VII
BOB SECURES A UNIFORM
As his father concealed himself, Bob had left the chamber. He was in a perfect agony of mind. He knew that his father could not escape, and if he were found dressed in citizen's clothes he felt that he could have but one fate. Once the men went toward the passage that led through to the rear entry in which his father was concealed. Bob's heart stood still; but he acted quickly. He flung himself on the floor right in the entrance and began to work quietly by the dim firelight. The searchers passed by. All sorts of schemes for rescue entered his head. Suddenly he thought of a small group of prisoners he had seen pass by about dark. He had talked with one of them, a major. A guard said they were on their way to General Denby's camp. He would save him! Putting on his hat, he opened the front door and slipped out. A sentinel tramping up and down on the porch accosted him surlily to know where he was going.
"Won't you come in and get warm?" said Bob, hospitably.
"Can't. Wish I could. It's cold enough out here. Cold as th' State of Maine. I wish I was in old York right now by a good stove."
"I wish you were, too," said Bob, with sincerity.
"I'd give a mite to see that old white steeple again, and the moonlight on the snow stretching down toward the mill-pond; and hear the tide ripping in."
"What do you do with your prisoners when you catch them?" inquired Bob.
"Send some on to prison—and hang some."
"I mean when you first catch them."