An Undivided Union Part 43

"I will go along."

"That will not be necessary."

"All right,--please yourself. I presume I can turn him over to you immediately."

"On the spot," was the quiet answer; and saluting stiffly, Captain Brentford, scowling at both of the majors, withdrew, and walked rapidly along the road.

In a few words Deck told his story, Major Collins listening eagerly.

Then three men were counted off to escort the Union officer to the prisoners' camp. Among the three was the man who had been so surprised on first catching sight of Deck. Several times he was on the point of speaking to the young major, but each time he changed his mind.

The hors.e.m.e.n did not wish to spend any more time than was necessary in conveying Deck to the prisoners' camp, and so the leader told the major to mount behind him. "It will be better nor running, and that is what you'll have to do if you remain on foot," he said.

The course of the four riders was along a side road and past half a dozen plantations, the fields of which had been much cut up by detachments of Wheeler's cavalry, operating in that territory. The man who had Deck with him rode side by side with one of the other cavalrymen, while the fellow who seemed to have recognized Deck rode in the rear.

"It's hard lines, Major, but I reckon you're bound for one of our prisons right enough," observed the leader, as they trotted along.

"Fortune of war," said the young Union officer, as lightly as he could.

"But you don't like it?"

"To be sure not."

"Married?"

"No."

"That's one consolation--if you die on our hands," and the man laughed at what he considered a joke.

"I shan't die on your hands, if I can help it."

"Oh, I suppose--But I've heard a good many of 'em do die; can't stand this balmy Southern air."

"I think it is more likely they can't stand your poor food and foul prisons."

"Our prisons are about as good as those up North, I reckon, Major. I had a cousin die up in New York somewhere--Elmira I think they called the lock-up. Reckon he was about starved."

"I trust you are mistaken. It would not be fair to starve anybody on either side."

At this the leader of the Confederate detachment grunted, and said no more. But presently he grew tired of his load and turned to the man riding in the rear.

"Tom, supposin' you take the prisoner for a while?" he observed.

"Just as you say, Messinger. Is he bound tight?"

"Tight enough, I reckon."

"All right, come right along," said the man in the rear, and happy to think he might continue to ride instead of walk, Deck transferred himself from the rear of one horse to the rear of the other.

The man in front of him had spoken in a hoa.r.s.e voice, as if he was suffering from a cold, yet the voice appeared to be more or less familiar. Deck tried, after mounting, to get a view of the cavalryman's face, but it was kept away from him.

Inside of quarter of an hour the party began to climb a small hill. The road was winding, and lined with brush and rocks. At the top of the eminence stood an old stone mansion, and here the road split into three trails, one running straight on, and the others branching out at angles of forty-five degrees. Between the centre road and that to the left, stood the house, while near the trail on the right was located a large cattle shed and corn-crib.

"I reckon we can stop here for something to eat," observed Messinger, turning to his two companions.

"If we can get it," answered the man who had been riding beside him.

"I will give a quarter in silver for a gla.s.s of milk," said Deck. "The money is in my left pocket. You might as well take a dollar bill if it can be used here."

"It won't go--and I wouldn't tech it," cried Messinger. "Come on, Chador, and we'll see what we can get. Tom, you had better remain here with the prisoner."

"Just as you say, Messinger. Don't you try to git away from me," the latter words to Deck, spoken with great fierceness.

"If he tries to run for it, shoot him dead," ordered Messinger, carelessly, and dismounting, he walked toward the house, and Chador followed his suit.

The two Confederates had scarcely disappeared than the man sitting in front of Deck turned his head so that he could look over his shoulder.

"Major Lyon, listen to me," he said earnestly. "You don't remember me, because I've let my beard grow, and I'm dressed differently from what I was when we met before. We met at McMinnville, where you risked your life to save mine, in a burning cotton mill. I am Tom Derwiddie, and I swore that if ever I could do you a good turn I would do it. I reckon that time has come. Do you want to get away, or rather, are you willing to take the risk?"

"Derwiddie!" gasped Deck, a flood of light bursting in on him. "Yes, I wish to get away, if it can be done. But your duty--"

"Is to help the man as saved my life. You are not a spy, are you?"

"I am not."

"And if I help you to get away, you will try to get back to the Union lines without delaying to pick up information."

"I will go as straight back as I can make it--I'll give you my word of honor, Derwiddie."

"Then I won't be acting wrong in giving you a free rein. Now to my plan--it's been in my head this last half hour. First, take my pistol."

"Yes, but you--"

"Now let me untie that rope on your hands," interrupted Derwiddie, cutting the prisoner short. "We haven't a moment to spare. They may come back at any moment. Remember, you are to take all three horses."

"All three?"

"Yes, all three. So that they will have a job to follow you."

"But yourself?"

"I will fall into the road, knocked out by you."

"Do you mean to say you want me to knock you out?" demanded Deck, who thought that his newly discovered friend was "going it rather strong."

"I will do the deed, if you feel backward about it," answered Tom Derwiddie, modestly.

"I certainly do feel backward, if that is what you are going to call it.

You are by far too much of a friend to be touched."