"Halt there!"

The command came from behind. They whipped about and found themselves facing a raised rifle. The man was a civilian, tall and lanky. He waved the rifle from one to the other.

"Where're you going?" he demanded.

"Chattanooga," answered Tom. He said it coolly but it required an effort.

"And yer going with me," replied the man.

"That so?" asked Wilson. "I can think of better company if you're going to keep that rifle waving around in the air. What's the matter with you?"

"Put your hands up, an' keep 'em up," ordered the man.

"Well, this way we won't take the wrong road again," said Tom. "I'd rather walk at the end of a rifle than drown in this mud. The folks at home'll laugh when they hear that we were held up just as soon as we got in the South."

"Hey? What's that?" demanded the man.

"If you're after our money you won't get much," Tom replied.

"I ain't after yer money," said the man. "I'm after you."

"What sort of a Yank trick is this!" demanded Wilson.

"Huh?"

"I'm asking what sort of a Yank trick this is? Are you a Southerner or are you a Yank?"

"I'll unload this gun into your head if you call me a Yank," answered the man.

"Then what do you want?"

"I'm arresting you in the name of the law for burning bridges. That's what
I want."

"Burning what?"

"Burning bridges!" shouted the man. "An' don't stand there the rest of the day talking, either."

"You seem to be running the talking match," said Tom. "What do you want us to do? Want us to run so's you can have a good excuse for taking a shot at us with that gun?"

"And you might have the decency," answered Wilson, "to ask us who we are before you go any further."

"Well, then, who are you?"

"We're from Kentucky and we've sneaked through the Union lines to enlist.
If you want to show us the way to Chattanooga we'll be much obliged to you.
But if you're going to the trouble of arresting us for burning…. What was
it we burned, Tom?"

"Bridges," replied Tom, laughing.

"Yes—for burning bridges, then you're wasting your time."

"Maybe," answered the man. "But you're a-going with me all the same."

"Then let's go," said Tom. "What's the use of standing here in the mud?"

"I'll walk you back to Judson, an' you can tell yer story there. I ain't believing you and I ain't disbelieving you. Turn around the way you was a-going, an' keep yer hands out of yer pockets. I'll let a bullet go smack into the first man that makes a move he shouldn't."

Here was a man they couldn't talk down. He was probably a good shot, and ready to keep his threat. If only they could get him at a disadvantage, and pull their revolvers before he could fire. But such hopes were shattered a few minutes later when two horsemen pulled up before them. They yelled when they saw the three prisoners.

"Good work, Alf!" said one of the men. "Three of 'em. Hello there, Yanks."

"You're a Yank yourself," answered Tom hotly.

"What's that?"

"We're no more Yanks than you are. We were on our way to enlist in the army at Chattanooga, and this is the way we get handled."

"Don't believe 'em," said Alf. "Let's search 'em."

"Why not wait until we get back to Judson? Easier to do it there."

"All right," replied Alf. "You two ride along beside 'em. I'm done up totin' this gun."

The procession started again. Tom heard Wilson whisper to Shadrack: "Keep to the story!"

"No talking, there!" ordered one of the horsemen. "You can do all your talking when you get to Judson."

It was nearly six o'clock when they reached the little town of Judson. As they went down the main street, men and boys tagged along beside them, plying the guards with questions. The guards waved them aside, and answered, "Don't know if it's them or not. Picked 'em up a piece down the road."

They stopped at a two-story frame building labeled "Hotel." One of the guards went in, then motioned to the others to bring the prisoners. Presently they found themselves in a big room, lighted by two lamps which hung from the ceiling. The air was cloudy with smoke. A dozen men sat about at the tables. Instantly there was commotion. Everyone commenced talking.

"Got three of 'em!" shouted Alf. "Three of 'em, Judge."

"He thinks he has," said Wilson.

"You better keep your mouth shut," yelled Alf.

"No use talkin' like that, Alf," said the man addressed as Judge. "Where did you find them?"

