A FREE BREAKFAST.
‘By time!’ gasped Ephraim, struggling to recover his breath. ‘Thet war a
narrow squeak. Hi! Luce, how ye plugged him.’ He chuckled gleefully.
Lucius only nodded. He was too short of wind to attempt to speak.
‘If I’d on’y had my gun, I’d hev gin him ez good ez he gin me and
better,’ went on Ephraim. ‘D’ye reckon he war in ’arnest, Luce, with his
talk about hangin’, or war it on’y jest ter skeer us ’cause we riled
him?’
‘Just—as—well—got—away—think he—meant it,’ panted Lucius, still
breathless.
‘Ah! waal, maybe he did. Sorter knocks out one’s belief in one’s
feller-critters, though, runnin’ up agin a pestiferous calamity like
that cunnel. Howsumever, we got the bulge on him, we did. My! Luce, ye
air a man right down ter yer boots!’
‘I’m a miserable coward, that’s what I am,’ said Lucius passionately.
‘After the way I behaved in the balloon, I wonder you would do anything
for me.’ He shuddered, though, as he spoke, at the frightful
reminiscence.
‘Ez ter thet,’ returned Ephraim, ‘nobody could say a word agin ye fer
bein’ sot back. ’Twar an onusual kind er stomachful fer a young man jest
out fer a picnic.’
‘That’s all very well,’ lamented Lucius, ‘but I disgraced myself. You
know I did.’
‘Shucks!’ remarked Ephraim. ‘Look at what ye did jest now. But say,’ he
went on, wishful to close the discussion, ‘we can’t stay here after what
that red-faced old lump er mischief said.’
‘What did he say?’ inquired Lucius. ‘I was so busy getting away that I’m
afraid I was rude enough not to pay any attention.’
‘Same here,’ grinned Ephraim; ‘but I heard him ‘tween whiles. “Foller
them up,” he yells ter the soldiers. “Ye’ll drive ’em straight inter our
lines.”’
‘What did he mean by that?’ asked Lucius. ‘I should have thought we were
within the Yankee lines when we were taken prisoners.’
‘Waal, we kinder war, and we kinder warn’t,’ said Ephraim. ‘This is the
way I put it up,’ he went on to explain with considerable shrewdness. ‘I
’magine thar must hev been a fight somewhar around hyar, and the cunnel
thar, whatever his name is, has lit out er harm’s way. He started off
ter make his way back ter the camp, gatherin’ up men ez he went along,
and unfortnitly fer us, he happened ter cross the clearin’ et the
precise moment we came down in it.’ Which, as the reader knows, is just
what had happened.
‘Well, he’ll have a fine story to tell when he does get back to camp,’
laughed Lucius.
‘Won’t he?’ laughed Ephraim back. ‘Ye may resk your last dime he won’t
make no small thing of it. My! I wish we could be thar ter hear him.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Lucius hilariously. ‘I’ve had enough of him for
one day. I shall be quite content to read his speech in the papers.’
‘Ho! ho! ho!’ guffawed Ephraim. ‘Ain’t ye jest ticklish, Luce!’
They were both so overjoyed at their escape from the double danger of
the morning that they had no room left for further apprehension. But
presently Ephraim was recalled to a sense of the gravity of the
situation by the distant notes of a bugle.
‘Hear thet!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thet tells ye. Say, Luce, it won’t do fer us
to set still hyar. Don’t ye know this kentry’s full er Yanks. It’s bound
ter be. We must try and make our way ter old Stonewall’s lines.’
‘Where are they, I wonder,’ said Lucius.
‘I wish I knew. Fact is, I’d no idee we could hev come so fer. I thort
we must be close home.’ He called it _hum_.
‘So did I,’ agreed Lucius. ‘Old Blue Bag, as you call that horrible
balloon, must have travelled far and fast.’
‘I wish we war in her now,’ said Ephraim disconsolately.
‘Oh! no, no, no,’ exclaimed Lucius vehemently. ‘I’d rather be hanged a
hundred times than go through that horrible experience again.’
