“Hold on there, you black imps; where are you going?” thundered the
soldier.
Mara’s heart almost stopped its beating.
“To de sp’ing, massa,” answered the scout, coolly.
“Seems to me you go mighty often.”
“De watah done git roominated wid bad taste, massa. ’Sides Dinah done
spill sum un dat las bucket.”
“Go along; and see that you don’t waste any time.”
“Yas, massa.”
As the scout and Mara started down the well-worn path to the spring
from the back door, the horsemen reined up in front of the house.
“Ho there, Sergeant Howe, we have come for that troublesome bird of
yours,” cried the foremost.
“None too soon to suit me either, Lieutenant Bradley. You will find her
near at hand. She is with Wyman.”
But they found the wounded scout alone.
“Miss Morland was here a few minutes ago,” said Wyman. “She will
probably be back directly. You might as well wait here.”
“Precious little time have we to wait,” growled the officer.
He did wait, however, a few minutes, time that Boyd Wyman knew well was
precious to the fugitives.
“This won’t do!” exclaimed the other, soon losing his patience. “Find
her, men--at once.”
A search for the missing maiden was instantly begun, but to the
surprise and chagrin of the soldiers could not be found.
“She can’t be far away,” reiterated Wyman. “She must have hidden
somewhere in the house when she saw you coming.”
“By heavens! we will show her the fate of traitors inside of five
minutes!” vociferated the anxious officer. “Summon the servants.”
The chattering slaves were quickly found huddling together in a scared
group in the kitchen.
Pete and Dinah according to instructions had come out of their
hiding-places soon after the fugitives had left.
They were faithful to their promise, and the enraged Confederates could
learn no trace of their missing prey.
“I know of one way to drive her from her retreat,” said the leader,
grimly. “I will do it, now.”
“Here, men, some of you, Lake and Woodstaff, bear Boyd Wyman out of
the house. Sergeant Howe, see that the house is surrounded and no one
escapes. I will show that girl a trick she little dreams of.”
While his orders were being carried out, Lieutenant Bradley, with his
own hands, set fire to the house.
“That will drive her out,” he muttered, with a look of satisfaction.
Boyd Wyman uttered a groan as he witnessed the fiendish work.
We can well anticipate the result.
“Curse her!” yelled the Confederate as he looked in vain for the
appearance of his victim; “she is spunky though!”
Then as the flames began to decrease and the walls fell he turned away.
“The fire has saved us further trouble. Come, men, follow me back to
Dalton.”
Meanwhile the scout and Mara were pursuing their flight.
The path to the spring wound down the hill, and after going a few rods
the view from the house was obscured by a thick growth of bushes.
“We have no further use for these buckets and little need we should
encumber ourselves with them longer,” he said. “We must get as far as
possible from here before our flight is discovered.”
Mara followed him in silence.
Darkness was fast coming on which promised to favor them in their
escape.
The country was broken and their progress was necessarily slow, however.
They heard the cries of their enemies once, but beyond that nothing was
seen or known of them, until they had gone a mile or more, when looking
back Mara uttered a low exclamation.
Her companion turned quickly in alarm when he saw a bright light in the
distance.
“They have set fire to the house!” she exclaimed in a tremulous voice,
as the night scene was lit with a brighter glare, while the flames
leaped higher and higher.
“See! I can distinguish the forms of some of them by the light of the
flames!” she continued clutching him by his arm. “Oh, my poor home.”
“Do not despair,” he said, encouragingly, as they watched the fire.
“That tells that they are not following us. But we must not lose any
time. Come, we must go on.”
Reluctantly she turned from the sight of the burning building.
“Homeless and a fugitive!” she murmured. “God have pity on me now.”
“Do not lose courage,” he said. “Remember you are not alone in your
grief. All that I held dear sleeps to-night beneath the Confederate
sod.”
Then as if wishing to change the subject he said, pointing down the
valley:
“That must be our course. On our right is Dalton, on our left,
Buzzard’s Gap. We must look sharp or we shall run into the clutches of
foes before we know it. These disguises must be cast off at the first
possible moment. Now that they have served their purpose we could not
be in more dangerous costumes, for were we discovered we should be
mistaken for escaping slaves and shot down without a word.”
These remarks were spoken in a low tone for no one knew better than the
speaker the peril that lay before them.
In the very heart of the enemy’s country, overrun by their troops,
escape seemed well-nigh impossible.
The scout spoke but a few times for the next hour and nothing occurred
to check their flight.
Coming to a stream he proposed that they should wash the black from
their faces and hands and discard the garbs that they wore over their
own.
This was but a short undertaking and Mara soon appeared as herself glad
to escape the uncomfortable disguise.
To her surprise her companion produced a wig and a set of long, white
whiskers. Then with a few deft touches he was transformed into an old
man.
“A staff, and my disguise is complete, is it not?” he said with a
smile. “This is a favorite character of mine. Remember now you are to
pass as my daughter.”
“I do not wonder they call you the Wizard Scout,” declared Mara, as she
looked on with amazement.
“You will wonder less when you know me better, my darter,” assuming the
role of his new relationship. “But I must put these old duds out of the
way.”
“Hark!” she exclaimed, “what is that firing?” as the sound of firearms
suddenly awoke the stillness of the night.
“The two armies are having a battle. From the direction I should judge
that Schofield has attacked the flank of Johnston’s army. Ah, he will
give the graycoats a hard tussle.”
“I think you are a Northern man.”
“My sympathies are for the Union, and while I can lift this good right
arm of mine I will stand in its defense.”
He spoke with great earnestness.
“You forget that I am a rebel.”
“No more than you did when you saved the life of Cavalry Curt. But have
done with talk. I believe I hear a body of horsemen coming this way.”
“And they are coming at a smart canter,” said Mara, as the sounds grew
rapidly plainer.
“It must be a skirmishing squad of Johnston’s. We can’t be far from the
road.”
“Do you think they will see us?” she asked.
“Not if we can help it. We must look round for a hiding-place though.
Ha! I believe yonder thicket is just the place for us. Let’s see about
it.”
Upon reaching the spot they found that a huge tree had been uptorn
there, its matted roots, filled in with earth and overgrown with a
thick mass of bushes forming as impenetrable a cover as could be
desired.
“Just the place for us,” declared the scout, “and we are near enough,
so that we can see the horsemen as they pass. Crawl in and make
yourself as comfortable as possible,” parting the bushes so that she
had little difficulty in gaining the retreat.
“No one would mistrust you were there,” he said, as he allowed the
undergrowth to resume its natural position, “I can’t see you, I swear.”
“But aren’t you going to remain?” she asked uneasily, as he seemed
about to move away.
“No; keep perfectly still until I return, and above all don’t get
alarmed. I am going out to salute ’em fellows. They are almost here,
too, I’m going to play on ’em. Just to keep up my reputation.”
Before Mara could speak he stepped boldly out from the growth into the
path of the oncoming horsemen.
Parting the bushes so that she had a good view of the scene Mara saw
the troops, half a dozen in number, dash into sight.
To her dismay the Wizard Scout went coolly forward to meet them, crying
as they swept down upon him.
“Hold up there, boys! would ye ride right over an old man?”