He broke off suddenly. He did not wait to be challenged by the sentry as he turned, but greeted him with a sort of plaintive humility and a mendicant's confiding manner.

"Ma.r.s.e Soldier, could ye gimme a chaw of terbacker, please, sir?"

The soldier would not have allowed even one of his own officers to pa.s.s from the house or enter it without the countersign, but he was thrown off his guard by this personal appeal; and although he could not comply with the request, not being given to the bad habit of "chawin'

terbacker," he shifted his weapon from hand to hand while he rummaged his pockets for "fine-cut" for the pipe of old Ephraim--the fraud, who was amply supplied.

"Neb mind--neb mind," the old man said deprecatingly. "Thanky, sah, thanky! Dere's anodder soldier round de front po'ch--mebbe he's got a chaw!"

And this sentinel, having listened to the colloquy with his comrade, as well as distance would permit, adopted his friendly tactics and was able to produce the requisite "chaw." He naturally supposed the countersign had been demanded and given at the door whence the servant of the house emerged, for after unctuous and profuse thanks old Ephraim swung off down the hill with another great gush of song--"I want ter go ter heaben when I die--" echoing far over the grove and the silent camps beyond.

Listening to the resounding progress of his departure the first sentry thought of course that in letting him pa.s.s his comrade had taken the countersign. It was only a vague thought, however, cast after him. "That old night-hawk is bound for the river, I guess, going fishing," for nocturnal angling was the favorite sport of the darkeys of the region.

The soldier did not even notice when the surge of the chant gave way to a musical whistle, still carrying the air with great spirit and a sort of enthusiasm of rhythm, "An' de angels bid me ter come along." Still less did he discriminate the difference in the change of sound, not immediately apparent, so elusive was it, and difficult to describe, when a whistle of a different timbre took up the air and finished the phrase--"I'll shout salvation as I fly!" After a pause Uncle Ephraim was in the distance, humming now, and soon all sound ceased. Both the sentinels would have sworn he had quitted the grove.

But it was not alone the wind among the young firs that tossed their branches to and fro, when trembling, terrorized, casting now and then a horrified, rebuking glance at the radiant moon, as the flying scud drew back and left the sphere undimmed, he sought the spot he had marked when the responsive whistle had apprised him that his signal was understood and answered. At length he paused to catch his breath and wipe the cold drops from his brow.

"Lawdy ma.s.sy! dese yere shines dat dis yere Rebel cuts up will be de death ob me--ef dey ain't de death ob himse'f fust!"

He judged from his close observation he was on the spot--yet he could not ascertain it. Suddenly hard by the roots of a great lush specimen of a Norway spruce, the boughs lying far on the ground, his foot slipped on the thick spread of the fallen needles. He could not recover himself. He was going down--down. His courage all evaporated. He would have screamed if he could. In his terror he had almost lost consciousness till all at once he felt a strong grasp of aid and heard a familiar smothered laugh that restored his faculties with the realization of success and the recognition of a friend at hand.

"Hesh! Hesh!" he said imperatively. "Dat laffin' an' laffin' is gwine ter be de _de_struction ob you an' all yer house, an' 'fore de Lawd, ole Ephraim, too!"

He had no response, but he had submitted himself to guidance. He was being led along a downward course in a narrow subterranean pa.s.sage, his feet shuffling and kicking uncertainly as he ludicrously sought for the ground and to accommodate his gait to the easy accustomed stride of his conductor. They made more than one turn before Julius paused and said: "We might as well stop here, Uncle Ephraim. We can sit down on the rocks. Did my father send me any message? Is the officer much hurt?"

"Do you think you kin pitch folks down them steep steers, an' not hurt 'em, you owdacious, mis_chie_vious chile! His head is consider'ble nicked,--an' dat's a fac'!"

"Is that all?" said Julius, evidently much relieved. "What word did my father send me?"

"No word! He didn't know whar dee is--an' I didn't tell him whar I was goin' ter hunt fur dee."

"Oh, but he _must_ know--he must not be left so uneasy. Oh, how I wish I had never come to disturb and endanger my good father!"

It was dark, and he did not care that Uncle Ephraim should hear his sobs.

"Now, look-a-yere, Ma.r.s.e Julius, chile--de less folks knows 'bout dee, de less dey is liable ter be anxious. What you reckon I brung dee?"

"Some supper?"

"Lawd, no! I ain't hed time ter git ye supper."

"Some money? I don't want any money. My father gave me money in case of any necessity when I was to run the pickets--_gold_!" He c.h.i.n.ked some coins alluringly in his pocket.

"'Tain't money. It's--_cloes_!"

"Clothes?" said Julius, uncertainly.

"'Twas dat ar tarrifyin' Rebel uniform dat got dee in dis trouble ter-day. Ye got ter change dem cloes. Ye can't run de pickets, an' ye can't git out'n de lines nohow in dem cloes."

Julius hesitated. The uniform was in one sense a protection. To be taken in his proper character, even lurking in hiding, did not necessarily expose him to the accusation of being a spy which capture in disguise would inevitably fix upon him.

"What clothes did you bring,--Aunt Chaney's?" he asked, prefiguring a female disguise, and reflecting on the ample size and notable height of the cook.