‘Waal, ye wouldn’t feel the ninety-nine, after ye’d got comfortably done
with the first,’ said Ephraim with one of his quiet grins. ‘But it don’t
foller, because we got into one rumpus up in the clouds, thet we’d
immediately git inter another. We wouldn’t go so high for one thing.’
‘No, no, I tell you,’ cried Lucius, almost as terrified at the prospect
as he had been at the reality. ‘I wouldn’t get into the awful thing
again to save my life.’
Ephraim looked at him silently for a moment. Then he said with a little
sigh: ‘Waal, Luce, I reckon ye won’t be put ter it ter make the choice,
fer by this time I should say old Blue Bag has either been busted by
thet pesky cunnel, or took inter camp by the men.’
‘Oh!’ said Lucius regretfully, ‘I am real mean, Grizzly, after all the
trouble you took to make it.’
‘Waal, waal, I ain’t keerin,’ answered Ephraim hastily. ‘It’s gone now,
and thar’s an end er it. Ye’ll oblige me, Luce, if ye don’t say no more
about it.—Hark!’ as the bugle sounded once more. ‘Thet tells us we’d
better quit.’
‘I wonder what it means,’ pondered Lucius, rising to his feet.
‘What, thet call?’ answered Ephraim. ‘Breakfast, I ’magine. I know _I_
feel it must be somewhar about that time. Got yer watch?’
‘No,’ replied Lucius; ‘I forgot that, like everything else, in my hurry
to leave home.’
He thought for a minute and added: ‘Say, Grizzly, how are we to know but
what that bugle is being blown in our own lines somewhere? It’s as
likely as not.’
‘Thar’s suthin’ in what ye say,’ answered Ephraim. ‘We sutt’nly don’t
know whether old Stonewall is ahead of us, or behind, or to the right or
to the left. We don’t know nuthin’, and we can’t see nuthin’ fer this
pesky wood shuttin’ out the sky. Ef we could see the sun, we might git
an idee of the lay of the land. We’ll move on, anyway.’
‘In what direction then?’
‘It don’t matter. All roads is alike sence we don’t know the right one.
We’ll move towards the music. On’y we must feel our way cautious.’
‘And keep a sharp eye for the colonel,’ observed Lucius.
‘By time! yes. I wouldn’t give much fer our chances ef he gripped holt
on us now after that smack in the face ye gin him. Ef he warn’t in
’arnest before, he will be ef ever he ketches us agen.’
‘He owes you one as well, Grizzly, for the tumble you gave him,’ laughed
Lucius.
‘I reckon,’ answered Ephraim. ‘But then he war down on me right from the
beginnin’, ’cause he got it inter his thick head I meant ter be impident
ter him.’
They walked along for half an hour or so, entirely ignorant of their
direction, until at last the trees began to thin out, and it was evident
that they were approaching either the edge of the wood or another
clearing. Past experience had taught them caution, and they were wise
enough not to break cover until they had very carefully surveyed their
surroundings. It was as well. Stealing from tree to tree and treading as
softly as they could, they at length reached a point where they could
see into the open.
What a sight! Grand, impressive, but just then particularly alarming to
our two boys, for right in front of them, upon a small hillock, frowned
eight black-muzzled cannon, while a lane which led from a handsome house
to a mill beside the stream was packed with Federal troops. Camp-fires
were blazing and crackling cheerily in the open, and the grateful odour
of coffee was wafted to the noses of the hungry boys. Ephraim signalled
silently with his hand, and as quietly as they had come, the two glided
back into the friendly shelter of the deep woods. ‘By time!’ whispered
Ephraim, when they had reached a safe point, as they thought, ‘thet was
a mighty nasty sight. Ef we’d walked inter the open, we’d hev been
goners shore enuff.’
‘It looked as if they were expecting something,’ whispered Lucius back.
‘It’s maybe old Stonewall they’re waitin’ fer,’ said Ephraim. ‘Shucks!
ef we git between their firin’, we’ll be a heap wusser off’n we war in
Blue Bag.’
‘That’s not possible,’ affirmed Lucius, with another shudder. The
impression left upon him was evidently not likely to fade in a hurry.
‘My land, Luce!’ exclaimed Ephraim, who had been thinking so deeply that
he failed to hear his companion’s remark, ‘I tell ye we’re in a pretty
mess.’
