“I shall not leave; on the contrary, I shall remain here till night.”
“I reckon we’ll see about that. I’ll jest go down and call up two or three of them soldiers, and let ’em know you’re a Yankee. I calkilate they’ll tote you out of this rather sudden.”
“Go ahead!” replied Somers coolly.
“I reckon ye’ll tell another story by the time they git here.”
“I reckon your son Tom will too,” added the unwelcome guest.
“See here, dad; that won’t work, nohow,” interposed the hopeful son. “They’ll ketch me if yer do.”
“Exactly so,” added Somers, who, of course, had depended upon the situation of the rebel deserter for his own safety.
The farmer looked at his intractable guest, and then upon his dutiful son; and the idea tardily passed through his dull brain that the soldiers would be just as dangerous to the welfare of the son as to the visitor. Probably he had intended, when the military force came, to send Tom up the chimney, as he had done a dozen times before; but the secret was no longer in the keeping of the family alone.
“I see you understand the case perfectly,” said Somers, as he contemplated with intense satisfaction the blank dismay of both father and son. “If you had the wisdom of Solomon, you couldn’t comprehend it any better.”
“I reckon ye’re about right, stranger,” replied the farmer.