"Down the Ringgold road about five miles."

A murmur arose from the men.

"I can tell a Yank one mile off," boasted Alf.

"I can tell a fool just as far away as I can see you," interrupted Wilson.

"You…."

"Now, Alf, keep quiet," said the Judge. "What were you men doing down the
Ringgold road?"

"We were trying to get to Chattanooga," Tom replied, "We got started on the wrong road this morning."

Wilson broke in: "We tried to tell this wild man with his rifle that we were going to enlist in the army. We've sneaked through the Union lines from Kentucky, and came across the Tennessee yesterday. Then we got on the wrong road. This fellow held us up and arrested us in the name of the law for something-or-other. I don't know yet what we're arrested for."

"For burning bridges," yelled Alf. "That's what I arrested you for."

"All right," answered Wilson. "We're arrested for burning bridges. Whose bridges? What bridges?"

"We're getting a whole lot of encouragement to fight for the South," said
Tom.

"He's crazier than any Yank I've ever seen in my life," remarked Shadrack, nodding toward Alf.

"Search 'em," demanded Alf. "That'll show you whether I'm right or not."

"Now, Alf," said the Judge, "you go on out to the kitchen and get something to eat. I'll examine these prisoners and I'll see that you get the credit for capturing them if they are the Yanks. Go on, now." He pushed Alf gently toward the door. Alf, still protesting, disappeared reluctantly into the kitchen. The Judge shook his head, laughing.

"That man acts a little crazy," said Tom.

"Oh, he's hot-headed," said the Judge. "He gets one idea and he can't think of anything else. Lock the door, Joe, so we won't be disturbed. And lock the kitchen door, too, or Alf'll be back. Now let's search these men, and see what we can find."

Tom, Shadrack, and Wilson held their arms up, while the men dumped the contents of their pockets on a table. Three revolvers, handkerchiefs, Confederate money…. They found nothing of importance.

"Now let's sit down here and talk this thing over," said the Judge. "Where do you men say you come from!"

"From Fleming County, Kentucky," replied Wilson. "We were getting tired of the way the Yanks were running things and so we decided that we'd go and fight for the South. We started out last week and made our way through the lines. It was easy. We didn't see a single Union sentry."

"Where did you come across the river?" demanded the Judge.

"A few miles this side of Decatur," said Tom.

One of the men beside the Judge interrupted: "There aren't any ferries running up there."

"I know there aren't," answered Tom. "We were afraid to tell anyone what we were going to do until we got across the river, and so we had to build a raft."

"A raft!" exclaimed the Judge.

"Yes, out of logs. I got washed overboard and I grabbed on to one of the logs and held there. Look at my hands." He spread his hands out upon the table, palms up. They had been torn and bruised by the logs he had yanked from the tender.

"Hm-m-m!" grunted the Judge, "must have whipped you around some in that current!"

"Once it whirled me right over, and I thought my wrists would break before I could get another grip. They were trying to pull me aboard, but every time they came to help me the raft tilted so that they had to crawl back."

"And finally," said Wilson, "I got down on my stomach and held to his wrists, while Shadrack sat on the other side and balanced us."

"I came mighty near going overboard myself, then," added Shadrack.

It was a good yarn, and they enlarged upon it.

"And so you're going to enlist, eh?" asked the Judge finally.

"Yes," answered Wilson. "We thought that Chattanooga would be a good place for us. It's near Beauregard and we'll probably get into action pretty soon."

"It's not so near to Beauregard as you think," the Judge answered. "The
Yanks have taken a bite out of the railroad between there and Corinth."

"They have?" asked Tom. "Is that what this man Alf was so excited about!"

"No—not exactly," replied the Judge. "Some Yanks stole a train on the
Georgia State Railroad yesterday and burned a bridge."

"Stole a train!"

"That's what they did!" He gave them a wild and inaccurate account of what
Andrews' raiders had done. "A daring bit of work!" he ended.

"Judge, we're famished," said Wilson. "Do you think we could get some supper here?"

