Chasing an Iron Horse, Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  MINGLING WITH THE ENEMY

  It was weary work, this tramping along the Tennessee shore, through mud,or fields of stubble, over rocks, or amid dripping trees; but the threekept on towards Chattanooga for a couple of hours, until all the goodeffects of their warming at Farmer Hare's were quite vanished. Watson,having showed by his mother-wit and presence of mind that he was a man tobe relied upon, had now resumed his privilege of growling, and gave ventto many angry words at the roughness and unutterable dreariness of theway.

  "Why was America ever discovered by that inquisitive, prying oldChristopher Columbus?" he grunted, after he had tripped over the stump ofa cottonwood-tree, and fallen flat with his face in the slime. "If he hadnever discovered America there would never have been any United States;had there never been any United States there would never have been any warbetween North and South; had there never been any war between North andSouth I wouldn't be making a fool of myself by being down here. I wishthat fellow Columbus had never been born--or, if he was born, that he hadnever been allowed to sail off for America. Ugh!"

  In a few minutes they reached a log cabin situated on an angle of landwhere a little stream emptied itself into the now stormy waters of theTennessee River. There was no light nor sign of life about the mean abode,and the travelers were almost upon it before they saw its low outline inthe dense gloom.

  "Look here," said Watson, calling a halt. "There's no use in our trying togo further to-night. It's too dark to make any sort of time. And we arefar enough away now from Jasper to avoid any danger of pursuit--even ifour amiable friend Mr. Hare should inform the Vigilants."

  "Don't be afraid of that," said Macgreggor and George in the same breath.Hare was not likely to relate a joke so much at his own expense as theirclever escape had proved. Even if he did, they reasoned, the chances ofcapture were now rather slim, whatever they might have been when the threefugitives were nearer Jasper.

  "Then let us get a few hours' sleep in this cabin," urged Watson. "Somenegro probably lives here--and we can tell him our usual Kentucky story.Give the door a pound, George, and wake him up."

  George used first his hands and then his boots on the door, in a vaineffort to make some one hear. He took Waggie out of his pocket, and theshrill little barks of the dog added to the noise as he jumped around hismaster's feet.

  "Let's break the door down," urged Macgreggor. "The seven sleepers mustlive here. We might pound all night and not get in."

  With one accord the three threw themselves vigorously against the door.They expected to meet with some resistance, due to a bolt or two; but,instead of that, the door flew open so suddenly that they wereprecipitated into the cabin, and lay sprawling on the ground. It had beenlatched but neither locked nor bolted.

  "We were too smart that time," growled Watson, as the three pickedthemselves up, to the great excitement of Waggie. "The place must bedeserted. So much the better for us. We can get a little sleep withouthaving to go into explanations."

  He drew from inside his greatcoat, with much care, three or four matches.By lighting, first one and then the others, he was able to grope arounduntil he found the hearth of the cabin. Cold ashes marked the remains of afire long since extinguished. His foot struck against something whichproved to be a small piece of dry pine-wood. With the flame from his lastmatch Watson succeeded in lighting this remnant of kindling. He carefullynursed the new flame until the stick blazed forth like a torch. Then thetravelers had a chance to examine the one room which formed the wholeinterior of the lonely place. The cabin was deserted. It contained not abit of furniture; nothing, indeed, save bare walls of logs, and rudemortar, and a clean pine floor.

  "This palace can't be renting at a very high price," remarked Macgreggor,sarcastically.

  "It will do us well enough for a few hours' sleep," said George.

  Watson nodded his head in assent. "It's a shelter from the rain, atleast," he said, "and that's something on such a pesky night." While hewas speaking the rush of the rain without confirmed the truth of hiswords, and suggested that any roof was better than none. Ere long the pinestick burned itself out; the intruders were left in absolute darkness. Butthey quickly disposed themselves on the floor, where, worn out by thefatigues of the day and the stirring adventure of the evening, they weresoon fast asleep. They had closed the door, near which Waggie had settledhis little body in the capacity of a sentinel. George dreamed of hisfather. He saw him standing at the window of a prison, as he stretched hishands through the bars and cried out: "George, I am here--here! Help me!"Then the boy's dream changed. He was back in the dark woods nearShelbyville, listening to Andrews as the leader outlined the expedition inwhich they were now engaged. In the middle of the conference some onecried: "The Confederates are on us!" George tried to run, but somethingpinned him to the ground--a wild animal was at his throat.

  He awoke with a start, to find that Waggie was leaping upon his chest,barking furiously.

