Lucius was prepared for the question. While the General had been busied with the despatch, he had been debating with himself how to explain his position. He was sharp enough to know that if once his identity with Lucius Markham were revealed, all hope of being able to rejoin Ephraim would be at an end. His one chance lay in allowing the general to suppose him an ordinary citizen of the valley. He concluded, therefore, that while suppressing his name, his best and wisest course would be to furnish a plain and simple statement of facts. So he answered at once:
‘I will tell you, General. Early this morning my companion and myself—both of us live in the valley—were taken prisoners by a number of Federal stragglers. We were roughly handled, but escaped, and concealed ourselves in the wood between this and Lewiston. There we found two dead Federal soldiers, and disguised ourselves in their uniforms. Presently we were seen and forced to march to the attack upon the bridge this morning. When the Yankees ran away, we were obliged to run with them, and once more took refuge in a hut in the wood. While there we overheard a conversation of General Shields with a Federal scout, and determined to try and intercept the despatches he carried. We were successful, and tried to get up the river in the spy’s own boat, but as we had no oars, the current carried us down, and we only got ashore after a great deal of trouble. We were getting along all right, when we were challenged. There was a fight in which my companion got the best of the sentry, and then we broke and ran, and lost each other. I had the despatch in my pouch, and came on with it at once. I was nearly caught at the last post.’
Jackson listened in silence to Luce’s explanation, and when he had finished, remarked drily: ‘That sounds a very plausible story; but how am I to know that it is a true one?’
Lucius flushed through the dirt which encrusted his cheeks. He was about to reply in his usual haughty and imperious style, but remembering his assumed character in time, choked back the words and said instead: ‘You have only my word for it, General, of course; but the despatch itself is a proof of what I have told you.’
‘Not at all,’ was the unexpected retort; ‘for even that may not be genuine. The whole thing, including your assumption of the Federal uniform, may be merely a device to impose upon my credulity and lead me into a trap.’
At this Lucius was so completely taken aback that for a moment or two he had nothing to say. Then, as Jackson regarded him with his shrewd, dry smile, he burst out passionately: ‘General, we have risked our lives all along the line to bring you that despatch. One of us is, for all I know, a prisoner, or perhaps dead. We could have got away easily enough by simply stopping in our hiding-place if we had not tried to do you this service. If you don’t believe me, I can’t help it; but I declare upon my honour as a Southerner that I have told you the truth.’
The last words came out with so proud a ring that Stonewall eyed him curiously.
‘Who are you?’ he demanded by way of reply.
‘I live in the valley,’ answered Lucius vaguely. ‘So does my chum.—Oh, sir, sir,’ he broke off wildly, ‘do believe me and let me go! They may be killing him even now.’
Jackson started in astonishment, and took a step forward. ‘You don’t ask me to believe,’ he said, ‘that you contemplate returning to the Federal lines to look for him?’