CHAPTER II
NEARING THE GOAL
It was the Thursday afternoon succeeding the Monday night described in theformer chapter. On the north bank of the Tennessee River, not far from thetown of Jasper, three drenched figures might be discerned. They werelooking somewhat longingly in the direction of a white frame house notfifty yards away from the stream, which, swollen by the recent storms, wasin a particularly turbulent mood. There was nothing very attractive aboutthe building save that it suggested shelter from the rain without, andthat the smoke curling up from its large chimney held forth vague hopes ofa palatable supper. Certainly there was little in the landscape itself totempt any one to remain outdoors. The three wanderers seemed to be of thisopinion, for they suddenly made a move towards the house. They wereroughly dressed, their clothes were soaking, and their high boots bore theevidence of a long, muddy tramp across country.
"Well," grumbled one of them, a thick-set, middle-aged man, with agood-humored expression and a four-days' growth of iron-gray beard on hisface; "why did I leave home and home cooking to enlist in the army andthen wander over the earth like this?"
"Mr. Watson!" exclaimed the person next to him, in a tone of boyishsurprise; "how can you talk like that? Why, _I_ am having the time of mylife."
The speaker was George Knight. There was mud on his face, and the nattydrummer boy in blue uniform had given place to a young fellow whooutwardly resembled an ordinary farm hand. But there could be no doubt,from the light which shone in his bright eyes, that he was enjoyinghimself to the full.
"Humph!" returned Watson. "When you get as old as I am, my boy, you won'ttake such keen delight in walking through mire."
The boy laughed, and turned to the third member of the party. "Are youtired, too, Macgreggor?" he asked.
Macgreggor, a compactly built, athletic young man of twenty-seven orthereabouts, with a light-brown beard and mustache which made him lookolder than he really was, shook the rain from his hat and said cheerily,"I've done a good deal of mountain climbing since Tuesday morning, but I'mnot too tired to eat a good supper, if we are lucky enough to find one inthis place."
It need hardly be repeated that Watson and Macgreggor were the two men inwhose care Andrews had placed George Knight. They were both brave,resourceful men. During their long trudge across the mountainous countrybetween Shelbyville and the Tennessee, Watson had uttered many a grumble,but his complaints meant nothing more than a desire to hear himself talk.When it came to fording a stream, climbing a precipice, or fairly wadingthrough the slush, he was quite as willing and energetic as the other twomembers of his party.
George knocked loudly at the door of the house, as he and his companionshastily sheltered themselves under the little piazza which ran along thefront of the place.
"Be on your guard, boys," whispered Watson. "Stick to your story about ourbeing Kentuckians, and say nothing imprudent that may arouse suspicion.Remember! we _must_ be in Marietta by to-morrow night."
The meeting at Marietta had, at the very last moment, been postponed byAndrews from Thursday night to Friday night. "It is well he did postponeit," thought Macgreggor; "we are far enough from Marietta as it is."
The door was suddenly thrown open by an old negro "aunty" behind whomstood a neat, bustling little white woman. The latter was evidentlyengaged in the business of preparing supper, if one might judge from thefact that her bare arms were almost encaked in flour.
"We are three Kentuckians from Fleming County on our way to enlist inChattanooga," spoke out Macgreggor, in a voice which seemed to have thering of truth in it. "Can we spend the night here, so that we can crossthe river in the morning?"
The expression of the woman, which had at first been one of surprise andirritation at being stopped in her work, softened immediately. "Come in,"she said, quickly; "my husband's only a farmer, and we can't give youanything very fine, but it was never said of Mandy Hare that she turnedaway from her house any loyal friend of the South."
With that she led her gratified visitors through a scantily-furnishedparlor into a kitchen which seemed to them like a Paradise. Over theroaring fire in the great hearth several vessels were simmering andemitting the most delightful odors, while a table near by was already setfor the coming meal. On a chair facing the fire a fat, white cat waspurring blissfully. The room was delightfully warm; the whole scene had anirresistible attraction and air of domesticity.
"Make yourselves at home," commanded Mrs. Hare, cheerfully. "My husbandwill be home from Jasper in a few minutes, and then you'll have somethingto eat--such as 'tis."
