Although the corporal talked rapidly, he did not neglect his supper, and by the time he reached this point in his story his second supply of bread and meat was all gone. He handed back the empty plate, rested his gun across his knees where it would be handy in case of emergency, and drew from one of the pockets of his ragged blouse something that looked like a small bundle of brown wrapping paper.

"Yes, they concluded they'd better sign," said he, with a laugh, "and here are their paroles. At first the lady of the house, who was disposed to be impudent and sassy until one of the rebs cautioned her that it might be worse for them if she didn't keep still, declared that she had nothing at all in the way of writing materials; but when one of the Johnnies told her, with some impatience, that if she didn't hand them out we'd be likely to go through her shanty, she produced the stump of a pencil and some paper that was so rough I could scarcely write on it; but I made it do, and, would you believe it, one of my boys had to witness their signatures, for there wasn't one of the six rebels who could write his name. Of course we disarmed and dismounted them, and stood among the bushes in the front yard and saw them make tracks in the direction of Camp Pinckney; but the hounds were put on our trail, all the same, and the next day they pressed us so close that we had to shoot some of the leading ones. And what surprised us was that those dogs would not attempt to follow our trail across a piece of wet ground. They would take a circle around it and pick up our trail again on the other side where the ground was dry."

"They'll do it every time," said Ned. "And it isn't a part of their training, either. That's the way they hunt deer and foxes, and it is something they pick up themselves without any teaching."

"Well, it's pretty bright in the dogs, I must say, and we were sorry to shoot them, but there was no help for it. First and last we must have killed half or two-thirds of the pack, but they have been strongly reinforced; for, judging by the yelping we heard to-day, there are more hounds on our trail now than there were at the start."

"You were very fortunate in being able to keep out of their way," said Mrs. Griffin, "and I don't see how you managed it."

"I don't either, madam; but somehow we did it. We can't keep it up much longer, however, for we are nearly exhausted, and I wish from the bottom of my heart that we were in sight of those gunboats at this minute. But we'll get there in due time, and we'll not go empty-handed. We made an important capture this afternoon, and perhaps have saved our scouts and gunboats, as well as the Union people in the settlement, some trouble. It's a fortunate thing for him that we didn't know what he was when we first caught sight of him; but as he was in full uniform we supposed he was a soldier and treated him accordingly."

"And—and what was he?" faltered Ned, while his mother looked anxious and bent forward in her chair to catch the corporal's answer. Something told them that they were about to hear bad news.

"A miserable Home Guard and a captain besides," replied the soldier. "Of course after he surrendered we couldn't shoot him down in cold blood, as his kind would have served us if we had chanced to fall into their power, but we'll put him where he'll not fight any more gunboats for one while, I bet you."

"How and where did you capture him?" was Ned's next question. It wasn't the one that trembled on his tongue, but it was as near as he could get to it.

"Why, we had been wading for two miles in a little bayou that brought us through a cornfield to the river side of the road, and at last we hid in a grove of evergreens from which we could command a view in all directions. We stayed there for an hour, listening to the faint baying of the hounds in the timber on the other side of the road, and never once dreaming that anybody would come near us, when to our surprise we saw a gate open, and a single horseman ride down the lane that led straight to our place of concealment. I tell you we were scared, for we expected to see the dogs and all our pursuers come through the gate after him, but he stopped to put up the bars and then came on alone; and when he approached nearer we saw that he could not be one of the men we were looking for, because his horse was fresh and clean, and didn't have the splashed legs and body he would if he had been chasing us through the swamp for three days and more. We saw, too, that he and his horse were at outs about something, for every once in a while he would pound the animal with his whip as if he were very mad at him; and the last time he tried it, which he did when he was within less than a hundred feet of our hiding-place, the horse jumped and threw him as slick as you please, and I was glad of it. That was the time we rushed out and took him in."

"Did he tell you his name?" inquired Ned, and the words seemed to force themselves out against his will.

"Yes, he did; and we think it strange that General Williams hasn't abolished him and put a stop to his doings long ago. But none of us ever heard the name of Captain Randolph before. You know him, I suppose?"

"Certainly, I do; and I know that, so far as fighting is concerned, he is the most harmless man in the country. Did he tell you that his company had defeated some of your cavalry and been in action with the gunboats?"

