The youthful captain had detected the form of a man moving silently but swiftly through the brush and deep grass. The man was dressed in a clerical suit of black, similar to those worn by unattached chaplains throughout the war.
"Whoever it is, he acts suspicious-like," commented Deck. "I don't like that."
"No more do I; let's investigate," rejoined Artie, and they made after the individual, who had passed in a direction leading from them.
A hundred feet were covered, before they caught sight of the man in black again, and then he was squatting behind the rocks, as if preparing to leap into the stream. But when he saw that they had discovered him he kept away from the water, and dove into the brush again.
"I'll wager that fellow is a spy!" ejaculated Deck. "Artie, we must take him by all means!"
"I am with you," answered the brother, readily. "Come on, before he gets too far away!" and he started on a run, with the major beside him. Soon both were out of sight and hearing of their commands, and in the midst of a thicket, where a short arm of the creek formed a cove surrounded by rocks and trailing vines.
"Do you see anything of him?" whispered Artie, as they came to a halt beside a large, square rock overhanging the cove.
"No; but he can't be far off," answered Deck. "He came down here, I am almost positive."
They stood perfectly still, looking to the right and the left, and then behind them. Far away boomed the cannons, and the rattle of smaller arms was incessant; but here all was as quiet as a graveyard.
"He's a sly one," went on Artie, after a long pause. "He believes in playing a waiting game. He's a spy beyond a doubt."