At this instant there was a querulous little bark, which appeared to comefrom the region of George Knight's heart. Mrs. Hare looked around insurprise; the white cat stirred uneasily. The next second the boy hadshaken his overcoat, and from out of a large side pocket jumped thediminutive Waggie. The cat, with one bound, took a flying leap to thekitchen stairs, and brushing past the half-opened door at the bottom ofthe flight, fairly tore up to the second story, where she disappeared.Waggie gave a shrill yelp of emotion, but evidently concluded that it wassafer not to chase a strange and muscular cat in a strange house.
"Gracious me," cried Mrs. Hare; "did you bring that little fellow all theway from Kentucky?"
"When I came away he followed me," replied George. He spoke the truth,although he did not add that he "came away" from a Union camp rather thanfrom Kentucky. Waggie had been consigned to a member of General Mitchell'sstaff, to remain with him during his owner's absence, but George had notproceeded five miles on his journey before he heard a joyous bark behindhim--and there frisked and capered Waggie. "You'll have to turn spy now,"George said. It was too late to send him back. Thus the dog joined theparty, much to the pleasure of all concerned.
Hardly had Waggie made his theatrical entrance into the kitchen before alean, prematurely shriveled man of fifty, whose long shaggy beardproclaimed him a veritable countryman, came shambling into the room. Atsight of the three strangers a curious look came into his restless eyes.It was almost as if the look was one of triumph. George, observing it,shivered, although he could hardly say why he did so.
"This is my husband," explained Mrs. Hare, with an awkward attempt atcourtesy. "These men," she continued, addressing her lord and master,"have the good of the Southern cause at heart, and are on their way toChattanooga, to enlist in the Confederate army." She cast such anapproving glance upon the wanderers as she spoke, and was so good-natured,that George's heart smote him at the deception which was being practisedupon her. He was a frank, honest boy, who hated the very idea of appearinganywhere under false pretences. But he realized that he was playing a partfor the good of his General, and his General's cause, and he resolved tomaintain, as well as he could, his new character of a Southernsympathizer.
Farmer Hare gave to each of the visitors a surly recognition. Waggiewalked up to him, sniffed about his boots, and uttered a low growl. It wasplain that the dog did not approve of the master of the house.
"You fellows are taking a pretty long journey to serve the South,"remarked Mr. Hare at last, in a nasal tone sadly at variance with thecustomary soft Southern cadence.
"Can he suspect us?" thought Watson. The same thought went through themind of Macgreggor, but he merely said: "We are nearly at our journey'send now. By to-morrow we will be in Chattanooga."
"Sit down and make yourselves comfortable," snarled Hare, with the air ofan unwilling host. The visitors took the chairs which Mrs. Hare had placedfor them at the supper-table. They were joined by husband and wife, andthe negro "aunty" was soon serving a delicious meal of corn bread, Irishstew, and other good things. They all ate with a will, including Waggie,who was given a private lot of bones by the fireside. When the supper wasover the farmer arose abruptly. "I s'pose you fellows have had a prettylong tramp, and want to go to bed," he said. "We keep good hours in thishouse, anyway, and turn in early at night--so that we may turn out earlyin the morning."
"Give them a chance to dry themselves before the f
ire," urged Mrs. Hare.
"Let 'em dry themselves in bed," muttered the farmer. Whereupon he lighteda candle, and turned towards the door leading to the second story. He wasevidently in a great hurry to get his guests up-stairs. Watson, Macgreggorand George looked at one another, as if trying to fathom the cause oftheir peculiar reception at the hands of Farmer Hare. But each onesilently decided that their only cue was to be as polite as possible, andrefrain from any altercation with their host.
"After all," thought Watson, "if we can spend the night here we will beoff again at dawn--and then let our surly host take himself to Kamchatka,for all we care."
Half an hour later Watson and Macgreggor, thoroughly tired out, were soundasleep, in one of the small rooms in the second-story of the house.George, however, lay tossing from side to side on a bed in the adjoiningroom, directly over the kitchen, with Waggie curled up on the floor closeby. The more he thought of the strange behavior of Hare the more uneasy hebecame. Why had the farmer regarded him and his two companions with such asuspicious glance? Then George suddenly recollected where he had seen thatface before. Yes! There could be no mistake. While he, Macgreggor andWatson were dining that day at the village tavern in Jasper, Hare wasloitering on the porch of the place. But what of that? The three pretendedKentuckians had told their usual story, and professed their love for theConfederacy, and no one there had seemed to doubt their truthfulness for amoment.