"He certainly did tell us just that," replied the corporal; and Ned and his mother thought he looked at them rather sharply.

"Well, there wasn't a word of truth in it," said the young overseer stoutly. He began to have a vague idea that he was injuring himself in the estimation of these two Federals by standing up for Tom Randolph, but he had gone too far to back out. He knew that Tom would not have uttered a word in his defence if their situations had been reversed, but that made no difference to Ned Griffin, who in few words gave the corporal a full history of Tom's military exploits. The occasional raids through the settlement that Captain Randolph had made at the head of his company Ned did not regard as military business, for their sole purpose was to intimidate Union men and increase Tom's importance; so he said nothing about them.

"If you are as strongly in favor of the Old Flag as I have been led to believe, I don't see what your object is in saying a good word for this Home Guard," said the corporal when Ned ceased speaking.

"Wouldn't you say a word for an old acquaintance of yours if you saw him in trouble, no matter whether he was your friend or not?" asked Ned in reply. "If you will give me time I can prove that I have told you nothing but the truth, and that Tom has deceived you from beginning to end."

"What do you suppose his object was in doing it?"

"He always does it every chance he gets. He knows he will never win a reputation by deeds of arms, and so he tries to win it with his mouth. He never did you Yankees the least harm, and he never will."

"Don't you think we have been here long enough, Charley?" Ben asked of his non-commissioned officer; and he answered the question himself by getting upon his feet as if he were making ready to leave. He was plainly the more suspicious of the two, and showed in various ways that he didn't have much of an opinion of one who had so friendly a feeling for a Home Guard.

"We've been here too long," replied the corporal. "Our friends down there in the woods will think we are lost or have been gobbled up. May we trespass still further on your good-nature by asking for a bite for our absent comrades?"

"Lucindy, fill up the biggest basket you can find in the house," said Ned. "And Ben, if you will sit down a minute I will get shoes and stockings for you."

"And have you anything in the way of bedding?" inquired Mrs. Griffin. "The nights are cool, if the days are sultry."

No, they didn't have a thing except their guns and the dilapidated garments they stood in; and a blanket or two, if Mrs. Griffin could spare them, would protect them from the mosquitos if nothing more; for of course it would be dangerous for them to build a smudge until they knew positively that their pursuers had been left behind. Ben was profuse in his thanks, and suggested that No. 9's would be about the right size for him; and Ned went among the darkeys to find them, for he wore nothing larger than 6's, and couldn't boast of an extra pair of them. While he was gone his mother saw the basket filled and the blankets made into a bundle, and also found opportunity to say a word for Tom Randolph.

"What do you intend to do with him?" she asked.

"Turn him over to the provost marshal and have him sent North," was the answer.

"If you do that you will kill his mother, and punish a man who is as innocent of any military achievements as I am," said Mrs. Griffin. "You must not think that I am a friend of his—how can I be when he tried his best to have my son conscripted? Why can you not parole him and let him go?"

"We didn't parole those six rebels for fun, or because we thought the parole was binding," said the corporal with a smile, "but simply to delay them until we could get a start. If we turn Randolph loose, it will be out of gratitude to you and your son."

"Better knock him in the head," growled Ben.

"Don't mind him," said the corporal, seeing that Mrs. Griffin was shocked by the words. "Ben is down on all Home Guards because he saw one of them shoot his chum."

"But Tom Randolph was in no way to blame for that," answered the lady. "And I know that Rodney Gray would insist upon his release if he were here. Promise me that you will let him go; and when you are ready to start for the river, Ned shall take you there by the shortest and easiest course."

The corporal opened his lips to reply that he did not think it best to make any promises until he could consult the rest of his party, but before he could utter a word an incident happened that brought him and Ben to their feet in a twinkling, and drove all the color from Mrs. Griffin's face, leaving it as white as a sheet. First there was a terrific and sudden outburst of yelps and growls from the small army of coon dogs that found a home on the plantation, and then answering yelps and deep-toned bays came from the direction of the front bars, mingled with the shouts of command and the sharp cracking of riding-whips. There was a second's oppressive silence, and a strange voice called out:

"Hal-lo, the house!"

