"I tried my level best to induce the Yanks to let Tom Randolph go free, and so did mother," continued Ned, slipping the bridle over his horse's head and seating himself on the steps at Rodney's feet, "but they wouldn't hear to it. The worst of it is, they scared the life out of Tom and made him confess everything."

"I am sorry to hear that," replied Rodney, who had leisure, while Ned was speaking, to gather a few of his wits about him. "If Tom told how he persecuted unarmed Union men in this settlement he's a goner sure enough, for there isn't a soldier in the world who will stand such work as that."

"I don't believe he said a word about it," exclaimed Ned.

"Then what in the name of sense did he have to confess?"

"About fighting those gunboats, you know."

"He never fought any gunboats," declared Rodney impatiently. "What do you suppose possesses him to stick to that lie every chance he gets? One would think he'd get tired of it after a while."

"I asked him that very question when the Yanks permitted me to have a little private talk with him," said Ned, "and the reason he gave was this: he had heard that brave men respected brave men, and he hoped his captors would treat him with a little more courtesy if they knew that he was a valiant soldier."

Rodney Gray was utterly confounded.

"Valiant sol——Great Scott! There isn't a bigger coward in the Confederacy than Tom Randolph!" he exclaimed.

"But you see the Yankees don't know that, and Tom has stuffed them so full of his ridiculous stories that they imagine they have got hold of a second Mosby or Morgan, and that he is worth keeping."

"Did you tell them all this?" inquired Rodney.

"Of course I did; but, although they know that I am a Union man and down on everything that looks like secession or rebellion, they would not believe me, and you will have to go up and try what you can do; that is, if you feel like helping one who has always done his best to injure you."

"I'd like to take Tom Randolph right out there in the carriage road and punch his head for him this minute," replied Rodney, "but I am not coward enough to take vengeance on him in any other way. I'll go, of course, but I don't imagine they will pay any more attention to me than they did to you."

"Yes, they will; for they know you."

"Know me?" cried Rodney, opening his eyes wide with amazement. "I reckon not. I don't know a living Yank."

"Well, they know you, and Dick Graham as well," insisted Ned. "They remember perfectly of reading your names on the discharges you showed when they captured you between here and Camp Pinckney."

Rodney Gray had got upon his feet, but when he heard these words he sat down again. He stared hard at Ned as if he were trying to understand something that was too hard for him, and shouted:

"Rosebud!"

"What are you going to do?" asked Ned, when in response to the summons the darkey came tumbling out of the kitchen with a slice of bacon in one hand and a chunk of corn pone in the other.

"I am going to ask you to come into the house and tell your story to Dick and the folks from beginning to end," answered Rodney. "Give your horse to Rosebud and come on."

Ned Griffin followed his conductor with some reluctance, for he did not know what a man who had fitted out half a dozen partisan rangers, and who was a large slaveholder besides, might think of an overseer who gave aid and comfort to Union soldiers and abolitionists without saying a word to him about it. The quick-witted Rodney must have known what he was thinking about, for after placing Ned in a chair and carefully closing all the doors that gave entrance into the dining room, he walked up to his father and whispered:

"Those escaped prisoners were up to Ned's last night, and he is afraid you will think hard of him for giving them a bite to eat."

"And loaning them blankets too, Mr. Gray," chimed in honest Ned, who meant that his employer should know the full extent of his offending. "They had blankets enough first and last, but were so hard pressed by the dogs that they had to throw away everything except their guns."

"Well, I assure you that I don't think hard of you for giving hungry men something to eat and a bed to sleep on," said Mr. Gray. "I should have done the same thing myself if they had applied to me; but I trust you exercised due care while you were doing it."

"I know what you mean, sir," answered Ned, "and there isn't a white person living who knows what happened on that plantation last night except my mother and Tom Randolph."