‘Why, what’s wrong now?’ asked Lucius.
‘I’ll tell ye. Thar’s the Yankee army, or a right smart slice of it, way
aback yander, frontin’ the wood. Now it ain’t likely that if they’re on
the lookout for old Stonewall—and I reckon they air—thet they’d leave
this wood unguarded jest for him to pop right out on ’em and give ’em
howdy while they war drinkin’ their coffee. Is it, now?’
‘No, it isn’t,’ admitted Lucius. ‘Well?’
‘Waal, ye may be ez shore ez ye air standin’ whar ye air that the wood
is full er their pickets; likely enough the last line er ’em is almost
techin’ noses with Stonewall’s men. Anyway, we’ve got ’em all round us,
and between us and our own boys, wharever they may be. Ye kin make yer
mind easy on thet. And it’s a mercy we han’t come plump on some er ’em
before now.’
‘Then we’re about done for,’ said Lucius. ‘It’s only a question of time
before we light on some of them if we keep on walking.’
‘Hold on, sonny,’ returned Ephraim cheerfully. ‘It ain’t so bad ez thet
yit. It’s pretty tough, this situation is, I’ll allow; but we ain’t
goin’ ter Fortress Monroe ’thout a worry ter git back ter Staunton. Ye
see,’ he went on, ‘they’re bound to be pretty thick in the wood; but et
the same time they can’t be everywhar. We’ll keep on going cautious, and
maybe we’ll out-flank ’em yit. Come on!’
‘I wish we had a couple of pots of their coffee,’ sighed Lucius. ‘My!
didn’t it smell good?’
‘We’ll forage ez we go along,’ said Ephraim. ‘Ye never know what ye’ll
find ef ye keep on looking.’
The truth of this bit of philosophy presently became unpleasantly
manifest, for after they had wandered on for a quarter of an hour,
Lucius suddenly pulled up short with a smothered exclamation of disgust.
‘What is it?’ muttered Ephraim. ‘D’ye see any one?’
For answer Lucius pointed with his right hand, averting his face, which
was very pale. Ephraim followed the guiding finger. ‘By time!’ he
exclaimed, ‘they’ve got it shore enuff.’
A few paces away and close together were the dead bodies of two Federal
soldiers, lying on their backs with white, upturned faces, and sightless
eyes that stared fixed up into the dense foliage that swept above them.
‘Pore critters!’ said Ephraim sympathetically, all feeling but that of
humanity banished for the moment from his breast. ‘Thar’s somebody
lookin’ for them ez will be sorry they don’t come home. Thar must hev
been a rumpus round hyar lately, Luce.’
‘I don’t see any more,’ answered Lucius, looking round; ‘and there are
no signs of a struggle anywhere about.’
‘Why, thet’s so,’ admitted Ephraim, also surveying the ground. ‘Waal
then, how do they come ter be lyin’ thar?—I’ll tell ye, Luce, most
likely thar war a fight yesterday, and they got wounded. Then they sot
out ter fetch up ter their own lines agen, and death follered ’em up and
overtook ’em before they could git thar. See hyar,’ he continued,
kneeling down by the fallen men, ‘this one has a hole in the right side
er his coat. He must hev bled ter death inside. And the other one hez
got it in the leg. See, his trousers is all over blood, and he’s tied
his handkerchief round the place ter try and stop the bleedin’. The
wonder is thet he war able to walk at all. Maybe he crawled. Pore
critters! pore critters!’
‘How can you bear to touch them?’ said Lucius faintly. ‘They look
dreadful.’
‘Ah!’ returned Ephraim sententiously, ‘it’s a pictur er the war thet
didn’t strike us afore we set out, or maybe we wouldn’t hev been in such
a hurry to come. Ye kin see now, Luce,’ he finished grimly, ‘what we’d
hev looked like ef the cunnel bed got his way.’
‘Don’t!’ exclaimed Lucius. ‘Come on. Let us get out of this. We can’t do
them any good by staring at them.’
‘Thet’s so,’ acquiesced Ephraim, rising to his feet.—‘By time! thet’s a
good idee,’ he suddenly ejaculated. ‘I tell ye what it is, Luce. Ye air
right when ye say we can’t do them no good, pore men; but I reckon it
won’t do ’em enny harm nuther, ef we make use of ’em fer our own
benefit.’
