HOW THAT DESPATCH WAS INTERCEPTED.
‘Halt! Who comes thar?’ repeated Ephraim, as the civilian paused,
regarding him with an expression of supreme astonishment.
There was reason for the stranger’s amazement. He had moored his boat
well above the chain of sentries—a good quarter of a mile, indeed—for no
attack could be expected from the river, and naturally none could come
from the north below Lewiston, and therefore only the sentries whom
Ephraim and Lucius had scared had been posted in the former place, and
none at all in the latter.
Consequently the civilian was puzzled. His first thought was, that he
had struck a point too low down for his boat; his second, that he
remembered every detail of the appearance of the spot, and that he could
not possibly be mistaken. However, when, for the third time, the
peremptory challenge sounded in his ears, he put as good a face as he
could upon the matter, and answered distinctly and with confidence,
‘Friend!’
‘Advance, friend, and give the countersign,’ ordered Ephraim, to the
huge delight of Lucius, with whom he had many a time and oft rehearsed
just such a scene in the workshop, little imagining it would ever be
carried out in actual practice. The stranger advanced till the point of
Ephraim’s bayonet was within six inches of his chest.
‘Halt!’ cried Ephraim once more. ‘That’s close enough. Now stand and
give the countersign.’
The civilian hesitated an instant. He could not tell where the
suggestion came from, but somehow the thought flashed into his brain
that all was not as it should be. ‘Potomac,’ he answered steadily.
Ephraim saw the momentary hesitation, and read it aright. His own danger
made him alert. ‘Go back the way you came,’ he said, keeping his rifle
at the charge.’ That ain’t the word.’
It was a bold move, but it told; and the Grizzly, to his own relief,
noticed the expression of mingled surprise and satisfaction on the
stranger’s face.
‘Shenandoah,’ said the civilian. ‘Will that suit you?’
‘That’s better,’ answered Ephraim, but without shouldering arms. ‘Why
did you give me the wrong one fust?’
‘I—I was thinking of yesterday,’ replied the stranger rather confusedly.
‘Ah!’ retorted Ephraim drily. ‘Waal, I’m put hyar tew think on to-day.
What d’ye want?’
‘What do I want, you fool?’ replied the man angrily. ‘Why, I want to
pass, of course. Shoulder arms.’
‘Who air yew orderin’ about?’ snapped Ephraim. ‘And yew keep a civil
tongue in yewr head, mister. Don’t yew be so ready tew call names.’
‘Well, I didn’t mean that,’ said the stranger, wishful to conciliate
him. ‘I was anxious to pass, that is all. I am sorry. Let me pass,
please, for I am in a hurry.’
‘Hurry or no hurry,’ returned Ephraim stolidly, ‘ye don’t pass hyar. Go
back, or I’ll run ye through.’
He looked so fierce as he said it, that the stranger actually did recoil
a pace or two. But he recovered himself instantly, and said smoothly:
‘Look here, my good friend, what is your objection to letting me pass? I
gave you the word.’
‘But yew gave me the wrong one to start with,’ answered Ephraim,
glowering at him.
The stranger bit his lip. He saw he had made a mistake, and, in
endeavouring to explain it, he appeared to offend the sentry still
further.
‘I said it in jest—to try you—to see if you were a smart fellow,’ he
said, with a little laugh.
‘Oh, did yew?’ Ephraim frowned upon him. ‘Waal, yew’ll find I’m smart
enuff fer the like of yew, I guess. Quit now. I ain’t got no time or
inclernashun fer more fooling.’
‘Nor I, either,’ answered the civilian haughtily. ‘So let me pass at
once—or’——
‘Or what?’
‘Or I’ll report you.’
‘Yew’ll report me!’ sneered Ephraim, advancing upon the man until the
ugly-looking bayonet just touched his coat. ‘I tell yew, ef yew ain’t
out of that afore I count ten, thar won’t be much left of yew to report.
Quit, I say.’
The civilian made another backward step. ‘Look here, sentry,’ he said,
‘this is getting beyond a joke. I tell you, I have important business,
and I must pass. I’ve given you the word, and that gives me the right.
Come, now,’ he wheedled; ‘don’t be obstinate.’
‘And I’ve the right, and, what’s more, it’s my duty tew stop any one I
consider a suspishus character, word or no word,’ replied Ephraim. ‘Yew
come here, a soldier dressed up ez a civilian; yew gimme fust the wrong
word, and then the right word; and then yew try tew git round me tew let
yew pass. I say yew shan’t pass.’
The man started during Ephraim’s speech. ‘How do you know that I am a
soldier?’ he asked.
‘By the set of yewr shoulders and yewr walk,’ replied Ephraim. ‘Any one
could see ez much ez that.’
‘Then, perhaps, you know who I am as well?’
‘No, I don’t; but I guess I have a fairly good notion what yew air ez
well.’
‘And what may that be?’
