"You are a dirty Yankee; and I'd rather hev a hundred n.i.g.g.e.rs in my house than one Yankee."

"That's a matter of taste. If you are fond of negroes, I don't interfere with you for that."

"Shet up!" snarled the farmer, highly displeased with the answer of the fugitive. "I won't hev a Yankee in my house a single hour."

"Very well; we won't argue the matter. You can do anything you please about it," replied Somers with perfect indifference as he seated himself in a chair.

"Then yer kin leave."

"I shall not leave; on the contrary, I shall remain here till night."

"I reckon we'll see about that. I'll jest go down and call up two or three of them soldiers, and let 'em know you're a Yankee. I calkilate they'll tote you out of this rather sudden."

"Go ahead!" replied Somers coolly.

"I reckon ye'll tell another story by the time they git here."

"I reckon your son Tom will too," added the unwelcome guest.

"See here, dad; that won't work, nohow," interposed the hopeful son.

"They'll ketch me if yer do."

"Exactly so," added Somers, who, of course, had depended upon the situation of the rebel deserter for his own safety.

The farmer looked at his intractable guest, and then upon his dutiful son; and the idea tardily pa.s.sed through his dull brain that the soldiers would be just as dangerous to the welfare of the son as to the visitor.

Probably he had intended, when the military force came, to send Tom up the chimney, as he had done a dozen times before; but the secret was no longer in the keeping of the family alone.

"I see you understand the case perfectly," said Somers, as he contemplated with intense satisfaction the blank dismay of both father and son. "If you had the wisdom of Solomon, you couldn't comprehend it any better."

"I reckon ye're about right, stranger," replied the farmer.

"You can see now it is for your interest as well as mine that we make friends. Tom's safety and mine are both the same thing. The best you can do is to take good care of me to-day, and at night help me to make my way over to the other side of the river."

"Then yer be a Yank?"

"I didn't say so. Tom can go with me if he likes. He will be safer there than here."

"Tom?"

"If he is a deserter from the rebel army, he will be caught sooner or later, and be shot. He will be safe on the other side of the river."

"Go over to the Yanks! He hates 'em wurs'n pizin. Don't yer, Tom?"

"Bet yer life I do, dad," replied the hopeful son. "I won't go over thar, nohow."

"Just as he pleases about that. I only wanted to do him a friendly act."

"Well, stranger, I don't mind keepin' yer to-day; but Tom can't go with yer."

"Very well; then I will stay in this room; and, if the soldiers come, I can go up the chimney with Tom," replied Somers. "I'm tired and sleepy.

Didn't sleep a wink last night. I will take a nap on the floor. You will wake me, Tom, if there's any danger; won't you?"

"Yes, I'll wake yer," replied the deserter with a broad grin.

"We'll see that you don't git caught; kase, if yer do, of course, Tom'll git caught too," added the farmer.

There was something in his manner which Somers did not like. Though he was a man of dull mind, there was a kind of low cunning visible in his look and manner which warned Somers to be cautious. He stretched himself on the floor; and the farmer and his son left the room, closing the door behind them.

Our scout was, as he had before declared, both tired and sleepy; but rest and sleep were luxuries in which he could not permit himself to indulge in the midst of so much peril and so many enemies. As soon as the door closed behind the sire and the son, he rose from his reclining posture, and hastened to reconnoiter the position. The enemy--for such he was fully a.s.sured his host was--pa.s.sed through the entry and out the door at the back of the house, as Somers discovered from the noise of their retreating footsteps.

There was a window in the rear of the room, which commanded a full view of them as they paused near the door to consider the situation. Somers raised the sash a little, so that he could hear what they said, not doubting that his own case would be the subject of the conversation.

"Don't you do it, dad," protested Tom in answer to some proposition which the farmer had made before the listener came within hearing distance of them.

"Don't yer be skeert, Tom. The feller's gone ter sleep in there, and the soldiers kin hurry him off afore he wakes up. Don't yer see, Tom? I reckon the Yank's an officer, and they'll give me suthin handsome fur ketchin him."

"Yes; but, dad, they'll get suthin handsome fur ketchin me too."

"You kin hide, as yer allers does when they comes."

"But the Yank will blow on me."

"What if he does?"

"He'll tell 'em I'm up chimley, and then they'll look fur me."

"Tom, ye're a bigger fool'n yer father!" said the farmer petulantly.

"Can't yer hide in t'other place down suller?"

"It looks kinder skeery, dad," replied the doubtful son.

"Yer used ter hide down suller more'n yer did up chimley. But don't yer see, Tom, arter I've called in the soldiers, and give up the Yank, they'll think I'm a patriot, and won't b'leeve nothin' a dirty Yank can say agin' me."

"Well, dad, I hate the Yank as bad as you do; but yer must be keerful."

"Now go and see that the feller don't wake up and run off, and I'll go down arter a sergeant and half a dozen men. When yer hear us comin', just step down suller'n crawl inter the drean. Git the feller's pistol out of his pocket, if yer kin, while he's asleep."

"What a precious old scoundrel that man is!" thought Somers, as he retreated from the window, and threw himself on the floor where the farmer had left him.

He almost regretted that he had not used his pistol on the treacherous old villain, who had made a fair bargain with him, and agreed to the terms of the contract. The wretch had actually gone after the soldiers to entrap him, and Tom was to remain and keep watch of him in the meantime.

Taking the revolver from his pocket, he thrust it under his blouse; still keeping his hand upon it, so as to make sure that the deserter did not carry out his part of the programme. Thus prepared for the conflict which might ensue, or for any other event, he closed his eyes, and pretended to be asleep.

Presently the door softly opened, and Tom crept into the room. He had taken off his shoes, that his step on the uncarpeted floor might not disturb his prey, and stole towards him. After approaching as near to the prostrate form as he dared, he bent over him to determine in which pocket the pistol had been placed. Somers was tempted to grapple him by the throat, as he listened to the young villain's subdued breathing; but he feared that he would scream if he did so, and it was necessary to achieve his conquest in a more gentle manner.

He moved his body a little, as if his slumbers were disturbed by unpleasant dreams; and added a noise like a snore to complete the delusion. Tom retired for a moment till his victim should again be composed; but Somers, instead of subsiding into the slumber of a sleepy and tired man, gradually opened his eyes and waked up. Slowly rising into a sitting posture, he looked around him; and apparently, as if entirely by accident, he discerned Tom.

"Can't yer sleep?" asked Tom, with extraordinary good nature for a person of his saturnine disposition.