embers served to reveal the dirty flap of a tent set up at the edge of a grove of saplings, and a horse, standing with lowered head, sharply outlined against the canvas.  I could even perceive the deep-seated cavalry saddle, and catch the shine of accoutrements.  All these details came to me in a sudden flash of observation, for, almost simultaneously with my rising above the edge of the bank, my ears distinguished voices conversing, and so closely at hand as to almost unnerve me.  I gripped a root between my fingers to keep from falling, and held on motionless, striving to locate the speakers.  They were to my left, scarcely four yards distant, yet so dimly revealed against the background of leaves I could tell nothing of their rank—­merely that one was short, and heavily built, while the other, a much taller, and seemingly more nervous man, was wrapped in a long cavalry cape.  It was his voice speaking, a rather peculiar voice, as though he possessed some slight impediment of speech.

“Do not look at it in that way, General,” he protested earnestly.  “I am not opposing your plan, but merely urging the extreme peril of the undertaking—­”

“Human life cannot be considered at such a time, Hardy,” broke in the other warmly.  “The cause for which we battle, the duty confronting us, outweighs all else.  A life may be sacrificed, but that single life may save thousands.”

“True; very true.  I am sufficiently a soldier to realize that.  Yet what you propose seems an impossibility.  Two aides have endeavored this service already, and failed, their lives forfeited.  Others stand ready to go the moment the word is spoken, but what possibility is there of success, that any volunteer could get through alive?”

“Practically none,” admitted the other, his deep voice more grave.  “There is only one in whom I feel the slightest hope, Hardy; that is why I have sent for you.  I naturally hesitate to say so, but I believe the moment has now come which demands this sacrifice.  You recall the offer of service made us last night, Major?”

The man addressed took a single step backward, one hand flung up, as though warding off a blow.

“You—­” he stammered, “can you mean Billie?”

“Yes; the South can have no more urgent need than now.  These despatches must reach Beauregard, and I must have the report from Carroll.  If the latter is not already in Beauregard’s possession, then it must be sought even in the enemy’s camp.  Every hour of delay adds to our danger.  If Carroll is dead I must know it; if he has gained the information he was sent after, then I must have it.  I can stand this waiting no longer—­there is too much at stake.  As you say two men have already fallen endeavoring to pierce the lines, and I doubt if there is a soldier in my command who could succeed.  Billie might have a chance, and I know no one else who would—­do you?  I sent for you to gain your consent, and I ask it, Major, in the name of the South.”