In vain the boy tried to fall asleep. At last, hearing voices in thekitchen, he rose quietly from his bed, stole out of his room, andstealthily walked to the little hallway that led to the kitchen stairway.At the head of the staircase he halted. It was clear that Farmer Hare wassaying something emphatic, while his wife was entering a feeble protest.An intuition told the listener that his own party was the subject ofdiscussion. Slowly, cautiously, he crept down the stairway, until healmost touched the closed door which led from it to the kitchen.
"I tell you, woman," Hare was saying, "these three fellows are spies ofsome sort, and the sooner we have them under arrest the better."
"I can't believe it," murmured the wife.
"I don't care whether you believe it or not," rejoined the husband, in aharsh tone. "Don't I tell you that when these two men, and the boy, wereat the tavern in Jasper to-day, one of the men was recognized by JohnHenderson. Henderson is a spy in the service of General Beauregard, andwas in the camp of General Mitchell only a few days ago, disguised as atrader. There he saw this fellow--the one with the brown beard--and heswears there's no mistake. But he didn't tell us in time--the threedisappeared. No; there's mischief of some sort brewing here, and I intendto stop it, if my name's Hare. We don't want any spies around here."
"Spies!" exclaimed the woman. "Then if they are caught within our linesthey will be shot!" It seemed as if she shuddered as she spoke.
"Or hanged," added the farmer, with an unpleasant laugh.
"Let them go," whispered Mrs. Hare, pleadingly. "I'm just as good aConfederate as you are, Jake, but don't let us have the blood of thesefellows on our hands. That nice little chap with the dog--I would as soonsee my own son get into trouble, if I was lucky enough to have one, asthat bright-eyed boy. Turn 'em out of the house, Jake, if you suspectthem--tell them to go about their business--but don't set a trap forthem." Her voice became almost plaintive. It was evident that thestrangers had made a favorable impression upon Mrs. Hare, and that herwoman's feelings revolted at the idea of betraying them, even though theywere the secret enemies of her cause. "I hate war, anyway," she added. "Itsets friend against friend, brother against brother, father against son,state against state. All this trouble between the North and South mighthave been fixed up without fighting, if there'd been a little morepatience on both sides."
"Don't preach," muttered Hare. "There ain't time for it. Where's UncleDaniel?"
The listening George did not know that "Uncle Daniel" was the blackfarm-hand who helped Hare, but, from the name, he felt sure that a slavewas meant.
"Uncle Daniel is out in the barn, I reckon," answered the wife. "What doyou want him for?"
"Wait and see," rejoined her husband, gruffly. With that enigmatical replyhe opened a door leading to the barn, stalked out, and disappeared. Therewas a half-stifled cry from Mrs. Hare, but she apparently made no effortto detain him. "The Vigilants! Oh! the Vigilants!" she repeated, inaccents of distress.
"The sooner we get out of this the better for our necks," thought George.He had no sense of fear; he was only filled with one consuming idea. Hemust get word to his two companions, and at once. Just what Harecontemplated in the way of a trap he could not tell, yet it was evidentthat the sooner Watson and Macgreggor were awakened the more chance wouldall three have for escaping from whatever fate the farmer had in store forthem.
Cautiously George crept back until he was at the door of the room wherethe two men were heavily sleeping. His first impulse was to rattle at theknob; but he recollected in time that this would make a noise that mightbring Mrs. Hare to the scene. He stood still and reflected. It would befoolish to invite the attention of her husband or herself before a plan ofaction could be decided upon. For nearly five minutes he stood in thehallway, wondering how he could awaken his tired fellows without making adisturbance.
"I wonder if I'm very stupid," thought the boy. He could hear the kitchendoor open, as Hare came back into the house, and began talking to his wifein low tones. He could distinguish but one word. It was "Vigilants!"