"Coming, sir! Get out, you whelps!" shouted Ned Griffin's voice in reply; and presently the frightened inmates of the house heard him running around the corner toward the bars. The corporal and his comrade, who stood with their guns in readiness, seemingly as much at their ease as they had been while sitting quietly in their chairs eating the bread and meat that had been provided for them, looked inquiringly at Mrs. Griffin.

"They are strangers and have hounds with them," said the latter, in a terrified whisper. "I fear the worst, but Ned will do what he can."

"I certainly hope he will keep them out of the house," answered the corporal calmly, "for if he don't, some of them will never see the sun rise again."

Ned Griffin, who had had no trouble at all in inducing one of the field hands to hand over a pair of stockings and his best shoes for the benefit of the bare-footed soldier in the house, was almost ready to drop when he heard that racket at the front bars, but he answered the hail without an instant's hesitation, tossing the stockings and shoes into the nearest bush, and ran to the road, knowing that he would meet a party of Confederate soldiers and a pack of "nigger" dogs when he got there; but did the soldiers know or suspect that the men of whom they were in pursuit had sought aid and comfort in that house?

"They can't know it or suspect it, unless somebody has betrayed us; and if that has happened it is all up with Ned Griffin," thought the young overseer; and when he reached the bars and caught sight of the party on the other side, he did not feign surprise, but said, as any other honest, hospitable boy would have done: "Alight and hitch. I knew it was you the minute I heard the music of your hounds. Did you catch them?"

"No," replied one of the men, who wore some sort of insignia on his collar to show that he was an officer. "They gave us the slip about eleven o'clock this morning, and we haven't been able to find their tracks since. But we——"

"Say!" interrupted Ned suddenly. "Please don't let your big hounds come over the fence and eat up my pups. I need them to catch wild hogs with next winter."

That was very true, but it was not the reason Ned did not want the hounds to come inside the yard. He was afraid that some of them might go foraging on their own hook; and if they wandered around to the back door in search of something to eat, they could not help striking the trail the two escaped prisoners made when they entered the house. They would be sure to recognize it on the instant and give tongue, and then there would be trouble indeed; for Ben and the corporal would fight till they dropped before they would be recaptured. And then what would be done to him and his mother for feeding and trying to conceal them? But the hounds were thrashed and scolded back into the road and the officer continued:

"We will get the start of them to-morrow. If they are in this neighborhood they will stay here, for we are going to place ourselves between them and the river. But we were well fed and rested at a house three miles back, so we'll not alight, thank you. Are we on the road to Mooreville? That's what I called you out for."

"Keep straight ahead, and you can't miss it," said Ned. "And if you want to go toward the Mississippi, take the first right-hand road. But look out for the Yanks. I haven't seen any of their critter fellers, but there may be some between here and Baton Rouge."

"If we run on to them before we know it, it will be our fault, won't it? Good-night. Forward, trot, gallop!"

The young overseer, feeling as if a mountain had been removed from his shoulders, stood leaning on the bars until the sound of the horses' feet had died away in the distance, and then he settled himself into a comfortable position, drew a long breath, and waited fifteen minutes longer in order to make sure that the rebels had really gone on toward Mooreville. While he was waiting CÆsar came up, expecting to receive a good scolding, and perhaps something worse, for neglect of duty.

"Sho's you live, Marse Ned, I watch and wait wid all my eyes and ears, and dey slip along de road and up to de bars 'fore I knowed it," he said earnestly. "You know ole CÆsar aint going to sleep wid two Yankees in de house and rebels all around."

"That's all right. I was out of doors, and didn't know they were at the bars until they hailed. Now, stay right here and see that they don't steal a march on us. If you hear the slightest sound down the road Mooreville way, slip into the house and let me know it."

Ned went back to the bushes where he left the stockings and shoes, and when he carried them into the house he found no one there except his mother, who was plying her needle as if nothing had happened. The two fugitives had disappeared, and there was not a darkey to be seen.

"Open that door and you will find them," said Mrs. Griffin, when Ned stopped and looked all around. "They thought they would rather fight it out downstairs than in the garret, for they would have a better chance to run."

"They can't go any farther to-night, for their pursuers are riding hard to get between them and the river, and may send the hounds into the woods at any time. And I am glad of it," whispered Ned. "I'd like to keep them until I can go for Rodney. Perhaps he can do something for Tom Randolph. Why, mother, did you ever hear of such a lunatic? If he gets out of this scrape I don't think he'll ever let his tongue bring him into another."

