‘’Ceptin’ ’bout the “Trailin’ Terrors,”’ chuckled Ephraim. ‘Ye see thet came inter my hed and sorter slipped out before I could stop it. I ’low I war rather sot back when he purposed ter put me up agin the cunnel; and ef it hed come ter thet, I’d hev owned up at once. But it’s jest ez well,’ he went on, ’fer ef the ginrul hed known who we war, he’d hev been bound ter rope us in fer a while, till he’d got the rights er the story, and thar’s no tellin’ when we’d hev got home.’
‘We’re not there yet,’ said Lucius dubiously.
‘I know thet, sonny; but we’re on the way; fer now we know whar we air, and we won’t be long in gettin’ out er this, I tell ye.’
‘Where are we?’ asked Lucius. ‘Somewhere about Port Republic, I gathered from what was said.’
‘Right, bub. We’re on’y ’bout three miles from thar, and that’s whar old Stonewall is, holdin’ the bridge. But the road and the woods between this and thar is choke-full er Yanks; so, ez ye rightly remark, we ain’t thar yit. On our right is the Shenandoah, ez full er water ez an egg is er meat, and on our left is the Blue Ridge, so we carn’t do nuthin’ but go straight on.’
‘We can’t go by the turnpike either,’ said Lucius, ‘for I fancy there would be a pretty to do if two Federal soldiers were caught walking in the direction of the enemy.’
‘Thet’s so,’ returned Ephraim. ‘We must keep ter the woods and make the best of it. It won’t do ter git lost in ’em agen, though, and come wanderin’ back upon Lewiston. We must hold close by this edge.’
‘Where is Lewiston?’ inquired Lucius. ‘It’s a name I don’t know.’
‘I reckon it’s thet fine big house way back thar, what we saw when we fust came out er the woods, or nearly—whar the Yankee cannon wuz planted. And I tell ye what it is. Ef old Stonewall whips Frémont to-day—and I reckon he will—thar’s goin’ ter be the biggest kick-up thar ter-morrer you ever heard on. Shields expects it, that’s cl’ar; fer didn’t ye hear him say he’d wait the attack thar?’
‘I did,’ answered Lucius; ‘but if the bridge is carried, it may make a difference.’