“Well, Dominie,” exclaimed one of them, walking up to the fire and warming his hands, “you can thank your stars you’re not out a mean night like this. Have you heard about the big engine steal?”
“Friend Jason has written me about it,” replied Mr. Buckley.
“Why, it was the most daring thing I ever heard tell on,” cried another of the party. “A lot of Yankees actually seized Fuller’s train when he was eating his breakfast at Big Shanty, and ran it almost to Chattanooga. They had pluck, that’s certain!”
“We’re not here to praise their pluck,” interrupted another man. “We are here to find out if any of ’em have been seen around your place. We’ve been scouring the country for two hours, but there’s no trace of any of ’em so far—not even of the man with the boy and the dog, as Jason’s son said he saw.”
“Why didn’t Jason’s son tackle the fellows?” asked a voice.
“Pooh,” said the man at the fireplace; “Jason’s son ain’t no ’count. All he’s fit for is to dance with the girls. It’s well our army doesn’t depend on such milksops as him. He would run away from a mosquito—and cry about it afterwards!”
“You haven’t seen any one suspicious about here, have you, parson?” asked a farmer.
The minister hesitated. He had never told a deliberate falsehood in his life. Was he to begin now?
“Seen no suspicious characters?” echoed the man at the fireplace. “No boy with a dog?”
The tongue of the good clergyman seemed to cleave to the roof of his mouth. He could see the eagle glance of Miss Cynthia fixed upon him. Just then Waggie, who had been sniffing at the closet door, returned to the fireplace.