A shell from one of the gunboats in front of Baton Rouge could scarcely have created greater consternation in that room than Ned Griffin's last words. Mr. Gray thought that Ned's doings might as well be published in Richmond at once, and was about to say as much, when Rodney took a great load from his mind, and astonished him almost beyond measure at the same time, by quietly remarking that Tom was a prisoner in the hands of the Yankees, who were bent on taking him to Baton Rouge. Then he requested Ned to tell them just what had happened on his plantation the night before, and the latter gave the particulars substantially as follows:

The first Ned and his mother heard of the escaped prisoners was through one of the house servants, who declared with much earnestness that she could not remember just who told her the news, but it was in everybody's mouth, and some of the field hands, she didn't know who, had seen and talked with white men who had seen and talked with the Confederate soldiers who were following the trail of the fugitives. She did not try to conceal her joy when she informed Mrs. Griffin that "dem Yanks was boun' to get safe to de ribber, kase dey had done pass Mooreville de night befo', and de houn' dogs had done been heared givin' tongue in de woods ten miles from Baton Rouge." Being intensely loyal to the Old Flag and friendly to those who wore the blue, Ned hoped from the bottom of his heart that this report was true; but understanding the negro nature as well as he did, he could not believe more than half of it. He told his mother that there was a conspiracy among the slaves to shield those four men, and that they might be concealed on the plantation for a month, and no white person would know a thing about it. Consequently he was not prepared for what took place about an hour after dark.

He was in the act of blowing out his lantern after seeing that everything was snug for the night. He had been the rounds of the quarter to make sure that the darkeys were all in their cabins where they belonged, had shaken the padlocks on the corn-cribs and smoke house, assured himself that his yellow-legged chickens were all roosting high, and, being entirely satisfied with his day's work, was preparing for a quiet evening with his mother, when there came a knock at the back door. Ned opened it, and saw his negro foreman standing there.

"CÆsar," he exclaimed, "didn't I leave you at your cabin not more than ten minutes ago? You ought to be in bed by this time."

"Oh, yes, sah; I was dah," replied CÆsar with a chuckle, "kase I knowed mighty well dat you'd be around to see if I was dah. But I——Step out hyar a minute, please, sah."

Ned went out, closing the door behind him, and was surprised as well as startled to find himself confronted by two men who carried guns in their hands. The night was so dark that he could not see their faces or clothing, and his first thought was that some of the Home Guards had come to pay him what their commander humorously called a "visit of ceremony." If that was the case Ned knew that the house in which he lived would be ransacked and robbed, and he himself given notice to quit the country at once, or take such a whipping as the old time overseers used to give their negroes. But CÆsar's next words reassured him, although they did not lessen his astonishment.

"You know dem Yankees what's runnin' loose in de woods?" he said in a low tone. "Wal, sah, Moster Ned, dem's um."

"We hear that you are Union, and so we have made bold to come here and ask if you can give us a little help," said one of the men; and Ned noticed that he did not speak like one who begged a favor. There was a ring of defiance in his tones, which under the circumstances was perfectly surprising.

"Who told you that I am Union?" said Ned at length.

"The darkeys. We know the name and politics of every man between here and the place where we were captured. Just now we are looking for supper and lodging."

"But I care more for a pair of shoes than I do for eating and sleeping, although I am so tired that I could drop down where I stand and sleep for a week," said the second man. "The hounds have driven us hard since we got away, and I have worn out all the footgear I could get or steal."

"We had some blankets and quilts yesterday," added his companion, "but we had to throw them away this morning in order to make light weight through the thick woods. We would have been in rags if it had not been for our good friends, the darkeys."

"I can supply your wants, and shall be glad to do so," said Ned promptly. "But you must never mention my name where any of my neighbors can hear it. Come into the house, and CÆsar will stand outside to see that no one slips up on you. There ought to be four of you. Where are the other two?"

"We left them in the woods at the end of the lane, keeping guard over a prize we gobbled this afternoon," replied one of the blue-coats; and when they were conducted into the room in which Mrs. Griffin was sitting they removed their remnants of hats respectfully, and dropped with something like a sigh of satisfaction into the chairs that Ned pulled up for them; but they held fast to their guns.

It took but a minute's time for Ned to explain the situation to his mother, and scarcely longer to provide for the immediate wants of the two fugitives; for when Mrs. Griffin said that they were welcome to everything there was in the house, the half a dozen black heads that filled one of the doors were quickly withdrawn, and in less time than it takes to tell it a plate filled with cold bread and meat was handed to each of the hungry blue-coats.

"I'se mighty sorry I aint got some store coffee for you, honey," said one of the women, who by virtue of her age and position took it upon herself to act as mistress of ceremonies. "But I isn't got none."

