Chasing an Iron Horse Part 6

Watson bit his lip. "We're coming to too close quarters with the enemy,"

he thought, and he felt like retreating from the mansion with his companions. But it was too late. Such a move would only excite suspicion, or, worse still, lead to pursuit. "We must face the thing through," he muttered, "and trust to our wits."

Mrs. Page ushered the strangers, including the delighted Waggie, into a large, handsomely paneled dining-room on the left of the hallway. She made them gather around an unset table. "Sit here for a few minutes," she said, "and the servants will bring you the best that Page Manor can offer you.

In the meantime, I'll send Major Lightfoot to see you. He may be able to help you in some way."

She closed the door and was gone. "I wish this Major Lightfoot, whoever he is, was in Patagonia at the present moment," whispered Watson. "It's easy enough to deceive the Southern country b.u.mpkins, and make them think you are Confederates, but when you get among people with more intelligence, like officers----"

"What difference does it make?" interrupted Macgreggor, looking longingly at a mahogany sideboard. "Didn't you hear Mrs. Page say the Major was a Virginian? He doesn't know anything about Kentucky."

"That's lucky," laughed Watson, "for we don't either."

"Hus.h.!.+" came the warning from George. The door opened, and several negro servants began to bring in a cold dinner. What a meal it was too, when the time came to partake of it, and how grateful the three hungry travelers felt to the mistress of the house. When it had been disposed of, and the servants had left the dining-room, George said, almost under his breath: "Hadn't we better be off? We have a good number of miles yet, between here and Marietta."

Watson was about to rise from the table when the door opened to admit a tall, stalwart man of about thirty, whose cold, gray-blue eyes and resolute mouth denoted one who was not to be trifled with. He was dressed in the gray uniform of a Confederate officer, but he had, presumably, left his sword and pistols in another room. The visitors stood up as he entered.

"Glad to see you, my men," he said, shaking hands with each one.

"Is this Major Lightfoot?" asked Watson, trying to look delighted, but not making a brilliant success of it.

"Yes," returned the Major. "I hear you boys are Kentuckians."

"We are," said Macgreggor stoutly; "we are ready to die for our country, and so we are journeying southward to enlist."

"You're a pretty young chap to take up arms," observed the Major, eyeing George keenly.

"One is never too young to do that," answered the boy. He was determined to put a bold face on the affair, and he saw no reason why the Confederate officer should suspect him if he spoke up unhesitatingly.

"The South has need of all her loyal sons," remarked Watson, who felt no compunction in deceiving the Major, whatever might have been his sentiments as to hoodwinking Mrs. Page.

"So you all come from Kentucky?" went on the officer. "That interests me, for I come from Kentucky myself!"

The jaws of the three strangers dropped simultaneously. Had a bomb fallen at their feet they could not have been more disconcerted. What did they know about Kentucky, if they had to be put through a series of cross-questions by a native! But there was no reason, after all, why the Major should dwell on the subject.

"I thought Mrs. Page said you belonged to a Virginia regiment," exclaimed Macgreggor, almost involuntarily.

"So I do," replied the Major, "but I only settled in Virginia two years ago. I was born and bred in Kentucky, and there's no state like it--now is there?"

"No!" cried the trio, with a well-feigned attempt at enthusiasm. They felt that they were treading on dangerous ground, and resolved to play their parts as well as they could.

"Do you all come from the same part of Kentucky?" queried the Major, as he sat down on a chair, evidently prepared for a pleasant chat.

"From Fleming County," said Watson carelessly, quite as if he knew every other county in the State. "I fear, sir, we must be moving on towards Chattanooga. We are in a hurry to enlist, and we have already been delayed too long."

The Major completely ignored the latter part of this sentence. "From Fleming County," he said. "Well, that's pleasant news. I know Fleming County like a book. There is where my father lived and died. What part of the county do you come from?"

Had the Major asked them to tell the area of the United States in square inches he could not have propounded a more puzzling question.

"Dunder and blitzen;" thought Watson. "If I only knew more of Kentucky geography I might get myself out of this sc.r.a.pe."

"We come from the southeastern part of the county," said Macgreggor, after an awkward pause.

"Near what town?"

Another pause. Oh, for the name of a town in the southeastern part of Fleming County, Kentucky. The Major was looking at the visitors curiously.

Why this sudden reticence on their part?

At last Watson spoke up, although evasively. "We were a long distance from any town; we worked on adjoining farms, and when the call to arms came we determined to rush to the rescue of our beloved Southland."

