A HAIL AT THE BARS.
Although the corporal talked rapidly, he did not neglect his supper,
and by the time he reached this point in his story his second supply of
bread and meat was all gone. He handed back the empty plate, rested his
gun across his knees where it would be handy in case of emergency, and
drew from one of the pockets of his ragged blouse something that looked
like a small bundle of brown wrapping paper.
"Yes, they concluded they'd better sign," said he, with a laugh,
"and here are their paroles. At first the lady of the house, who was
disposed to be impudent and sassy until one of the rebs cautioned her
that it might be worse for them if she didn't keep still, declared that
she had nothing at all in the way of writing materials; but when one
of the Johnnies told her, with some impatience, that if she didn't
hand them out we'd be likely to go through her shanty, she produced the
stump of a pencil and some paper that was so rough I could scarcely
write on it; but I made it do, and, would you believe it, one of my
boys had to witness their signatures, for there wasn't one of the six
rebels who could write his name. Of course we disarmed and dismounted
them, and stood among the bushes in the front yard and saw them make
tracks in the direction of Camp Pinckney; but the hounds were put on
our trail, all the same, and the next day they pressed us so close that
we had to shoot some of the leading ones. And what surprised us was
that those dogs would not attempt to follow our trail across a piece of
wet ground. They would take a circle around it and pick up our trail
again on the other side where the ground was dry."
"They'll do it every time," said Ned. "And it isn't a part of their
training, either. That's the way they hunt deer and foxes, and it is
something they pick up themselves without any teaching."
"Well, it's pretty bright in the dogs, I must say, and we were sorry
to shoot them, but there was no help for it. First and last we must
have killed half or two-thirds of the pack, but they have been strongly
reinforced; for, judging by the yelping we heard to-day, there are more
hounds on our trail now than there were at the start."
"You were very fortunate in being able to keep out of their way," said
Mrs. Griffin, "and I don't see how you managed it."
"I don't either, madam; but somehow we did it. We can't keep it up
much longer, however, for we are nearly exhausted, and I wish from the
bottom of my heart that we were in sight of those gunboats at this
minute. But we'll get there in due time, and we'll not go empty-handed.
We made an important capture this afternoon, and perhaps have saved our
scouts and gunboats, as well as the Union people in the settlement,
some trouble. It's a fortunate thing for him that we didn't know what
he was when we first caught sight of him; but as he was in full uniform
we supposed he was a soldier and treated him accordingly."
"And—and what was he?" faltered Ned, while his mother looked anxious
and bent forward in her chair to catch the corporal's answer. Something
told them that they were about to hear bad news.
"A miserable Home Guard and a captain besides," replied the soldier.
"Of course after he surrendered we couldn't shoot him down in cold
blood, as his kind would have served us if we had chanced to fall into
their power, but we'll put him where he'll not fight any more gunboats
for one while, I bet you."
"How and where did you capture him?" was Ned's next question. It wasn't
the one that trembled on his tongue, but it was as near as he could get
to it.
"Why, we had been wading for two miles in a little bayou that brought
us through a cornfield to the river side of the road, and at last we
hid in a grove of evergreens from which we could command a view in all
directions. We stayed there for an hour, listening to the faint baying
of the hounds in the timber on the other side of the road, and never
once dreaming that anybody would come near us, when to our surprise
we saw a gate open, and a single horseman ride down the lane that led
straight to our place of concealment. I tell you we were scared, for
we expected to see the dogs and all our pursuers come through the gate
after him, but he stopped to put up the bars and then came on alone;
and when he approached nearer we saw that he could not be one of the
men we were looking for, because his horse was fresh and clean, and
didn't have the splashed legs and body he would if he had been chasing
us through the swamp for three days and more. We saw, too, that he and
his horse were at outs about something, for every once in a while he
would pound the animal with his whip as if he were very mad at him; and
the last time he tried it, which he did when he was within less than
a hundred feet of our hiding-place, the horse jumped and threw him as
slick as you please, and I was glad of it. That was the time we rushed
out and took him in."
"Did he tell you his name?" inquired Ned, and the words seemed to force
themselves out against his will.
"Yes, he did; and we think it strange that General Williams hasn't
abolished him and put a stop to his doings long ago. But none of
us ever heard the name of Captain Randolph before. You know him, I
suppose?"
"Certainly, I do; and I know that, so far as fighting is concerned,
he is the most harmless man in the country. Did he tell you that his
company had defeated some of your cavalry and been in action with the
gunboats?"