"We're sorry for that, aunty; not on our account, but on yours," said one of the soldiers; "but it seems to me that you white folks ought to be able to get such things as coffee out here. There was lots of trading going on with country people when we left Baton Rouge."

"We've had a few things through the kindness of my employer," replied Ned, "and we hope to have more when I get a permit to trade myself. Mr. Gray thought it wasn't best to trouble the provost marshal for too many permits, for fear that he would shut down on all of them."

"Well, the marshal will not shut down on you, nor on any other Union man whose name we have on our list," said the soldier confidently. "We are not going to forget our friends, I assure you." And then he almost made Ned jump out of his chair by adding: "You spoke Mr. Gray's name just now; I suppose he is Rodney's father, isn't he?"

"Yes, he is," cried Ned. "But what do you know about him?"

"Not much, that's a fact; but we met Rodney once when he wasn't at all glad to see us. If we had been a different lot we might have put him and his comrade to some trouble, just to show what vigilant scouts we were."

"Do you mean to tell me that you belonged to the squad that captured Rodney and Dick Graham a few days ago?"

"We're two of them, and the others are in the woods, if our pursuers haven't found and gobbled them up. But I don't think they have, or we'd have heard the sounds of the fight."

"Well, you'll not go away without seeing Rodney and Dick, will you?"

"That depends," answered the soldier, with a smile. "We are not on a pleasure trip and can't say beforehand just what we will do. The first thing for us to find out in the morning is whether or not our pursuers have placed themselves between us and the river. If they have, it might be well for us to remain in hiding a few hours, and give them time to get out of our road. But if they are still behind us, we ought to push on without loss of time. I don't suppose those two rebs would go back on us if they knew where we were. They said they wouldn't."

"Rodney and Dick!" exclaimed Ned indignantly. "While they were in the army they fought you Yanks the best they knew how; but I know what I am talking about when I say that you haven't better friends in your regiment or company than Rodney Gray and Dick Graham."

"I believe it," said the soldier earnestly. "We are not afraid to trust any man who met us in open battle; but the Home Guards we are afraid of."

"You'd better be," exclaimed Ned. "The most of them are sneaks and cowards, and disgrace the uniform they wear."

"I believe that, too; and now let me tell you why we are afraid of them. When we met your two friends Gray and Graham, we belonged to a squad of twenty men who were under orders to scour the country between the river and Camp Pinckney, so that we could give timely notice to General Williams if we discovered any considerable body of Confederates in that direction. The general has information that the enemy is going to try to open the river again, and, of course, he means to be ready for any rebs who come this way. After we told Rodney and his chum to go home and see their mammies, we rejoined our command, which we found about three miles down the road, and reported that we hadn't seen any graybacks and no signs of any; and the very next day we were surprised and routed by a mixed body of veterans and Home Guards which some good rebel had put on our track. We gave them a lively fight, but they were too many for us, and those of us who were not killed or captured were scattered far and wide.

"I hadn't much of an idea of being taken prisoner, I tell you, and I have still less now. I'd rather be shot and have done with it. I had talked with some of our boys who had had experience as captives, and the stories they told were enough to make one's hair rise on end. They did not have a word of fault to find with the rebel soldiers, who, so they said, always treated them well, but they gave it to the Home Guards good and strong, and declared that in future they would shoot every one that crossed their path. I could easily tell the Home Guards from the soldiers in that fight, both by their dress and the way they behaved under fire; and when I saw one of our boys killed after he had given up his gun, and saw that there was no possible chance for me to get away, I just avenged the death of my comrade by tumbling that Home Guard out of his saddle with the last cartridge I had, and hunted up an old soldier and surrendered to him. My three comrades did the same, and that's the way we happen to be alive to-day.

"We were kept with the main body about two hours, and during that time were used like white men. The veterans divided their grub with us, patted us on the back, and said we were good fellows for driving them out of Corinth and licking them on the river as we had been doing, and we had nothing in the world to complain of; but I tell you we shook in our shoes when we learned that nine of us prisoners were to be sent to Camp Pinckney under a strong escort of Home Guards, while the soldiers kept to the road to hunt for more Yankees. And right there is where I blame the officer in command of the Confederate detachment," said the blue-coat, now beginning to show such signs of anger and excitement that Ned Griffin would have been alarmed if he hadn't known that his loyalty to the flag was beyond suspicion, "and if he ever falls into the hands of my regiment he will have cause to regret that act of his. He knew what manner of men his Home Guards were—that they were, as you say, sneaks and cowards, that they dared not go to the front, and that their highest ambition was to shoot a Yankee without running the risk of being shot themselves. But he told us to go, and when the order was given for us to fall in, we had to obey it. Well, sir, you may believe it or not, but I can prove it, we hadn't much more than got out of sight of the soldiers before those Home Guards began laughing and joking about losing us on their way to camp."

