"Where do they go then?"
"Dunno, Mars'r; dey don't tell whar de go," replied the mulatto, shaking his head.
This man seemed to be intelligent, and know more about the region than most of the negroes. Deck bade them good-by, and resumed his march.
"I dunno's we need go any furder," said Life, after they had gone a few rods.
"I hope we shall be able to obtain more reliable information than from the reports of these darkeys," replied Deck, who was in favor of doing the work thoroughly.
"Jest as you say, Lieutenant; but if they had come down this way we'd 'a' seen some stragglers," answered the Kentuckian. "I reckon I know just whar they are gwine, 'cause I've been over the road myself. They'll foller the South Fork, and strike Jamestown, Fentress County, and from there make for Gainsborough, where they can git steamboats to tote them to Nashville."
"There is a village ahead," said Deck.
"That is Newberry" (as it was then called).
They went into the place, and found a grocery store and post-office. They halted near it, and spent some time in a consultation. At Jamestown they could determine with certainty where the army was going. It was a little over twenty miles, while the road the army had taken was quite thirty, though the roads were better by the latter route. Deck promptly decided to proceed to Jamestown. They deemed it advisable to avoid the towns, especially Albany, the capital of the county; and it seemed to be necessary to provide themselves with a quantity of food, for they might not be able to procure a dinner or a supper as readily as they had a breakfast.
They dismounted, and entered the store. They found the postmaster half asleep behind his counter; and when Deck inquired if he had anything to eat, he replied in a very sulky manner that he had nothing. He had been robbed of about everything he had that was eatable by runaway soldiers like themselves, who had deserted from the army.