‘A spy,’ answered Ephraim gloomily. ‘I don’t know but what I orter run
yew through whar yew stand ef I done right. But I’ll give yew one more
chance. Quit, or take the consequences.’
‘Look here,’ said the man suddenly. ‘I know you are only doing your duty
according to your lights; but if you knew everything, you’d find you
were rather exceeding it. I tell you what, I am all right. There’s
nothing wrong about me. I don’t want a fuss, or to lose time. Here are
ten dollars for your trouble. Now stand aside.’
‘Thet’s enough!’ replied Ephraim. ‘Thet about sizes yew, I should say.
Now, I’ll not only not let yew pass, but I’ll detain yew hyar till the
rounds comes along. Yew’re my prisoner.’
The man looked this way and that, flushing and paling with rage. ‘You
time-honoured thickhead!’ he cried at last. ‘I’ll tell you who I am, and
then maybe you’ll alter your mind. I’m Captain Hopkins of the “——
Massachusetts.”’
‘Ho!’ drawled Ephraim. ‘Fust yew’re a civilian, and then yew’re a
soldier, and naow yew’re a capting. Waal, I han’t altered my mind. I
guess ef yew kin bluff, why, so kin I.’
‘Very much better than the captain can,’ thought Lucius in his
hiding-place.
‘Let me pass, or take the consequences,’ cried the captain, and quick as
thought he drew a revolver and presented it at Ephraim.
Like lightning the glancing bayonet swept upwards, met the dull blue
tube with a clank, and away went the captain’s weapon ten feet into the
air behind Ephraim, splash into the river.
‘Yew see,’ drawled Ephraim. ‘I guess I didn’t come down in the last
shower of green mud.’
‘Confound you!’ said the captain, laughing in spite of his evident
vexation. ‘You are too smart. I see that I shall have to tell you
everything. Pay attention to what I say now, and hold your tongue about
it when you get back to camp.—By the way,’ he broke off, ‘why didn’t you
run in with the rest of them just now, when there was that scare?’
‘Ef I war to go runnin’ fer the camp every time thar war a skeer
ter-day, I’d never be done,’ answered Ephraim. ‘My post is hyar, and
hyar I mean tew stay. What’s this yew want tew tell me?’
‘Simply this,’ replied the captain. ‘Mind now, hold your tongue. I am
the bearer of despatches from General Shields to General Frémont.’
Ephraim’s face was a study. He shouldered arms at once, and gasped out:
‘What! Then why in thunder didn’t yew say so before?’
‘For very good reasons,’ smiled the captain. ‘Come, now, I’ve put off
time enough already. My boat is waiting there, and’——
Down came Ephraim’s rifle to the charge again. ‘Boat!’ he echoed. ‘Yew
hev a boat?’
‘Certainly,’ said the captain. ‘You didn’t suppose I was going to walk
across the river, did you?’
‘Back with yew!’ cried Ephraim, feinting to lunge. ‘Good land! yew
nearly fooled me, Mister Secesh. So yew thort yew war going tew git in
yewr boat ez easy ez that, and jine yewr friends the Rebs.’
‘Frankly,’ said the captain, ‘your idea of duty is an extreme one; but I
suppose, in these days of slipshod soldiers, you ought to be commended
for it. Look here,’ he unbuttoned his coat, ‘I’ll show you the despatch,
and may be that will convince you.’ He pulled out a large envelope,
sealed, and addressed to General Frémont. ‘There,’ he said. ‘Now, are
you satisfied?’
With a sudden, unexpected movement, Ephraim snatched the packet, cast it
to the ground, and set his foot upon it. ‘Keep off!’ he cried, as the
captain made a rush to recover his precious document. ‘Another step, and
yew’re a dead man. Yew must think me green, ef yew ’magine I couldn’t
see through that game. Why, any one could write Frémont’s name outside
an envelope. I’ll bet a trifle thar’s things in that yew wouldn’t keer
fer Frémont tew see, all the same.’
‘Give me my letter!’ shouted the enraged officer.
‘It’s my letter now, and yew’re my prisoner. I’ll give it and yew up
tergether when the grand rounds come.’
Captain Hopkins changed his tone again. ‘I never knew such a fellow as
you,’ he said. ‘You mean well; but you have no idea what an amount of
valuable time you are wasting. I swear to you I am not a rebel spy, but
what I told you—the bearer of a despatch to General Frémont. As a last
resource, if you will let me go, I will return to the camp, and bring
back some one who will identify me. Will that do?’
Ephraim appeared to meditate. Finally he said: ‘How am I tew know yew
ain’t fooling me? I might ez well have a prisoner, naow I’ve got one.’
‘You have only my word for it, of course,’ said the captain.
‘Oh, waal, I guess I’ll trust yew,’ answered Ephraim after another
pause. ‘Off with yew, and come back ez soon ez yew kin git. I’ll keep
the despatch safe.’
The captain needed no second telling, but turned and ran. Ephraim hailed
him when he had gone a little way.
