"You're a Yank yourself," answered Tom hotly.
"What's that?"
"We're no more Yanks than you are. We were on our way to enlist in the army at Chattanooga, and this is the way we get handled."
"Don't believe 'em," said Alf. "Let's search 'em."
"Why not wait until we get back to Judson? Easier to do it there."
"All right," replied Alf. "You two ride along beside 'em. I'm done up totin' this gun."
The procession started again. Tom heard Wilson whisper to Shadrack: "Keep to the story!"
"No talking, there!" ordered one of the horsemen. "You can do all your talking when you get to Judson."
It was nearly six o'clock when they reached the little town of Judson. As they went down the main street, men and boys tagged along beside them, plying the guards with questions. The guards waved them aside, and answered, "Don't know if it's them or not. Picked 'em up a piece down the road."
They stopped at a two-story frame building labeled "Hotel." One of the guards went in, then motioned to the others to bring the prisoners. Presently they found themselves in a big room, lighted by two lamps which hung from the ceiling. The air was cloudy with smoke. A dozen men sat about at the tables. Instantly there was commotion. Everyone commenced talking.