"I will go and see," answered Colonel Bradner. He turned to the two negroes. "See that he doesn't get away from you."
"He shan't git de chance, Mars'r," answered Joe, who had picked up his gun again.
Arising from his couch, where he had retained his seat while covering the young captain, the crippled advocate of the Southern cause stumped to the door, walked out of the room, and closed the barrier behind him. His wife accompanied him.
Artie strained his ears to catch what might be said. A hope had entered his mind that the newcomer might be Life Knox, who had grown impatient of waiting at the forks of the road and come in this direction to find him. He felt certain that if it was the tall Kentuckian, there would presently be exceedingly "warm" times about the place.
But he was doomed to disappointment. The voice was that of a man, loud, rough, and savage, and the front door was closed with a bang. Then a long talk followed in the hallway, and the newcomer pushed his way into the sitting room.
"So we meet again," was the salutation Artie received, with a dark frown from a pair of wolf-like eyes. "Reckon you didn't expect to see me quite so soon, and under such circumstances."
"You are right,—I never expected to see you again, Major Gossley," replied Artie, for the newcomer was the noted leader of the guerillas encountered at Greeger Lake.
"How does it make you feel?"
"I haven't had time enough to consider that side of the question," Artie returned, trying to keep as calm as possible, although he realized that the coming of the guerilla leader was a bad thing for him.
"Reckon you will realize it before I have done with you," muttered Gossley. "Martha, has he been telling you anything about me?" he added, turning to his sister.