"He certainly did tell us just that," replied the corporal; and Ned and
his mother thought he looked at them rather sharply.
"Well, there wasn't a word of truth in it," said the young overseer
stoutly. He began to have a vague idea that he was injuring himself in
the estimation of these two Federals by standing up for Tom Randolph,
but he had gone too far to back out. He knew that Tom would not have
uttered a word in his defence if their situations had been reversed,
but that made no difference to Ned Griffin, who in few words gave the
corporal a full history of Tom's military exploits. The occasional
raids through the settlement that Captain Randolph had made at the
head of his company Ned did not regard as military business, for their
sole purpose was to intimidate Union men and increase Tom's importance;
so he said nothing about them.
"If you are as strongly in favor of the Old Flag as I have been led to
believe, I don't see what your object is in saying a good word for this
Home Guard," said the corporal when Ned ceased speaking.
"Wouldn't you say a word for an old acquaintance of yours if you saw
him in trouble, no matter whether he was your friend or not?" asked Ned
in reply. "If you will give me time I can prove that I have told you
nothing but the truth, and that Tom has deceived you from beginning to
end."
"What do you suppose his object was in doing it?"
"He always does it every chance he gets. He knows he will never win a
reputation by deeds of arms, and so he tries to win it with his mouth.
He never did you Yankees the least harm, and he never will."
"Don't you think we have been here long enough, Charley?" Ben asked
of his non-commissioned officer; and he answered the question himself
by getting upon his feet as if he were making ready to leave. He was
plainly the more suspicious of the two, and showed in various ways that
he didn't have much of an opinion of one who had so friendly a feeling
for a Home Guard.
"We've been here too long," replied the corporal. "Our friends down
there in the woods will think we are lost or have been gobbled up. May
we trespass still further on your good-nature by asking for a bite for
our absent comrades?"
"Lucindy, fill up the biggest basket you can find in the house," said
Ned. "And Ben, if you will sit down a minute I will get shoes and
stockings for you."
"And have you anything in the way of bedding?" inquired Mrs. Griffin.
"The nights are cool, if the days are sultry."
No, they didn't have a thing except their guns and the dilapidated
garments they stood in; and a blanket or two, if Mrs. Griffin could
spare them, would protect them from the mosquitos if nothing more;
for of course it would be dangerous for them to build a smudge until
they knew positively that their pursuers had been left behind. Ben was
profuse in his thanks, and suggested that No. 9's would be about the
right size for him; and Ned went among the darkeys to find them, for
he wore nothing larger than 6's, and couldn't boast of an extra pair
of them. While he was gone his mother saw the basket filled and the
blankets made into a bundle, and also found opportunity to say a word
for Tom Randolph.
"What do you intend to do with him?" she asked.
"Turn him over to the provost marshal and have him sent North," was the
answer.
"If you do that you will kill his mother, and punish a man who is as
innocent of any military achievements as I am," said Mrs. Griffin. "You
must not think that I am a friend of his—how can I be when he tried
his best to have my son conscripted? Why can you not parole him and let
him go?"
"We didn't parole those six rebels for fun, or because we thought the
parole was binding," said the corporal with a smile, "but simply to
delay them until we could get a start. If we turn Randolph loose, it
will be out of gratitude to you and your son."
"Better knock him in the head," growled Ben.
"Don't mind him," said the corporal, seeing that Mrs. Griffin was
shocked by the words. "Ben is down on all Home Guards because he saw
one of them shoot his chum."
"But Tom Randolph was in no way to blame for that," answered the lady.
"And I know that Rodney Gray would insist upon his release if he were
here. Promise me that you will let him go; and when you are ready to
start for the river, Ned shall take you there by the shortest and
easiest course."
The corporal opened his lips to reply that he did not think it best
to make any promises until he could consult the rest of his party,
but before he could utter a word an incident happened that brought
him and Ben to their feet in a twinkling, and drove all the color
from Mrs. Griffin's face, leaving it as white as a sheet. First there
was a terrific and sudden outburst of yelps and growls from the
small army of coon dogs that found a home on the plantation, and then
answering yelps and deep-toned bays came from the direction of the
front bars, mingled with the shouts of command and the sharp cracking
of riding-whips. There was a second's oppressive silence, and a strange
voice called out:
"Hal-lo, the house!"
