"Upon my sowl," said O'Halloran, as he and Captain Somerville went
forward, the big Irishman leading the way, "I'm afeard I'm tollin' you
into a trap."
"How?" asked the captain.
"Why, there's three of the Johnnies comin', sor, an' the ould man an'
the gurrul make five."
"Halt!" said the captain, using the word by force of habit. The two
paused, and the captain took in the situation at a glance. Then he
turned to the big Irishman, with a queer look on his face.
"What is it, sor?"
"I'm in for it now. That is my father yonder, and the young lady is my
sister."
"The Divvle an' Tom Walker!" exclaimed O'Halloran. "'Tis quite a
family rayanion, sor."
"I don't know whether to make myself known or not. What could have
possessed them to stay here? I'll see whether they know me." As they
went forward, the captain plucked O'Halloran by the sleeve. "I'll be
shot if the Johnny with his arm in the sling isn't my brother."
"I was expectin' it, sor," said the big Irishman, giving matters a
humorous turn. "Soon the cousins will be poppin' out from under the
bushes."
By this time the two were near enough to the approaching Confederates
to carry on a conversation by lifting their voices a little.
"Hello, Johnny," said O'Halloran.
"Hello, Yank," replied Kilpatrick.
"What's the countersign, Johnny?"
"Tobacco. What is it on your side, Yank?"
"Tay an' coffee, Johnny."
"You are mighty right," Kilpatrick exclaimed. "Stack your arms agin a
tree."
"The same to you," said O'Halloran.
The Irishman, using his foot as a broom, cleared the dead leaves and
twigs from a little space of ground, where he deposited his bundle,
and Kilpatrick did the same. John Fambrough, the wounded Confederate,
went forward to greet his father and sister, and Lieutenant Clopton
went with him. The Squire was not in a good humor.
"I tell you what, John," he said to his son, "I don't like to be
harborin' nary side. It's agin' my principles. I don't like this
colloguin' an' palaverin' betwixt folks that ought to be by good
rights a-knockin' one another on the head. If they want to collogue
an' palaver, why don't they go som'ers else?"
The Squire's son tried to explain, but the old gentleman hooted at the
explanation. "Come on, Jule, let's go and see what they're up to."
As they approached, the Irishman glanced at Captain Somerville, and
saw that he had turned away, cap in hand, to hide his emotion.
"You're just in time," the Irishman said to Squire Fambrough in a
bantering tone, "to watch the continding armies. This mite of a Johnny
will swindle the Government, if I don't kape me eye on him."
"Is this what you call war?" the Squire inquired sarcastically. "Who
axed you to come trespassin' on my land?"
"Oh, we'll put the leaves back where we found them," said Kilpatrick,
"if we have to git a furlough."
"Right you are!" said the Irishman.
"It is just a little trading frolic among the boys!" Captain
Somerville turned to the old man with a courteous bow. "They will do
no harm. I'll answer for that."
"Well, I'll tell you how I feel about it!" Squire Fambrough exclaimed
with some warmth. "I'm in here betwixt the hostiles. They ain't nobody
here but me an' my daughter. We don't pester nobody, an' we don't want
nobody to pester us. One of my sons is in the Union army, I hear tell,
an' the other is in the Confederate army when he ain't in the
hospital. These boys, you see, found their old daddy a-straddle of the
fence, an' one clomb down one leg on the Union side, an' t'other one
clomb down t'other leg on the Confederate side."
"That is what I call an interesting situation," said the captain,
drawing a long breath. "Perhaps I have seen your Union son."
"Maybe so, maybe so," assented the Squire.
"Perhaps you have seen him yourself since the war began?"
Before the Squire could make any reply, Julia rushed at the captain
and threw her arms around his neck, crying, "O brother George, I know
you!"
The Squire seemed to be dazed by this discovery. He went towards the
captain slowly. The tears streamed down his face and the hand he held
out trembled.
"George," he exclaimed, "God A'mighty knows I'm glad to see you!"
O'Halloran and Kilpatrick had paused in the midst of their traffic to
watch this scene, but when they saw the gray-haired old man crying and
hugging his son, and the young girl clinging to the two, they were
confused. O'Halloran turned and kicked his bundles.
"Take all the tay and coffee, you bloody booger! Just give me a
pipeful of the weed."
Kilpatrick shook his fist at the big Irishman.
"Take the darned tobacco, you red-mouthed Mickey! What do I want with
your tea and coffee?" Then both started to go a little way into the
woods. Lieutenant Clopton following. The captain would have called
them back, but they wouldn't accept the invitation.
"We are just turnin' our backs, sor, while you hold a family orgie,"
said O'Halloran. "Me an' this measly Johnny will just go on an'
complate the transaction of swappin'."
At this moment Tuck reappeared on the scene. Seeing his young master,
he stopped still and looked at him, and then broke out into loud
complaints.
"Marse Dave Henry, whar de namer goodness you been? You better come
read dish yer letter what yo' ma writes you. I'm gwine tell mistiss
she come mighty nigh losin' a likely nigger, an' she'll rake you over
de coals, mon."
"Why, howdy, Tuck," exclaimed Lieutenant Clopton. "Ain't you glad to
see me?"
"Yasser, I speck I is." The negro spoke in a querulous and somewhat
doubtful tone, as he produced a letter from the lining of his hat.
"But I'd 'a' been a heap gladder ef I hadn't mighty nigh trapsed all
de gladness out'n me."
Young Clopton took the letter and read it with a smile on his lips and
a dimness in his eyes. The negro, left to himself, had his attention
attracted by the coffee and tobacco lying exposed on the ground. He
looked at the display, scratching his head.
"Boss, is dat sho nuff coffee?"
"It is that same," said O'Halloran.
"De ginnywine ole-time coffee?" insisted the negro.
"'Tis nothin' else, simlin-head."
"Marse Dave Henry," the negro yelled, "run here an' look at dish yer
ginnywine coffee! Dey's nuff coffee dar fer ter make mistiss happy de
balance er her days. Some done spill out!" he exclaimed. "Boss, kin I
have dem what's on de groun'?"
"Take 'em," said O'Halloran, "an' much good may they do you."
"One, two, th'ee, fo', fi', sick, sev'n." The negro counted the grains
as he picked them up. "O Marse Dave Henry, run here an' look! I got
sev'n grains er ginnywine coffee. I'm gwine take um ter mistiss."
The Irishman regarded the negro with curiosity. Then taking the dead
branch of a tree he drew a line several yards in length between
himself and Kilpatrick.
"D'ye see that line there?" he said to the negro.
"Dat ar mark? Oh, yasser, I sees de mark."
"Very well. On that side of the line you are in slavery--on this side
the line you are free."
"Who? Me?"
"Who else but you?"
"I been hear talk er freedom, but I ain't seed 'er yit, an' I dunner
how she feel." The negro scratched his head and grinned expectantly.
"'Tis as I tell you," said the Irishman.
"I b'lieve I'll step 'cross an' see how she feel." The negro stepped
over the line, and walked up and down as if to test the matter
physically. "'Tain't needer no hotter ner no colder on dis side dan
what 'tis on dat," he remarked. Then he cried out to his young master:
"Look at me, Marse Dave Henry; I'm free now."
"All right." The young man waved his hand without taking his eyes from
the letter he was reading.
"He take it mos' too easy fer ter suit me," said the negro. Then he
called out to his young master again: "O Marse Dave Henry! Don't you
tell mistiss dat I been free, kase she'll take a bresh-broom an' run
me off'n de place when I go back home."