When Captain Haralson and the two troopers reached the verge of the forest, they could trace for a short distance the hoof-prints of Harold’s horse, and followed them eagerly among the labyrinthine paths which the fugitive had made through the tangled shrubbery and among the briery thickets. But soon the gloom of night closed in upon them in the depth of the silent wood, and they were left without a sign by which to direct the pursuit. It was near midnight when they reached the further edge of the forest, and there, throwing fantastic gleams of red light among the shadows of the tall trees, they caught sight of what seemed to be the glimmer of a watchfire. Soon after, the growl of a hound was heard, followed by a deep-mouthed bay, and approaching cautiously, they were hailed by the watchful sentinel. It was a Confederate picket, posted on the outskirt of the forest, and Haralson, making himself known, rode up to where the party, awakened by their approach, had roused themselves from their blankets, and were standing with ready rifles beside the blazing fagots.

Haralson made known his errand to the officer in command, and the sentries were questioned, but all declared that nothing had disturbed their watch; if the fugitive had passed their line, he had succeeded in eluding their vigilance.

“I must send one of my men back to camp to report the escape,” said Haralson, “and will ask you to spare me a couple of your fellows to help me hunt the Yankee down. Confound him, I deserve to lose my épaulettes for my folly, but I’ll follow him to the Potomac, rather than return to headquarters without him.”

“Who was it?” asked the officer; “was he of rank?”

“A captain, Captain Hare, well named for his fleetness; but he was mounted superbly, and I suspect the whole thing was cut and dried.”

“Hare?” cried a hoarse voice; and the speaker, a tall, lank man, who had been stretched by the fire, with the head of a large, gaunt bloodhound in his lap, rose suddenly and stepped forward.

“Harold Hare, by G d!” he exclaimed; “I know the fellow. Captain, I’m with you on this hunt, and Bully there, too, who is worth the pair of us. Hey, Bully?”

The dog stretched himself lazily, and lifted his heavy lip with a grin above the formidable fangs that glistened in the gleam of the watchfire.

“You may go,” said his officer, “but I can’t spare another. You three, with the dog, will be enough. Rawbon’s as good a man as you can get, captain. Set a thief to catch a thief, and a Yankee to outwit a Yankee. You’d better start at once, unless you need rest or refreshment.”

“Nothing,” replied Haralson. “Let your man put something into his haversack. Good night, lieutenant. Come along, boys, and keep your eyes peeled, for these Yankees are slippery eels, you know.”

Seth Rawbon had already bridled his horse that was grazing hard by, and the party, with the hound close at his master’s side, rode forth upon their search.