The one in the larger boat pulled up a cleverly fitted board in the bottom of the boat, and taking out a letter, slipped the just received parcel into the cavity and dropped the plank back into place. “There’s a letter for you,” he said, passing it to the new-comer. Without another word the stranger shoved off and in a moment was lost in the darkness.
“Was n’t that Joe Bagby?” questioned the man’s companion.
“’Sh! We don’t mention no names, if it can be avoided.”
“You need not fear me. I am in the general’s confidence, and know as well as you that No. 2 is Major-General Parsons of the Connecticut line.”
“That ’s more than I knew,” muttered the boatman; “so you see, Colonel Hennion, ’t is as well not to mention names.”
In silence the boat drifted onward, save for an order presently given that the rowers turn in toward the left bank.
“Seems like I hearn suthin’,” suddenly came a voice out of the darkness.
“’T is only we, fishin’ for what ’s to be caught!” said the boatman.
“No danger of yer catchin’ nuthin’ here,” asserted the unseen speaker.
“Pull into the pier, boys! We ’re got your son aboard, Hennion.”