Ned pushed open the door, and the two escaped prisoners came out. In few words they were made acquainted with the result of the interview that had taken place at the bars, and Ned and his mother did not wonder that it had a depressing effect upon them. After racing through the almost impassable woods and swamps until they were ready to drop with fatigue, it certainly was disheartening to know that the enemy had come so close to them when they imagined themselves safe for the night. They decided that they had better return to their companions at once and talk the situation over with them.

"All right," said Ned. "I will go with you, for I want to see what Tom Randolph has to say for himself. If you will take my advice, you will stay pretty close about this plantation until you have seen Rodney Gray. He can do more for you than almost anybody else in these parts, and if you get into trouble you'll find it so."

The blankets and the basket of provisions were brought from the room in which they had been hastily concealed, and the fugitives lingered a moment to shake hands with Mrs. Griffin and tell her how grateful they were for the generous treatment they had received at her hands and her son's.

"There is one way in which you can show it," replied Ned's mother, "and that is by releasing your prisoner."

"But, madam, we have no right to do it," said Ben, who was inclined to put more faith in Tom's story of his exploits than he did in Ned's. It was natural, under the circumstances, for him to believe that Ned's regard for the truth was not so strong as his desire to shield an old acquaintance. "We are bound to take him before our colonel and state the case to him; and if he has a mind to let him go—why, all right."

"Haven't you the same right to release Tom Randolph that you had to release Rodney Gray and his friend?" inquired Mrs. Griffin. "You did not think it necessary to take them before an officer?"

"Perhaps I did stretch my authority just a little," said the corporal, coming to Ben's assistance. "But almost any non-com., who wanted to be half white, would have done the same thing. Rodney and Graham had discharges in their pockets, while this man Randolph holds a commission as captain of Home Guards at this minute. But we'll tell the boys what you have done for us, Mrs. Griffin, and let them decide the matter. I hope it may be our good fortune to meet again under pleasanter circumstances. Good-night."

Ned led the way from the house and along the lane that ran through the negro quarter to the woods, in which the corporal's two comrades and their prisoner were impatiently awaiting their return. They moved silently and without exchanging a word above a whisper, but the dark-skinned inmates of the cabins seemed to be on the watch. One door after another was softly opened, and suppressed voices, that were rendered husky by emotion, cheered them with such expressions as:

"Lawd bress Marse Linkum's sojer boys! Youse boun' to whop de rebels, honey; I know you is, kase Ise praying for you free times a day, like Dan'l in de lion's den."

"I certainly hope you'll not get into any trouble through what you have done for us to-night," said hard-hearted Ben, who was moved in spite of himself by these expressions of sympathy.

"So far as I know, our blacks are all loyal," answered Ned, "but it won't do to trust some negroes too far, any more than it will do to trust some white people; and when we are in the presence of Tom Randolph I wish you would be careful not to——"

He stopped suddenly, but it was too late. He had committed himself. As he afterward told his friend Rodney, he came near ruining everything before he thought what he was doing.

"There you have it!" exclaimed Ben angrily. "Why do you try to befriend that man Randolph, when you dare not trust him for fear that he will set your rebel neighbors against you? He shall never go free with my consent, and that is a word with a bark on it."

"Or are you afraid that he will get his Home Guards together and burn you out, to pay you for what you have done for us Yankees?" said the corporal. "I don't believe there's a Home Guard in the world that will do to tie to, and I think the best thing we can do is to hold fast to that fellow. If he's done us half the damage he says he has, he is a prize."

Ned's common sense told him that words would not rectify the big mistake he had made, so he dropped Tom Randolph, entirely, and talked of the hounds and the risk his Yankee friends would incur if they tried to make their way to the Mississippi through the comparatively open country that lay before them. There were not woods enough to conceal their movements; the people along the route were mostly rebels, and they could hardly help meeting someone who would put their pursuers on their track if he saw half a chance. What they needed more than anything else during the rest of their journey was a guide known to be a good Confederate, but friendly enough to Yanks to help them out of trouble if they got into it. The two fugitives did not think they were likely to fall into such trouble as Ned hinted at, but the next day they were obliged to confess that he knew what he was talking about.