‘Why, what do you mean?’ inquired Lucius, bewildered. ‘How can we make
use of them?’
‘See their clothes?’ answered Ephraim. ‘Ef we git inside ’em, it’ll be
ez good ez a free pass ter us anywhar about the Yankee lines. Come now,
Luce,’ as the boy made a gesture of horror, ‘this ain’t no time fer
bein’ squeamish. We’re in a muss, and we’re bound to git out of it the
best way we kin. Besides, it can’t hurt them, remember.’
‘It’s too awful!’ gasped Lucius. ‘It’s robbing the dead.’
‘It ain’t nuthin’ of the kind,’ retorted Ephraim. ‘It’s on’y their coats
and trousers we want, and their caps. I reckon Uncle Sam paid fer thet
lot. And we’ll cover ’em up with our own. Come now, Luce, do be
reasonable.’
He knelt down again and with no irreverent touch began to remove the
outer garments from one of the fallen men. ‘This one’s not much taller
than ye air yourself, Luce,’ he said, throwing the coat and trousers
towards the reluctant Lucius. ‘Ye kin take this lot. The other man’s
about my height. Not so lanky, maybe; but it’ll do, I reckon. Ah! now,
Luce, make up yer mind and put ’em on. We han’t got so much time ez all
thet.’
He threw off his own clothes and assumed the uniform he had chosen, and
in a moment or two Lucius, bowing to the stronger will, did likewise.
‘Feel in the pockets. Luce,’ suggested Ephraim. ‘Ef thar’s ennything
they set store by, I reckon we don’t want to take it away from ’em.’ But
search revealed nothing. The dead Federals had evidently been both poor
and friendless. Probably they had enlisted as substitutes, or as bounty
men, no one caring where they went to or what became of them. Arms and
accoutrements they had none, for these had been flung away for
lightness’ sake when they started on their last sad march. Quietly and
carefully Ephraim laid the clothes they had discarded over the corpses,
and then, turning to Lucius, who still remained distressfully silent,
took him by the arm and led him away from the dismal spot.
‘I wish we’d got their guns,’ said the Grizzly, a few moments later.
‘I’d hev felt safer thet way; but I reckon they throwed ’em off
somewhar. No matter, we’ve found so much already thet we may run up
against some in good time.’
‘I hope we shall not run up against any more dead men,’ said Lucius
dismally.
‘I’m with ye thar,’ answered Ephraim. ‘’Tain’t the purtiest sight in the
world, I’ll allow.—My! Luce, ye do look a spruce young soldier, I tell
ye.’
‘Do I?’ said Lucius, smiling faintly. ‘I’m afraid I don’t feel very like
one just now. That poor man was taller than you thought, Grizzly. The
coat is all right, but the trousers are dreadfully long.’
‘Roll ’em up a bit, then,’ advised the Grizzly. ‘Set your cap a leetle
more ter wan side. Thar, now ye’ll do. Say, ain’t we a pair er
fust-class invaders when all’s said and done?’
‘You seem to have forgotten one thing,’ said Lucius lightly, for he was
beginning to accommodate himself to circumstances.
‘And what might that be, bub?’
‘Why, though no doubt we shall be all right if we meet any Federals so
long as we have these uniforms on, yet, suppose we run against our own
men, where shall we be then?’
‘Safe, I reckon,’ answered Ephraim promptly. ‘I guess in thet case we’ll
be took prisoners, and if we’re not, why, we’ll give ourselves up ter
the fust Confederate we set eyes on, and arsk him ter be obligin’ enuff
ter arrest us.’
‘But supposing they shoot before they ask?’ went on Lucius.
‘I’ll be durned ef I suppose ennything er the kind,’ retorted Ephraim.
‘I’ll wait till it happens and then tell ye both what I think of
it.—Thar’s wan thing, though, Luce,’ he added. ‘Ye look all right in wan
way, smart and spry and all thet; but ye’re too young by a long sight.’
‘I can’t help that,’ giggled Lucius, ‘unless you’ll lend me a bit of
your beard.’
