The farmer stood at the door, watching them silently as they took off their shoes and put them by the stove. Finally he asked, "What are you going to Wartrace for?"
Tom had been wondering what story they had better tell him. They were still north of their own lines, even though they were in enemy country, and he felt that there might be some danger in saying that they were on their way to join the Southern army. He decided to leave the response to Wilson, who, because of his age and experience, was the natural leader. But, before Wilson could speak, Shadrack replied:
"We're from Fleming County, Kentucky, and we're going through the lines to join the Confederate army."
Wilson frowned and shook his head at Shadrack.
"So?" asked the farmer. "Goin' to fight the Yanks, eh?"
"Yep," answered Shadrack, "an' we're goin' to give 'em a good licking!
That's what they need! We've seen all we want to see of Yanks."
"Well, I'll tell you right now that you're going to waste yer time," replied the farmer. "An' maybe you'll waste more than that."
Shadrack sat down on the floor near the fire, and Tom squatted beside him.
"You have some pretty bad rainstorms in this part of the country, don't you?" Wilson asked.
While Wilson was speaking, Tom nudged Shadrack, and muttered, "Be careful—don't talk too much." Shadrack's eyes lighted in puzzled surprise.