"I told 'em they'd better go back home," said the farmer dully.
Tom, Wilson, and Shadrack sat on the floor pulling on their heavy, water-laden boots. When they stood up, the Sergeant said: "Call Jim and Max." Two more soldiers appeared, making six in all.
"Two of us to a prisoner. Come on."
They left the shanty. The farmer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at them.
CHAPTER FOUR
TOM GOES ALONE
The rain had ceased. Dawn, flooding above the heavy clouds, was at last filtering through, and the world rested tranquilly in a bluish, shadowless light. Tom, as he stepped from the shanty, with his arms held by two Union soldiers, glanced about him in wonderment. This unfamiliar scene, which had been an endless blackness the night before, was like a dream country into which he was straying half awake. The events of the previous day became remote and unreal. He paused for a moment, but the apprehensive tightening of fingers upon his arms made him suddenly aware of the fact that he was a prisoner, and he fell into step with the soldiers.
"So you were a-goin' to fight the Yanks, were you!" asked one of them.
"We'll talk about that later," answered Tom.
"'Pears to me that it ain't anything I'd want to talk about at any time if
I was you," answered the other soldier.