  "Hush up, you little rascal!" ordered George. He felt very sleepy, and hewas angry at being aroused. But Waggie went on barking until he hadsucceeded in awakening Macgreggor and Watson, and convincing his masterthat something was wrong.

  "What's the trouble?" demanded Watson.

  "Listen," said George, softly. He was on his feet in an instant, as he ranfirst to one and then to the other of the two windows which graced thecabin. These windows, however, were barricaded with shutters. He hurriedto the door, which he opened a few inches. The rain had now stopped, andhe could hear, perhaps a quarter of a mile away, the sound of horsesmoving cautiously through the mud, along the river bank. In a twinklingWatson and Macgreggor were at his side, straining their ears.

  "Can it be cavalry?" asked Macgreggor.

  "Mounted men at least," whispered Watson. "Perhaps the Vigilants are onour track, bad luck to them!"

  "Can Hare have told them, after all?" queried George.

  "Don't know about that," muttered Watson, "but I think we have thegentlemen from Jasper to deal with once again."

  "Let's decamp into the darkness before it's too late," said Macgreggor.

  "Come, come," whispered Watson impatiently. "If they are on the scent, andwe leave this hut, they will only run us to earth like hounds after afox."

  The baying of dogs which were evidently accompanying the party gave asudden and terrible effect to the force of Watson's argument. And now theVigilants, if such they were, came nearer and nearer. The threeNortherners who listened so anxiously at the doorway could already detectthe sound of voices.

  "There's but one thing for us to do," quickly murmured Watson. "We muststay in this cabin."

  "But they won't pass the place by," urged Macgreggor. "If they know it tobe deserted by a tenant this is the very reason for their looking in tosee if we are hiding here. And when it comes to defending ourselves, howcan we put up any sort of barricade?"

  "When you can't use force, or hide yourself, try a little strategy,"answered the soldier. "Can either of you fellows talk like a darky?"

  "Not I," said Macgreggor. Had he been asked if he could speak Hebrew, hewould not have been more surprised.

  "Can you, George?" asked Watson, as he shut the door.

  "I might," whispered George. "When I was up in Cincinnati we boysused----"

  "Never mind what you boys did--only do as I tell you, and if you can givea good imitation you may save us from arrest, and worse!"

  The horsemen now seemed to be within a few yards of the cabin. They hadevidently halted for consultation. Meanwhile Watson was whispering someinstructions to George. After he had finished he leaned against the doorwith his whole weight, and indicated to Macgreggor that he was to do thesame thing. The latter obeyed in silence.

  The horsemen without made a great deal of clatter. If they were pursuingthe fugitives they did not seem to think secrecy of movement verynecessary. "Whose cabin is this?" demanded one of them.

  "It did belong to old Sam Curtis, but he's moved away, down to Alabama,"s
ome one answered.

  "Some darky may live in it now, eh?" said the first voice.

  "Perhaps it's empty, and these tarnation spies are in it," was therejoinder in a lower tone.

  The men moved their horses closer to the house, which they quicklysurrounded. No chance now for any one to escape; it seemed as if the threemen in the cabin must inevitably be caught like rats in a trap. Yet theywaited courageously, breathlessly. It was a tense moment. Another minutewould decide their fate. Would they remain free men, or would they fallinto the hands of their pursuers, with all the consequences that such acapture implied?

  Already one of the Vigilants, evidently the leader, had dismounted.Approaching the door of the cabin, he gave it a push as if he expected itwould open at once. But there was no yielding; Watson and Macgreggor werestill leaning firmly against the other side.

  The leader began to knock on the door with a revolver. "Here, here," heshouted; "if there's any one in this cabin, come out--or we'll have youout!"

  At first there was no response, save a bark from Waggie. The leaderrattled savagely at the door. "Let's break in," he cried to hiscompanions, "and see if the place has any one in it!"

  The Vigilants were about to follow the example of their leader, anddismount when there came a wheedling voice--apparently the voice of anegress--from within the cabin.

  "What you gemmen want dis time o' night wid poor Aunty Dinah?"

  "A nigger's living here," muttered the leader, in surprise.

  "What for you gwyne to disturb an ole niggah at dis hour?" asked the voicefrom within.

  "It's all right, aunty," called out the leader. "We only want someinformation. Come to the door."

