“That will do, you bet,” added Turkin. “We’re great on a trick—ain’t we?”
“There’s nothing like a well-managed trick,” answered Somers, as he placed the card in the Testament, which had been given him for the purpose. “You are sharp fellows, and this thing will work to a charm.”
“I cal’late it will; but ger ’long; we want our supper. After that we’ll show you a trick wuth two of that.”
They walked to the side door of the house, which was some distance from the stable, so that the arrival of the guerillas had not been noticed by the people within. The villains seemed to have a very wholesome dread of Colonel Grayhame, for they often alluded to him in connection with the present operation; and they had already discovered that his main force was not far in advance of them, while detachments of his regiment were guarding the railroad, not half a mile from the house.
“See here, Yank; I don’t know as we kin trust yer,” said Turkin, who had accompanied him to the door, leaving his companions in an arbor, within hail of the mansion.
“I don’t care whether you do or not,” answered Somers. “This isn’t my job; it is yours.”
“I’ll go in with yer, with my face kivered up, and if yer don’t talk right up, I shan’t ask yer whether yer’ll be shot afore supper or arter.”
“I’ll do just what you tell me to do.”
“Ger ’long, then.”
Somers knocked at the door, which seemed to displease his rude companion, who wished him to walk in without any ceremony; but the “cat’s paw” explained that a certain degree of courtesy would help the enterprise, and the guerilla assented, though with an ill grace. The door was opened by a sleek, black servant.