The moment Leon referred to Dawson Tom put his hands behind his back as if he didn’t want to say how glad he was to see him. Leon noticed the movement and went on with something which he knew would bring Tom to his senses. Tom had a mother, his father was dead, and he fairly worshipped her.
“He is going down after his mother, and I am going, too. And we want you to go with us.”
“Howdy!” exclaimed Tom, and his hands came out and he shook Dawson as if he was a friend from whom he had long been separated. “Then he’s all right, of course. I’ll go, but you must get my muel for me.”
The boys bent their steps toward the hotel, for they knew that the landlord was a man who was determined to do what he could to help along the cause. He knew that at least a portion of the men who had gone out to capture that wagon-train had no place to get anything to eat, and he cooked up a lot of food for them, and had it spread out on his dining-room tables. He had remained up all night, and the noise the men made when they returned almost drove him wild.
“Who said those who took part with us in this useless struggle would go hungry?” said he, standing on the porch, and welcoming the men as they came up, and sending them all into the dining-room. “Ah! here’s Leon and Tom Howe, I declare. Where did you get shot, boys? And a rebel, as sure as I am a foot high. Where did you take him up?”
“I am a rebel no longer,” replied Dawson. “In spite of my clothes I am as good a Union man as there is in the county.”
“You are just the lads we want,” said the landlord. “Haven’t had anything to eat yet? No dinner, either? Then go right into the dining-room. You will find the President and the Secretary of War in there.”
The boys went in and found the two officers sitting in a remote corner engaged in earnest conversation. They talked in low tones, and it was evident that they did not want anybody to hear what they were discussing, so the boys sat down and began an attack upon the food. The way the landlord’s bacon, eggs and corn-bread disappeared before them would have astonished that gentleman could he have witnessed it. It made no difference to them that the food was cold, for the coffee was hot, and they finally stopped because they were ashamed to eat any more. By the time they had finished eating their supper the two high officers ceased their consultation, and Mr. Sprague hauled up a chair to the nearest table and sat down. Leon decided that this was his time. Tom Howe would certainly sleep better if he knew that the mule was his own.
“Father, there’s a white mule out there in the train, and Tom Howe wants him.”
“Well, he can have him, I guess,” said Mr. Sprague. “Anybody else laid any claim to him?”