He looked at me in surprise. “I reckon, Cap, as how ye don't know much 'bout whut's a goin' on in ther valley fer ther las' few months,” he said soberly, rubbing down his mule as he spoke. “Tell ye whut, thar jist hain't no plantation houses left thar now, thet's a fac', leastwise not north o' ther lines we uns sorter hol' onto yit. Sheridan he played hell with his cavalry raids, an' whut the blue-bellies left ther durned guerillas an' bushwhackers wiped up es clean es a slate. Durn if a crow wudn't starve ter deth in ther valley now. Why, Cap, them thar deserters an' sich truck is organized now till they're mighty nigh an army, an' they don't skeer fer nuthin' les' ner a reg'ment. I see more ner a hundred an' fifty in one bunch up on ther White Briar two week ago, an' they're worse ner a parcel er pirates. I reckon as how they got Mariar, but I 'll bet she giv 'em a hot ol' time afore she done quit.”
Rumors of this state of affairs to north and west of our defending lines had already reached me,—indeed, the verification had formed part of my instructions; but Bungay's homely yet graphic description made the situation appear terribly real, and my thought went instantly forth to those I knew who might even then be exposed to this great and unexpected danger. That it was indeed menacing and constantly growing worse I could not doubt; the certainty of our early defeat was leading to almost wholesale desertions, and doubtless many of these went to swell those lawless ranks, whose sole purpose was plunder, and whose safe rendezvous was the inaccessible mountains. Wherever the guarding armies left neutral ground, there these bands overflowed and inaugurated a reign of terror. What they had been in their weakness I knew well through experiences of the past; what they might become in strength I could readily conjecture,—wild wolves of the hills, to whom human life was of no account, the fierce spawn of civil war. The very conception of Edith Brennan in such hands as these was agony. I felt I could never rest until assured of her safety, and since my orders granted me full authority to prolong my journey, I might ascertain whether or not she yet remained within the valley.
“Jed,” I asked, my mind finally settled, “do you know the old Minor plantation?”
“Ol Jedge Minor's place? Sure; it's up on ther south branch of ther Cowskin, an' used ter be quite a shebang afore ther war, an' afore ther ol' Jedge died. I reckon as how he hed ther biggest gang o' niggers in ther whole county, an' he wus allers durn gud ter 'em tew. Never no nigger ever run 'way from ol' Jedge Minor, ye bet. Mariar she used ter live thar whin Mis' Celie wus a baby.”
“Have those fellows got down that far yet?”
“Wal, I reckon not, but durn if I know fer sure, Cap. Ther whole valley is mighty bare north o' thar, fer I rid through it, an' Beelzebub hed ter live on clay, fer sure. Gee! but he wus hot. So them thar vultures hes got ter either work south er quit, an' I reckon as how they hain't likely ter quit till they hes tew. 'Sides, they're strong 'nough by now ter laugh et any sojers thar'bouts, an' ther ol' Minor place u'd make mighty gud pickin'. Thar hain't neither army ever bin up thar durin' ther war.”
“How long would it take us to reach there?”
“'Bout two days, I reckon, pervidin' ye shuck ther Dutchman.”
I turned and looked at my men in some perplexity. They were scattered along the edge of the road, and only one group had taken the precaution to build a fire. The Sergeant lay flat upon his back on a grassy knoll, his stomach rising and falling with a regularity which convinced me he was sleeping.
“Ebers,” I said sternly.