“How did you manage to get away from them fellers, anyhow?” inquired Lambert, nodding in the direction of the camp.
“I have influence with the governor,” replied Tom loftily. “I did not want to stay, and consequently I didn’t.”
“Afeared of the Yanks, was you!” continued Lambert with something like a sneer.
“No more afraid than yourself. You took to your heels and are in danger every moment of being caught and sent to camp, while I faced the music at once and will never have to do it again. I am discharged from military service for all time to come.”
“Well, by gum! I won’t do none,” said Lambert fiercely; and Tom noticed that every time he spoke he looked behind and on both sides as if he were in constant fear that Major Morgan’s men might steal a march upon him. “I say let them that brung the war on do the fightin’. I didn’t have no hand in it, an’ nuther am I goin’ to holp ’em out. Yes, I’m livin’ in the woods now, me an’—an’ some other fellers; but I have to come out once in a while to get grub an’ things, you know.”
“Then why don’t you come at night?” asked Tom.
“Kase it suits me better to come in the daytime. I aint a-skeared. There’s plenty kiver handy.”
“But if you dismount and take to your heels you’ll lose your mule.”
“Who keers? ’Tain’t my mu-el, an’ if they take him I can easy get another. What you drivin’ at now?”
“I am my father’s overseer.”