“You have a great deal of craft for one so young, Wing.”
“‘Necessity is the mother of invention,’ it is said, sir. In this ‘forlorn plight’ I went on my way, until, near nightfall, I came to a lonely farm-house, on the edge of the forest, where there were some extremely ragged Confederate soldiers, smoking and drinking. I dragged myself to their presence, and told them my piteous story: how I was a Confederate soldier on leave; how I was going home to see my father and brothers, when, on the very night of my arrival, their house was burned, and they themselves bayonetted by the Yankee soldiers; and how I had barely escaped with my life.”
“There again you ran a risk, Wing! Suppose these soldiers had personally known the Gills?”
“I provided for that, Colonel. The first question I groaned forth was whether they knew the Gills. No—none of them knew the family personally, though one man said he had heard of them, and that they had a son in the Confederate army. So you see, my Colonel, all the rest was easy enough. I had only to say that I was that son, and to tell them my piteous story.”
“But suppose some one of their number had known the son by sight, and so had detected you?”
“Suppose the earth had opened under my feet, Colonel? I beg your pardon for speaking so lightly, sir; but one was as likely to happen as the other. Both were possible, but neither probable. However, I had even provided for the remote contingency of detection before committing myself in my story. I had ascertained by observation that no one among them knew by sight any member of the Gill family. If they had, I should have passed myself as a distant connection, bearing the same name.”
“Go on, my boy.”
“One of the men—Haddycraff—asked me how long I had to serve in the regiment to which I belonged. I answered, no time at all. That my leave in point of fact amounted to a discharge; for that before the leave should expire, my time of service would be out.”
“And what was your motive in telling that story, Gill? Was it that you had got your hand in, or rather your tongue in, to the invention line of business, and couldn’t get it out again?” laughed Colonel Rosenthal.
“Not at all, sir; I had a motive in saying that. I saw that the men among whom I found myself were members of some guerrilla gang, and that they were after recruits. The event proved that I was quite right, for Sergeant Haddycraff slapping me smartly upon the shoulder, exclaimed heartily: