and inquired:

"Going over to-night, Stiles?"

Frank was thunderstruck, and he now saw the necessity of attempting
nothing unless it promised complete success. As the reader has already
learned, he was among his old enemies, the Wildcats. Upon making this
discovery he was both astonished and alarmed--astonished, for it seemed
to him that he could scarcely make a move in any direction without being
confronted by the redoubtable Wild-cats. This was the second time he had
found himself among them before he was aware of it. He was alarmed,
because he knew, by experience, the treatment he would receive if he
should fall into their hands without the prospect of an immediate
exchange.

But his attention was again drawn to the men in the cabin.

"Yes," replied Stiles, in answer to his companion's question, "I'm going
over to-night--allers makin' due 'lowance for bein' ketched by the
Yanks."

"Here's some mail, then," continued the man, thrusting several letters
into the bag. "How soon do you start?"

"Jest as soon as Tibbs comes with the up-country mail, an' I get the
kernel's letters. Was you takin' a chaw of tobaker, Bob?"

"No, I wasn't," replied the other, quickly thrusting his hand into his
pocket, as if to protect the precious article. "Tobacco is scarce."