"Now, Miss Lou," Chunk whispered, "I tek you de s'curest way, so you git back en' nobody see you ef I git cotched."
They made a circuit to avoid the kitchen and climbed over a low fence into the garden. On the further side, opening on the driveway to the stables, was a gate. Before reaching this, Miss Lou said to Zany, "You stay here. If there's an alarm, go to the kitchen. You must not be known to have had anything to do with this affair. It might cost you your life."
"Ve'y well, Miss Lou."
The young girl and her guide paused at the gate some moments, for attendants upon the wounded, with whom the outbuildings were filled, were passing to and fro. At last they stole across the roadway to the shelter of a clump of trees beyond. From this point they could see the group of prisoners about the fire, which was in a rather dying condition. It was evident that some of the guards had succumbed to weariness, but Perkins still watched with the tirelessness of hate, his lantern so placed that its rays fell on Scoville, who could not make a movement without being observed. Indeed, it was clear that he, too, was almost overcome with sleep, for he occasionally nodded and swayed before the fire.
"Now, Miss Lou," whispered Chunk, "I gwine ter wake Marse Scoville up by tootin' lak a squinch-owl," and he did so briefly.
The Union officer was much too wary to start and look around, but he gradually proved that he was alert. Close scrutiny of Perkins showed that the signal had no significance to him.
"Miss Lou," resumed Chunk, "dere's not'n fer you but ter walk right down de road ter de fire, berry quiet like, put yo' finger on yo' lips ter Perkins so he tink you 'bout ter play de debil trick, en' den lead Marse Scoville into de gyardin. Ef Perkins foller, I foller 'im. My hoss down by de run en we git off dat away."
The girl drew a long breath and started. Now that she was in the crisis of the emergency a certain innate spirit and courage sustained her. Knowing her cousin so well, she could assume his very gait and manner, while her arm, carried in a sling, perfected a disguise which only broad light would have rendered useless. Her visit caused no surprise to the sergeant of the guard, on whom at first she kept her eyes. He merely saluted and thought Lieutenant Whately was attentive to his duty. Perkins was not surprised either, yet a little perplexed. As it had been supposed and hoped, the thought rose instantly in his revengeful nature that the Confederate officer had some design on Scoville. The latter watched the form recognized by the others as that of Whately with the closest scrutiny, and an immense throb of hope stirred his heart. Could it be possible?
Miss Lou looked over the sleeping prisoners for a moment and then, as if satisfied, stepped quite near to Perkins, guarding meantime not to permit the rays of the lamp to fall on her face. "Leave him to me," she whispered, with a nod toward Scoville, and she put her finger to her lips. She next touched Scoville on the shoulder and simply said, "Come."
He rose as if reluctantly and followed.