"I think it is more likely they can't stand your poor food and foul prisons."
"Our prisons are about as good as those up North, I reckon, Major. I had a cousin die up in New York somewhere—Elmira I think they called the lock-up. Reckon he was about starved."
"I trust you are mistaken. It would not be fair to starve anybody on either side."
At this the leader of the Confederate detachment grunted, and said no more. But presently he grew tired of his load and turned to the man riding in the rear.
"Tom, supposin' you take the prisoner for a while?" he observed.
"Just as you say, Messinger. Is he bound tight?"
"Tight enough, I reckon."
"All right, come right along," said the man in the rear, and happy to think he might continue to ride instead of walk, Deck transferred himself from the rear of one horse to the rear of the other.
The man in front of him had spoken in a hoarse voice, as if he was suffering from a cold, yet the voice appeared to be more or less familiar. Deck tried, after mounting, to get a view of the cavalryman's face, but it was kept away from him.
Inside of quarter of an hour the party began to climb a small hill. The road was winding, and lined with brush and rocks. At the top of the eminence stood an old stone mansion, and here the road split into three trails, one running straight on, and the others branching out at angles of forty-five degrees. Between the centre road and that to the left, stood the house, while near the trail on the right was located a large cattle shed and corn-crib.