At last he gave a faint exclamation of satisfaction, and stole back to hisown room. Waggie, who was now lying on the bed, moved uneasily. Georgelighted a candle and examined the plastered wall which ran between hisroom and the one where the unconscious Watson and Macgreggor were gentlysnoring. He knew that the bed on which they slept was directly on theother side of this wall, and he judged that the partition itself was verythin. In this theory he was correct: the laths and their plaster coveringformed a mere shell, which was not much thicker than an ordinary woodenpartition. Taking a large jack knife from his waistcoat he began to cutinto the wall, about four feet from the floor. Before long he had made asmall hole, not bigger than the dimensions of a five-dollar gold piece,straight through the plaster. Looking through it, with the aid of hiscandle, he saw that Watson and Macgreggor were stretched out in bed on theother side, each half-dressed and each sleeping as if there were no suchthing in the world as war or danger.
"They deserve a good sleep," said the boy to himself; "but it can't behelped, so here goes!" At the same moment he extinguished his candle,pulled it out of the candlestick, and poked it through the hole. Hedirected it in such a way that it fell squarely on the face of Macgreggor.The man suddenly stopped snoring, turned his body from one side to theother, and then started up in the bed, in a half-sitting posture.
"Macgreggor! Mac!" whispered George; "it's I, George Knight. Don't speakloud."
"Where on earth are you?" asked the newly-awakened sleeper, in a startledvoice.
"Never mind where I am," answered George. "Only don't make a noise. Butget up, light your candle, and open your door for me without letting themhear you down-stairs."
By this time Watson was awake too, and had jumped to the floor. WhenMacgreggor lighted his candle, and saw the little hole in the wall, atwhich appeared one of George's eyes, he almost gave a cry of surprise; butprudence restrained him, and he merely touched Watson's arm, pointed tothe hole, and then quietly unlocked the door of their room. George sooncrept carefully in, and proceeded, in as low a voice as he could command,to tell the two men what he had heard from the kitchen.
"The Vigilants!" whispered Watson. "Why, don't you know what that means?When we were in Jasper to-day I saw some of them standing around thevillage grocery store, and even talked with them. They thought I was agood 'Confed,' and I found out that they are organized into a band toarrest suspicious characters, keep things in order in this section of thecounty and even turn guerrillas when they are wanted."
"I see the whole thing," said Macgreggor.
"This Hare has sent his negroover to Jasper to bring the Vigilants here to take charge of us, and tostring us up, no doubt, to the first convenient tree. The sooner we getaway from here the better for our lives. Jasper is only two miles off, andthe Vigilants will be riding over here before we have time to say JackRobinson."
"There's still time," said George, "and as there's only one man hereagainst us now--I mean Hare--we can seize him, tie him to something, andthen escape into the darkness."
"So we can, my boy," replied Watson, who was thinking as deeply and ascalmly as if a game of chess, rather than a matter of life and death, werethe issue. "There's no trouble as to our escaping. But remember this. It'spitch dark and raining again like cats and dogs; we don't know our way; weare sure to get lost before we have run fifty yards from the house, andthese Vigilants, who understand every foot of the country, will divideinto small parties, and hunt us down, as sure as fate. And if they can't,they will put hounds on our track--and then we'll be beautifully carved upinto beefsteaks. I have seen hounds, and I know how they appreciate a nicelittle man hunt." Watson smiled grimly.
Macgreggor walked silently to one of the windows, opened the sash just acrack, and listened. He could hear nothing but the downpour of the rain.Yet it would not be long before the Vigilants dashed up to the house. Nodoubt they had all been telling anecdotes in the corner grocery store, andthey would take but a short time for the mounting of their horses.Cautiously closing the window he returned to the centre of the room.
"It's a dark night," he said, "and all the better for a plan I have topropose. We are each secretly armed with pistols, are we not? Well, then,let us put out this candle, and open the window to the left, looking outtowards the highroad to Jasper. When the Vigilants come riding up the roadand get in front of the house we will suddenly fire on them. This maycause a panic, as the fellows will not be able to tell just where theenemy are, and then----"
"Pshaw!" interrupted Watson. "You don't know whom you're dealing with.These Vigilants are as brave as they are reckless, and there are at leasttwenty-five or thirty of them. Three men can't frighten them. They wouldonly get us in the end, even if we did succeed in disabling one or two ofthem in the first surprise."
"Then what are we to do?" asked George eagerly. Watson was so composedthat the boy felt sure he must have some better plan for escape.
"I have a scheme," said Watson, quite simply. "I have been hatching it inmy brain while we were talking. But the quicker it's put to the test, thequicker will we save our necks. Are you willing to trust me blindly?"
