The leader of the party called out, "Be steady, and together.

One, two! Ground arms, boys! Ground arms!" roared he, in a voice of thunder; "it's the captain himself!" Down went the muskets with a crash; while, springing towards me, the fellows caught me in their arms, and with one jerk mounted me upon their shoulders, the cheer that accompanied the sudden movement seeming like the yell of maniacs.

"Ha, ha, ha! we have him now!" sang their wild voices, as, with blood-stained hands and infuriated features, they bore me down the rampart.

My sensations of disgust and repugnance to the party seemed at once to have evidenced themselves, for the corporal, turning abruptly round, called out,-- "Don't _pity_ him, Captain; the scoundrel was a deserter; he escaped from the picket two nights ago, and gave information of all our plans to the enemy." "Ay," cried another, "and what's worse, he fired through an embrasure near the breach, for two hours, upon his own regiment.

It was there we found him.