Nothing on earth ever took away Elfie’s appetite, and as she was now very hungry—not having eaten a morsel since the morning—she fell to with great gusto.
Not so Alberta. For one thing, the guerrilla’s wife had broken her fast with those ham sandwiches in the afternoon; and for another, she was troubled with many subjects of anxiety. So she ate but little, and talked a great deal.
“Abershaw, is it certain, do you think, that Gill really did betray us?”
“Not a doubt of it, Madam. He was a spy from the first. Tubman swears now, though it did not occur to him at first, that he is the same boy he has seen in attendance upon Major Rosenthal. Tubman, you know, Madam, was a conscript in the Union army, and deserted to us.”
“No, I didn’t know it. But I think it is a pity Tubman did not recognize the boy at first,” said Alberta.
“I don’t think he saw much of the boy, ma’am.”
“Abershaw! You were the last to leave the encampment! Did you see any sign of the nearer approach of the enemy’s cavalry, before you left?”
“Yes, Madam. I went up into the attic and climbed through the skylight on to the roof of the house, and with my field-glass I saw their approach. Their advance was just rising up from the other side to the top of the Hogsback hill—not two miles off. I got away with my loaded mules as fast as I could; and thanks to the thickness of the forest, eluded pursuit.”
“Do you think, Abershaw, that we are quite safe from pursuit here?”
“Safe from surprise at least, Madam. The pass is strongly picketed at short intervals for two miles down.”