CHAPTER XI.
THE ESCAPED PRISONERS' STORY.
"I tried my level best to induce the Yanks to let Tom Randolph go free, and so did mother," continued Ned, slipping the bridle over his horse's head and seating himself on the steps at Rodney's feet, "but they wouldn't hear to it. The worst of it is, they scared the life out of Tom and made him confess everything."
"I am sorry to hear that," replied Rodney, who had leisure, while Ned was speaking, to gather a few of his wits about him. "If Tom told how he persecuted unarmed Union men in this settlement he's a goner sure enough, for there isn't a soldier in the world who will stand such work as that."
"I don't believe he said a word about it," exclaimed Ned.
"Then what in the name of sense did he have to confess?"
"About fighting those gunboats, you know."
"He never fought any gunboats," declared Rodney impatiently. "What do you suppose possesses him to stick to that lie every chance he gets? One would think he'd get tired of it after a while."
"I asked him that very question when the Yanks permitted me to have a little private talk with him," said Ned, "and the reason he gave was this: he had heard that brave men respected brave men, and he hoped his captors would treat him with a little more courtesy if they knew that he was a valiant soldier."