"Oh, no. You've been round amongst 'em and they know you."
Rodney posted off, and Jeff saw him disappear through the door of the cabin that had been pointed out to him; but he was not looking, that way when Rodney came out a moment later, and with noiseless steps and form half bent directed his course toward Tom Percival's prison. His face wore a determined look, and his right hand, which was thrust into the pocket of his sack coat, firmly clutched his revolver. He knew that he must succeed in what he was about to attempt or die in his tracks, for if he were detected, he would stand as good a chance of being hanged as Tom himself. But there were no signs of wavering or hesitation about him. He drew a bee-line for the back of the corn-crib, and began looking for the places where the chinking had fallen out. It did not take him many minutes to find one, and then he set about attracting Tom's attention by pulling the stick from his sleeve, and rubbing it back and forth through one of the cracks. The movement was successful. There was a slight rustling among the corn-husks inside the cabin, and a second later the prisoner laid hold of the stick.
"All right," whispered Tom. "I was looking for you, and I know what this stick is for, Shake."
The boys tried to bring their hands together, but the opening between the logs was so narrow that the best they could do was to interlock some of their fingers.
"Here," whispered Rodney, pushing his revolver through the crack butt first. '; Take this, you Yankee, and remember that you will surely be hung if you don't get out of here before daylight."
"I hope you are not disarming yourself," said Tom.
"That's all right. This is for Dick Graham's sake and Barrington's; but look out for me if I catch you outside, for I am one of Price's men."
Tom said something in reply, but Rodney did not hear what it was, nor did he think it safe to stop long enough to ask the prisoner to repeat the words. He hastened away from the corn-crib, and when Jeff and Mr. Westall next saw him, he was standing in the stable door pushing back his horse which was trying to follow him out. He was doing more. He was striving with all his will-power to subdue the feelings of excitement and exultation that surged upon him when he thought of what he had done, and what the consequences to him would be if anything happened to excite the suspicions of the hot-headed Confederates who had him completely in their power.
"If they do anything to me and Tom finds it out, he will make some of them suffer if he ever gets the chance," thought the Barrington boy, as he closed the door of the stable and walked back to the wood pile. "But what good will that do me when I am dead and gone? I declare I begin to feel as Dick Graham did: Dog-gone State Rights anyhow."
It was with no slight feelings of anxiety that Rodney Gray joined the group of men around the wood yard; but fortunately there was no light in the cabin other than that given out by the blaze in the fire-place, and if his face bore any trace of excitement, as he was certain it did, nobody noticed it. The steamer did not stop at the landing, and when she passed on up the river, the wood-cutters and their guests went into the cabin and closed the door. Then Rodney opened his trunk and brought out his blankets, taking care to spread them as far from the door as he could, so that when Tom's escape was discovered, no one could reasonably suspect him of having slipped out during the night and set him free.