  "In one minute I be with you," was the answer. "I'se a nursin' my old manhere--he done gone and took the smallpox--and----"

  The smallpox! Had the voice announced that a million Union troops weredescending upon the party the consternation would not have been half asgreat. The smallpox! At the mention of that dreaded name, and at thethought that they were so close to contagion, the Vigilants, with oneaccord, put spurs into their horses and rushed madly away. The leader,dropping his revolver in his excitement, and not even stopping to pick itup, leaped upon his horse and joined in the inglorious retreat. On, on,dashed the men until they reached the town of Jasper, tired and provoked.Like many other men, North or South, they were brave enough when it cameto gunpowder, but were quickly vanquished at the idea of pestilentialdisease.

  "Bah!" cried the leader, as they all reined up in front of the villagetavern, which now looked dark and uninviting; "those three spies, if spiesthey are, can go to Guinea for all I care. I shall hunt them no more."

  There was a general murmur of assent to this fervent remark. One of theVigilants said, in an injured tone: "I wish Jake Hare was at the bottom ofthe ocean!"

  In explanation of which charitable sentiment it may be explained thatFarmer Hare, on the departure of Watson, Macgreggor and George Knight, hadrun all the way to Jasper. Here he told the Vigilants that the three menhad returned in the boat (which he had previously declared they had taken)and landed on the bank of the river. They could be easily caught, he said.He carefully suppressed any account of the way in which he had beenoutwitted by Watson. The fact was that Hare made up his mind, logicallyenough, that the fugitives would keep along the Tennessee until morningcame, and as he had seen the direction they had taken he determined to setthe Vigilants on their track. His scheme, as we have seen, was nearlycrowned with success.

  * * * * *

  "A miss is as good as a mile," laughed Watson, as he stood with his twocompanions in the pitch black interior of the cabin, listening to the lastfaint sounds of the retreating Vigilants.

  "There's nothing like smallpox, eh?" said George.

  "Or nothing like a boy who can imitate a darky's voice," put inMacgreggor. "Where did you learn the art, George?"

  "We boys in Cincinnati had a minstrel company of our own," the boyexplained, "and I used to play negro parts."

  "I'll never call the minstrels stupid again," said Watson. "They have beeninstrumental in saving our lives."

  "Rather say it was your own brains that did it," interposed George.

  So they talked until daybreak, for they found it impossible to sleep.Meanwhile the weather had changed. When the sun came peeping over thehorizon, between tearful clouds, as if afraid that it was almost too dampfor him to be out, the trio were pushing cautiously along the bank of theTennessee, in the direction of Chattanooga.

  "I don't know who brought the Vigilants out for us the second time, unlessit was our dear friend Hare, and I don't know whether they will give usanother chase this morning," said Watson, as they were laboriouslyascending one of the mountain spurs which led down to the river shore,"but we must go steadily on, and trust to luck. To delay would be fatal.This is Friday--and we must be in Marietta by this evening."

  On they trudged, over rocks and paths that would have taxed the ability ofa nimble-footed chamois, as they wondered how the rest of their friendswere faring, and where might be the intrepid Andrews. Sometimes Waggiescampered joyously on; sometimes he reposed in his master's overcoat. Theclouds had now cleared away; the sun was shining serenely over the swollenand boisterous waters of the crooked Tennessee. Nature was once morepreparing to smile.

  "I'm getting frightfully hungry," cried George, about noon-time. "Iwouldn't mind a bit of breakfast."

  "There's where we may get some," said Macgreggor. He pointed to anold-fashioned colonial house of brick, with a white portico, which theycould see in the centre of a large open tract about a quarter of a mileback of the river. The smoke was curling peacefully from one of the twogreat chimneys, as if offering a mute invitation to a stranger to enterthe house and partake of what was being cooked within. In a field in frontof the mansion cattle were grazing, and the jingle of their bells soundedsweetly in the distance. No one would dream, to look at such an attractivepicture, that the grim Spectre of War stalked in the land.

  "Shall we go up to the house, and ask for something?" suggestedMacgreggor, who was blessed with a healthy appetite.

  Watson looked a little doubtful. "There's no use in our showing ourselvesany more than is necessary," he said. "Rather than risk our necks, we hadbetter go on empty stomachs till we reach Chattanooga."

  But such a look of disappointment crept over the faces of George andMacgreggor, and even seemed to be reflected in the shaggy countenance ofWaggie, that Watson relented.

  "After all," he said, "there's no reason why there should be any moredanger here than in Chattanooga or Marietta. Let's make a break for thehouse, and ask for a meal."