"Did they think you were going to try to escape?" asked Ned.

"They meant that they were going to shoot us," said the man fiercely.

Ned and his mother could hardly believe that their ears were not deceiving them.

"Thank goodness, our Home Guards are not as bad as that," said the former.

"Have they ever been put to the test?" demanded the fugitive. "I know that they have fought gunboats and defeated some detachments of our cavalry, but did they ever have a Yankee prisoner in their hands?"

Ned was greatly astonished to hear that the Mooreville Home Guards had been in action with the Federal cavalry, but he managed to say that he didn't think they had ever taken a prisoner. Before he could say more the blue-coat continued:

"I shouldn't like to fall into their power, for I believe they would make short work of me. The men who had been detailed to take us nine prisoners to camp came from the Pearl River bottoms, and looked, acted, and talked more like heathen than any men I ever saw before. Believing that we did not understand their jokes about losing us in the woods, they talked freely among themselves until we came to a place where the road forked; and there they separated into two parties, four of their number taking my three comrades and myself down one road, while the rest of the escort went with the other five prisoners down the other road.

"Before this happened I had made up my mind that I wasn't going to be killed by those long-haired Yahoos if I could help it, and that act of separation was two points in favor of the plans I had formed in my mind. It gave me as companions three men who enlisted at the same time I did, who had served in my company and regiment all through the war, and who I knew could be depended on to back me up in anything I undertook, and it gave us four the smallest escort, the main body having gone down the other road with the rest of the prisoners. And I hope and believe that those five fellows got safely into camp, for the men who went with them were not half as villainous or blood-thirsty as those who guarded us. To show you what sort of men we had to deal with, one of them remarked, as he drew a big knife from his boot to cut off a chew of tobacco, that he wouldn't think any more of sticking that knife into a Yank than he would of putting it into a pig.

"I have been in some tight places since I joined the service, but I don't think I ever suffered as I did during the next fifteen minutes. It makes me sweat now to think of it," continued the veteran; and as he spoke he drew his crooked finger across his forehead and threw off the perspiration which Ned saw had gathered there like big drops of rain. "Being the only officer there was in our party—I was corporal, you know—my fellows naturally looked to me to do something, and I was fully aware of it; for I knew then as well as I do now that they had one and all determined to escape from those Home Guards or die in the attempt. I communicated with each of them by making the best use of my eyes I knew how, and could have yelled with delight when I saw that I made them understand me. Each of us selected a rebel and kept as close to him as he could without exciting suspicion. I was impatient to get to work, for I didn't know how soon they would begin work on us, but I was afraid to do anything until I thought we were well out of hearing of the party that had taken the other road. I was certain that there would be some shooting done during the fight, and did not want to draw their attention; but when I could stand it no longer I gave a yell, and floored my man as easily as you would pitch a bundle of oats on to a wagon. I had him out of his saddle before he could wink, and grabbed his carbine just in time to help Ben here, who wasn't having as good luck as I."

"Did you kill both of them?" inquired Ned, who was so deeply interested in the narrative that he did not know whether he breathed or not.

"We laid them out," replied the veteran, "and as we were in something of a hurry, we didn't wait to see how long it took them to come to. It was all over in less than I have taken time to tell it, and there wasn't a shot fired or another yell raised. The fight was carried on so quietly that a person standing fifty feet away would not have heard it. We did not waste any precious moments in congratulating one another on our good fortune, but carried the bodies of our guards into the woods out of sight, dragged some brush over one or two little pools of blood there were in the road and over our footprints, thus concealing all traces of the struggle as best we could, and hitched the four horses among the trees where they would have plenty of leaves and twigs to browse on until they were released; and then we struck out for the bottom the best we knew how."

"Whew! you have had a time of it," said Ned, as the corporal settled back in his chair, clasped his hands over his knee, and looked at his empty plate. "Lucindy, bring some more grub, and pile on all the plates will hold. When did you first become aware that the dogs were on your trail?"