‘Well,’ demanded the captain, turning round, and fearful of a bullet, by
way of a keepsake, from this very officious sentry. ‘What is it?’
‘Ef yew air reely Captain Hopkins,’ said Ephraim—‘and mind, I’m not
saying yew ain’t—yew won’t git me inter trouble fer this. Yew’ll tell
’em I only did my dewty.’
‘Confound you and your duty!’ shouted back the captain, and sped out of
sight among the trees.
‘Sh! Keep quiet!’ said Ephraim warningly, as a curious explosive sound,
half snort, half cough, came upwards from the undergrowth. ‘Wait till he
gits well out er the road, and then ye kin larf. Hold on till I track
him down.’
He stole through the belt of trees, and, to his great satisfaction,
observed the captain hurrying as fast as he could across the fields. The
commotion in the camp, too, had died away, now that it had been
ascertained that the alarm had been a false one—like so many more on
that eventful day. But Ephraim’s common sense told him that it would not
be very long before fresh sentries were placed along the river; and,
moreover, the outraged bearer of despatches would lose no time in
returning, to prove his identity and reclaim his precious letter.
The Grizzly, therefore, made all haste back to Lucius, whom he found
sitting up in the brushwood, apparently the picture of distress, for
tears were streaming down his cheeks, and deep, labouring sighs escaped
his chest.
‘What’s the matter? What’s wrong?’ exclaimed Ephraim in real concern.
‘What ye cry in’ for?’
‘Crying!’ snorted Lucius. ‘Ough! ough! Is he gone? Ough! ough! Oh! ho!
ho! ha! ha! ha! I can’t help it! Ough! ough! I must laugh if I’m killed
for it! Ough! Oh, Grizzly, I never saw anything so funny in my life.’
He went off into fresh paroxysms, while Ephraim, to whom the affair had
been serious enough in all conscience, grinned quietly in sympathy.
‘Waal, I ’low it might hev sounded funny ter ye, listenin’ thar, Luce,’
he said. ‘Somehow it didn’t strike me in thet light et the time. I war
so sot on gittin’ thet letter.’
‘Sounded funny!’ echoed Lucius, his laughter exhausted to a helpless
giggle. ‘It wasn’t only that. You _looked_ so funny. Oh! oh! oh! if you
could only have seen your own faces.’
‘I ’low he looked a bit sot back when I got the ba’net agin his chest,’
chuckled Ephraim.
‘Ah! but your own face,’ put in Lucius. ‘Don’t forget that. And the way
you talked to him. My! It was the ‘cutest thing in the world. What put
it into your head?’
‘It come thar ez we war runnin’ along,’ returned Ephraim; ‘an fer the
rest, it jest argued itself out ez it went. But come, thar ain’t too
much time. We must be orf out er this before he gits back.’
‘In the boat, of course,’ said Lucius, rising.
Ephraim nodded. ‘Yas, sir!’ he answered with a light laugh. ‘And I do
think it war mighty nice of ’em ter hev thet boat hyar fer us jest ez we
wanted ter git away and all.—In with ye, Luce.’
Lucius scrambled down the bank, and catching hold of the painter of the
boat, drew her in to the shore and leaped aboard; while Ephraim, with
the all important document in his hand, stood for a moment to consider.
‘It won’t do to run no risk er losin’ this, after all the trouble we’ve
been at ter git it,’ he said. ‘Whar d’ye reckon I’d better put it?’
‘Stow it in your cartridge pouch,’ suggested Lucius. ‘That will be as
safe a place as any other.’
‘Right!’ said Ephraim, folding the letter up small and placing it in his
pouch. ‘Haul her in, Luce.’
‘What are you going to do?’ asked Lucius, bringing the boat’s nose again
to the bank. ‘If we pull out into the river, we shall be seen.’
‘Likely, ain’t it?’ inquired Ephraim cheerfully, as he gathered up the
rifles. ‘No; we’ll head her up stream and glide along the bank till we
git below their outposts. Ketch hold er the guns.’
‘But they may search along the bank,’ demurred Lucius, laying the rifles
in the bottom of the boat.
‘Nary a doubt er that,’ replied Ephraim, stooping to unloose the knot of
the painter from the sapling round which it was tied. ‘But et first
they’ll be in sech a confusion thet I ’low they won’t be able ter think
er everything et once. And the fust idee’ll nat’ally be thet we hev gone
down stream and then headed fer the opposite side.’
He untied the rope, and jumping down the bank, slung it aboard and
scrambled in after it. Instantly the boat swung round, obedient to the
current, and with her nose to the north, drifted rapidly down stream.
‘Out oars, Luce!’ cried Ephraim, fumbling in the bottom of the boat.
‘Head her round. By time!’
He stopped suddenly and straightened up. At the same instant Lucius
grasped the facts, and they stared at each other with white, scared
faces.
There were no oars in the boat!
[Illustration]