  Hardly had he spoken before they were all three hurrying towards themansion. When at last they stood under the portico, George seized thequaint brass knocker of the front door, and gave it a brisk rap. Aftersome delay a very fat negress opened the door, and eyed the strangersrather suspiciously. Their tramp over the country had not improved theirappearance, and her supercilious, inquisitive look was not strange, underthe circumstances.

  "What you folks want?" she asked, putting her big arms akimbo in anuncompromising attitude. Watson was about to reply when an attractivevoice, with the soft accent so characteristic of the Southerners, called:"What is it, Ethiopia? Any one to see me?"

  The next instant a kindly-faced gentlewoman of about fifty stood in thedoorway.

  "Is there anything I can do for you?" she asked pleasantly.

  Macgreggor proceeded to tell the customary story about their being ontheir way from Kentucky to join the Confederate army further south. Hisheart smote him as he did so, for she was so gentle and sympathetic in hermanner that he loathed to practice any deception, however necessary; butthere was no help for it. So he ended by asking for something to eat.

  "Come in," said the mistress of the mansion, for such she proved to be,"and take any poor hospitality I can offer you. My husband, Mr. Page, andboth my children are away, fighting under Gener
al Lee, and I am only tooglad to do anything I can for others who are helping the great cause." Shesmiled sweetly at George, and patted his dog. The boy regarded her almostsheepishly; he, too, hated the idea of imposing on so cordial a hostess.

  Mrs. Page led the party into a great colonial hallway, embellished withfamily portraits. "By-the-way," she added, "there is a Confederate officerin the house now--Major Lightfoot, of the --th Virginia Regiment. Hereached here this morning from Richmond and goes to Chattanooga thisafternoon on a special mission."

  Watson bit his lip. "We're coming to too close quarters with the enemy,"he thought, and he felt like retreating from the mansion with hiscompanions. But it was too late. Such a move would only excite suspicion,or, worse still, lead to pursuit. "We must face the thing through," hemuttered, "and trust to our wits."

  Mrs. Page ushered the strangers, including the delighted Waggie, into alarge, handsomely paneled dining-room on the left of the hallway. She madethem gather around an unset table. "Sit here for a few minutes," she said,"and the servants will bring you the best that Page Manor can offer you.In the meantime, I'll send Major Lightfoot to see you. He may be able tohelp you in some way."

  She closed the door and was gone. "I wish this Major Lightfoot, whoever heis, was in Patagonia at the present moment," whispered Watson. "It's easyenough to deceive the Southern country bumpkins, and make them think youare Confederates, but when you get among people with more intelligence,like officers----"

  "What difference does it make?" interrupted Macgreggor, looking longinglyat a mahogany sideboard. "Didn't you hear Mrs. Page say the Major was aVirginian? He doesn't know anything about Kentucky."

  "That's lucky," laughed Watson, "for we don't either."

  "Hush!" came the warning from George. The door opened, and several negroservants began to bring in a cold dinner. What a meal it was too, when thetime came to partake of it, and how grateful the three hungry travelersfelt to the mistress of the house. When it had been disposed of, and theservants had left the dining-room, George said, almost under his breath:"Hadn't we better be off? We have a good number of miles yet, between hereand Marietta."

  Watson was about to rise from the table when the door opened to admit atall, stalwart man of about thirty, whose cold, gray-blue eyes andresolute mouth denoted one who was not to be trifled with. He was dressedin the gray uniform of a Confederate officer, but he had, presumably, lefthis sword and pistols in another room. The visitors stood up as heentered.

  "Glad to see you, my men," he said, shaking hands with each one.

  "Is this Major Lightfoot?" asked Watson, trying to look delighted, but notmaking a brilliant success of it.

  "Yes," returned the Major. "I hear you boys are Kentuckians."

  "We are," said Macgreggor stoutly; "we are ready to die for our country,and so we are journeying southward to enlist."

  "You're a pretty young chap to take up arms," observed the Major, eyeingGeorge keenly.

  "One is never too young to do that," answered the boy. He was determinedto put a bold face on the affair, and he saw no reason why the Confederateofficer should suspect him if he spoke up unhesitatingly.

  "The South has need of all her loyal sons," remarked Watson, who felt nocompunction in deceiving the Major, whatever might have been hissentiments as to hoodwinking Mrs. Page.

  "So you all come from Kentucky?" went on the officer. "That interests me,for I come from Kentucky myself!"

  The jaws of the three strangers dropped simultaneously. Had a bomb fallenat their feet they could not have been more disconcerted. What did theyknow about Kentucky, if they had to be put through a series ofcross-questions by a native! But there was no reason, after all, why theMajor should dwell on the subject.