"We found it out the first thing in the morning," was the reply. "Or rather, that was the time we learned that the rebs were going to use hounds to follow us up. We slept in the woods that night without a fire or a bite to eat, and at daylight set out to find a negro cabin; for we knew that the darkeys would befriend us if they could do so without bringing themselves into trouble. We came to a plantation after a while, and crept close enough to the quarter to discover a negro working about one of the corn-cribs. We attracted his attention without much trouble, but as soon as he made out who we were, he disappeared so suddenly that we were sorry we did not shoot him on sight, for we were certain that he meant to betray us. So we made a little detour and took up another position in the field, from which we could watch the doors of the great house; for there was where we knew danger would come from, if it came at all. By that move we came near losing a breakfast and missing some information that was of use to us, for that darkey had no intention of going back on us. He slipped around to his cabin, gathered up everything he had in the way of grub, and spent many valuable minutes in hunting us up. He had a story to tell us, but was so badly frightened that it was a long time before he could make us understand that the news of our escape had reached Camp Pinckney, that all the soldiers and Home Guards that could be spared from duty there had been sent in pursuit of us, and that a big squad of men had passed the house before daylight that morning vowing that they would never take us prisoners if they found us. They would shoot us in our tracks to pay us for what we had done to their comrades back there in the road."

"Then they were Home Guards," Ned interposed.

"Certainly; and that threat proved it. But that was not by any means the worst news the darkey had to tell us," continued the corporal, placing his gun on the floor by his side, and nodding to Lucindy as she handed him a second plateful of bread and meat. "And the part he hadn't yet told was what frightened him. After much questioning he made us understand that there were six soldiers in the great house waiting for the breakfast that the missus had promised them; and when they had eaten it, they were going down the road about half a mile after a pack of nigger dogs that were to be put on our trail. And then he assured us that if those dogs ever got after us we would be gone up sure; for they were smart at following a trail, having had lots of practice in running down the unhappy conscripts who escaped from Camp Pinckney. That was bad news for us, as I said, and the question at once arose, Should we take to our heels and trust to luck, or would it be a better plan to rush into the house and put it out of the power of the rebels to go after those dogs?"

"But were you not afraid to attack them in the house?" exclaimed Ned. "There were six of them and only four of you."

"A small difference in numbers to men who are working for life and liberty," answered the corporal. "We talked the matter over very quickly and decided, without a dissenting voice, that we would put a stop to that hound business before it had gone any further. We would take our chances on surprising the rebels while they were at breakfast, and be governed by circumstances when we found who and what they were. If they were regular soldiers we would simply parole them and let them go; but if they turned out to be Home Guards——"

The fugitive did not finish the sentence, but shrugged his shoulders and looked at Ned and his mother in a way that had a volume of meaning in it.

"It did not take us many seconds to determine upon a plan of operations," he continued, "and then we crept toward the house under cover of the bushes and out buildings, telling our friendly darkey to stay where he was till the trouble was over, and no one should ever hear from us that we had exchanged a word with him. Everything was in our favor. There wasn't a servant outside the house to run in and warn the inmates that we were coming, and before those six Johnnies knew that there was a Yank within 100 miles, we were in the breakfast room where they sat at the table, and had them covered."

"And what did they turn out to be?" Ned almost gasped.

"Regular soldiers, I am glad to say, and we were saved a most disagreeable piece of business. We told them they were in a trap, and could take their choice between going to the bone-yard and signing a parole not to take up arms against the government again until they were regularly exchanged, and they thought they had better sign; and it didn't take them a great while to say so, either."

"Had you any right to do that?" inquired Mrs. Griffin.

"Not the least in the world, madam," replied the corporal, with a smile. "But as long as the rebels didn't know it, what was the odds? We couldn't take them with us, we couldn't shoot them, seeing that they were not Home Guards, and yet we had to do something. All we really hoped to accomplish was to frighten them off our trail long enough to give us a good start toward the swamp. We knew their officers would tell them that their parole didn't amount to a row of pins, but by the time they found their officers we might be miles away. There was one thing we were sorry for, and that was that they did not have their dogs in the house with them. They wouldn't have followed any more escaped prisoners when we got through with them, I assure you."