“Hurry up!” cried Watson. “To-morrow night we must be in Marietta. We are still many miles away, and in a hostile, unknown country.”
So the three pushed on into the gloom. The prospect of meeting James Andrews at the appointed place was not reassuring. Their only hope was to keep on along the bank of the Tennessee River until they reached Chattanooga. From there they could take a train for Marietta.
“Shall we make it?” thought George. Waggie gave a muffled bark which seemed to say: “Courage!”
CHAPTER III
MINGLING WITH THE ENEMY
It was weary work, this tramping along the Tennessee shore, through mud, or fields of stubble, over rocks, or amid dripping trees; but the three kept on towards Chattanooga for a couple of hours, until all the good effects of their warming at Farmer Hare’s were quite vanished. Watson, having showed by his mother-wit and presence of mind that he was a man to be relied upon, had now resumed his privilege of growling, and gave vent to many angry words at the roughness and unutterable dreariness of the way.
“Why was America ever discovered by that inquisitive, prying old Christopher Columbus?” he grunted, after he had tripped over the stump of a cottonwood-tree, and fallen flat with his face in the slime. “If he had never discovered America there would never have been any United States; had there never been any United States there would never have been any war between North and South; had there never been any war between North and South I wouldn’t be making a fool of myself by being down here. I wish that fellow Columbus had never been born—or, if he was born, that he had never been allowed to sail off for America. Ugh!”
In a few minutes they reached a log cabin situated on an angle of land where a little stream emptied itself into the now stormy waters of the Tennessee River. There was no light nor sign of life about the mean abode, and the travelers were almost upon it before they saw its low outline in the dense gloom.