hour's further travel, they came out upon a little plateau of green, velvety verdure, embattled on one side by a steep bluff, out of which gushed a living spring of pure water, the leader ordered a halt, and all dismounted. The animals were relieved of their saddles, and were soon comfortably engaged in feasting on the rich, inviting grass growing in abundance on the plateau, while preparations were made by the guerrillas for a morning meal.

A few of them immediately scattered into the woods in search of game, the report of guns, at no great distance, soon announcing their success. In less than half an hour, they one after another came in, one bringing a fine fat buck, another a wild turkey, a third a brace or two of wild pigeons, until enough was provided for a sumptuous meal.

Meanwhile, a roaring fire had been kindled, of which Carleton and his companions, of whom he now saw that four, beside the pedler, had been captured, were allowed to avail themselves, for the purpose of warming their chilled limbs and drying their wet garments. The wild mountaineers, apparently scorning such effeminacy, busied themselves, instead, with dressing the game and preparing for reakfast.

They were not particularly adroit, these men; for wild and uncivilized as their life in forest and mountain had been, and low and poor as they were, belonging, as most of them did, to the class known as "poor whites," they had still generally contrived to avoid the disgrace of performing any useful labor for themselves, by purchasing or hiring some idle or superannuated negro who could perform for them the narrow circle of tasks incident to their semi-savage life. But war had been a schoolmaster, and their guerrilla life, always in the saddle, had compelled them to learn something; and so now the venison was at length cut in slices, the turkeys and pigeons not illy dressed, and a wide circle of meats, fastened on pointed sticks, planted at an angle in the ground, was soon hissing and roasting before the huge fire of maple logs, which went roaring up into the air, sending a red glow through the heavy

mist which had succeeded the scarcely more drenching rain of the night.

The scene was not without interest for Carleton and the pedler, who sat silently braced against an immense tree, their feet comfortably toward the glowing fire, while their captors busied themselves with their work, or lounged on the ground, now carefully examining the broiling viands, and now engaging in conversation carried on in the rude and scarcely intelligible jargon, half negro and half poorwhite, peculiar to that degraded class which is stated, by a recent writer, to compose more than two-thirds of the entire white population of the South, class that can neither read nor write, and whose amount of intellectual attainments is exceeded by most children of ten years old who have attended our Northern schools.

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"Luk sharp, ye Jake, and star dat ar fire! de fixins'll be a yar 'fore dey's gone done."

"Star 't yesel', Bible, an' stop yer jaw to onst! I can't bar to har the loikes o' you uns guvin' ords."

"Guv a chap de stick, den; we uns soon don hev breakfast."

And with this, Bible gave the burning logs a rousing lift, which sent the sparks whirling up into the mist in millions of stars, and the men lounging about it were glad to draw suddenly back from the intense heat.

"Haw! haw!" roared Bible, at the sudden movement. "I'll mek ye start es ef forty yarthquakes were shucking the yarth. Clar out my way, wile I don gin anoder star to dese ere fixins. De turks es mos don guv out watin' to be gobbled, an' de pigions is drippin' grave fast as rain loike."

The guerrilla might with justice be satisfied with the result of his culinary labors, and the nicely-browned meats were soon divided among as hungry a group of men as often address themselves to a good breakfast. Carleton and his companions, with rude civility and a good nature inspired by a bountiful supply of generous food, were supplied by their leader with a full share; nor did the circumstance of their captivity at all deprive them of the

appetite necessary to enable them to do full justice to its merits. They felt their spirits rise; for a long night's ride in the darkness and the rain came up to their minds as a capital foil to the gay and comfortable scene before them.

No unnecessary time was, however, wasted, the meats, and there was nothing else, disappearing with marvellous celerity, when the horses were resaddled, and all were soon once more on their way.