A sort of sharp yelp of dismay came out of the darkness. Old Ephraim wriggled and shuffled his feet audibly on the rocks in his effort at emphasis and absolute negation.

"Ma.r.s.e Julius you is gone _de_ranged! Surely, surely, you is los' what sense you ever had! Chaney wouldn't loan ye ez much ez a apern or a skirt out'n her chist ter save ye from de pit o' perdition! I hes been reckless and darin' in my time, but de Lawd knows I never was so forsook by Providence as ter set out ter carry off any wearin' apparel belongin'

ter dat 'oman, what's gin ober ter de love o' de cloes in her chist. Dat chist is de idol ob dat _de_stracted heathen 'oman, an' de debbil will burn her well for de love o' de vanities she's got tucked away dar.

Chaney's cloes! Gawd A'mighty! _Chaney's_ cloes! Borry _Chaney's_ cloes!"

"Well, whose clothes, then, Uncle Ephraim? You know I couldn't get into the citizen's clothes I left at home. I'm three inches taller, and a deal stouter. And it would be dangerous to try to buy clothes."

"Lissen; I disremembered dere wuz a trunk in de garret what wuz brung down from de Devrett place when de Yankees tore down de house an' built de fort. It b'longed ter yer cousin Frank's wife's brother, an' wuz sent home atter de war broke out when he died in some outlandish place--I dunno whar, in heathen land. As I knowed he wuz tall an' spare, I 'lowed de cloes mought fit dee. So I opened de trunk--an' de cloes wuz comical; but not as comical as a Rebel uniform in dese days an' dis place."

Julius had a vague vision of himself, robed in the comicalities of the dress of the Orient,--j.a.panese or Arabian or Turkish,--seeking an escape in obscurity and inconspicuousness, through the closely drawn Federal lines.

"Oh, Uncle Ephraim!" he whined, almost in tears, because of the futility of every device, every hope.

"You wait till I show dem ter dee!" exclaimed Uncle Ephraim, hustling out the bundle from under his coat.

It proved to be a small portmanteau that had been itself enclosed in the trunk. This much was discernible by the sense of touch. Old Ephraim placed it on the ground, and then, lowering his voice mysteriously, he asked solemnly, "Ma.r.s.e Julius, is you sure acquainted with dis place?"

"I certainly am," declared Julius, the tense vibration of triumph in his voice. "I know it from end to end!"

"Den, ef I wuz ter strike a light, could dem sentries see hit at de furder e-end?"

"Not to save their souls. We're ever so far down, and the tunnel has already made three turns."

"Ef dey wuz ter follow us, dey couldn't crope up unbeknownst on us?"

"They'd break their necks at the entrance if they didn't know the place or have a ladder."

"Dere is a ladder ter de stable, dough," the old man urged, vaguely uneasy.

"We'd hear 'em putting it down."

"Dat's so! Dat's so!" cried Uncle Ephraim, all cheerful alacrity once more.

He forthwith struck a match and lighted one of his candle ends, which he fixed on the ledge of the rock by holding it inverted for a few minutes, then on the hot drippings placing the taper erect. He had shielded it with his hand during this process, and on perceiving no draught whatever, looked up in amazement at the strange surroundings--a rugged stone tunnel stretching far along into the dense blackness of the distance, fifteen feet in height, perhaps, and of varying width,--about ten feet where they stood; evidently this was an offshoot of some extensive subterranean system, not uncommon in the cavernous limestone country, therefore exciting scant interest, and perhaps never heretofore explored, even in part, save by Julius and the Devrett boys when it might be made a factor in Christmas fun.

"De Lawd-a-ma.s.sy," exclaimed Uncle Ephraim, looking about in awe and by no means prepossessed in favor of the aspect of the place. "Is disher de bestibule ob h.e.l.l?"

But the attention of Julius was concentrated on the portmanteau, a very genteel-looking receptacle, which when open disclosed the garments that Uncle Ephraim considered so comical. They were, indeed, a contrast with his standard of proper attire for a "gemman of quality"--this being the judge's fine black broadcloth, with a black satin waistcoat and stock, and with linen laid in plaits, the collar standing in two sharp points.

But for the first time that day Julius had a sudden hope of deliverance.

No kaftan, kimono, nor burnoose as he had feared, but he was turning in his hands a soft, rough-surfaced tweed of a dark fawn color, with tiny checks of the style called invisible, the coat bound with a silk braid on which Uncle Ephraim laid a finger of doubt and inquiry, looking drearily up into the young man's face. For this was a novel finish indeed in those days.

"These are of English make," said the discerning Julius, beginning to understand that the foreign "heathen land" to which old Ephraim had referred was England. Julius now remembered that his cousin's brother-in-law, James Wrayburn, had been sojourning there at the time of his death. The garments had lain in the garret for more than a year, but in those days so slow was the transmission of styles across the Atlantic that the cut was by no means antiquated, indeed was in accord with the fashion that was familiar on the main street of the town. There was a hat of soft felt of a deep brown, and the old servant had added from the trunk two or three white Ma.r.s.eilles waistcoats and some neckties and linen.

"Dee got on good new boots," he observed, glancing down at the young man's feet.