River at night, Brown and Dorsey had shared their food with two Confederate
sentries who had stopped them as they crossed the railroad bridge at
Stevenson. "Most sociable sentries I ever found," said Dorsey. "They
believed our story, and told us all about Bull Run. It was mighty
interesting to hear their side of it, because we were both in the fight."
But it was Tom who had been most royally entertained. He told them about
Mr. Beecham, and how Marjorie Landis had trapped him.

"But what did you do?" demanded Dorsey. "How did you get out of it?"

"She wished me luck when I left," said Tom. "She was a Northern girl."

The others whistled. "Whew!" said Brown. "That's about enough luck to last
you for a year."

They talked until midnight; then divided the bedding between them and lay
down to sleep. It seemed to Tom that sleep would never come. The plan of
the raid went racing through his mind again and again; he could see every
move as Andrews had described it. His thoughts carried him back to the
other side of the lines. What was Bert doing? He supposed that Bert had
been left behind when Mitchel advanced. His parents in Cleveland? What
would they think if they were told that he was a hundred miles behind the
Confederate picket lines? What a story to tell them when he returned! And
Marjorie Landis? Would she realize, when the news of the raid swept over
the country, that he had taken part in it? She was a plucky girl!

The next thing he knew was that there was a terrific pounding in some
remote part of the world. He sat up in the darkness and tried to recall
himself. Then someone said, "All right--wait a second." The chair which had
been placed against the door was yanked away, and Andrews entered, holding