Shepard went swiftly on and came soon to the outskirts of the town.
He did not look back and Harry wondered whether he knew that he was
pursued. The boy thought once or twice of using his pistol, but could
not bring himself to do it. There was really no war, merely a bristling
of hostile forces, and he could not fire upon anybody, especially upon
one who had done him no harm.

Shepard led on, passed through a group of negro cabins, crossed an old
cotton field, and entered a grove, with his pursuer not fifty yards
behind. The grove was lighted well by the moon, and Harry dashed
forward, pistol in hand, resolved at last to call a halt upon the
fugitive. A laugh and the blue barrel of a levelled pistol met him.
Shepard was sitting upon a fallen log facing him. The moon poured a
mass of molten silver directly upon him, showing a face of unusual
strength and power, set now with stern resolution. Harry's hand was
upon the butt of his own pistol, but he knew that it was useless to
raise it. Shepard held him at his mercy.

"Sit down, Mr. Kenton," said Shepard. "Here's another log, where you
can face me. You feel chagrin, but you need not. I knew that you
were following me, and hence I was able to take you by surprise. Now,
tell me, what do you want?"

Harry took the offered log. He was naturally a lad of great courage and
resolution, and now his presence of mind returned. He looked calmly at
Shepard, who lowered his own pistol.

"I'm not exactly sure what I want," he replied with a little laugh,
"but whatever it is, I know now that I'm not going to get it. I've
walked into a trap. I believed that you were a spy, and it seemed to