The boys left the city and the pickets behind in good season, and took pains to make some noise as they galloped past the houses of three "converted rebels" who, so Mr. Martin said, were always watching and scheming for a chance to report somebody. They rode as if they were going home; but when darkness came they doubled upon their trail, passed these same houses again in silence, and turned into a lane that took them miles up the river to the hiding-place of Henderson, the mail carrier. They found it to be a pretentious plantation house situated in plain view of the river, and not at all such a spot as they would have chosen had they been engaged in Henderson's business. It would have been impossible to surprise the mail carrier in his hiding-place, however, as they found when they approached nearer to it, for they had barely time to shout out the customary "Hallo, the house! Don't let your dogs bite!" before their horses were surrounded by a pack of belligerent canines, whose angry yelping completely drowned the voice of the master of the house.
"Get out!" he shouted, as soon as he could make himself heard above the tumult. "Who is it, and what's wanted?"
"Friends from the city," replied Rodney, who had been told just what to say. "I have a communication for Mr. Henderson from our mutual friend Mr. Martin. Will you look at it?"
The planter came down to the gate, took the letter from Rodney's hand, looking sharply at him and Dick as he did so, and carried it into the house with him. He did not ask them to "alight and hitch," and that proved that there was something or somebody in the house he did not want the boys to see. It was all of ten minutes before he came out again, and he brought with him a companion who straightway made himself known by saying, in a complaining voice:
"I told Martin I couldn't do the like, and here he's gone and sent you, just as if I had agreed to do it. Which one of you is the fool?"
"I am the one who wants to go over the river, if you will be kind enough to let me have a seat in your boat," replied Dick.
"Who said anything about a boat?" demanded Mr. Henderson, for the boys were sure it was he. "Do you want to be captured by the gunboats, and sent up for a spy or something? I don't expect to get back alive, or get across, either. But then! Martin's a friend of mine and keeps me posted in some things I—— Get off, both of you. Hitch your horses somewhere and wait till I come."
"Dick, you're as good as off at last," whispered Rodney, as the two men turned about and went back to the house. "Think of me riding all the way to Mr. Turnbull's alone in the dark while you are running the risk of being overhauled by the naval picket boats. Have you got your money and discharge all right? Write to me if you see the ghost of a chance for a letter to get through, for I shall be anxious to hear from my old Barrington chum."
The boys had plenty to say to each other and an abundance of time to say it in, for a whole hour passed before the mail carrier again came out. This time he had two men with him—the planter and another passenger, the latter being muffled up to the eyes so that no one could have seen his face if it had been broad daylight. He said not a word, but the mail carrier did, and Rodney was gratified to notice that he was as careful to conceal Dick's identity as he was that of his other passenger.
"Come on, you Moses," said he, "and remember that you are deaf, dumb, and blind. You, Jonas, get on your horse and clear yourself."