COMPARING NOTES.
Rodney Gray held his breath and listened, and then he stepped close to the side of the stable and looked through a crack between the logs. It was almost dark by this time, but still there was light enough for him to count the men who were riding by, and he made out that there were an even dozen of them. They knew enough to move two abreast but not enough to carry their guns, which were held over their shoulders at all angles, and pointed in almost every direction.
"Are they guerrillas?" he asked, at length.
"Ger—which?" whispered the farmer. "Them's Thompson's men, and I don't like to see 'em pointing t'wards the swamp the way they be."
"What's down there?" inquired Rodney.
"Why, he's down there," replied Merrick, in a surprised tone. "Tom
Percival, I mean."
"Anybody with, him?" continued Rodney.
"Half a dozen or so Union men, who had to clear out or be hung by Thompson's men," replied the farmer. "If you knowed just how things stand here in Missoury, and how sot every man is agin his nearest neighbor, I don't reckon you'd ever tried to ride to Springfield."
"I am quite sure I wouldn't," answered Rodney. "How do Thompson's men happen to know that Percival is hiding down there in the swamp?"
"I reckon Swanson must a told 'em; and he's the meanest man that was ever let live, as you would say if you could have one look at his face."