Major Collins looked from one to the other. Had he and the spy been friendly he might have sided with the man, but as there was no love lost between them, he was inclined to favor Deck. Moreover, he was a fellow who could read character pretty thoroughly, and the young Union officer's open face appealed strongly to him.
"I will take charge of the prisoner, Captain Brentford," he said quietly. "Surely if all is right, you will be glad to get him off your hands."
"I am glad to be free of him," growled the spy, but his looks belied his words.
"I will detail three of my men to conduct him to General Breckinridge's camp," went on the Confederate major.
"I will go along."
"That will not be necessary."
"All right,—please yourself. I presume I can turn him over to you immediately."
"On the spot," was the quiet answer; and saluting stiffly, Captain Brentford, scowling at both of the majors, withdrew, and walked rapidly along the road.
In a few words Deck told his story, Major Collins listening eagerly. Then three men were counted off to escort the Union officer to the prisoners' camp. Among the three was the man who had been so surprised on first catching sight of Deck. Several times he was on the point of speaking to the young major, but each time he changed his mind.
The horsemen did not wish to spend any more time than was necessary in conveying Deck to the prisoners' camp, and so the leader told the major to mount behind him. "It will be better nor running, and that is what you'll have to do if you remain on foot," he said.