‘I would and willin’,’ answered Ephraim seriously, ‘ef it would stick
on.—Hi! I’ve got a notion. Hold up a minnit, Luce. Ye mustn’t mind ef I
spoil yer beauty a bit.’
He grubbed up a handful of loose soil as he spoke, and catching hold of
the astonished Lucius, rubbed it well into his face and neck.
‘What’s that for?‘cried Lucius indignantly, starting back.
‘Reckon thet’s taken some er the bloom off’n ye,’ grinned Ephraim. ‘Hold
on! I han’t finished with ye yet. Plague take it, I wish I hadn’t lost
my knife. By time! hyar’s one in the corner er this yer coat pocket.
What a good thing! I never felt it before. Now, lend us yer
handkercher.’
‘Why,’ said Lucius, handing him the required article, ‘whatever are you
going to do?’
‘I’ll show ye afore ye kin turn round,’ replied the Grizzly, and opening
the clasp-knife, deliberately cut his finger.
‘Grizzly!’ cried Lucius. ‘Are you gone mad?’
‘Not me,’ retorted Ephraim coolly. ‘Never felt more level-headed in all
my life, thank ye. See thet now.’
He let the blood from his finger drip upon Luce’s handkerchief until the
latter was thoroughly spotted with the bright red stains.
‘Now then, up she goes,’ he cried; and plucking off Luce’s cap, with a
deft turn he bound the blood-soaked handkerchief about the boy’s brow.
‘Thar,’ he chuckled, as he replaced the cap, and stepped backwards to
survey his handiwork. ‘Ye’ll do now, I should say. Why, don’t ye know,
thet puts three or four years onter ye at once. Not ter speak er it
givin’ ye a look ez ef ye’d come through some tar’ble hard fightin’. We
kin move along now ’thout worryin’ ourselves, Luce, fer thar ain’t a
Yank ez is likely ter stop us, ’ceptin’, ef course, ef we’re seen tryin’
ter pass the pickets.’
‘You’re a genius, Grizzly, as I’ve said before,’ remarked Lucius. ‘But I
wish you hadn’t cut your finger like that.’
‘Pooh! ’tain’t nuthin’,’ answered Ephraim, vigorously sucking the
wounded member. ‘I tell ye what it is, Luce, ef we don’t git suthin’ ter
eat pretty soon, I’ll hev ter begin on my boots. I’m thet low, ye can’t
imagine.’
‘Can’t I?’ replied Lucius. ‘Ever since I got that whiff of coffee in my
nostrils, I’ve been sighing for some. Seriously, though, we must get
food somewhere. We can’t go on walking all day upon nothing.’
‘The cunnel ’lowed he war goin’ ter teach us ter dance upon nuthin’,’
said Ephraim, chuckling at the reminiscence. ‘The very fust Yank I come
across, I’m goin’ up ter him to arsk him fer a bite er suthin’.’
‘And suppose he hasn’t got anything?’
‘Oh! drap yer supposin’, Luce. I tell ye it’s a sartinty. But ’sposin’
he han’t, since ye will be always ’sposin’, then I’ll eat him ez he
stands, and make no bones about it.’
‘Supposing it’s the colonel,’ laughed Lucius.
‘Aw, yah! No, I wouldn’t tech his pesky carcass with a forty-foot pole
with an iron spike on the end er it.’
‘I’d give something to know whereabouts we are,’ said Lucius. ‘How do we
know we are in the valley at all?’
‘Pho!’ answered Ephraim, ‘I ’low I never thought er it in thet light. Er
co’se we mought hev been blown across the Blue Ridge during the night;
but I reckon not. I should say we’re in the valley right enuff, somewhar
’twixt Staunton and Winchester.’
‘That’s a wide range.’
‘Waal, I know thet; but it’s the best I kin do fer ye till we git outer
this wood and strike up agin some spot that’ll serve us as a
landmark.—Hello! Hyar we come ter the edge er the wood agen. Hist! now.
Let’s go cautious.’
Had they but known it, they were not a quarter of a mile from the spot
where they had observed the Federal cannon planted, for they had simply
been wandering round and round among the trees, and before long would
probably have found themselves back again in view of the Federal camp.
