"I understand," Tom interposed, for Mr. Truman talked so slowly that the boy was afraid he might never get through with what he had to say. "In times like these you don't know whom to trust. That's our fix, exactly; and we shouldn't have thought of stopping here if Merrick and Hobson had not told us who and what you are. Go on, boy, and tell Mr. Truman who and what we are, where we came from, where we want to go, and all about it."
The negro was talkative enough now, and the boys had no fault to find with the way in which he complied with Tom's request except in one particular—he had too much to say regarding Rodney Gray's loyalty to the Union, and his undying hostility toward everybody who was in favor of secession. He dwelt so long upon this subject that Tom Percival, fearing Mr. Truman's eyes would be opened to the real facts of the case, thought it best to interrupt him.
"Yes; we passed the night in company with Mr. Hobson and five of his friends who have been compelled to go into hiding," said he, "and while we were eating supper in Mr. Merrick's kitchen, some of Thompson's men came to the gate and asked for him."
"I reckon it's all right," said Mr. Truman, who did not believe that his friend Merrick would have taken these two young fellows into his house if he had not had the best of reasons for thinking that they could be trusted. "What did you say your names might be?" he added, beckoning to one of his darkies and indicating by a wave of his hand that the horses were to be housed and fed.
While the guide was telling his story he had not mentioned any names. He had simply referred to the boys as "dese yer gentlemen." designating the one of whom he happened to be speaking by a nod or a jerk of his thumb. Tom waited until the horses were led away and then said, in a low tone:
"My friend's name is Gray, and as you have already heard he is from Louisiana. The Secesh were too thick there to suit him and so he came up here, hoping to find everybody Union."
"Humph!" said Mr. Truman.
"He has found out his mistake," continued Tom. "Ever since he has been in the State he has been dodging rebels, and has traveled more miles in the woods than he has on the highway. Do you know Justus Percival?"
"Do you?" asked Truman in reply.
"I ought to. He's my uncle, and Percival is my name; but I wish you wouldn't address me by it unless you know who is listening."