By this time they had reached the fence that ran across the end of the lane and shut it off from the woods, and there Ben and the corporal stopped as if expecting something. It came presently in the shape of the challenge given in low tones:

"Who comes there?"

"Friends with the countersign," replied the corporal.

"Halt, friends. Advance one with the countersign, and have your head blown off if you don't give it right," continued the voice; and although the words seemed to be spoken in a jest, Ben and Ned remained by the fence while the corporal climbed over it and disappeared in the bushes. A moment afterward he called to them to come on, and when Ned joined him he knew that he was in the presence of the other two fugitives and Tom Randolph. It was made plain to him at once that Tom had sent the corporal and his comrade to the house with the assurance that they would find Union people there and plenty to eat, for Tom said:

"Did you find Griffin?"

"They not only found me, but brought me here to see you," said Ned, answering for himself, and working his way slowly through the dark in the direction from which Tom's voice came. "And I am sorry to find you in this fix."

Captain Randolph may have borne up bravely enough while he was alone with his captors, but the sound of a familiar voice and the warm grasp of Ned's hand unnerved him completely. He drew the young overseer to a seat on a log beside him, rested his head against his shoulder, and shook as if he had the ague; but whether it was with fear, or with the violence of the struggle he was making to keep up the character he had so foolishly assumed, Ned could not tell. There had been a time when Tom Randolph would have been ashamed to rest his head against an overseer's shoulder; but he was pretty well humbled now. It was at this juncture that Ned was allowed a few minutes' talk with Tom, the soldiers being busy with their own affairs—two of them in describing what had happened at the house, and the others in disposing of the contents of the provision basket.

"Tom," said Ned, "you never told these Yankees that you had whipped their cavalry and fought the gunboats."

"Yes, I did," answered the captive; and the overseer was not much surprised to notice that his voice was choked with sobs. "I took them for brave men, and thought they would extend a brave man's treatment to me if they knew me to be a loyal soldier of the Confederacy."

"Well, do you know that you have got yourself in a scrape that may end in your being sent to a Northern prison?"

"Oh, don't tell me that," gasped Tom. "That's what they have been threatening me with, and you must make them let me go. You can do it, for you are known to be Union, and my father will reward you beyond——"

"And you are not a loyal soldier of the Confederacy," continued Ned, who wasn't befriending Tom in the hope of making anything out of it. "You are nothing but a Home Guard; and these men have reason to hate Home Guards."

"I know it," groaned Tom. "But am I to blame for anything those Pearl River heathen did to them? You are my only hope, Ned, and you'll have to get me out of this. You must."

"There's no must about it. I have said everything I could, and so has mother. Your only hope is Rodney Gray."

"Then send for him," said Tom nervously. "Send for him at once, and say that if he will stand by me now, he can command me and my father ever afterward. I wish the men who are responsible for this war were here in my place and sentenced to be shot at sunrise. I have been deceived and badgered ever since I sided with the Confederacy; I've stuck by her through thick and thin, while those who deserted her at the first sign of disaster are hail-fellows well met with the Yanks in Baton Rouge, and live on the best the land affords. They have salt and tea and coffee in their houses, and white flour; and we have none. You must help me out, Ned."

Tom Randolph continued to talk in this rambling way until the corporal interrupted him with:

"Well, boys, we have decided to stay here to-night."

"And will you let Griffin go for Rodney Gray the first thing in the morning?" exclaimed Tom.

"Griffin isn't a prisoner, and can go and come as he likes," replied the non-commissioned officer indifferently. "It's a matter that concerns you more than it does us. If Griffin has a mind to go or send for Rodney Gray, we shall be glad to see him."

"These are the Yanks who captured Rodney and Graham while they were on their way home," whispered Ned. "That's why I say that Rodney can help you if anybody can." Then, without giving Tom a chance to express his surprise, he said aloud: "What's the use, Yanks, of staying here all night in the dark and cold? If you will come to the quarter, I will give you a tight cabin and a bright fire to cheer you up."

