"You say he is a tornado; we are each a cyclone, and together we may raise a hurricane. But do not fear, madam, for, I assure you, we shall take him without the firing of a shot."
Opening the door, Captain Tompkins boldly walked down the flight of stairs, leading to the cellar, a light in one hand and a drawn sword in the other—a number of his men following him. A sight met their view at the foot of the stairs, calculated rather to excite laughter than to strike terror to their hearts. A small man in gray uniform, rushing aimlessly about trying to scale the cellar wall, to hide beneath the boxes, to find some way—any way—of escape. His actions were more like that of a rat in a trap than a brave soldier.
Mrs. Juniper, left in the room above, faint with terror, sank upon the nearest chair and clasped her hands to her ears to shut out the sounds of conflict that must inevitably follow.
"Halloa, Diggs! what are you doing here?" cried Captain Tompkins, who could not restrain his laughter. Mr. Diggs had been performing leap after leap, in his vain endeavors to get away, ejaculating all the while:
"Oh, Lordy, Lordy! I know I shall be killed, I know I shall be killed!"
At the sound of a familiar voice, he looked around, and, discovering who his captors were, he sprang forward and threw his arms around the neck of the captain, crying:
"Oh! Abner, Abner, Abner, my dearest friend Abner, you will not let me be killed! Oh! say you will not let me be killed! Although I was persuaded into the rebel army, I am not a Confederate. I have always thought that it was wrong to fight under any but the flag of Washington and Marion. Oh! don't let them kill me! Oh, Abner, Abner, for Heaven's sake, say you will protect me. I have suffered death a thousand times since I entered this unholy cause."
Abner, still laughing, assured him that he should not be injured, that he should be treated as a prisoner of war.
Corporal Diggs, assuring men and officers that there was no stronger Union man living than he, that he was ready to enlist and fight until he died for the Union, followed the troops out of the house. The widow fixed a gaze of astonishment on the "brave soldier," upon "whom the fate of the South rested," and when she heard his imploring tones and his avowed determination to fight for the Union till he died, her proud lips curled with scorn, and, without a word, she passed from the room.
The corporal mounted January, and rode away in good spirits toward the Union camp.