“Are those twelve men all ready to come here to-morrow night?”

“Sar! what twelve men?” asked the negro, in well-feigned surprise.  “I dunno nuffin ’bout no twelve men.”

“O, now, see here, uncle,” said Frank, “that story won’t do at all, for I know better than that.  You see this is the first chance I have had to talk to you, for these Yanks watch me so closely.  Now, at what hour are they to be here?”

“I tol’ you, massa,” repeated the negro, “dat I dunno nuffin ’bout no men;” and, thinking he had settled the matter, turned to walk away.

But Frank was not yet done with him, and, seeing that he was too cunning to be “pumped,” determined to try what effect the sight of his weapons would produce.  Seizing the negro by the collar, he pressed the muzzle of his revolver against his head, whispering, between his clenched teeth: 

“See here, you black rascal! you do know all about the matter, for you have carried orders from these rebels here to their friends.  So, confess the whole truth, instantly.”

“I dunno nuffin ‘bout no men, I tol’ you,” persisted the negro.

“You won’t confess, eh?” said Frank, cocking his revolver.  “Then you’re a dead man.”

“O Lor’! don’t shoot, massa,” exclaimed the now terrified negro.  “What shall I ’fess.”

“Confess the truth,” replied Frank, “and you shall not be harmed; but, if you try to deceive me, you’re a dead darkey.  Answer such questions as I shall ask you.  In the first place, who are these men who say they are rebel deserters?”

“One of ’em is my massa, an’ de other is a captain in de army.”

“What are they doing on this island?”

“Dey come here for to cotch young massa George Le Dell, ’cause dey knowed he would be shore for to come here.”

“Well, how many men are you going to bring over here to-morrow night?”

“Twelve, sar, an’ I fotch ’em in de big canoe.”

“At what hour?”

“Midnight, when de moon hab gone down, an’ my massa is on guard.”

Having got this important information, Frank released the negro, and regained his post without being discovered.  At midnight he called his relief, and then lay down on the ground and fell asleep.

After breakfast, the next morning, as the major went to the spring to fill his cup, Frank, who had followed close behind him, said suddenly: 

“We’re in trouble again.”

“Yes, and always shall be,” answered the major, coolly, “until we are safe at the North.  But what is the matter now—­any thing new?”

“Yes,” replied Frank, speaking in a whisper, lest he should be overheard.  “Last night I discovered that there is a plot on foot to recapture us, and the attempt is to be made at midnight.  These men we found here are not deserters, as they claim to be, but still belong to the army.”

The major, as if not at all concerned, raised the cup to his lips and slowly drained it, keeping his eyes fastened on Frank, who finally began to grow impatient, and inquired: