his return to camp. Instead, he said:

"You must have this road pretty nearly to yourself, Lawrence,
as far as soldiers go."

"There's at least one other, sir," the soldier replied, in a matter
of fact way. "I saw one slip by in the field, close to the road.
I won't be sure, but I think it was Private Mock, sir."

"He has friends down this way?" Dick asked casually.

"Not that I ever heard of, sir. There aren't many houses on this
road. My friend, Miss Williams, lives in the house up yonder."

At the implied introduction Prescott raised his campaign hat,
then rode on.

The instant that Mock's name had been mentioned it had flashed
through Dick's mind that, when in Greg's office that afternoon,
he had seen Mock's name on Top Sergeant Lund's list of men for
pass, and Greg, he knew, had drawn a pen line through that name.

"Of course it may not have been Mock that Lawrence saw; Lawrence
himself wasn't sure," Dick reflected. "Yet, if Mock is out of
camp to-night he is out without leave. Private Lawrence didn't
realize that, or he wouldn't tell tales."

Soon the horse began to move along an up grade road between
two lines of trees. Finding that the animal, instead of drying
off, was sweating more freely, Dick drew rein and dismounted.