There was a whispered "yes" from both the other conspirators. Watsoninspired confidence by his assurance.
"Then let us get all our clothes, shoes, everything on at once, and walkboldly down-stairs."
Three minutes later the trio were marching down-stairs into the kitchen.Hare and his wife were standing at the fireplace, looking the picture ofsurprise, as their guests burst into the room, with the irrepressibleWaggie at their heels. The old negro "aunty," who had been dozing on astool near the hearth, jumped to her rheumatic feet in consternation."Hallelujah! Hallelujah!" she cried, throwing her withered arms above herturbaned head. For the guests held revolvers in their hands, and the"aunty's" heart always sank at the thought of gunpowder.
The farmer took a step forward, as if uncertain what to do or say. At lasthe said, trying to smile, yet only succeeding in looking hypocritical:"You ain't going to leave us this time of night, are you? Wait tillmorning, and get some breakfast."
"It's a nice breakfast you'd give us in the morning," laughed Watson, witha significant look at their host. "A halter stew, or some roast bullets, Iguess!"
Hare jumped backward with such suddenness that he almost knocked into thefire his frightened wife who had been standing directly behind him. "Whatdo you mean?" he hissed.
"You know perfectly well what I mean, Mr. Hare," said Watson, looking himstraight in the face, whilst the other spectators listened in breathlessinterest. "You have sent word to the Jasper Vigilants to ride over hereand arrest us, on the suspicion of being spies."
Had the heavens suddenly fallen, the countenances of the Hares could nothave shown more dismay.
"How did you find that out?" asked the farmer, quite forgetting to playhis part of amiable host.
"Never mind how," cried George, who was burning to play his part. "Onlyit's a pity you haven't as much mercy in you as your wife has."
"Listen," said Watson, as he motioned the others in the room to be silent."George, you will watch this old negress, and if she attempts to make asound, or to leave the room before we are ready, give her a hint from yourrevolver."
With a scream of fright, comical in its intensity, the "aunty" sank backon her stool near the hearth, and covered her dark face with her hands.There she sat, as if she expected to be murdered at any moment.
"And you, Macgreggor," continued Watson impressively, "will keep the samesort of watch over Mrs. Hare. Happen what may, there is not to be a soundfrom either woman."
Mrs. Hare started in confusion. Her husband made a bound for the kitchendoor. With another bound no less quick Watson darted forward, caught thefarmer, pushed him back at the point of the pistol, and bolted the door.
"What do you want to do?" demanded Hare. "Are we to be murdered?"
"No," cried Watson, "but----"
Then there came the sound of horses' hoofs in the distance. Every onelistened eagerly, and none more so than the farmer.
"You're done for," he said slowly, casting a half-malevolent,half-triumphant glance at the three Northerners.
"Not by a great deal," said Watson. "March with me to the parlor, open thefront door just a crack, and, when the Vigilants come up, say to them thatwe three men have escaped from the house, stolen a flatboat, and startedto row across the Tennessee River. Send them away and shut the door. Iwill be standing near you, behind the door, with my pistol leveled at yourhead. Make one movement to escape, or say anything but what I have toldyou to say, and you are a dead man!"
The patter of the horses was becoming more and more distinct.
"Will you do as I tell you?" asked Watson, very coolly, as he toyed withhis revolver.
"If I won't?" asked Hare. His face was now convulsed by a variety ofemotions--fear, rage, craftiness, and disappointment.
"I give you three seconds to choose," said Watson. "If you refuse, youwill be stretched out on that floor."
Mrs. Hare, with white cheeks, leaned forward, and whispered to herhusband: "Do as he tells you, Jake. Better let these Yankees go, and saveyour own life."
"One--two----" counted Watson.
Hare held up his right hand, and then dropped it listlessly by his side.
"I give in," he said sullenly. "You've got the better of me." He looked,for all the world, like a whipped cur.
There was not a second to lose. The horsemen were riding up to the house.Watson motioned to the farmer, who walked into the parlor, which wasunlighted, closely followed by the soldier. There were sounds without, asof horses being reined in, and of men's gruff voices. Hare opened theparlor door a few inches, while Watson, safe from observation, stationedhimself within a few feet of him, with cocked revolver. "Remember!" hewhispered, significantly.
"Is that you, boys?" shouted Hare. "Those three spies I sent word aboutescaped from here ten minutes ago, stole a boat on the bank, down by thelanding, and started to row across the river."
