“Where is that?” inquired Mr. Knight, who came out just at that moment.
“Up in Tennessee mountains. My brothers were engaged in bridge burning, and now they have got to suffer death for it.”
Leon waited just long enough to see that Giddings was in a fair way to make the acquaintance of the principal men of the county, and then hastened out to find Tom Howe. After looking all about, he discovered him sitting under the shade of an oak eating a lunch.
“Hallo, Leon; have some,” was the way in which he greeted the new-comer. “It’s mighty good, I tell you—chicken and apple pie.”
“A person to look at your lunch wouldn’t think that we Union fellows would be so hard up for grub,” said Leon, seating himself on the ground by Tom’s side. “You heard what that man said, in reply to the enrolling officer, that if we got short of provisions we would steal them? But I want to talk to you about driving those rebels away from here.”
“I know one who will get out of the county with once telling,” said Tom.
“Who is it?”
“Carl Swayne.”
“That’s just the fellow I was thinking of,” said Leon, spitefully. “He told me the other day that if we ran into the swamp it would not take him long to show them where we were.”
“And he told me that he wished I had been smashed up in that jam while I was about it, for then there would be one Union man less in the world,” said Tom. “I’ll never forget him for that.”