"Come! brother Allan," said the soldier: "we can best end this scene by leaving the house."

As they approached the door, a hand was placed on the handle outside; but the old man had taken the precaution to fasten it, in order to insure the safety of his prisoner. A heavy knock succeeded.

"Who is that?" gasped Sue, afraid that any newcomer would only complicate the difficulties of the moment, and that the bold youth would be compelled to use his pistol.

"Perhaps it is Owen," replied the old man, a little calmer than before.

"I hope it is."

The words sent a shudder through the frame of Somers, as he again thought of Owen Raynes, cold and dead in his oozy grave in the swamp.

"Open the door," said a voice from without.

Allan Garland drew the bolt, and threw the door wide open.

"Why, Allan, my dear fellow!" exclaimed a young man who stood at the outside of the door in his shirt sleeves, as he grasped both of the rebel soldier's hands, and proceeded to make a most extravagant demonstration of rejoicing. "I am glad to see you!"

"Owen, my dear boy!" replied Allan Garland, as he returned with equal warmth the salutation of the newcomer.

"Where did you come from, Allan? I had given you up for lost?"

"I escaped from the Yankees the next day after I was taken, and have been beating about the woods ever since."

Somers was thrown all aback by this arrival, which was certainly the most remarkable one that had taken place during the day. He couldn't help feeling very much like the hero of a sensational novel; and realized the very original idea that truth is stranger than fiction. He could not exactly account for the presence of Owen Raynes, whom he had satisfactorily buried in the swamp, and whose clothes he had the honor to wear at that moment. He did not believe in things supernatural, and it never occurred to him that the form before him might be the ghost of Owen.

"I am glad you have come just as you did, Owen," said Mr. Raynes.

"So am I; otherwise I might not have met Allan. But who is this?" he added, glancing at Somers.

"Your most obedient servant," replied Somers, trying to pa.s.s him in the narrow entry.

"Stop, young man!" shouted the old man. "Don't let him go, Owen!"

"Who is he?"

"His name is Allan Garland, of Union, Alabama; and he is a private in the Fourth Alabama," replied Allan with a smile, as Owen placed himself between Somers and the door.

"What!"

Mr. Raynes, being the oldest man present, was ent.i.tled to the position of spokesman; and he made a very prolix statement of all the events which had transpired since he first saw the pretended Allan Garland.

Owen Raynes was a very good-natured young man, and the recital of the affair amused him exceedingly. He did not fly into a pa.s.sion, being a very amiable and reasonable rebel; and seemed to regard the whole thing as a stupendous joke.

"Then your name is Allan Garland, is it?" demanded he, with a broad laugh still playing on his lips.

"That is my name at present," replied Somers.

"But have you no other name?"

"None worth mentioning."

"Good! To what regiment do you belong?"

"To the Fourth Alabama, Colonel Jones; but I have already told your respected father all the facts relating to myself, and some relating to you."

"Say, is this a joke, a sell?" demanded Owen.

"I suppose that would be a very proper interpretation to put upon it."

"You seem to be a good fellow, and deal in four-syllable words."

"Now, as you seem to have the best of the joke, I hope you will not detain me any longer. I have a pa.s.s in my pocket to prove that I am all right; and, as I am in a great hurry, I must move on."

"Not till you explain the joke. Eh? What's this? Where did you get this coat?" said Owen, glancing at the garment which Somers wore.

"This is the key to the joke."

"The key to it! I am of the opinion that this is my coat," replied Owen, as he felt of the garment, and turned up the lapel.

"May I be allowed to inquire where you left your coat?" asked Somers, who was quite curious to know how Owen Raynes happened to be alive just at that moment.

"Certainly you may; but first let me ask where you found it."

"Over by the picket-line beyond the hill," replied Somers.

"Just so. A young fellow in a Mississippi regiment, encamped next to ours, borrowed it of me last night, when he was detailed for picket-duty.

The poor fellow had no coat, and picket-duty is rather steep at night when a man has no clothes. He is a good fellow, in poor health; and I lent him mine."

"The nights are cool, but the days are hot," added Somers. "He took it off, and left it on the edge of the woods, where I found it. I didn't know that it belonged to anybody. I found some papers and a diary in the pocket----"

"Did I leave my papers in the pocket? Well, that was stupid," interrupted Owen.

"I read the papers with a great deal of interest. Seeing frequent allusions in them to Allan Garland, I took the liberty to appropriate the name myself; for the owner of it seemed to be a very good fellow."

"Thank you!" said Allan; "but, as you seem to have no further use for it, I see no objection to your giving your own name."

"On the contrary, there are some very strong objections, and I must trouble you for the use of your name an hour or two longer."

"Oh, very well! I am satisfied," replied Allan.

"So am I."

"But I am not," interposed Mr. Raynes. "I think the fellow is an impostor, if nothing worse."

"Anything you please; but my time is out, and I must report for duty,"

replied Somers boldly, as he took off the borrowed coat, and restored it to the owner. "I am very much obliged to you for the use of this garment.

When we meet again, I trust we shall understand each other better."