  "I thought Mrs. Page said you belonged to a Virginia regiment," exclaimedMacgreggor, almost involuntarily.

  "So I do," replied the Major, "but I only settled in Virginia two yearsago. I was born and bred in Kentucky, and there's no state like it--now isthere?"

  "No!" cried the trio, with a well-feigned attempt at enthusiasm. They feltthat they were treading on dangerous ground, and resolved to play theirparts as well as they could.

  "Do you all come from the same part of Kentucky?" queried the Major, as hesat down on a chair, evidently prepared for a pleasant chat.

  "From Fleming County," said Watson carelessly, quite as if he knew everyother county in the State. "I fear, sir, we must be moving on towardsChattanooga. We are in a hurry to enlist, and we have already been delayedtoo long."

  The Major completely ignored the latter part of this sentence. "FromFleming County," he said. "Well, that's pleasant news. I know FlemingCounty like a book. There is where my father lived and died. What part ofthe county do you come from?"

  Had the Major asked them to tell the area of the United States in squareinches he could not have propounded a more puzzling question.

  "Dunder and blitzen;" thought Watson. "If I only knew more of Kentuckygeography I might get myself out of this scrape."

  "We come from the southeastern part of the county," said Macgreggor, afteran awkward pause.

  "Near what town?"

  Another pause. Oh, for the name of a town in the southeastern part ofFleming County, Kentucky. The Major was looking at the visitors curiously.Why this sudden reticence on their part?

  At last Watson spoke up, although evasively. "We were a long distance fromany town; we worked on adjoining farms, and when the call to arms came wedetermined to rush to the rescue of our beloved Southland."

  The Major gave Watson one searching look. "Humph!" said he, "that's allvery pretty, and I'm glad you are so patriotic--but that won't do. What isthe nearest town to the places you live in?"

  The name of Carlisle flashed through Watson's mind. He recalled that itwas somewhere in the part of Kentucky in which Fleming County wassituated. A man he knew had once lived there. He would risk it.

  "The nearest town is Carlisle," he said shortly. "And now, Major, wereally must be off! Good-bye!"

  He started for the door, followed by George and Macgreggor, who were bothdevoutly wishing that such a state as Kentucky had never existed.

  "Wait a second," suddenly commanded the Southerner, stepping in front ofthe door to bar the way. "You seem to be strangely ignorant of your owncounty. Carlisle happens to be in the adjoining county."

  "Here, sir, we're not here to be examined by you, as if we were in thewitness box," cried Watson, who hoped to carry the situation through witha strong hand. He would try a little bluster.

  A sarcastic smile crossed the firm face of Major Lightfoot. "Don't try tobluff me," he said quietly but sternly; "for it won't work. I see veryclearly that you fellows have never been in Fleming County, nor do I thinkyou have ever been in Kentucky at all, for the matter of that. Youcertainly talk more like Yankees than Kentuckians."

  "Then you don't believe us?" asked Macgreggor, trying to assume an air ofinjured innocence.

  "Certainly not," answered the Major. He folded his arms, and regarded thevisitors as if he were trying to read their inmost thoughts. "You arelying to me! And as you've lied to me about coming from Kentucky, it'squite as likely you've lied to me about your being on your way to enlistin the Confederate army. For all I know you may be Union spies. In short,my friends, you are acting in the most suspicious way, and I put you underarrest!"

  George's heart sank within him. He was not afraid of being arrested, butto think that he might never take part in the bridge-burning expedition.Lightfoot turned the key in the door.

  Watson walked up to the Major, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Lookhere," he said, in the tone of a man who is quite sure of his position."You talk about putting us under arrest, but you're only playing a game ofbluff yourself. We are three to your one--and I'd like to know what is toprevent our walking out of this house, and knocking you down, too--or, ifyou prefer, shooting you--if you attempt to stop us?"

  Lightfoot laughed, in a superior sort of way. "Go, if you want," he saidcurtly; "
but I don't think you'll go very far." His eyes glistened, as ifhe thought the whole scene rather a good joke. "Half a mile back of thismansion there's a squadron of Confederate cavalry picketed. If I give themthe alarm they'll scour the whole countryside for you, and you'll all bein their hands within an hour."

  Watson turned pale. It was the paleness of vexation rather than of fear."Why were we fools enough to come to this house," he thought. He knew howquickly they could be caught by cavalrymen.

