Grudd started. "Are you sure?"
"Quite sure."
"It must be Jim himself; or else we have been betrayed."
"Was the secret known to many?"
"To all our club, and one besides," said Grudd, frowning anxiously. "Stackridge made a mistake; I told him so!"
"How?"
"We were drilling here that night when Dutch Carl came to tell us you were in danger. Stackridge said he knew the boy, and would trust him. So he brought him in here. And Carl is now a rebel volunteer."
"With him your secret is safe!" Penn hastened to assure the captain. "Stackridge was right. Carl——"
He paused suddenly, looking at the stairs. Even while the boy's name was on his lips, the boy himself was entering the cellar. He carried a musket. He wore the confederate uniform. He was accompanied by Gad and an officer. They had come to relieve the guard. The men who had previously been on duty at the foot of the stairs retired with the officer, and Gad and Carl remained in their place.
Penn at the sight was filled with painful solicitude. To have seen his young friend and pupil shoulder a confederate musket, knowing that it was the love of him that made him a rebel, would alone have been grief enough. How much worse, then, to see him placed here in a position where it might be necessary, in Grudd's opinion, to "shoot or strangle" him! But having once exchanged glances with the boy, Penn's mind was set at rest.