"Coming, sir! Get out, you whelps!" shouted Ned Griffin's voice in
reply; and presently the frightened inmates of the house heard him
running around the corner toward the bars. The corporal and his
comrade, who stood with their guns in readiness, seemingly as much
at their ease as they had been while sitting quietly in their chairs
eating the bread and meat that had been provided for them, looked
inquiringly at Mrs. Griffin.
"They are strangers and have hounds with them," said the latter, in a
terrified whisper. "I fear the worst, but Ned will do what he can."
"I certainly hope he will keep them out of the house," answered the
corporal calmly, "for if he don't, some of them will never see the sun
rise again."
Ned Griffin, who had had no trouble at all in inducing one of the field
hands to hand over a pair of stockings and his best shoes for the
benefit of the bare-footed soldier in the house, was almost ready to
drop when he heard that racket at the front bars, but he answered the
hail without an instant's hesitation, tossing the stockings and shoes
into the nearest bush, and ran to the road, knowing that he would meet
a party of Confederate soldiers and a pack of "nigger" dogs when he got
there; but did the soldiers know or suspect that the men of whom they
were in pursuit had sought aid and comfort in that house?
"They can't know it or suspect it, unless somebody has betrayed us; and
if that has happened it is all up with Ned Griffin," thought the young
overseer; and when he reached the bars and caught sight of the party
on the other side, he did not feign surprise, but said, as any other
honest, hospitable boy would have done: "Alight and hitch. I knew it was
you the minute I heard the music of your hounds. Did you catch them?"
"No," replied one of the men, who wore some sort of insignia on his
collar to show that he was an officer. "They gave us the slip about
eleven o'clock this morning, and we haven't been able to find their
tracks since. But we——"
"Say!" interrupted Ned suddenly. "Please don't let your big hounds come
over the fence and eat up my pups. I need them to catch wild hogs with
next winter."
That was very true, but it was not the reason Ned did not want the
hounds to come inside the yard. He was afraid that some of them might
go foraging on their own hook; and if they wandered around to the back
door in search of something to eat, they could not help striking the
trail the two escaped prisoners made when they entered the house. They
would be sure to recognize it on the instant and give tongue, and then
there would be trouble indeed; for Ben and the corporal would fight
till they dropped before they would be recaptured. And then what would
be done to him and his mother for feeding and trying to conceal them?
But the hounds were thrashed and scolded back into the road and the
officer continued:
"We will get the start of them to-morrow. If they are in this
neighborhood they will stay here, for we are going to place ourselves
between them and the river. But we were well fed and rested at a house
three miles back, so we'll not alight, thank you. Are we on the road to
Mooreville? That's what I called you out for."
"Keep straight ahead, and you can't miss it," said Ned. "And if you
want to go toward the Mississippi, take the first right-hand road. But
look out for the Yanks. I haven't seen any of their critter fellers,
but there may be some between here and Baton Rouge."
"If we run on to them before we know it, it will be our fault, won't
it? Good-night. Forward, trot, gallop!"
The young overseer, feeling as if a mountain had been removed from his
shoulders, stood leaning on the bars until the sound of the horses'
feet had died away in the distance, and then he settled himself into a
comfortable position, drew a long breath, and waited fifteen minutes
longer in order to make sure that the rebels had really gone on toward
Mooreville. While he was waiting Cæsar came up, expecting to receive a
good scolding, and perhaps something worse, for neglect of duty.
"Sho's you live, Marse Ned, I watch and wait wid all my eyes and ears,
and dey slip along de road and up to de bars 'fore I knowed it," he
said earnestly. "You know ole Cæsar aint going to sleep wid two Yankees
in de house and rebels all around."
"That's all right. I was out of doors, and didn't know they were at the
bars until they hailed. Now, stay right here and see that they don't
steal a march on us. If you hear the slightest sound down the road
Mooreville way, slip into the house and let me know it."
Ned went back to the bushes where he left the stockings and shoes, and
when he carried them into the house he found no one there except his
mother, who was plying her needle as if nothing had happened. The two
fugitives had disappeared, and there was not a darkey to be seen.
"Open that door and you will find them," said Mrs. Griffin, when Ned
stopped and looked all around. "They thought they would rather fight it
out downstairs than in the garret, for they would have a better chance
to run."
"They can't go any farther to-night, for their pursuers are riding hard
to get between them and the river, and may send the hounds into the
woods at any time. And I am glad of it," whispered Ned. "I'd like to
keep them until I can go for Rodney. Perhaps he can do something for
Tom Randolph. Why, mother, did you ever hear of such a lunatic? If he
gets out of this scrape I don't think he'll ever let his tongue bring
him into another."
