“Who be yer?” asked the man, a little mollified by this conciliatory remark.
“Never mind who I am now. The soldiers are in the house looking for us; and, if you make a noise, they will hear you.”
“What regiment do yer belong ter?” said the lower occupant of the chimney in a whisper.
“Forty-first,” replied Somers at a venture, willing to obtain the advantage of the fellow’s silence.
“Did yer run away?”
“No. Did you?”
“What yer in here fur, if yer didn’t run away, then?” asked the deserter from the rebel army, which it was now sufficiently evident was his character.
“Keep still!” replied Somers, regretting that he had not given a different answer.
“I know yer!” exclaimed the rebel, making a movement farther down the chimney, thereby detaching sundry pieces of stone and mortar, which thundered down upon the hearth below with a din louder, as it seemed to Somers in his nervousness, than all the batteries of the Army of the Potomac. “Yer come to ketch me in a trap. Scotch me if I don’t blow yer up so high ’twill take yer six months ter come down ag’in!”
“Keep still!” pleaded Somers, in despair at the unreasonableness of the rebel. “The soldiers are after me; and, if they catch me, they will catch you. 1 don’t want to hurt you. If you will only keep still, I will help you out of the scrape.”