In a moment the little squad were on the alert.
No sound, however, followed the crash which seemed like the concussion
of a falling body.
“Some one is in the house!” whispered Boggs, whose stock of courage
never was great, was fast leaving him.
“Let’s go in and see,” ventured one of the others with less fear.
“We mustn’t leave the tree without a guard to see that the Yank does
not get off. Jones and Monkton, do you keep a close watch over that spy
while the rest of us explore the old building. Come on, boys; and mind
that you keep your eyes open.”
With these words he led the way toward the open door.
It was dark and still within. Not without many misgivings did
Lieutenant Boggs enter the deserted abode. Every footstep gave back a
loud, creaking noise and he fancied that all kinds of creatures were in
the place. A bat, started from its retreat by the nocturnal disturbers
of its peace, flew uncomfortably near to his head.
He crossed the first apartment closely followed by the others, to enter
an adjoining room even darker than the first if that were possible.
Unknown to them the eagle eyes of the scout were watching their
movements from the second floor.
Alike unseen and unheard by either friend or foe another with catlike
steps was tracking the Confederates.
Then as he crossed the threshold of the inner apartment the scout
caught sight of his tall, powerful form. He started with surprise for
even in the semi-darkness he had recognized the Wizard Scout!
Here then was help he had little expected--an arm that was worth a
dozen ordinary men.
Until then Curt had thought only of escape for himself. Finding that he
had an ally in the field, a bold, daring scheme entered his head.
Lieutenant Boggs and his party, however, had come to a sudden halt.
“Hist!” exclaimed he. “I heard something move in the corner yonder.”
His followers quickly came to a standstill, when an oppressive silence
hung over the lonely scene.
“Man or devil, come forth!” challenged Boggs, trying to appear calm
though he was trembling with fear.
No reply was made by word or move.
The Wizard Scout stood in the darkness grimly watching them.
“’Twas nothing!” exclaimed the boldest of the squad. “The first sound
we heard was but the branches of the pine striking against the side of
the house. Let’s get out of this. We are losing valuable time. Hark!
Jones is calling for us.”
“Yes; we have fooled here long enough,” assented Boggs. “Here seems to
be a door leading out at the end of the house. Let’s go out this way.”
Glad to escape from the place, the Confederates hastily passed out into
the night.
Had they looked back by the light streaming in through the door they
had opened they might have discovered the tall figure of Old Fatality
standing in the background, a smile upon his bronze visage.
They left the door open.
As soon as satisfied that they were beyond hearing Curt spoke in a low
tone to the mysterious scout who without looking up or betraying any
surprise motioned for him to descend the stairs.
A minute later Curt stood beside him.
“This is a glad meeting on my part,” whispered he. “I was wishing I had
some one to help me.”
“I mistrusted it,” replied the unknown, “so I followed you up here. Do
you intend to capture the rebels?”
“If possible.”
“Good. Let’s get where we can see what they are doing now.”
Noiselessly crossing the room they looked cautiously out upon the
handful of perplexed Confederates, who were grouped under the pine
discussing their next move.
“We mustn’t lose that infernal spy,” declared Boggs. “Has he moved yet,
Jones?”
“Nary a bit.”
“Queer. Some of us’ll have to dislodge the fellow. Who of you’ll climb
up there?”
“And get riddled for our pains!” growled one.
“Bah! it’s got to be done,” said Boggs. “Strange the fool don’t know
enough to come down.”
“I’ll go for one,” volunteered Jones.
“I reckon I ain’t afeerd to go with you,” supplemented Bronson.
“Nor me,” added another.
“And me,” shouted a fourth.
“Enough,” said Boggs.
“While you four are dislodging the game, Sperry and myself will see
that he don’t get away. Where is he, Jones, anyway? Hang me if I don’t
believe he has got off already!”
“No; he’s there yet,” affirmed Jones. “See, there’s his head just to
the right of that big limb with the crows’ nest boughs.”
“Well, climb; we’ve lost time enough already.”
“You had better keep your eye on him and the moment he moves warn us,”
said Jones.
“Yes, cover him with your gun, Sperry; and at the first move shoot him.”
This last was spoken loud enough for the fugitive to hear even were he
further away than was supposed.
Nothing in shape of a reply was vouchsafed.
“Hanged if I believe he’s there,” said Boggs.
“Oh, we’ll show you in less’n no time. Come on, boys.”
Without further delay Jones began the ascent of the tree, the others
following upon his heels.
The smile upon the Wizard Scout’s grim visage broadened as he and Curt
watched the Confederates.
“There’s one apiece for us!” he whispered.
“And you may have old shoulder-straps,” added Curt. “Come, why wait
longer?”
The four had gained the branches of the pine and were cautiously
ascending toward the supposed refuge of the scout.
Lieutenant Boggs and his companion were intently watching--the first
the progress of his men, the other the motionless object in the top of
the tree which he fancied was the hiding fugitive.
As silently as shadows the scouts crept upon the unsuspecting foe.
Old Fatality was unarmed, as far as weapons of war were concerned, but
his long, talon-like fingers worked convulsively as if eager to clutch
the throat of his victim.
The butts of a pair of revolvers protruded from the belt of Cavalry
Curt.
In the midst of their anxious watch the Confederates felt themselves
seized in grasps of iron and in spite of their futile resistance they
were borne to the earth.
Before either of them could cry out, a hand was placed over their
mouths and a low voice whispered in their ears the single word.
“Surrender!”
Meanwhile the four were cautiously approaching the top of the pine
wondering that their prey should keep so quiet.
Then as they drew nearer and no form of man took shape among the
branches they began to anticipate the hoax played upon them.
“No one is there,” whispered Jones, with a breath of relief.
“He must be there somewhere!”
“He ain’t. He’s got away somehow.”
“Impossible.”
They were soon satisfied, however, that such was the case.
“A pretty go!” muttered the leader. “I see now, it was him we heard in
the building. Get down there lively for we may not be too late to get
him yet.”
They saw two men under the tree as they had left them, and did not
dream they were others than Boggs and Sperry their companions, until
the clear tones of Curt called out:
“Hold! the tables have turned and you are Union prisoners! Move at the
peril of your lives. Our rifles cover you!”
Never were four men more completely surprised. However, they were
fairly caught.
Finding they could do no better they descended one by one to surrender
themselves as prisoners of war.
Lieutenant Boggs swore at a fearful rate until threatened with a gag
when he relapsed into silence.
When Curt had securely bound the last of the squad, the scouts resolved
to march with them to the camp of McPherson.
Who can blame them if they felt a bit proud of their capture, while the
Confederates gnashed their teeth with rage, inwardly vowing that they
would get even with their doughty captors.
Leaving the scouts to reach the Northern lines with their prize in
safety, we must turn to follow the fortunes of others of our actors in
this drama of war.