Ned pushed open the door, and the two escaped prisoners came out. In
few words they were made acquainted with the result of the interview
that had taken place at the bars, and Ned and his mother did not wonder
that it had a depressing effect upon them. After racing through the
almost impassable woods and swamps until they were ready to drop with
fatigue, it certainly _was_ disheartening to know that the enemy had
come so close to them when they imagined themselves safe for the night.
They decided that they had better return to their companions at once
and talk the situation over with them.
"All right," said Ned. "I will go with you, for I want to see what Tom
Randolph has to say for himself. If you will take my advice, you will
stay pretty close about this plantation until you have seen Rodney
Gray. He can do more for you than almost anybody else in these parts,
and if you get into trouble you'll find it so."
The blankets and the basket of provisions were brought from the room
in which they had been hastily concealed, and the fugitives lingered a
moment to shake hands with Mrs. Griffin and tell her how grateful they
were for the generous treatment they had received at her hands and her
son's.
"There is one way in which you can show it," replied Ned's mother, "and
that is by releasing your prisoner."
"But, madam, we have no right to do it," said Ben, who was inclined to
put more faith in Tom's story of his exploits than he did in Ned's. It
was natural, under the circumstances, for him to believe that Ned's
regard for the truth was not so strong as his desire to shield an old
acquaintance. "We are bound to take him before our colonel and state
the case to him; and if _he_ has a mind to let him go—why, all right."
"Haven't you the same right to release Tom Randolph that you had to
release Rodney Gray and his friend?" inquired Mrs. Griffin. "You did
not think it necessary to take them before an officer?"
"Perhaps I did stretch my authority just a little," said the corporal,
coming to Ben's assistance. "But almost any non-com., who wanted to
be half white, would have done the same thing. Rodney and Graham had
discharges in their pockets, while this man Randolph holds a commission
as captain of Home Guards at this minute. But we'll tell the boys what
you have done for us, Mrs. Griffin, and let them decide the matter.
I hope it may be our good fortune to meet again under pleasanter
circumstances. Good-night."
Ned led the way from the house and along the lane that ran through
the negro quarter to the woods, in which the corporal's two comrades
and their prisoner were impatiently awaiting their return. They moved
silently and without exchanging a word above a whisper, but the
dark-skinned inmates of the cabins seemed to be on the watch. One door
after another was softly opened, and suppressed voices, that were
rendered husky by emotion, cheered them with such expressions as:
"Lawd bress Marse Linkum's sojer boys! Youse boun' to whop de rebels,
honey; I know you is, kase Ise praying for you free times a day, like
Dan'l in de lion's den."
"I certainly hope you'll not get into any trouble through what you have
done for us to-night," said hard-hearted Ben, who was moved in spite of
himself by these expressions of sympathy.
"So far as I know, our blacks are all loyal," answered Ned, "but it
won't do to trust some negroes too far, any more than it will do
to trust some white people; and when we are in the presence of Tom
Randolph I wish you would be careful not to——"
He stopped suddenly, but it was too late. He had committed himself. As
he afterward told his friend Rodney, he came near ruining everything
before he thought what he was doing.
"There you have it!" exclaimed Ben angrily. "Why do you try to befriend
that man Randolph, when you dare not trust him for fear that he will
set your rebel neighbors against you? He shall never go free with my
consent, and that is a word with a bark on it."
"Or are you afraid that he will get his Home Guards together and burn
you out, to pay you for what you have done for us Yankees?" said the
corporal. "I don't believe there's a Home Guard in the world that will
do to tie to, and I think the best thing we can do is to hold fast to
that fellow. If he's done us half the damage he says he has, he is a
prize."
Ned's common sense told him that words would not rectify the big
mistake he had made, so he dropped Tom Randolph, entirely, and talked
of the hounds and the risk his Yankee friends would incur if they tried
to make their way to the Mississippi through the comparatively open
country that lay before them. There were not woods enough to conceal
their movements; the people along the route were mostly rebels, and
they could hardly help meeting someone who would put their pursuers
on their track if he saw half a chance. What they needed more than
anything else during the rest of their journey was a guide known to be
a good Confederate, but friendly enough to Yanks to help them out of
trouble if they got into it. The two fugitives did not think they were
likely to fall into such trouble as Ned hinted at, but the next day
they were obliged to confess that he knew what he was talking about.