"They will never reach the other side a night like this," called out someone.
"What did you let 'em get away from you for?" asked another of theVigilants.
"How could I help it?" growled the farmer. "They were well armed--and'twas three men against one."
"Pah! You've brought us out on a wild-goose chase, and on a durned badnight," came a voice from the wet and darkness.
"Perhaps they'll drift back to this side of the river, and can be caught,"one Vigilant suggested. But this idea evidently met with little approval.It was plain, from what Watson could hear o
f the discussion which ensued,that the Vigilants were disgusted. They were ready, indeed, to give up thechase, on the supposition that the three fugitives would either drift downin midstream, or else be capsized and find a watery grave.
"Come, we'll get home again," commanded a horseman, who appeared to be theleader. "And no thanks to you, Jake Hare, for making us waste our time."
"Say Jake, won't you ask us in to have something warm to drink?" criedanother Vigilant.
Watson edged a trifle nearer to Hare, and whispered: "Send 'em away atonce, or else----"
Once bring the Vigilants into the house, as the soldier knew, and captureor death would be the result.
Hare could almost feel the cold muzzle of the revolver near his head.
"Go away, fellows," he called, "You know I ain't got nothing for you."
A jeer, and a few sarcastic groans greeted this remark. "I always reckonedyou was a skinflint," yelled one of the party.
There was a derisive cheer at this sally. Then, at a word of command, theVigilants turned their horses and cantered back towards Jasper. The soundof hoofs became fainter and fainter.
"Shut the door," ordered Watson, "and go back to the kitchen."
Sullenly the farmer obeyed. When the two were once more by the blazinghearth, George and Macgreggor, who had been guarding Mrs. Hare and thenegress, rushed forward to grasp the hands of their deliverer. They wereabout to congratulate him upon his successful nerve and diplomacy when heinterrupted them.
"Don't bother about that," he said; "let us get away from here as soon aspossible, before our kind host has a chance to play us any more tricks."
"I suppose you think yourself pretty smart, don't you?" snapped Hare,casting a spiteful glance at Watson.
"So smart," put in George, "that if you don't want to be laughed at fromnow until the day of your death you'd better not tell the citizens ofJasper about to-night's occurrences."
"Come, boys, let us be going," exclaimed Watson impatiently, as he offeredhis hand to Mrs. Hare, and said to that lady: "Thank you for the bestsupper we've had since we left--home."
Mrs. Hare refused to shake hands, but she regarded Watson with an admiringexpression. "I won't shake hands with you," she replied, half smiling,"for you may be an enemy of the South, but I'm glad you've escapedhanging. You've too much grit for that. As for you, Jake, don't everpretend to us again that you're the brainiest man in the county."
"Hold your tongue, woman," cried the amiable farmer.
In a couple of minutes the three travelers were striking out from the backof the house into the slush, and rain, and blackness of the night. Waggiewas occupying his usual place inside a pocket of George's overcoat. He hadsupped regally at the Hares on bacon and bones, and he felt warm and atpeace with the world.
Before the party had more than emerged from the garden (a task by no meanseasy in itself, on account of the darkness), something whistled by them,to the accompaniment of a sharp report. Looking behind them they saw themeagre form of Hare standing in the kitchen doorway. He held a rifle inhis right hand. The kitchen fire made him plainly visible.
"Pretty good aim, old boy," shouted Macgreggor, "considering you couldhardly see us. But I can see you plainly enough."
As he spoke he drew his revolver. Hare was already putting the rifle tohis shoulder, preparing for another shot. He had hardly had a chance toadjust the gun, however, before he dropped it with a cry of pain and raninto the house. A bullet had come whizzing from Macgreggor, and struck thefarmer in his right arm.
"Just a little souvenir to remember me by," laughed the lucky marksman.
"Hurry up!" cried Watson. "To-morrow night we must be in Marietta. We arestill many miles away, and in a hostile, unknown country."
So the three pushed on into the gloom. The prospect of meeting JamesAndrews at the appointed place was not reassuring. Their only hope was tokeep on along the bank of the Tennessee River until they reachedChattanooga. From there they could take a train for Marietta.
"Shall we make it?" thought George. Waggie gave a muffled bark whichseemed to say: "Courage!"