As Mara came in sight of her brother’s tent she saw some one pacing
slowly back and forth before its entrance.
Advancing boldly she drew nearer until he turned at the sound of her
approach and pausing in his beat coolly faced her.
His long, flowing hair and beard was white with the frosts of many
years.
His tall form, however, gave no indication of the weight of years that
it bore.
His eyes, too, retained all the fire of youth. Ay, from out of their
depths flashed at times the light which told plainly of the slumbering
flame of insanity.
“I knew you would come here,” he said, calmly.
“But--I do not know you,” exclaimed Mara in alarm, glancing toward a
group of soldiers just beyond.
“Nor need you marvel at that,” replied the stranger, lowly. “I know
every man in the Confederate army, but no one knows me! Nor would they
recognize me if they did. The tent is vacated now; come in.”
She might do worse than to obey.
“You are on a dangerous errand, young woman,” were his first words.
She started with a low exclamation of fear.
“Do not be alarmed,” he hastened to say. “I will be more careful how I
speak. You have nothing to fear from me. You are cleverly disguised. It
is to warn you that I am here.”
“Pray who are you?”
“They call me Old Fatality. But that is only a name synonymous with
my work, you know. All other names are misnomers, however, so away
with them. You have been rash in coming here when your own home is in
jeopardy. You are needed there, even now. Is the life of a stranger
dearer to you than the loved ones at home?”
She was silent, perplexed, bewildered.
“I understand,” he went on. “You have come here in the cause of your
state. By your heroic conduct you have averted the disaster that hangs
over the army of Georgia. But its downfall is surely coming. You will
live to regret that you lent your arm to its support. Your heart should
be wholly with your patriot lover. But I am detaining you here when you
should be on your homeward journey. Even now all that you hold dear on
earth is under the bane. Within a week you will be alone--friendless
and hopeless.”
“Sir, begone!” she exclaimed. “Who are you who dares to breathe the
breath of treason?”
It was too dark for either to see the other’s face plainly, but both
were greatly excited.
Mara stood with extended arm.
“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “I have only your good at heart. See, I am
going.”
He went as far as the edge of the tent and peered cautiously out.
The excitement of the camp scene had somewhat died away.
With a hasty glance he took in the view, when to the surprise of Mara,
he rapidly returned to her side.
“Be calm,” he said in a tone hardly above a whisper. “You have come to
rescue Cavalry Curt! So have I! Listen to my directions and it shall be
well. You can trust me.”
More surprised than ever Mara bowed her head.
“You have a pass for him?”
“Yes.”
“Then go boldly down to his place of confinement and demand an
entrance. The guard will pass you. Let the prisoner don this suit of
gray,” handing her a bundle that he carried under his cloak. “Together
then leave the place. I will be on guard when you come out. Be bold and
it shall be well with you and him. Separate at once. Do you then go
home with all speed possible. Do you understand?”
She could hardly credit his words.
“You can trust me,” he declared seeing her hesitation. “If you have any
doubt ask Cavalry Curt if he knows the Wizard of the Army.”
At the mention of that name she gazed upon him spellbound. Could she
be really gazing upon the wonderful man whose startling reputation had
reached even her mountain home?
“I have heard of you,” she murmured.
“I stopped at your house once when crossing the mountains. In spite of
your disguise I recognized you by your voice as soon as you spoke. I
never forget a voice. You can trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Wait an hour; then go ahead. You will find me ready to do my
part.”
He was moving away, when she caught him by the arm.
“You will see Cavalry Curt when he has escaped?”
“Without doubt.”
“A favor then, please.”
“It is granted.”
“You will not mention my name to him? He must not know that I helped
him to get free.”
“Ha! I see. Your secret is safe with me.”
The next moment he disappeared from sight.
Time passed slowly enough to Mara as she waited for the hour to wear
away.
Nothing new occurred to awaken her interest.
As she pondered over the events of the evening she wondered more and
more over the unexpected appearance of the Wizard Scout.
Who was he? From whence had he come? and how had he learned of her
presence there?
Then too his fearful warning--must she put credence in that? The
thought startled her.
She had heard of him before--had heard that he was mad.
Were this the fact, could she depend upon his assistance in the rescue
of Cavalry Curt?
The more she reviewed her situation, the more she became entangled in
the web of mystery and doubt.
The time for action came at last and she resolved to hazard the
desperate venture.
Not without many misgivings did she start on her perilous mission.
“’Tis his life or mine!” she murmured under her breath.
Running the gantlet of others, Mara at last reached the guard who stood
on duty over the captive scout.
“A permission to see Cavalry Curt?”
“Who from, mister?”
“General Johnston.”
“Sho! so ’tis. Genuine, by Jeff. Git ’long and be lively.”
Glad to pass so easily Mara entered the doomed spy’s quarters.
He was lying upon the bare earth as if asleep when she entered, to
quickly look up at sight of her.
“Is this Cavalry Curt?” she asked in a low tone.
“They call me by that name sometimes.”
“I need not ask if you are anxious to escape from your present plight.”
Her tone was low and her calmness surprised herself.
“Hardly. Who are you?”
“A friend. Let me prove it.”
No sooner had she spoken than she cut the ligatures that bound him.
“May heaven bless you,” he murmured, starting to his feet, to find his
limbs so cramped and benumbed that it was some time before he could
stand.
“Here, don this suit of gray. It will help you escape detection. I will
see that no one enters.”
Cavalry Curt quickly made the change.
“I am ready,” he whispered. “But how are we to run the guard?”
“Follow me closely.”
“Into the jaws of death though it be,” replied the scout through his
clinched teeth. “I wish I were armed.”
“Take this,” and Mara thrust a revolver into his hand.
“Thanks. Lead on. I am impatient to get out of this place.”
“Come.”
But Mara’s heart sank within her as they reached the door.
The same sentry was on duty as had been when she entered the building.
The Wizard Scout had failed to do his part.