By this time they had reached the fence that ran across the end of the
lane and shut it off from the woods, and there Ben and the corporal
stopped as if expecting something. It came presently in the shape of
the challenge given in low tones:
"_Who_ comes there?"
"Friends with the countersign," replied the corporal.
"Halt, friends. Advance one with the countersign, and have your head
blown off if you don't give it right," continued the voice; and
although the words seemed to be spoken in a jest, Ben and Ned remained
by the fence while the corporal climbed over it and disappeared in
the bushes. A moment afterward he called to them to come on, and when
Ned joined him he knew that he was in the presence of the other two
fugitives and Tom Randolph. It was made plain to him at once that Tom
had sent the corporal and his comrade to the house with the assurance
that they would find Union people there and plenty to eat, for Tom said:
"Did you find Griffin?"
"They not only found me, but brought me here to see you," said Ned,
answering for himself, and working his way slowly through the dark in
the direction from which Tom's voice came. "And I am sorry to find you
in this fix."
Captain Randolph may have borne up bravely enough while he was alone
with his captors, but the sound of a familiar voice and the warm grasp
of Ned's hand unnerved him completely. He drew the young overseer to
a seat on a log beside him, rested his head against his shoulder, and
shook as if he had the ague; but whether it was with fear, or with the
violence of the struggle he was making to keep up the character he
had so foolishly assumed, Ned could not tell. There had been a time
when Tom Randolph would have been ashamed to rest his head against an
overseer's shoulder; but he was pretty well humbled now. It was at
this juncture that Ned was allowed a few minutes' talk with Tom, the
soldiers being busy with their own affairs—two of them in describing
what had happened at the house, and the others in disposing of the
contents of the provision basket.
"Tom," said Ned, "you never told these Yankees that you had whipped
their cavalry and fought the gunboats."
"Yes, I did," answered the captive; and the overseer was not much
surprised to notice that his voice was choked with sobs. "I took them
for brave men, and thought they would extend a brave man's treatment to
me if they knew me to be a loyal soldier of the Confederacy."
"Well, do you know that you have got yourself in a scrape that may end
in your being sent to a Northern prison?"
"Oh, don't tell me that," gasped Tom. "That's what they have been
threatening me with, and you must make them let me go. You can do it,
for you are known to be Union, and my father will reward you beyond——"
"And you are not a loyal soldier of the Confederacy," continued Ned,
who wasn't befriending Tom in the hope of making anything out of it.
"You are nothing but a Home Guard; and these men have reason to hate
Home Guards."
"I know it," groaned Tom. "But am I to blame for anything those Pearl
River heathen did to them? You are my only hope, Ned, and you'll have
to get me out of this. You must."
"There's no must about it. I have said everything I could, and so has
mother. Your only hope is Rodney Gray."
"Then send for him," said Tom nervously. "Send for him at once, and say
that if he will stand by me now, he can command me and my father ever
afterward. I wish the men who are responsible for this war were here
in my place and sentenced to be shot at sunrise. I have been deceived
and badgered ever since I sided with the Confederacy; I've stuck by
her through thick and thin, while those who deserted her at the first
sign of disaster are hail-fellows well met with the Yanks in Baton
Rouge, and live on the best the land affords. They have salt and tea
and coffee in their houses, and white flour; and we have none. You must
help me out, Ned."
Tom Randolph continued to talk in this rambling way until the corporal
interrupted him with:
"Well, boys, we have decided to stay here to-night."
"And will you let Griffin go for Rodney Gray the first thing in the
morning?" exclaimed Tom.
"Griffin isn't a prisoner, and can go and come as he likes," replied
the non-commissioned officer indifferently. "It's a matter that
concerns you more than it does us. If Griffin has a mind to go or send
for Rodney Gray, we shall be glad to see him."
"These are the Yanks who captured Rodney and Graham while they were on
their way home," whispered Ned. "That's why I say that Rodney can help
you if anybody can." Then, without giving Tom a chance to express his
surprise, he said aloud: "What's the use, Yanks, of staying here all
night in the dark and cold? If you will come to the quarter, I will
give you a tight cabin and a bright fire to cheer you up."
