"There is the road we are to investigate," said Life, pointing with his long forefinger. "By the lay of the land, I should say it doesn't amount to anything. The infantry and cavalry may get through, but never the artillery."

"Well, all we can do is to make an examination and report," answered Artie. "But see here, why isn't a detail of the Engineering Corps doing this work?"

"Every man is engaged elsewhere. Besides, we are to look for rebels while we are at it. The general is inclined to believe there are spies in this vicinity. If we run across any such cattle, we are to la.s.so them and bring them in."

After this, the two relapsed into silence, for the rain was driving into their faces, and it was difficult to talk while m.u.f.fled up in their storm capes. They descended the slope on the other side, then turned into a small woods, where the tall trees afforded some shelter.

Two miles had been covered, and the horses were making good time on a rocky road-bed, when, looking ahead, they saw a split in the highway.

One branch ran to the southward, the second, a few points to the eastward.

"Which is which?" asked Artie, as he drew rein.

"That's the riddle. One road looks as if it was travelled about as much as the second."

"And neither very much, Life."

"I think we had better try the one to the right."

"And I was going to suggest the one on the left."

"Well, they can't both be right."

"No, only one is right--the other is left," laughed the young captain.

"And you'll be left to take the left," said the tall Kentuckian. "But, seriously, which had we better follow?"

"I don't know--unless we toss up for it."

"There may be sign-boards about. Let us look."

They made a careful survey of all the trees and posts in the vicinity, but nothing like a guide-post came to light. If there had been signs, the enemy had removed them long before.

"I have a suggestion to make," said Artie, as the pair came together in the road again. "Let us each take to a road and ride, say, quarter of a mile. Then we can return and compare notes."

"That would certainly be better than halting in the rain, Artie. It's settled, and I'm off," and using his spurs, Life Knox dashed away down the road to the right. A few seconds later, Artie took the road to the left, little dreaming of the adventure that was in store for him.

CHAPTER XIV

ARTIE IS MADE A PRISONER

Life Knox had been right; the road he had taken was the correct one, while that which Artie was pursuing was merely a side trail, joining the main road again about a half mile beyond. The side road led up to a plantation owned by Colonel d.i.c.k Bradner, one of the most zealous Confederates in the State of Tennessee.

Colonel Bradner was a military man, but he was not now in active service. In his younger days he had served in the Mexican War, and had gained, under General Taylor, a commission as first lieutenant in the volunteer army of that date. His military ardor had cost him his right arm and his left leg, and, being thus crippled, further service was out of the question.

Colonel Bradner had always been a fire eater, hot to the last degree; and if he had had his way, war between the North and the South would have broken out in '58 instead of '61. For a time he had drawn a pension from the government at Washington; but this was now cut off, and the loss made the military gentleman more bitter than ever, if such a thing were possible.

The plantation on the side road was one of good size. In days gone by it had flourished, and been a source of riches to the colonel and his wife, the only members of the household. The slaves had numbered sixty-five, all able-bodied, and all worth five hundred dollars each at the auction block in Memphis. Now all but six of the slaves had run away, the plantation was neglected, and what there had been of stores had been given to the Confederate forces, simply from the fact that, had they not been given up, friend or foe would have confiscated them as one of the necessities of the great conflict.

Unaware that he was wrong, and likewise unaware that he was "running his head into the lion's mouth," Artie galloped down the side trail, sending a shower of mud up against the trees as he pa.s.sed them by. Not a soul was in sight, and it looked as if the neighborhood, for miles around, was deserted.

Presently he reached a negro hut--the first belonging to the Bradner plantation. The door stood wide open, the rain beating far in over the sill. A brief survey convinced the young captain that the abode was deserted.

"The negroes have grown scared, and run for it," he mused, as he continued on his way. "Hullo, there's another cabin, and another. I've struck some village, I reckon--or a plantation. If somebody would only appear--ah!"

Through the low-hanging trees he had caught sight of the mansion, standing between an avenue of pines. To the front was a path of sand, and to the rear a small brook. The fields were on the other side of the brook.

"That looks as deserted as were those cabins," thought Artie, when he saw a woman pa.s.s hastily by one of the parlor windows. Concluding that the men were off to the war, and that the lady was the only person left at home, he turned up the sandy path and rode to the front porch, where he dismounted, and used the heavy bra.s.s knocker attached to the oaken door.

His arrival had been noticed, yet it was several minutes before anybody answered his summons. In the meantime he heard a spirited murmur of voices, as though two persons in the hallway were discussing the situation.

It was Mrs. d.i.c.k Bradner who let him in,--a short, stout woman of fifty, with piercing black eyes and jet-black hair. Her skin was as dark as that of a mulatto, and her features were by no means prepossessing.

"Well?" she snapped, as she threw back the door.

"I stopped for a bit of information," replied Artie, as he bowed and came into the hallway, a wide affair, running directly through to the rear.

"What is it you wish to know?" was the short query, as snappy as her first greeting had been.

"I am a bit mixed on the roads. There is a split about an eighth of a mile above here, and I would like to know if this is the regular road, or if the other road is."

"You're a Yankee officer, I take it."

"I am, madam."

"What company do you belong to?"

"I am captain of the fourth company of the Riverlawn Cavalry, of Kentucky."

"The Riverlawns!" came in something like a gasp. "Well, I never! d.i.c.k!

d.i.c.k!"

"Well, Martha, what?" growled the colonel, from an inner room. "Send him about his business."

"He belongs to the Riverlawns, d.i.c.k,--that cavalry--"

"Hush, Martha." There was the stumping of a wooden leg, and Colonel Bradner appeared. "So you belong to the Riverlawns, Captain? Come in, I would like to talk to you."

"I haven't much time to talk, sir," answered Artie. "I must be on my way. If you will tell me about the roads--"

"In a minute, Captain, in a minute. But I would like a little information myself--about the Riverlawns."

"Yes, we want to know all about them," put in Mrs. Bradner. "My brother--"

"Martha, do let me do the talking," interrupted the colonel, with a significant look behind Artie's back which the captain failed to catch.