They plunged deeper into the mountains, the path growing constantly wilder and more difficult, but less dreary, for the mist began to lift, and soon the sun burst forth in a blaze of glory that lent enchantment to the scene. It was indeed a grand and beautiful one, and Carleton forgot his captivity in his admiration of its splendor. Trees of the most luxuriant growth and verdure, rising to a magnificent height, and of large circumference, covered the mountain slopes and reared their vast forms in the ravines. Vines of gigantic growth, climbing from tree to tree, swayed their superb festoons in the morning wind, while rosy sheets of mountain laurel covered vast tracks of mountain-side with a gorgeous drapery. Even the pedler, who for miles had ridden silent and downcast, was caught by the beauty of the scene, and his color rose and his eye kindled as he looked below and over it all. Gradually, however, the scenery grew less lovely and more savage, and they travelled for miles among crags and cliffs along a winding path that was sometimes almost too narrow for a foothold, and which threatened to precipitate them down the dizzy ravines. It was a tedious ride up the rough, circuitous path, and the horses showed evident symptoms of giving out, when the leader commanded a halt. They were upon a broad table rock with a perpendicular descent of some hundreds of feet on one side, and on the other, the mountain still towered in immeasurable grandeur above them.

Here they dismounted, the guerrillas leading the horses still further on around a sharp turn, where they disappeared. The prisoners followed the leader directly to the face of the rock, when, climbing

up a steep ascent of twenty rods or more, they came upon another table, only much smaller than the first. Upon this, leaning against the mountain-side, was a huge boulder, forty or fifty feet in height, back of which was the entrance to what seemed to Carleton to be a cave, but of what magnitude he could not judge. It was a jagged, uneven aperture, with only a scene of darkness beyond.

The pedler clutched the coat of Carleton, as the leader entered this opening, ordering the prisoners to follow. They passed through a tunnel apparently varying little in height or width from the entrance. It was profoundly dark, and they were guided only by the sound of the leader's footsteps, who, when they had gone a few rods, halted, and striking a match, lighted a pitch-pine torch. From a large receptacle in the wall he took two or three others, which he also lighted and passing them back to his followers, continued his walk. The tunnel soon began to expand, and it was not long before the prisoners found themselves in a vast chamber, the extremities of which were lost in impenetrable gloom. The floor was quite dry and smooth and soon began to descend. Through this vast room they travelled many hundred feet, when the walls suddenly contracted again to a space so narrow as to render it difficult for a single person to make his way through alone, and which, after a distance of twenty feet, seemed suddenly to terminate against a solid, blank wall. But the leader, taking a key from his pocket, applied it to a lock, when a door opened inward, admitting them to a lofty and spacious apartment of unimaginable beauty and radiance. Its circular walls and domelike ceiling were hung with stalactites of marvellous purity and transparency, their long, graceful pendants flashing back the torch-lights like ten thousand diamonds, and dazzling the eyes by their excessive splendor.

or a natually dull intellect unfitting him to appreciate its wonders.

The first few minutes of admiration and surprise gone by, Carleton had time to examine the accessories of the apartment. Around the vast circumference of its walls were stacked thousands of the finest and most beautiful English rifles, their polished steel barrels gleaming in the reflected light of the stalactites with a wonderful brilliancy, the dry atmosphere of the cave preserving their original polish without a stain. Sabres, also, in vast numbers, and of the same exquisite polish were suspended from the projecting crystals which coruscated the sides of the apartment, while all along the walls, in the little cell-like niches formed by the crystallization, were stored kegs of powder, shot, and other ammunition in vast quantities.

The surprise of Carleton and his companions at this formidable array of warlike stores was even greater than that they had first felt at the magnificence of the grotto; and to this manifestation the guerrilla was not indifferent. He watched the changing expression of their faces, as their senses took in the magnitude of his resources, with a look of proud triumph that was not to be mistaken.

"Ye see dem ar guns, does ye? I reckon ye haint got none loike 'em. Days English, day is."

"They are certainly remarkably fine guns," said Carleton. "Where did you procure so many, and how do you manage to keep them of so beautiful a polish?"

"I golly! I reckon de blockade-runners bring dem in. Ye can't whip we uns long's de English bring us sich guns.”

Carleton did not reply to this remark ; he did not like the savage light gleaming up in the leader's eyes, and deemed silence the better part of valor. Turning the conversation to the beauty of the stalactites, he frankly expressed his admiration. But this the guerrilla little understood; and seeing that Carleton was not disposed to enter into a controversy with him, he led the way through another passage similar to the last, whose terminus opened into another and smaller apartment, but of a similar formation, only

that the stalactites were dull and opaque, and of a brownish hue. It was furnished with a few rude housekeeping articles, a rough pine table, blocks of wood for seats, a few cooking utensils, and an abundance of litter and dirt. Coarse cotton mattresses lay spread on the ground around the walls, and everything denoted that this was the living room of the guerrilla band.

