Marcy was horrified. Ben Hawkins had followed his own advice and shot to kill. He was glad to hear the corporal say that his friends had managed to escape in the darkness, but what effect would the gallant fight they made have upon his own prospects? He was glad, too, that there was a commissioned officer among his captors, for he did not like the way the corporal glared at him. And finally, would his capture bring Tom Allison and Mark Goodwin into trouble with the refugees?
“It certainly did bring them into trouble,” interrupted Rodney. “They were bushwhacked.”
“How do you know?” demanded Marcy, starting up in his chair.
“Jack said so in his last letter. And he said, further, that your good friends Beardsley and Shelby, and one other whose name I have forgotten, were burned out so clean that they didn’t have a nigger cabin left to shelter them.”
“Were Tom and Mark killed?”
“I suppose they were, but Jack wasn’t explicit on that point. You would be sorry to hear it, of course.”
“I certainly would, for I used to be good friends with those boys before a few crazy men kicked up this war and set us together by the ears,” said Marcy sadly. “But they could blame no one but themselves. I wonder that Beardsley wasn’t bushwhacked also.”
Then Marcy settled back in his chair and went on with his story. He told how he listened to the conclusion of the corporal’s report, during which he learned, what he had all along more than half suspected, that the Confederates had surrounded the house and were lying concealed in the garden when he and his companions arrived. They saw Marcy’s friends reconnoiter the premises, but made no effort to capture them for the reason that they had received strict orders not to move until Captain Fletcher gave the signal, which he did as soon as he saw Marcy enter the house. He and the corporal lost no time in following and coming to close quarters with him, for they knew they would find the boy armed, and that it would be dangerous to give him a chance to defend himself. When they left their place of concealment and ran around the kitchen, they encountered Aunt Martha the cook, who saw and recognized their uniforms as they passed her window, and started at the top of her speed for the house, hoping to warn her young master so that he could escape through the cellar, as he had done once before. But the corporal seized her, promptly choked off the warning cry that arose to her lips, and then began that furious struggle that had attracted Marcy’s attention.
“She was strong and savage,” said the captain with a laugh, “and for a time it looked as though she would get the better of both of us. If she didn’t do that, I was afraid she would make such a fight that you would hear it and dig out; but fortunately two of my men came to our aid just in the nick of time.”
“I hope you didn’t hurt her,” said Marcy.