The offer was a tempting one to men situated as they were, but after a short consultation with his comrades the corporal thought they had better not accept it; they would feel safer and sleep more soundly right there in the woods. Then Ned suggested that they should wrap themselves in the blankets and get what rest they could while he stood guard, and to his surprise and Tom Randolph's unbouded delight, the proposition was accepted without an instant's hesitation. To keep up appearances Tom took the blanket that was passed to him and rolled himself up in it; but he had no intention of going to sleep. He had another idea in his head, and it was just about as foolish as his notion of trying to pass himself off for a soldier when he was nothing but a Home Guard.

"Good-night, Johnny; and many thanks for that grub and this warm blanket," said one of the escaped prisoners who had not spoken before.

"Good-night, Yank, and welcome," replied Ned. "But I am not a Johnny."

"And neither am I a Yank," said the soldier. "I came from Michigan. But good-night."

After that silence reigned in that dark, lonesome camp for the space of half an hour. The soldiers were weary and sank into a deep slumber almost as soon as they had adjusted their blankets to suit them; but Tom Randolph was wide awake. He curbed his impatience until the heavy breathing of his captors told him that they were in a state of unconsciousness, and then said cautiously:

"Ned, Ned! Have you got a gun?"

"No. What do I want of a gun?" was the answer.

"Where are they?"

"Wrapped up in the blankets with the soldiers, most likely."

"Well, say, Ned; look here," whispered Tom coaxingly.

"It's no use, for I can't do it," replied Ned, who knew what the captive was about to say. "You don't show your usual good sense in asking it of me, either."

"But you could drop asleep, couldn't you, and let me crawl away?"

"I could, but I won't. I'm not going to get myself into a scrape by going back on these Yanks. They'd shoot me."

"But you might go with me," suggested Tom, who was almost ready to shed tears again.

"And leave Mr. Gray's property to be destroyed?" demanded Ned. "I said I'd keep guard, and I've got to do it."

"Well, you have been weighed and found wanting," said Tom desperately. "I know just what you are now, but I was foolish enough to think you were a friend of mine."

"You didn't think anything of the sort. You knew better," said Ned; and after that he relapsed into silence. He had proved that he was ready to assist Tom in any way he could, but he wasn't going to arouse Ben's rage and the corporal's by permitting him to steal away in the darkness. It was the most senseless proposition he had ever heard of, and he was glad that Tom did not trouble him with it again. The latter lay so quiet that his guard thought he was asleep, but he wasn't. He was trying to think up some way to get even with Ned.

Although the overseer was not at all drowsy, the exciting events of the last few hours having banished slumber, he passed a dreary night on his log, leaning against a tree, and listening for the first far-off baying of the hounds, which would announce that the pursuit had been renewed. But the hours dragged themselves away without disturbance of any kind, and at daylight the corporal threw off his blanket and sat up. He felt like a new man after his refreshing sleep, and that was what all his comrades said when they were aroused. Then a short consultation was held, and Ned posted off to the house with the empty basket. It was full of eatables when he returned an hour later, to learn that during his absence the fugitives had decided that Tom Randolph's story was more worthy of belief than his own.

"It doesn't stand to reason that a man would tell such damaging things about himself just for fun," said the corporal, who spoke for all his companions. "He was as defiant as you please when we captured him, and I believe——"

"But I told you a pack of lies; I did indeed," cried Tom, hiding his face in his hands.

"We don't believe it," answered the soldier. "Your weakening is all put on, because you have learned that it isn't such a funny thing to be a prisoner as you thought it was. And even if you did lie to us, you are a Home Guard, and that is against you. If you haven't done any mean things it's because you haven't had the chance."

To Tom Randolph's rage and disgust Ned did not try to combat this decision. He simply said:

"All right; just as you say. Keep a stiff upper lip, Tom, and I will go and get Rodney."

This was the substance of the story that Ned Griffin told while he was sitting in Mrs. Gray's dining room on the morning of which we have spoken. Of course he did not tell it exactly as we have tried to, but he told enough to give his auditors a clear idea of what had happened on his plantation the night before. They heard him through without interruption, and when his narrative was ended they settled back in their chairs and looked at one another. There was one thought uppermost in their minds: those escaped prisoners deserved their freedom after working so hard for it, even if they were Lincoln hirelings; and Rodney must see them safe to the river. As to Tom Randolph—they did not waste much sympathy on him, but they were sorry for his mother. Tom took just such chances as these when he put on his gray uniform.