Everything in this apartment was of mean character; yet the beautiful and extensive armory he had just seen convinced Carleton that the man before him, ignorant as he appeared, was a leader of note among the mountain raiders, and that he and his companions were in unscrupulous and most irresponsible hands. But he betrayed nothing of his apprehensions, and following the example of his captor, who had dropped on one of the rude seats of the apartment, sat down.

The leader soon commenced a conversation with him; but his range of subjects as well as language was narrow and low, consisting chiefly of a round of oaths and vituperations against the "Abolition Yankees," who were fighting for the freedom of the niggers and the ruin of the South, and egotistic boastings of his own powers. Carleton entered as little as possible into these matters, and the pedler preserved a profound silence. The guerrilla, disappointed in eliciting neither argument nor contradiction, soon dropped the conversation and busied himself with various matters about the room, which was well-lighted with torches and of a singularly pure atmosphere, the smoke finding its way out of the grotto through a multitude of crevices between the stalactites. He occasionally varied his amusement by brutally cursing a negro, who stood waiting motionless behind him.

"Har, Josh, cuss ye! brung me tree fo' pipes out dat ar box dar."

Josh looked in his master's face for a moment with an idiotic stare; then, as if comprehending, blundered across the room to a receptacle in the wall, from which he brought the desired articles. His master took them with another oath.

"Har you, Josh, cuss ye! whar's de 'backer? Quick, now, fotch it har!"

"Why, massa!" replied the black, his white eyes rolling from side to side; 66 I don' oughter tol' ye dat de 'bacca bin don' gone; but I don' didn't tink on't."

A billet of wood hurled at the head of the black was his master's gentle comment on his forgetfulness. Raging about the room amid oaths of untranslatable character, the brute undertook the search himself, and in one of the niches of the rock soon found a quantity of the desired article, when, much mollified, he sat down to smoke. Either the influence of the narcotic or a little sober reflection so far humanized him as to lead him to bestow some attention on the comfort of his prisoners, which he attempted by offering each a pipe. Carleton, it must be confessed, very willingly accepted it; but the pedler declined, saying he never smoked.

"Nebber smoke?" growled the guerrilla; "I golly! you uns a darned Yankee Abolitionist, blast ye!" and picking up a second billet of wood, motioned to hurl it at the pedler, but finally, throwing it down with an oath, wrapped himself in an old blanket and flung himself on one of the dirty mattresses by the wall, and was soon in a profound sleep.

This period of rest Carleton and his companion spent in conversation on their unfortunate condition, and in carefully examining the apartment to see if it of fered any possible means of escape. Several little bays running back into the rock, some winding away for several feet, they found; but they led nowhere, and were mostly employed for storing the plunder taken by the guerrillas, and as closets for their household utensils or their clothing.

"It is as secure as a dungeon of the Bastille," said Carleton, at last, returning to his seat; "and the probability is that it may be a long time before we find our way out; for there is no outlet but the door, and the guerrilla, you see, has means to secure that when he goes out, so as to make sure of finding us on his return."

The pedler looked up in the face of Carleton with a look that startled him; there was that in it that reminded him of

some one he knew; but a moment's consideration told him how absurd the idea was, a lank, long-haired, sandy-whiskered pedler, -pshaw!

"We are in for it, Abednego," said he, with a rueful attempt at a little pleasantry in keeping with the absurdity of the thought that had passed through his mind. "Don't look forlorn; we must make the best of it. We'll contrive some way of lightening our captivity, if we can't escape from it. Perhaps the contents of your box may buy our release."

There was a covert scorn in Carleton's tones, which brought the color to the pedler's cheek; but he smiled, as he pointed to a niche in the wall where stood his box, already appropriated by his captor.

"There it is, and little use would it be to us, even if in my possession. But I wouldn't care if only myself suffered by my captivity," said he, the tears starting to his eyes. "I could bear it for months, if it would benefit my country. But there are others who". He stopped, his lip quivering, and a flush mantling his face.

"You are loyal, my friend!" said Carleton, kindly and respectfully holding out his hand to the pedler, his voice showing how much he was touched by his evident emotion; "and loyalty helps us to endure much for our country. Let us keep up heart; matters may not be so bad as they seem. Yonder fellow, snoring like an ox, is a brute, and wouldn't, I dare say, mind murdering us in cold blood; but we must avoid irritating him, and trust in God."

