These words almost knocked Tom Allison over, but at the same time they loosened his tongue.
"That's so, but I never should have thought to speak of it," he exclaimed. "Go back the way you came until you strike the big road, then turn to the left and stop at the first house you come to."
"And remember that you will pass ruins on your left hand before you get where you want to go," added Mark, who did not mean that the Yankee officer should miss his way for want of explicit directions.
"Who lives there?" inquired the latter, looking sharply at the two boys as if he meant to read their thoughts, and find out what object they had in view in volunteering so much information. "He must be a rebel, of course, if he has a rebel flag in his possession."
"His name is Marcy Gray, and he is rebel or Union, just as it happens," said Tom. "He has been pilot on a privateer and blockade runner."
"Aha!" said the captain.
"Yes," continued Tom. "But the minute you Yankees came here and captured the Island he quit business and came home."
"Which was the most sensible thing he could have done," said the officer. "Are there any weapons in the house, do you know?"
Before either of the boys could reply Mr. Allison came out upon the porch, bringing with him the "heirlooms" of which he had spoken—an old officers sword and a flint-lock musket that, so he said, had passed the winter with Washington at Valley Forge.
"If that is the case I'll not touch them," said the captain. "These are all you have, I suppose?"