  The Major smiled in a tantalizing manner. "I think you will take my adviceand surrender," he said, sitting down carelessly in a chair and swingingone of his long legs over the other. "If, on investigation, it proves thatyou are not spies, you will be allowed to go on your way. If there's anydoubt about it, however, you will be sent to Richmond."

  Macgreggor, with a bound, leaped in front of the Confederate, and, pullingout a revolver, pointed it at Lightfoot's head. "Unless you promise not tohave us followed, you shan't leave this room alive!" he cried with thetone of a man daring everything for liberty. George fully expected to seethe officer falter, for he had seen that the Major was unarmed.

  But Lightfoot did nothing of the kind. On the contrary, he gave one of hisprovoking laughs. "Don't go into heroics," he said, pushing Macgreggoraway as though he were "shoohing" off a cat. "You know I would promiseanything, and the second your backs were turned I'd give the alarm. Youdon't think I would be fool enough to see you fellows walking away withoutmaking a trial to get you back?"

  Macgreggor hesitated, as he looked at George and Watson. Then he answeredfiercely, handling his pistol ominously the meanwhile: "We've but onechance--and we'll take it! We will never let you leave this room alive,promise or no promise. You are unarmed, and there are _three_ of us,armed."

  The Major did not seem to be at all startled. He merely changed theposition of his legs, as he answered: "Killing me wouldn't do you anygood, my boy! If you do shoot me before I can escape from the room theshooting would only alarm the house--the cavalry would be summoned by Mrs.Page, and you would find yourself worse off even than you are now."

  Watson touched Macgreggor on the shoulder. "The Major's right," he said;"we would only be shooting down a man in cold blood, and gaining nothingby it. He has trapped us--and, so long as those plagued cavalrymen are sonear, we had better submit. I think I've got as much courage as the nextman, but I don't believe in butting one's head against a stone wall."

  Macgreggor sullenly replaced his pistol. He could not but see the force ofWatson's reasoning. The Major rose to his feet. He was smiling away again,as if he were enjoying himself.

  "We surrender!" announced Watson with a woebegone expression on his strongface.

  "You'll admit," said Lightfoot, "that I was too clever for you?"

  There was no answer. George picked up Waggie. "Can I take my dog alongwith us, wherever we go?" he asked.

  The Major Merely Changed the Position of His Legs]

  The Major suddenly advanced towards George, and patted the tiny animal."Hello! Waggie, how are you, old man?" he cried.

  George gasped. "How on earth did you know Waggie's name?" he asked. ForWaggie had been chewing at a bone on the floor ever since the entrance ofthe Confederate, and his master had not addressed a word to him duringthat time.

  "I know his name almost as well as I do yours, George Knight," saidLightfoot.

  In his excitement George dropped Waggie on a chair. The three Northernersheard this last announcement with open-mouthed astonishment.

  Lightfoot burst into a great laugh that made the mystery the more intense."Why, comrades," he cried, "I ought to go on the stage; I had no idea Iwas such a good actor. Don't you know your friend, Walter Jenks?" TheSouthern accent of the speaker had suddenly disappeared.

  The listeners stood dumfounded. Then the whole situation dawned upon them.They had been most gloriously and successfully duped. This Major Lightfootwas none other than Walter Jenks, a sergeant from General Mitchell's camp,whom Andrews had sent out on the bridge-burning party. He had shaved offhis beard, and assumed a Southern accent (something he was able to dobecause he was a Marylander), so that the guests at the Page mansion hadfailed to recognize him.

  Jenks shook the three warmly by the hand. "It was a mean trick to play onyou fellows," he explained, lowering his voice, "but for the life of me Icouldn't resist the temptation."

  "How on earth did you turn up here in the guise of a Confederate officer?"asked Watson, who now felt a sense of exhilaration in knowing that hemight yet join Andrews at Marietta.

  "It is too long a story to tell," whispered Jenks. "I'll only say herethat I got lost from the other two fellows I was traveling with--wassuspected of being a spy in one of the villages I passed through--and, toavoid pursuit, had to shave off my beard and disguise myself in thisConfederate uniform, which I was lucky enough to 'appropriate.' I wasnearly starved--stumbled across this place or my way down--told aplausible story (Heaven forgive me for deceiving so delightful a lady asMrs. Page)--and here I am! And the sooner we set off from here, the soonerwe will meet at the appointed town."

  "When the war's over," remarked Macgreggor, "you can earn a fortune on thestage."