The pedler wrung the hand of the young officer almost convulsively, as he exclaimed, in a stifled voice, "Thank God, we are together!"

Again, as those passionate tones rung in his ears, a feeling swept through Carleton that the pedler was not what he seemed; but putting it away as the most absurd improbability, as before, he resolutely turned all his thoughts to their present condition.

"I am glad we are together," said he, smiling; "misery loves company, you know. But who is this guerrilla leader? Have you any idea?"

Before the pedler could reply, the negro, Josh, whom they had not for some time observed, came swiftly and stealthily toward them, and stooping over, as he glanced at his master to see if he still slept,

"Mosy, massa," he whispered, his face beaming with a strange intelligence. "Dat's Mosy, de big rebel gin'ral. He's orful, massa, he is; but I reckon I kin help ye. I knows ye, massa! I knows ye! Ye're gwine to gib de nigger free; an' dis ole nig'll don' 'trive some way to gib ye free! Ony don' speak to I, massa, when massa gin'al wake. Mine, now, massa! don' you look at dis nig when dat darn' ole massa see ye. Trus' to I,

massa!"

The guerrilla stirred; the black slunk back to his stand by the wall; and as his master opened his eyes, his face had assumed all the stupidity of a semi-idiot.

"Har, you Josh!" growled the guerrilla; "what ye stan'in' dar for? Come long, help me up!" He gave a great yawn, kicking the shins of the negro as he obeyed him, lifting him to his feet.

"Wall, Yanks," said he, brutally, stuffing his hands in his pockets, and sauntering toward them, "how d'e like yar squattin'-place? Hope ye like it, cos ye don' got to stay har till yer gray. Want any grub? Har, you Josh, brung out dat ar

wenson."

The negro placed the coarse pine table in the centre of the room, laid it with coarse, yellow platters and a single bowieknife. Then, from one of the innumerable cells in the walls, brought out a large dish of cold, well-cooked venison, which he placed upon the table. A few heavy, cold corn-cakes were added, and the dinner was complete.

A gruff invitation to Carleton and the pedler to draw up to the table was accompanied by fresh oaths to Josh, and the meal commenced. Seizing the bone with one hand, the guerrilla sliced the venison with the bowie-knife, with no niggard stint, it must be confessed, then bade his prisoners fall to and eat, -an order they most willingly obeyed, eating with their fingers in lieu of knives and forks, for they were hungry and weary, and the venison

was not only excellent, but abundant. A bottle of fiery whiskey succeeded, which both Carleton and the pedler declined, but which the guerrilla drank, undiluted, with a decided relish.

"Make yersels at home!" said he, with a coarse laugh, as, after a third or fourth potation, he again pushed the bottle towards Carleton.

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"I thank you; I don't wish any," said Carleton, quietly moving the bottle away.

"Drink, blast ye! or I'll" He did not say what; but the bowie-knife in his hand was a significant hint of what he meant. "Ye gwine t' insult a gen'l'man at his own table? Blast ye! de Sothern chivalry won't take dat ar!" He snatched up a soiled tumbler, and filling it to the brim with the raw, fiery whiskey, held it out to Carleton. "Har, ye white-livered puppy, drink dat ar, I tells ye!"

Carleton still quietly but firmly resisted, and the wrath of the guerrilla grew fierce and terrible. He attempted to force the burning liquid down the throat of the young officer, his eyes menacing and furious, as he felt the quiet firmness of the young man who held his arm with no mean grasp.

A loud knock at this moment came on the door, and the guerrilla, setting down the glass and exclaiming with an oath that he should drink it yet, went to open it. A hurried conversation took place, and after a minute, the guerrilla stepped back into the room, armed himself with pistol, sabre, and rifle, and left the apartment, locking and double-locking the door behind him.

During all this scene, the pedler had shrunk away with terror and disgust.

"Thank God, he is gone!" said he, as he heard the key withdrawn from the lock.

The negro laid his ear to the ground at the foot of the door to listen, and when the last receding footstep had ceased to be heard, he started to his feet.

"Now, massa ossifer," said he, "time to tink 'bout leaving dis yar place."

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Leaving it!" exclaimed Carleton ; "that is not so easily done, unless we can go through the solid rock!"