They had simply changed their direction slightly without ever getting
very far from the open country, and now they halted to hold a short
council of war.
‘I tell ye what it is,’ began Ephraim. ‘Thar’s no sense in our moochin’
round through the woods like this, never beginnin’ anywhar, and always
endin’ up nowhar. We’ll go now and take a squint inter the open, and ef
the kentry seems cl’ar, we’ll march along the edge of the woods instead
of through ’em. That’ll be a lump better, and et the fust sign er danger
we kin slip back among the trees.’
‘That sounds a good idea,’ agreed Lucius.
‘Well, come and let us survey the ground right hyar.’
They advanced together, cautiously still, but more boldly than before,
for their disguises gave them confidence, and they were not now so
concerned at the prospect of meeting a stray Federal or two, provided
they could keep clear of the pickets.
‘Thar’s not a soul in sight, Luce,’ said Ephraim, peering through the
trees.—‘Hello! I see a house.’
‘Where?’ asked Lucius, edging up to him.
‘Thar, a hundred yards or so away ter the left. That is, ef ye call it a
house, fer I reckon it’s on’y a log cabin.’
The cabin, for such it really was, to which Ephraim drew his comrade’s
attention, stood folded in, as it were, between two out-jutting arms of
the wood. The long arm, the actual trend of the wood in the same line as
the boys, swept so close to the back of the house as to almost touch it.
Certainly not more than ten paces separated the one from the other. The
second arm, formed by a spur of the wood springing off almost at right
angles to the main forest, bounded a clearing in front and at the far
side of the house. Looked at from the boys’ point of view, the back of
the house with a solitary window was in full view, one side partly
visible, while the front and far side were quite out of their line of
sight.
‘Thar don’t seem no one ter stop us,’ said Ephraim, after they had
studied the position for a few minutes. ‘I vote we go up ter thet cabin,
and ef the owner’s ter hum, we kin arsk him fer some breakfast.’
‘I like the notion,’ answered Lucius, smacking his lips. ‘I suppose we
may take it for granted that it isn’t a Yankee who inhabits the house.’
‘In the valley! I should smile!’ remarked Ephraim with fine scorn.
‘Anyway we’ll be all right, fer ef by any accident it is a bunkum Yank
thet lives thar, our uniforms will fetch him. He can’t help hisself when
it comes to feedin’ a wounded comrade.’ He glanced at the handkerchief
on Luce’s head and grinned. ‘But thar,’ he went on, ‘what’d a Yank be
doin’ farmin’ in the valley? I guess it’ll be all squar. Come and let’s
see.’
They re-entered the wood and worked their way along, keeping well within
the trees until they came opposite to the back of the cabin. The window,
or rather hole in the wall which did duty for such, was destitute of
glass, and the shutter which served to close it swung idly on creaking
hinges in the light morning breeze.
‘Smell that!’ said Ephraim, sniffing the air. ‘The old man, whoever he
is, has got hot coffee fer breakfast. This ain’t no fat thing, I reckon.
Oh, no!’ He rubbed his hands together gleefully.
‘On you go, then,’ urged Lucius. ‘Only go easy. We don’t want to put our
heads into a hornet’s nest.’
They left the cover of the woods, and crossing the narrow strip of
ground, approached the window and looked into the cabin.
It was a one-roomed affair, built entirely of logs, with no flooring and
no ceiling. Only under the roof three or four strong rafters ran from
end to end, and across these at one end were laid half a dozen stout
planks or slabs, forming a makeshift loft. The remainder of the roof
space was vacant and unboarded. Not quite opposite to the window was the
door, which was closed, and in the middle of the solitary chamber
stood—oh! gracious and appetite-inspiring sight!—a rough-hewn table,
covered with all manner of delicacies. A pot of steaming coffee was
flanked by three or four tin cups full of milk, and a fine cut of ham
stood royally among tinned meats of sorts, broken biscuits, and last,
but not least, a jar of jam. And all this spread of dainties stood
unheeded. Apparently there was no one to enjoy it.
