"Will you tell us where Ben Hanby lives?"
"Just beyond the hill there, across the river," she replied, with scrutinizing, suspicious eyes.
"How far is it to his house?"
"I don't know."
"More than a mile?"
"No" (doubtfully), "I reckon not."
"Is he probably at home?"
"No!" (emphatically). "He is not! Are you the Home Guard?"
"By no means, madam. We are Union men, and Yankees at that. We have escaped from Salisbury, and are trying to reach our homes in the North."
After another searching glance, she trusted us fully, and said: