Tracy could have no doubt of Dorothea’s sincerity, so earnestly did she speak. “I wish I’d known that a bit sooner,” he remarked soberly.
“Would it have made any difference?” Dorothea questioned.
“It may make a difference to Hendon,” Tracy replied. “To tell you the truth,” he went on, “for another reason we suspected Hendon hadn’t brought the news to the Yanks. We didn’t see how he could have gotten through to them.”
“What do you mean by that?” Dorothea asked.
“When I left here after that little play we had in the woods yonder,” Tracy explained, “I went out to alarm the country. It was too serious a matter, you understand, to let the whims of a girl thwart us. I couldn’t fight with April over taking the man then and there; but—well, at any rate, in an hour there was a party looking for Hendon and I went on to give the warning as wide a range as I could. I guessed Hendon knew from you. April overheard you talking to Miss Imogene. I was sure what he was after and I cut off his road to the Yankees.”
“Then he was captured?” Dorothea demanded.
“Not that I’ve heard of,” Val acknowledged. “I’ve even been thinking he might have gotten through, seeing that the Yanks were warned; but now—” He whistled softly to himself. “They may get him yet—and if they do—”
“What will they do?” Dorothea’s tone was anxious.
Tracy shrugged his shoulders.
“The man is a Southerner turned Yankee. You can guess the rest,” he answered shortly.