The offer was a tempting one to men situated as they were, but after
a short consultation with his comrades the corporal thought they had
better not accept it; they would feel safer and sleep more soundly
right there in the woods. Then Ned suggested that they should wrap
themselves in the blankets and get what rest they could while he stood
guard, and to his surprise and Tom Randolph's unbouded delight, the
proposition was accepted without an instant's hesitation. To keep up
appearances Tom took the blanket that was passed to him and rolled
himself up in it; but he had no intention of going to sleep. He had
another idea in his head, and it was just about as foolish as his
notion of trying to pass himself off for a soldier when he was nothing
but a Home Guard.
"Good-night, Johnny; and many thanks for that grub and this warm
blanket," said one of the escaped prisoners who had not spoken before.
"Good-night, Yank, and welcome," replied Ned. "But I am not a Johnny."
"And neither am I a Yank," said the soldier. "I came from Michigan. But
good-night."
After that silence reigned in that dark, lonesome camp for the space
of half an hour. The soldiers were weary and sank into a deep slumber
almost as soon as they had adjusted their blankets to suit them;
but Tom Randolph was wide awake. He curbed his impatience until the
heavy breathing of his captors told him that they were in a state of
unconsciousness, and then said cautiously:
"Ned, Ned! Have you got a gun?"
"No. What do I want of a gun?" was the answer.
"Where are they?"
"Wrapped up in the blankets with the soldiers, most likely."
"Well, say, Ned; look here," whispered Tom coaxingly.
"It's no use, for I can't do it," replied Ned, who knew what the
captive was about to say. "You don't show your usual good sense in
asking it of me, either."
"But you could drop asleep, couldn't you, and let me crawl away?"
"I could, but I won't. I'm not going to get myself into a scrape by
going back on these Yanks. They'd shoot me."
"But you might go with me," suggested Tom, who was almost ready to shed
tears again.
"And leave Mr. Gray's property to be destroyed?" demanded Ned. "I said
I'd keep guard, and I've got to do it."
"Well, you have been weighed and found wanting," said Tom desperately.
"I know just what you are now, but I was foolish enough to think you
were a friend of mine."
"You didn't think anything of the sort. You knew better," said Ned;
and after that he relapsed into silence. He had proved that he was
ready to assist Tom in any way he could, but he wasn't going to arouse
Ben's rage and the corporal's by permitting him to steal away in the
darkness. It was the most senseless proposition he had ever heard of,
and he was glad that Tom did not trouble him with it again. The latter
lay so quiet that his guard thought he was asleep, but he wasn't. He
was trying to think up some way to get even with Ned.
Although the overseer was not at all drowsy, the exciting events of the
last few hours having banished slumber, he passed a dreary night on his
log, leaning against a tree, and listening for the first far-off baying
of the hounds, which would announce that the pursuit had been renewed.
But the hours dragged themselves away without disturbance of any kind,
and at daylight the corporal threw off his blanket and sat up. He felt
like a new man after his refreshing sleep, and that was what all his
comrades said when they were aroused. Then a short consultation was
held, and Ned posted off to the house with the empty basket. It was
full of eatables when he returned an hour later, to learn that during
his absence the fugitives had decided that Tom Randolph's story was
more worthy of belief than his own.
"It doesn't stand to reason that a man would tell such damaging things
about himself just for fun," said the corporal, who spoke for all his
companions. "He was as defiant as you please when we captured him, and
I believe——"
"But I told you a pack of lies; I did indeed," cried Tom, hiding his
face in his hands.
"We don't believe it," answered the soldier. "Your weakening is all put
on, because you have learned that it isn't such a funny thing to be a
prisoner as you thought it was. And even if you did lie to us, you are
a Home Guard, and that is against you. If you haven't done any mean
things it's because you haven't had the chance."
To Tom Randolph's rage and disgust Ned did not try to combat this
decision. He simply said:
"All right; just as you say. Keep a stiff upper lip, Tom, and I will go
and get Rodney."
This was the substance of the story that Ned Griffin told while he was
sitting in Mrs. Gray's dining room on the morning of which we have
spoken. Of course he did not tell it exactly as we have tried to, but
he told enough to give his auditors a clear idea of what had happened
on his plantation the night before. They heard him through without
interruption, and when his narrative was ended they settled back in
their chairs and looked at one another. There was one thought uppermost
in their minds: those escaped prisoners deserved their freedom after
working so hard for it, even if they were Lincoln hirelings; and Rodney
must see them safe to the river. As to Tom Randolph—they did not waste
much sympathy on him, but they were sorry for his mother. Tom took just
such chances as these when he put on his gray uniform.