"Only a feint most probably," replied the last comer and older of the two. "They may be spies and, as soon as they are out of sight, whirl off in another direction. There really does not seem to be anything very suspicious about them I must say," he added; "still it might be wise to detain them here until morning."
"I think they are just what they say they are," returned the first officer.
Just as I was wondering if it would not be best to make a run and leave them to decide at their leisure whether or not we were spies, one of the men passing, called out:
"Hello, Ned," and stopped.
Ned gave something between a grin and a gasp in return. Then, stooping over as if to untangle the reins, he whispered barely loud enough for me to hear: "It's Mars Furbish. He lived ober dar at E——, and knowed Miss Salome."
I caught the clue the quick-witted old negro had given me, and leaning forward, addressed a polite "Good evening, Mr. Furbish," to the man I had never seen before. He pulled off his cap in return.
"I am very anxious to get on without delay," I added. "Will you kindly tell those gentlemen who I am? I think you can assure them I am not a spy."
His action had been noticed by the officers, and as I spoke, they called him over to them.
"Do you know that lady!" I heard them ask.