The retreat was up Wolf Creek toward the mountains, through a rough, wild region. The advance of the Confederates came to where Uncle Dan's cabin stood. It so happened that Joe, who had so often been Uncle Dan's companion, was at the cabin, which he kept always ready for the old man's return. He stood in the door way and watched the advancing throng, his mild blue eyes wide with wonder.
"Do you come from the land of Canaan, and is the famine over where my father dwells?" he asked of the rough soldiers, who paused at the spring to drink.
"Come from Canaan? No; we come from h—l," replied one, with a laugh at his own wit.
"Have you seen my father?" asked Joe, in astonishment.
"No; but we have seen the devil," replied another, "and he is close at our heels."
The poor idiot looked alarmed. He vaguely comprehended that some danger was advancing, and his eyes filled with tears.
"Oh, what shall I do?" he cried, in tones so plaintive, so pitiful, that they might have touched a heart of stone.
"Do? Run," said one of the soldiers, "run for your life, and hide among the rocks. There are plenty about here."
"No," said a third, "fight them. Here is a gun," handing him a musket. "Take this and shoot the first one you see."
Joe took the gun, but no dangerous light shone in his blue eyes.