The Border Spy; or, The Beautiful Captive of the Rebel Camp A Story of the War — Key Ideas to Explore

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In Category - Adventure Picaresque Fiction

Authors: Hazelton, Harry Digital Source: Project Gutenberg Gutenberg Release Year: 2014 First Publication Year: Not confirmed

Key Word: United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; Dime novels Target Reader: Readers of public-domain and historical texts

Book Edition: Project Gutenberg digital edition Book Language: en

Edition facts

Words 41,909

Reading time 183 min

Text sections 5

This digital edition of The Border Spy; or, The Beautiful Captive of the Rebel Camp A Story of the War — Key Ideas to Explore is described by source-level measurements including 41,909 words, 3 hr 3 min estimated reading time, and 5 detected text sections.

The text analysis averages about 12.8 words per sentence, while the detected sections provide another way to judge how the source is divided.

Project Gutenberg metadata also associates the work with “United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction,” connecting these edition facts with the source record’s subject description.

Source: Project Gutenberg record #46720

A Civil War dime novel following Union spy Margrave and the Indian Fall-leaf as they navigate shifting loyalties, rescue attempts, and confrontations with General Price, marked by tense dialogue and rapid reversals.

Editorial Edition Score 4.7/5

★★★★★ ★★★★★

Calculated from edition completeness, EPUB availability, text structure and catalogue metadata. Not a user rating.

How this score is calculated

Description quality20 pts
Title & short description10 pts
Source metadata20 pts
Text length15 pts
Chapters / structure15 pts
EPUB file integrity20 pts

Total of 100 points, scaled to a 2.5-5.0 range. Editions with an empty description or a missing EPUB file are not scored.

Edition quality

File: pg46720

Read the Text

There was nothing remarkable in his dress, except that at such a time and place he should have worn an elegant sword, which could be seen beneath a large, dark cloak, thrown carelessly over his shoulders. In other respects he was without uniform, or any mark indicating the military chieftain.

After gazing for some time upon the surrounding country, he again spoke:

"Yes, by heavens, it is a land worth fighting for, and I will--"

The speaker paused, and turning, beheld the approach of the person who had interrupted his soliloquy. A frown covered his face as he asked:

"What do you want, Johnson?"

The answer came, rough and fiercely.

"On whom?" asked the first speaker, as he grasped the hilt of his sword.

"Not on you, General Price; so don't fear."

"Fear!" echoed Price, "I fear no man--nothing."

"Then why do you clutch your sword as I approach?"

"Because I believe you are treacherous," replied Price.

"Treacherous! ha! ha! ha! Can I be else, and serve _you_?"

"But are you faithful to me and my cause?"

"_Your_ cause!" echoed Johnson. "Why _I_ thought it was your country's cause!"

"My country's cause is mine," replied Price. "Again I ask you, are you faithful to me?"

"What assurance have I that you will be faithful?"

Johnson bowed his head, and did not reply.

"Answer me," said Price, sternly and suspiciously.

"General Price," replied Johnson, as he raised his head, and fixed his piercing eyes upon his questioner, "General Price, I am poor. If I were or had been a servant in heaven, and the commander-in-chief of the infernal regions had offered me a position on his staff, to escape servitude, and for promotion's sake, _not knowing him or his service_, I might have accepted. In doing so, I should have lost heaven, and in no case could have returned. Thus, as I would have no choice, I probably should serve faithfully in my new capacity, for policy's sake, even if I was deceived by the devil's promises. In much this way do I stand toward you, General Price!"

"I have not deceived you!"

"You have! You have lied to me!"

"Johnson!" yelled Price, as his sword flashed in the morning light, "no man shall address me thus, and live!"

"Hold, General Price," said Johnson, as he levelled his rifle at his breast, "you had better spare those who _must_ serve you, as few are willing!"

"Curse him!" muttered Price. "But for policy's sake I must restrain myself. He shall act the spy this once--it is necessary--or I would dash him from this rock into the depths below." "Johnson," he added, speaking aloud, "you must not speak thus. It is true I have as yet been unable to fulfil my promises; but consider. We are here facing a powerful army--an army of fanatics--of devotees--who will fight to the death, while many of my soldiers are discontented, and if they fight at all, I fear will do it unsuccessfully. I have no confidence in many of my men. Why is this, Johnson?"

"I can answer, but for one."