  Half an hour later the four Northerners had taken a grateful farewell ofthe unsuspecting Mrs. Page, and were hurrying along the bank of theTennessee. By four o'clock in the afternoon they had reached a pointdirectly opposite Chattanooga. Here they found a ferryman, just as theyhad been given to expect, with his flat "horse-boat" moored to the shore.He was a fat, comfortable-looking fellow, as he sat in tailor-fashion onthe little wharf, smoking a corncob pipe as unconcernedly as though he hadnothing to do all day but enjoy tobacco.

  Watson approached the man. "We want to get across the river as soon aspossible," he explained, pointing to his companions. "This officer(indicating Walter Jenks, who retained his Confederate uniform) and therest of us must be in Chattanooga within half an hour."

  The ferryman took his pipe from his mouth and regarded the partyquizzically. "You may want to be in Chattanooga in half an hour," he said,in a drawling, lazy fashion, "but I reckon the river's got somethin' tosay as to that!" He waved one hand slowly in the direction of the stream,which was, without a shadow of doubt, an angry picture to gaze upon. Itswaters were turbulent enough to suggest that a passage across them at thismoment would be attended by great risk.

  But to the anxious travelers any risk, however great, seemed preferable towaiting. If they missed the evening train from Chattanooga to Mariettatheir usefulness was ended. No bridge-burning adventure for them!

  "I tell you we _must_ get over to-night," urged Jenks, who hoped that hisuniform would give him a certain prestige in the eyes of the ferryman. "Iam Major Lightfoot, of the --th Virginia, and I'm on an important mission.Every minute is precious!"

  "That may be true enough, Colonel," replied the man, ignoring the title of"major," and taking a whiff from his pipe. "That may be true enough, but Icalculate nature's got somethin' to say in this world. And I calculate Iain't a-going to risk my life, and the happiness of my wife and fivechildren, by tryin' to stem the Tennessee in this turmoil."

  George's heart sank within him. To be so near the realization of his dreamof adventure, and to be stopped at the eleventh hour by this stupid,cautious boatman! Waggie, who had been frisking near him, suddenly becamesolemn.

  Watson pulled from his coat a large pack of Confederate money. "There'smoney for you," he cried, "if you'll take us over!"

  The ferryman eyed him in a sleepy way, and took another pull at thatprovoking pipe.

  "Money!" he said, after a long pause, during which the Northerners gazedat him as if their very lives depended on his decision. "Money! What's theuse to me of money, if we all get drowned crossing over?"

  As he spoke the river roared and rushed downwards on its course with aheedlessness that quite justified him in his hesitation. "Wait tillto-morrow morning, and the Tennessee will be quieter. Then I'll help youout."

  "Wait till doomsday, why don't
you say?" thundered Jenks. "We must takethe risk--and I order you to take us over, at once!"

  "You may be a very big man in the army," answered the ferryman, "but yourorders don't go here!" He produced a small tin box from the tail of hiscoat, leisurely poured from it into his pipe some strong tobacco, andslowly lighted the stuff. Then he arose, walked to the edge of the wharf,and beckoned to a lad of nine or ten years old who was half asleep in theboat. The boy jumped up, leaped upon the wharf, and ran off along theriver's bank in the opposite direction from which the four strangers hadcome. He had received a mysterious order from the ferryman.

  "What's the matter now?" asked Macgreggor, who had a strong desire toknock down this imperturbable fellow who refused to be impressed even by aConfederate uniform.

  "Nothing," replied the man, stolidly. He sat down again, crossed his legs,and took a long pull at the pipe.

  "For the last time," shouted Jenks, shaking his fist in the smoker's face,"I order you to take out that boat, and ferry us across the river!"

  "For the last time," said the man, very calmly, "I tell you I'm not goingto risk my life for four fools!"

  George walked up closer to Watson, and whispered: "Let's seize the boat,and try to cross over ourselves!"

  Watson beckoned to his two companions, and told them what the boysuggested.

  "We will be taking our lives in our hands," said Jenks, "but anything isbetter than being delayed here."

  "Besides," added Macgreggor, "although the river _is_ prettymischievous-looking, I don't think it's any more dangerous than waitinghere."

  Jenks took out his watch, and looked at it. "I'll give you just fiveminutes," he said, addressing the ferryman, "and if by that time youhaven't made up your mind to take us over the river, we'll take the lawinto our own hands, seize your boat, and try the journey ourselves."Waggie began to bark violently, as if he sympathized with this speech.

  The man smiled. "That will be a fool trick," he answered. "If it'sdangerous for me, it'll be death for you uns. Better say your prayers,partner!"