The Major gave Watson one searching look. "Humph!" said he, "that's all very pretty, and I'm glad you are so patriotic--but that won't do. What is the nearest town to the places you live in?"

The name of Carlisle flashed through Watson's mind. He recalled that it was somewhere in the part of Kentucky in which Fleming County was situated. A man he knew had once lived there. He would risk it.

"The nearest town is Carlisle," he said shortly. "And now, Major, we really must be off! Good-bye!"

He started for the door, followed by George and Macgreggor, who were both devoutly wis.h.i.+ng that such a state as Kentucky had never existed.

"Wait a second," suddenly commanded the Southerner, stepping in front of the door to bar the way. "You seem to be strangely ignorant of your own county. Carlisle happens to be in the adjoining county."

"Here, sir, we're not here to be examined by you, as if we were in the witness box," cried Watson, who hoped to carry the situation through with a strong hand. He would try a little bl.u.s.ter.

A sarcastic smile crossed the firm face of Major Lightfoot. "Don't try to bluff me," he said quietly but sternly; "for it won't work. I see very clearly that you fellows have never been in Fleming County, nor do I think you have ever been in Kentucky at all, for the matter of that. You certainly talk more like Yankees than Kentuckians."

"Then you don't believe us?" asked Macgreggor, trying to a.s.sume an air of injured innocence.

"Certainly not," answered the Major. He folded his arms, and regarded the visitors as if he were trying to read their inmost thoughts. "You are lying to me! And as you've lied to me about coming from Kentucky, it's quite as likely you've lied to me about your being on your way to enlist in the Confederate army. For all I know you may be Union spies. In short, my friends, you are acting in the most suspicious way, and I put you under arrest!"

George's heart sank within him. He was not afraid of being arrested, but to think that he might never take part in the bridge-burning expedition.

Lightfoot turned the key in the door.

Watson walked up to the Major, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Look here," he said, in the tone of a man who is quite sure of his position.

"You talk about putting us under arrest, but you're only playing a game of bluff yourself. We are three to your one--and I'd like to know what is to prevent our walking out of this house, and knocking you down, too--or, if you prefer, shooting you--if you attempt to stop us?"

Lightfoot laughed, in a superior sort of way. "Go, if you want," he said curtly; "but I don't think you'll go very far." His eyes glistened, as if he thought the whole scene rather a good joke. "Half a mile back of this mansion there's a squadron of Confederate cavalry picketed. If I give them the alarm they'll scour the whole countryside for you, and you'll all be in their hands within an hour."

Watson turned pale. It was the paleness of vexation rather than of fear.

"Why were we fools enough to come to this house," he thought. He knew how quickly they could be caught by cavalrymen.

The Major smiled in a tantalizing manner. "I think you will take my advice and surrender," he said, sitting down carelessly in a chair and swinging one of his long legs over the other. "If, on investigation, it proves that you are not spies, you will be allowed to go on your way. If there's any doubt about it, however, you will be sent to Richmond."

Macgreggor, with a bound, leaped in front of the Confederate, and, pulling out a revolver, pointed it at Lightfoot's head. "Unless you promise not to have us followed, you shan't leave this room alive!" he cried with the tone of a man daring everything for liberty. George fully expected to see the officer falter, for he had seen that the Major was unarmed.

But Lightfoot did nothing of the kind. On the contrary, he gave one of his provoking laughs. "Don't go into heroics," he said, pus.h.i.+ng Macgreggor away as though he were "shoohing" off a cat. "You know I would promise anything, and the second your backs were turned I'd give the alarm. You don't think I would be fool enough to see you fellows walking away without making a trial to get you back?"

Macgreggor hesitated, as he looked at George and Watson. Then he answered fiercely, handling his pistol ominously the meanwhile: "We've but one chance--and we'll take it! We will never let you leave this room alive, promise or no promise. You are unarmed, and there are _three_ of us, armed."

The Major did not seem to be at all startled. He merely changed the position of his legs, as he answered: "Killing me wouldn't do you any good, my boy! If you do shoot me before I can escape from the room the shooting would only alarm the house--the cavalry would be summoned by Mrs.

Page, and you would find yourself worse off even than you are now."

Watson touched Macgreggor on the shoulder. "The Major's right," he said; "we would only be shooting down a man in cold blood, and gaining nothing by it. He has trapped us--and, so long as those plagued cavalrymen are so near, we had better submit. I think I've got as much courage as the next man, but I don't believe in b.u.t.ting one's head against a stone wall."