"Then answer for yourself!"

"I will, I have no confidence in you."

"You will serve me, nevertheless?"

"Yes--I am forced to do so!"

"How forced--by whom forced?"

"Not by you, General Price, but by myself."

"Don't you see much to fight for? Look around you. Gaze upon the face of this beautiful country. Our enemies come to rob us of it. Shall we, like dogs, submit? No! by the Eternal, I will not!" cried Price, his powerful frame quivering with emotion.

"I see but little beauty here. Where is it?"

"All around--on every side!"

"I see but one bright spot, and that is--"

Johnson gazed into the valley below. His look was earnest. As he gazed, the tear-drops started to his eyes, and he bent his head upon his hands, while his breast heaved convulsively. He was deeply moved.

"Johnson, why are you weeping?" asked Price, as he regarded him with a look of surprise.

"Am I weeping?" returned Johnson, raising his head.

"Yes; some sad recollection of the past oppresses you!"

"Of the past? Yes, of the past, as well as the present, and of the future! But tell me what _you_ see here, that you should love this country so much. It is not from associations?"

"No, only its beauty!"

"Its beauty? I cannot see it! Where is it?"

"Shall I describe what I see?"

"Yes, sir; I am interested to know what _you_ can call beautiful."

Continue Reading →

The novel opens with General Price alone on a rocky precipice above the Osage River, his hand on his sword and his words full of resolve. The setting—a wild, elevated spot—immediately establishes a landscape of surveillance and vulnerability. Price’s soliloquy is interrupted by a man named Johnson, whose first word is “revenge.” Their exchange crackles with mutual suspicion: Price clutches his sword, Johnson questions whether the cause is Price’s or the country’s. This early scene, drawn from the first chapter, sets a pattern of tense confrontations and double meanings that runs through the excerpts.

Suspicion and the Language of Loyalty

From the opening dialogue, characters constantly test each other’s allegiance. Price demands assurance of Johnson’s faithfulness; Johnson deflects with a laugh. Later, Margrave asks Johnson, “Have you never entertained any suspicion that my sister was with Price?”—a question that echoes the novel’s central anxiety: who can be trusted? The word “treacherous” appears early, and characters repeatedly clutch weapons or demand proof. Even the Indian Fall-leaf, when asked if he can walk, replies “Me walk—well!” as if his physical capability must be asserted against doubt. This verbal sparring, where every statement carries a subtext of threat, gives the prose a clipped, urgent rhythm.

The Landscape as a Stage for Flight and Pursuit

The Osage River, mountain oaks, and prairie are not mere backdrops but active elements in the plot. Characters move along “a narrow path” by the riverbank, hide horses among trees, and cross streams under fire. The description of the rebel camp is minimal; instead, the narrative focuses on routes of escape and concealment. When Margrave’s sister is rescued, the action is reported secondhand: “I saw her with two men, one of them disguised as a rebel officer… she is on her way to the Union camp.” The landscape becomes a network of possible hiding places and ambush points, reinforcing the story’s reliance on movement and evasion rather than static battle scenes.

Fragmented Information and Delayed Reunions

Key events in the excerpts are conveyed through dialogue and after the fact. Margrave learns of his sister’s escape from Johnson, then later from Adjutant Hinton, whose account is interrupted by a terrified slave named George. Each retelling adds new details but also new uncertainties: Hinton says the party was scattered, the captain killed or wounded, and Alibamo last seen riding for the river. The novel withholds full clarity—George’s terror prevents a coherent report, and Hinton’s grief clouds his narrative. This technique of layered, incomplete information keeps the reader in a state of partial knowledge, mirroring the characters’ own confusion.

Readers should pay attention to how quickly alliances shift and how often characters speak at cross-purposes. The novel’s brevity—a dime novel of about 42,000 words—means that every exchange carries weight. The excerpts suggest a story driven by dialogue and movement rather than interior reflection. Those interested in Civil War popular fiction will find a fast-paced example of how suspense was built through suspicion, landscape, and fragmented storytelling.

There’s something about Margrave’s watchful patience in The Border Spy that lingers, that quiet scanning of every face for the truth beneath. It reminded me of another kind of waiting, the slower unraveling in The Curved Blades — Reading Companion. Different wars, perhaps, but the same ache of wondering whom you can trust when the evening grows long and the shadows start moving.