“Up above, sar.”
“Is your master a Union man?”
“I reckon he isn’t, sar. He’s a right smart reb’l, sar.”
“Where are you going?”
“Dunno, sar.”
“How long have you been in his service?”
“Much as a monf, sar.”.
The captain asked many other questions, but Alick gave prudent answers; he did not know much, and what he did know, he did not know certainly. De Banyan’s man, taking his cue from his fellow-servant, answered in similar terms, and nothing was made out of either of them.
During the evening Somers learned, from various members of the band, that the guerillas were only a portion of an organized body, duly recognized by the Confederate government, engaged in partisan warfare. The talent and address of Major de Banyan had attracted the attention of the chief, who affected strategy rather than a bold and dashing policy. Captain Lynchman’s perception was creditable to him, and if the major would have engaged in the foul business, he would undoubtedly have been an invaluable assistant.
Our travellers were regarded as members of the band, but really they were prisoners. They found no opportunity to interchange a word of counsel, or to take a single step for their future safety. Both of them were anxious to reach the headquarters of “Fighting Joe;” but the delay was not voluntary on their part. De Banyan had chosen between capture and compromise. He had presented, as he always did, a bold front, and disarmed suspicion in the beginning by his skill and address—had actually won the hearts of his new companions.