Dick observed them sleepily, taking no particular note, until one, small and weazened, came.

The figure was about fifty yards away, and there was a Union cap instead of a great flap-brimmed hat on the head, but Dick sprang to his feet at once, snatched a pistol from his belt and rushed toward it.
The evil figure melted away like a shadow, and two astonished soldiers seized the youth, who seemed to be running amuck in the camp, pistol in hand.
"Let go!" exclaimed Dick.

"I've seen a man whom I know to be a spy, and a most dangerous one, too." They could find no trace of Slade.

Dick returned crestfallen to his blanket, but he recalled something now definitely and clearly.

Slade was the little man whom he had seen carrying the log the morning he left General Grant's camp, on his mission.
The sergeant, who had never stirred from his own blanket, sat up when Dick returned.
"Who was he, Mr.Mason ?" he asked.
"Slade himself.