"If you should blame everything that has happened to you on him you would not be fur wrong," said Hawkins earnestly. "He's mighty savage agin you for not trying to make that gunboat cap'n quit putting him in irons——"
"How in the name of common sense could I stop it?" cried Marcy. "I
didn't volunteer to go on that boat (I blame Jonas for that), and would
Captain Benton have paid any attention to me if I had interceded for
Beardsley? I might have brought myself into difficulty by it."
"Course," replied Hawkins. "A blind man could see that, but all the same Beardsley means to even up with you 'cause he was ironed and you wasn't. He is first leftenant of the Home Guards, Colonel Shelby being the captain, and he's going to take you out'n your bed some night and send you to Williamston."
"What for?" exclaimed Marcy.
"And put you in jail there," continued Hawkins. "The lock-up is jammed full of Union men already, but they'll find room for one more. And mind you, after you onct get in you'll not come out till you promise to 'list in the Confederate army. That's the way they are doing now to put patriotism into people who aint got any."
"Do you know when the Home Guards intend to come to our house?"
"No, I don't. I wisht I did, so't I could tell you when to be on the watch for 'em; but that's one of the things they aint told me, and the only way I can think of for you to beat 'em is to be on your guard night and day, beginning now."
While this conversation was going on Marcy and his companion had been riding slowly in the direction of Nashville. Just before they came within sight of the town they met a man dressed in a ragged uniform, and riding a mule that looked as though it had served through two or three hard campaigns. Marcy recognized him as a poor white of the Kelsey stamp, and Hawkins told him in a whisper that he was a paroled prisoner like himself, a friend of his, a member of his company and mess, and also a Home Guard whom the officers were not afraid to trust. If Marcy would ride on and leave him alone with the man, he might be able to obtain some information from him. Marcy was glad to agree to this programme, and it was duly carried out. He went ahead and waited half an hour in Nashville, and might have remained a still longer time had he not seen Hawkins ride a short distance down the road from the first turn, and then wheel his horse and ride back again out of sight. Taking this for a signal, Marcy mounted his filly and set out for home; and, as he expected, found Hawkins in the lonely place in the road where he had held two interviews with Aleck Webster. He thought the man looked very sober, but before he could speak of it Hawkins said, in a thrilling whisper:
"Mister Marcy, you aint safe in this here settlement one hour longer. I dunno but you had oughter be out of it now."
"What did that friend of yours tell you?" asked the boy, with a desperate effort to appear calm, although he knew that his face was as white as it could be.