“Halt!” he shouted. “I’ll die before I will be tooken.”
“Why didn’t you talk that way before you saw who we were?” demanded Tom. “You can’t get up a reputation for courage by any such actions. Captain Beardsley wants to see you at his house.”
“What do you reckon he wants of me?” inquired the man, letting down the hammers of his gun and seating himself on the doorstep. “Aint nary soldier behind you, is they?”
“We haven’t seen a soldier for a week,” replied Tom. “We haven’t come here to get you into trouble——”
“But to put you in the way of making some money,” chimed in Mark.
“Well, you couldn’t have come to a man who needs money wuss than I do,” said Buffum, becoming interested. “What do you want me to do?”
“We want you to break up that camp of refugees down there in the swamp.”
“Then you’ve come to the wrong pusson,” said Buffum, shaking his head in a very decided way. “Don’t you know that I’m livin’ in that camp, and that I don’t never come out ’ceptin’ when I know there aint no rebel soldiers scoutin’ around?”
“How does it happen that you know when there are no rebel scouts in the settlement?” inquired Mark. “Somebody must keep you posted.”
“I’ve got friends, and good ones, too.”