause you see we six been more as you three."
"No, father, we shall never be taken prisoners again—never."
"You are very bold, young man," said the general, who, as he gazed upon the flushed countenance and flashing eyes of his son, could not but admire his courage. "This is big talk for a boy of your age."
"We have already wasted time enough," said the major, growing impatient. "Captain, relieve those gentlemen of their weapons."
The order was promptly obeyed, the rebels offering no resistance.
"Now," resumed the major, "we shall take our leave. Good evening."
"You'll all be in Fort De Russy in less than forty-eight hours," shouted the general, "or I am very much mistaken."
"We'll be dead men, then," answered George. "You will never take us there alive."
The fugitives did not linger to converse, but made all haste to get into the open air. The horses belonging to the rebels, which were found fastened in front of the house, were immediately turned loose, and a thrust from the captain's bayonet sent them galloping up the road.
George silently led the way to the place where they had left their prisoner, and, as soon as he was set at liberty, they bent their steps across the plantation, toward the woods at the rear. Although George had borne up bravely while in the presence of his rebel parents, he could control himself no longer, and tears, which he could not repress, coursed down his cheeks, as ever and anon he turned to take a long, lingering look at the place he could no longer call home. Every emotion he experienced found an echo in the generous heart of Frank, who was scarcely less affected than himself. He could not believe that the scene through which they had just passed was a reality. It did not seem possible that parents could address a son in the language that he had heard used toward George.