‘By time!’ whispered Ephraim. ‘Did ever ye see the like? The old man is
goin’ ter hev a good time fer once, I ’magine. Step right in, Luce. We
won’t wait till he comes in. I’m sartin he’d like us to make ourselves
at home.’
‘Hush!’ whispered Lucius back warningly. ‘I am sure I hear some one.’
‘Keep still, then, till I go and reckoniter,’ breathed Ephraim. ‘I won’t
be a minnit.’
He stole away round the hut, and presently returned, his face purple,
and the sleeve of his tunic stuffed into his mouth to prevent the inward
laughter which convulsed him from finding outward expression. ‘By time!’
he chuckled softly, as soon as he had regained his self-command. ‘Sech a
joke! Lay low, Luce. Say nuthin’; but laugh!’
‘Why, what is it?’ whispered Lucius. ‘What did you see?’
‘Ye’d never begin ter believe it,’ responded Ephraim in the same soft
undertone. ‘Who d’ ye think thet breakfast’s fer? Why, fer the Yankee
gin’ruls theyselves. There’s a knot of ’em way yander in the clearin’
’sputin’ ’bout suthin’; and there’s a sentry marchin’ up and down before
the door as stiff as a ramrod. By time! it’s lucky they didn’t think of
guardin’ the window.’
‘It was the sentry I heard,’ said Lucius.
‘I reckon. No matter. In with ye, bub. We’ll help ’em through with some
er thet ham and them crackers, and be off again before ye kin say
knife.’
Lucius needed no second invitation, and followed closely by Ephraim,
climbed noiselessly through the window. Without loss of time they drank
off the mugs of milk, leaving the coffee untasted, because it was so
very hot, and delays were dangerous. Then, while Lucius stuffed his
pockets full of crackers, Ephraim employed his clasp-knife to better
purpose than cutting his own fingers by slicing off a goodly wedge of
the ham.
‘Ready, Luce?’ the Grizzly whispered, his face beaming with delight at
the humour of the thing. ‘’Twon’t do ter wait fer our hosts. There’d be
a leetle too much ter pay.’
Lucius nodded. He had just absorbed an enormous mouthful of jam, and was
consequently unable to speak. But he sneaked to the window after
Ephraim.
‘Bring the jam along,’ whispered the latter. ‘It’ll go fine with the
crackers.’
He thrust his head out of the window, preparatory to climbing out, but
instantly drew it in again with a low exclamation of intense disgust.
‘What is it?’ asked Lucius, who naturally could not see.
‘Thar’s a whole posse of soldiers jest ter the right at the edge er the
woods,’ replied Ephraim. ‘They’re settin’ on the ground, so I reckon
they mean ter stay. We’re trapped, Luce, and thet’s a fact. Ef it warn’t
fer thet pesky sentry outside the door with his gun and all, we’d make a
dash fer it, and never mind the gin’ruls. Ez it is, we’re done. No
matter; we’ll jest hev ter brazen it out the best way we kin. They’ll
take us fer two of their own men, and they can’t shoot us fer keepin’
ourselves from starvin’.’
‘Why not get up there and hide? It’s as dark as night,’ suggested
Lucius, who in looking round the hut had discovered the improvised loft
mentioned above.
‘Git up whar?’ inquired Ephraim, who had not noticed it. ‘By time! The
very place. Up with ye, Luce. They’re comin’ up. Hear their talk.’
Lucius replaced the jam upon the table, and making a leap from the
ground, caught hold of one of the rafters and swung himself up on to the
planking. Ephraim only waited to scatter a few crackers by the window
and fling a couple more outside, and then he too sprang up and joined
his comrade.
‘What did you do that for?’ asked Lucius.
‘Ye’ll see when they come in. Mum’s the word! Hyar they air.’
They retreated to the farthest extremity of the planking, against the
gable of the hut, where they threw themselves down at full length; for,
as Grizzly remarked, they might have to stay there for some time, and it
would not do to run the risk of becoming cramped.
Their faces were towards the open space where the table was set, and
themselves completely hidden, not only by their position but by the
surrounding gloom, they could see clearly all over the room, except
immediately underneath them.
Scarcely had they taken their positions when the door swung open, and
with a loud clatter of voices and jingling of swords, three Federal
officers entered the hut.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]