The remaining portion of the time, until nine o'clock in the evening, was passed in ordinary conversation. Hayward did not care to show himself about camp. He well knew that the guard-house held two prisoners, bound and gagged by his order, and accused of being spies from the federals, who were in reality rebel spies, and true to their cause. He knew they had both, or at least one of them, seen him, and would recognize him at once. He had his own description in his pocket, written by one of them, which had by the merest chance been prevented from falling into the hands of Price. However, time passed on, and nothing like suspicion was manifested, that Hayward was not just what he represented himself. Nine o'clock came. The countersign was out, which the general readily gave to Hayward. Tattoo had scarcely ceased sounding, when a sergeant appeared at the tent-entrance and said:
"General, one of the prisoners accused of being a spy, wishes to see you. He says his information is of vast importance."
"I know of no person charged with being a spy whom we have as prisoner! But it is possible some of the morning prowlers have been caught."
"He says he came direct from Warsaw where you had sent him."
"Strange!" said Price, musing. "Tell him I will be at the guard-house in an hour. Stay. Bring him to my tent at ten o'clock."
The sergeant departed.
"Will you excuse me a moment?" said Price, turning to Hayward. "I have letters to write."
"Certainly!" said Hayward as he left the tent.
Hayward walked leisurely along, until he reached the outer guard-house. He was here challenged and giving the countersign, passed out. He proceeded rapidly to the place where his friends awaited him, and found them all ready for orders, and for action.