"Joe, run out to the kitchen and see if Mrs. James can give these boys some dinner. And tell Alf that I don't want to be disturbed."

Dinner came and they ate ravenously. The Judge sat across the table from them, talking with some of his friends. Obviously, the atmosphere had changed, now that Alf was no longer there to incite trouble, but they noticed that the Judge took good care to keep the revolvers out of their reach. What did he think? Did he believe their story? Were they to be set free again, or would they be taken to Chattanooga?

"Now, boys," said the Judge as they pushed back from the table, "I want you to stay here in this hotel for the night. Tomorrow you can go to Chattanooga and enlist." It was a request which amounted to a command.

"Well, sir," replied Wilson, "we'll be glad to stay here and have a good night's rest. We need it."

"Joe, you show them their rooms. I'll keep these for the present, if you don't mind." He motioned towards the revolvers. "You can take the other things."

They nodded and said good-night. Joe handed them candles and they followed him upstairs. "Here's one room," he said. "Two of you can sleep there."

"You and Shadrack take it," said Tom to Wilson. "Good-night." They shook hands.

"Here's the other," said Joe, leading the way down the corridor. Tom entered his room, said good-night to Joe, then closed the door and commenced to investigate. It was a narrow room with one window looking out upon the yard. He opened the window and looked down. In the dim light which came from the room in which they had been sitting downstairs he could see a wagon drawn up beside the house; there was a stack of farm tools against the wagon, and the ground was strewn with objects he could not make out. Just a mixture of things which had been thrown there for want of a better place, he thought. The window of the next room was within a foot of his own window. He leaned over and peered in, but he could see nothing. Then he put his ear against the thin wall and listened. He could hear no sound but the mumble of voices from the room downstairs; those he could hear distinctly. He glanced about the floor, wondering if the sound was coming up through a crack. A patch of tin caught his eye and he carried the candle over to examine it. It was about a foot square, covering a stove-pipe hole, and was held in place by four tacks. He pulled out his knife, loosened one tack and bent the corner up. Then he put his ear down and listened.

Alf had just returned to the room. "Why not take 'em to Chattanooga now?" he was demanding. "Turn 'em over to the authorities."

"Now, Alf," said the Judge, "I'm taking care of this. The men are upstairs going to bed, and Joe is in the hall on guard. If they've come all the way from Kentucky to fight for the South, we don't want to make them hate the South so much that they'll be sorry they came. If they are Yanks we'll have plenty of time to deal with them tomorrow. I'm going over to Chattanooga with them in the morning and turn them over to the authorities. They can do whatever they think best."

"I'd take 'em over tonight," answered Alf.

The conversation, carried along upon those lines, lasted for half an hour, with the Judge dominating. One of the men said, finally, "Oh, for Lord's sake, Alf, shut up!" For a minute it seemed that the two men would fight, but the Judge quieted them. They called for drinks and cards, and commenced playing.

Tom left the hole, and continued his investigations. With Joe on guard in the hall, there seemed to be no chance of warning Wilson and Shadrack. But perhaps Joe might leave for a moment. Then he could run down the hall, enter their room and spend the night, plotting out a way of escaping. He decided to remain at the hole, listening for Joe's voice. But first he barred the door with a chair.

A half-hour passed. Then the door of the room downstairs opened with a bang. The man who had entered announced: "They've captured two of the engine stealers over at Julian's Gap! They confessed to it, but first they told a cock-and-bull yarn about coming from Fleming County, Kentucky, to join the Southern troops!"

"What!" yelled the Judge.

"There you are!" Alf shouted triumphantly. "Get 'em!"

Tom jumped to his feet. There was no time to warn Wilson and Shadrack. He could hear the boots pounding up the stairs. He sprang to the window and threw it open. To jump on that mess of farm tools below him would probably mean a broken leg. Leaning far out, he reached around and pushed up the window of the next room, climbed in and closed his own window. Through the wall he could hear them banging at his door.