The course of the four riders was along a side road and past half a dozen plantations, the fields of which had been much cut up by detachments of Wheeler's cavalry, operating in that territory. The man who had Deck with him rode side by side with one of the other cavalrymen, while the fellow who seemed to have recognized Deck rode in the rear.
"It's hard lines, Major, but I reckon you're bound for one of our prisons right enough," observed the leader, as they trotted along.
"Fortune of war," said the young Union officer, as lightly as he could.
"But you don't like it?"
"To be sure not."
"Married?"
"No."
"That's one consolation—if you die on our hands," and the man laughed at what he considered a joke.
"I shan't die on your hands, if I can help it."
"Oh, I suppose—But I've heard a good many of 'em do die; can't stand this balmy Southern air."