Rodney Gray was utterly confounded.
"Valiant sol——Great Scott! There isn't a bigger coward in the Confederacy than Tom Randolph!" he exclaimed.
"But you see the Yankees don't know that, and Tom has stuffed them so full of his ridiculous stories that they imagine they have got hold of a second Mosby or Morgan, and that he is worth keeping."
"Did you tell them all this?" inquired Rodney.
"Of course I did; but, although they know that I am a Union man and down on everything that looks like secession or rebellion, they would not believe me, and you will have to go up and try what you can do; that is, if you feel like helping one who has always done his best to injure you."
"I'd like to take Tom Randolph right out there in the carriage road and punch his head for him this minute," replied Rodney, "but I am not coward enough to take vengeance on him in any other way. I'll go, of course, but I don't imagine they will pay any more attention to me than they did to you."
"Yes, they will; for they know you."
"Know me?" cried Rodney, opening his eyes wide with amazement. "I reckon not. I don't know a living Yank."
"Well, they know you, and Dick Graham as well," insisted Ned. "They remember perfectly of reading your names on the discharges you showed when they captured you between here and Camp Pinckney."