"But smuggling things out of the lines is like foraging in the army," said Mr. Martin in conclusion. "The sin lies in being detected."
"That's all I want to know," said Rodney. "I've never been caught yet. You can tell me where I can borrow or hire a team, I suppose?"
Yes, the host could do that, and he might also be able to make a few suggestions that would be of use to them; but he didn't see how Dick would get over the river unless he acted upon the provost marshal's advice and "just went."
"However," he said, after a moment's reflection, "I will introduce you to our mail carrier, if he will let me."
"Do we have a mail carried back and forth under the noses of these gunboats?" exclaimed Dick.
"I don't know how or where it goes, but we certainly have communication with the opposite shore. The service was very irregular while General Williams was at Vicksburg, but since he came back to Baton Rouge our mail reaches us at shorter intervals; so I imagine it is carried across at some point up the river and brought down through the country. I don't know, but I meet the mail carrier once in a while."
"And can you make it convenient to say a word to him about Dick?"
"I can and will; but I must tell you now that there is one thing that will operate against you. You told the provost marshal that you would make your headquarters at my house as often as you came to town, and he knows me to be a Southern sympathizer."
"Whew!" whistled Rodney, while Dick looked frightened. "Mr. Martin, we will never come near your house again."
"Oh, yes, you will," replied their host. "But you must be careful how you act and who you talk to. The city is full of the meanest sort of converted rebels, who are harder on us than the Yankees. If Mrs. Martin goes out shopping or receives a guest oftener than once a week, they run to the marshal with the news, and I have the satisfaction of knowing that my premises are being watched for spies."