Mrs. Turnbull saw that it was time for her to interfere again. Two of her guests were becoming almost red in the face with anger, and her woman's wit or something else told her that the conversation was taking a dangerous turn. She had wondered from the first what brought Rodney Gray so far from home on foot, and now she believed that she knew all about it. She moved her chair to the side of Rodney's, and asked the young soldier to tell her a story of army life; and as she did so, her gaze wandered through the bushes and trees to the front fence, where she saw one of Mr. Biglin's negroes dodging about, and evidently trying to catch the eye of his master without attracting the attention of anyone else in the yard. The circumstance increased her suspicions, but she said very calmly:
"Your boy Bill is out there in the road, Mr. Biglin, and I think he wants to tell you something."
"Then why don't he come in?" replied the planter. "He has been down in the woods trying to locate a small drove of my hogs, and perhaps he has found them."
"And perhaps he has found something else," was what Rodney's eyes and Dick's said when they looked at each other; and they could hardly conceal their agitation when they observed that Mrs. Turnbull was keeping her gaze fixed on their faces.
"You, Bill!" shouted the planter. "Come here."
The negro came very reluctantly, and when he saw his master turn about in his chair and look at him, he stopped and twisted his face into all sorts of shapes and rolled up the whites of his eyes, trying by every means in his power to make his master understand that he desired to say a word to him in private.
"Well, why don't you speak?" demanded Mr. Biglin. "Did you find anything down there?"
"Sah? Oh, ye—yes, sah; I found sumfin," replied the negro, in a tone so significant that Mr. Biglin would have been dull indeed if he had failed to understand him this time. With the remark that he had better be getting along toward home he arose and followed the boy, who promptly led the way toward the front gate.
"Peculiar man, that," said the lieutenant, rising from his comfortable couch on the grass and stretching his arms. "He didn't even bid us good-by. I reckon we'd best be getting along toward camp. Boots and saddles!"
"Are you going to give up looking for those Yankees?" inquired Mr. Turnbull, and from the bottom of his heart Rodney thanked him for asking the question. He wanted to do it himself, but was afraid to speak.