The operation was a very simple one, in its military part, at least. The expedition was composed of a force much too strong for resistance by the handful of men available for immediate use on the enemy's part. In the guise of a foraging party it easily dispersed the picket-lines and pushed forward rapidly, taking the little town in its course, but making no halt there. It scoured the country round about, and as soon as Federal forces began to gather for its destruction, it retreated by quite a different route from that by which it had advanced.
It was nine o'clock in the evening when Agatha slipped off her horse in the little Maryland town and left it in charge of a trooper. A five-minutes' walk brought her to the house of her friends, where she was safe.
With her walked her negro maid, who had ridden behind her. That maid's name was Sam, and he quickly divested himself of the feminine outer garments which he had worn over his own clothes. This device had been of Sam's own invention, for that worthy, under stress of circumstances, was rapidly developing into something like genius that gift of diplomacy which he had before employed in discouraging his mammy's efforts to make him her assistant in the kitchen. Sam was a consummate liar whenever lying seemed to him to be necessary or even useful. In the service of his master he had no hesitation in saying, or indeed in doing, anything that might be convenient, and during her long stay north of the Potomac Agatha was far more deeply indebted to Sam's unscrupulousness than she knew. For when he found that his mistress had conscientious objections to his methods, he simply forbore to mention them to her, and carried out his plans on his own responsibility. Long afterward, in relating the experiences of this time to his black companions at Warlock, he made it an interesting feature of his discourse to keep reminding his hearers that, "Mis' Agatha's so dam' hones' dat she wouldn't tell a lie even to a Yankee."
This declaration never failed to open the eyes of the auditors in wonder, and to bring from their lips the half-incredulous response:
"Well, I 'clar to gracious!"
It was Sam who devised and suggested the next step in the present journey. Agatha's arrival at the house, under cover of a very dark night, had been unobserved by any one outside the household, but it was obvious that her remaining there would involve grave danger of discovery. Her presence could not be concealed from the servants of the household, and however loyal these might be to their mistress and her three daughters, who constituted the family, they would very certainly talk, the more especially, if any efforts were made to keep the visitor in hiding in the house. In a town so small—it was only a village, in fact—gossip has quick wings, and there were sure to be some persons there who would promptly report to the military that a young woman from beyond the lines was in hiding in the town.
The whole matter was discussed in family conclave during the night of Agatha's coming, and fortunately Sam was present, for the reason that it was specially necessary to conceal from the household servants the interesting fact that the "maid" who had accompanied a young lady to the place was in truth a stalwart negro boy. He remained in the room, therefore, from which all the servants were rigidly excluded, and thus became familiar with every detail of the puzzling situation. After ingenuity had been fairly exhausted in devising plans only to reject them one after another as impracticable, Sam, whose modesty had never amounted to shyness, boldly broke into the conversation.
"As I figgers it out, Mis' Agatha," he said, "de case is puffec'ly clar. We cawn't stay heah, 'thout a-gittin' tuk up. We cawn't go back South 'thout a-gittin' tuk up an' maybe gittin' hung in de bargain. So we mus' jes' go on Norf, now, immediately, at once."
"But we can't, Sam. You don't understand. We can't travel without passports."
"Couldn't de ladies git a skyar into 'em, an' tell de Yankees dey jes' cawn't an' won't stay any longer in a town whar de rebels is a-comin' gallopin' through de streets, a-yellin' an' a-shootin' an' a-kickin' up de ole Harry? Wouldn't de Yankees give 'em passpo'ts to de Norf den? Wouldn't dey think it natch'rel dat a houseful o' jes' ladies what's got no men-folks to pertect 'em, would be skyar'd out o' der seven senses after sich a performance as dis heah?"