  "Only four minutes left!" cried Jenks, resolutely, keeping an eye on thewatch.

  The ferryman closed his eyes and resumed his smoking. The others watchedhim intently. Meanwhile George was thinking. Two minutes more passed. Theboy was recalling a saying of his father's: "Sometimes you can taunt anobstinate man into doing things, where you can't reason with him."

  "Time is up!" said Jenks, at last. "Come, boys, let's make a break for theboat!"

  The ferryman placed his pipe on the ground with the greatest composure."Take the boat if you want," he observed, rising to his feet, "but youfellows won't get very far in it! Look there!"

  He pointed up the river's bank. The boy who had been sent away a fewminutes before was coming back to the wharf; he was now, perhaps, aquarter of a mile away, but he was not alone. He was bringing with himfive Confederate soldiers, who were walking briskly along with muskets atright shoulder.

  "You fellows looked kind o' troublesome," explained the ferryman, "so asthere's a picket up yonder I thought I'd send my son up for 'em!"

  Watson made a move towards the boat. "Better stay here," cried theferryman; "for before you can get a hundred feet away from the bank inthis contrary stream those soldiers will pick you off with their muskets.D'ye want to end up as food for fishes?"

  The men groaned in spirit. "It's too late," muttered Jenks. He couldpicture the arrival at Marietta of all the members of the expedition savehis own party, and the triumphal railroad escapade the next day. And whenthe Northern newspapers would ring with the account of the affair, his ownname would not appear in the list of the brave adventurers.

  Suddenly George went up to the ferryman, and said, with much distinctness:"I see we have to do with a coward! There's not a boatman in Kentucky whowouldn't take us across this river. Even a Yankee wouldn't fear it. Butyou are so afraid you'll have to get your feet wet that you actually sendfor soldiers to protect you!"

  George's companions looked at him in astonishment. The boatman, losing hisplacidity, turned a deep red. "Take care, young fellow," he said, in avoice of anger; "there's not a man in Tennessee who dares to call NedJackson a coward!"

  "I dare to call you a coward unless you take us over to Chattanooga!"answered the boy, sturdily. "You're afraid--and that's the whole truth!"

  Jackson's face now underwent a kaleidoscopic transformation ranging allthe way from red to purple, and then to white. All his stolidity hadvanished; he was no longer the slow countryman; he had become thecourageous, impetuous Southerner.

  "If you weren't a boy," he shouted, "I'd knock you down!"

  "That wouldn't prove your bravery," returned George, regarding him with anexpression of well-feigned contempt. "That would only show you to be abully. If you have any courage in your veins--the kind of courage thatmost Southerners have--prove it by taking us across the river."

  The soldiers were gradually drawing near the wharf. Meanwhile George'scompanions had caught his cue. He was trying to goad Jackson into ferryingthem over the riotous stream.

  "Humph!" said Macgreggor; "a good boatman is never afraid of the water;but our friend here seems to have a consuming fear of it!"

  "He ought to live on a farm, where there is nothing but a duck pond in theshape of water," added Jenks. Jackson was actually trembling with rage;his hands were twisting nervously.

  Watson eyed him with seeming pity, as he said: "It's a lucky thing for youthat you didn't enlist in the Confederate army. You would have run at thefirst smell of gunpowder!"

  Jackson could contain his wrath no longer. "So you fellows think I'm acoward," he cried. "Very well! I'll prove that I'm not! Get into my boat,and I'll take you across--or drown you all and myself--I don't care which.But no man shall ever say that Ned Jackson is a coward!" He ran to theboat, leaped into it and beckoned to the Northerners. "Come on!" heshouted. Within a minute George, Macgreggor, Watson and Jenks were in thelittle craft, and the ferryman had unmoored it from the wharf.

  "Never mind," he cried, waving his hand to the soldiers, who had nowreached the wharf. "I don't want you. I'm going to ferry 'em over theriver--or go to the bottom! It's all right."

  Already were the voyagers in midstream, almost before they knew it. Itlooked as if Jackson, in his attempt to prove his courage, might only endby sending them all to the bottom. Waggie, who was now reposing in apocket of George's coat, suddenly gave a low growl. George produced fromanother pocket a bone which he had brought from Mrs. Page's house, andgave it to the dog.

  "Well," laughed Watson, in unconcern, "if Wag's to be drowned, he'll bedrowned on a full stomach--and that's one consolation."

  "He's the only critter among you as has got any sense," snarled theferryman; "for he's the only one who didn't ask to be taken across thisinfarnal river!"