“What’s the matter with your father?”
“I don’t know; he was taken suddenly.”
“Pears like your uniform ain’t exactly our sort,” added the soldier.
“Mine was all used up, and I got one on the battle-field.”
“I wouldn’t do that. It’s mean to rob a dead man of his clothes.”
“Couldn’t help it—I was almost naked,” replied Tom, who perfectly agreed with the rebel on this point.
“You kin go on, Old Virginny,” said the soldier, whose kindly sympathy for Tom and his sick father was highly commendable.
The soldier boy thanked the sentinel for his permission, of which he immediately availed himself. Tom did not yet realize the force of the maxim that “all is fair in war,” and his conscience gave a momentary twinge as he thought of the deception he had practised upon the honest and kind-hearted rebel. He was very thankful that he had not been compelled to put a bullet through his head; but perhaps he was more thankful that the man had not been obliged to do him a similar favor.
The fugitive walked, with an occasional rest, till daylight the next morning. He went through three or four small villages. After passing through the Gap, he had taken the railroad, as less likely to lead him through the more thickly settled parts of the country. Before him the mountains of the Blue Ridge rose like an impassable wall, and when the day dawned he was approaching Manassas Gap. He had walked twenty-five miles during the night, and prudence, as well as fatigue, required him to seek a place of rest.