"Well, I'll not be ticklish about it," said Foster. "Empty the bag, Miss Mildred, into my hand."
"I mean that you shall have the purse with it," added Mildred.
"No, no; that's too valuable a piece of fine silk net-work for me."
"There again, Lieutenant Foster," said Henry; "if you were not my own superior officer, I would say you were a fool."
"Give it to me," replied Stephen, laughing, "I have heard of cheating money out of a man's pocket, but I never saw it cheated into it before."
"You shall have the letter to-morrow, Stephen," said Mildred, "and as you value your poor friend, who worked that purse with her own hands, do not fail to make an effort to learn something of Major Butler, and to have my letter delivered to him. He was made a prisoner somewhere on his way to Georgia, and I have heard escaped; but, perhaps, that's not true. You may find some one who can tell you more about him. Inquire of all you meet: and, Stephen, in my name, beg your comrades to aid you. Remember," added Mildred, with a smile, "this is a lady's secret. I am sure you will keep it."
"Most sacrilegiously and with all possible punctuation!" replied the woodsman. "And you shall hear of the Major, Miss Mildred, dead or alive."
"Oh heaven!" exclaimed Mildred aloud; and then recollecting herself, she breathed in a whisper, "that word vibrated a note of fear. Your zeal shall have my warmest gratitude, Stephen."
By this time the party had reached the second ford, where the road recrossed the river, in the neighborhood of Mrs. Dimock's, and in a few moments they were at the door of the little inn.
A brief halt, and a few words with the good hostess, furnished Mildred neither with a letter nor with any information of moment from the quarter, where at this time the thoughts of nearly the whole of the American people were turned.