find out the rocky recess or cave, for it ran under the hill a
considerable distance. They hadn't been in there long before a shadow
darkened the entrance to the recess. A figure crept toward them with the
muzzle of a gun pointing straight at them.

"O, don't shoot!" they cried in terror.

"I won't," responded a boyish voice, and when their tears subsided they
saw it was a mere lad, wounded and bleeding.

"Are you much hurt?" asked Roberta.

"O, no; just a scratch."

His chin fell on his chest. A dry sob burst from him.

"I wish now I had been killed with the rest of 'em."

"Have you got a mother?" Roberta asked.

"Yes, I've got a mother; but what will she say when I tell her I left Bert
lying yonder in that death-trap? That's what's the matter. I wanted to
find Bert and take him away with me. I hunted for him all along among
those trees, and I got cut off from our boys. I think I must have lost my
head, for I forgot which way they went."

"Who is Bert?" asked Roberta.

"Bert was my brother, and the best boy that ever lived. Curse them!" he
cried, shaking his clenched fist; "curse the Yankees. What right have they