Tom of the Raiders | Page 9

stood looking out.
"Call your dog off," yelled Wilson.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded the farmer. The dog
continued to bark, but he did not approach them.

"We're on our way to Wartrace," answered Wilson, "and we're lost in
the storm. Can you give us a place to sleep?"
"Are you soldiers?"
Wilson paused a moment, then answered, "No."
"Come on up here then, and let's look at ye," answered the farmer.
"Here, Shep, shut up that barking! Come here!"
They saw the dog curl up at its master's feet, and they went forward.
"How far are we from Wartrace?" asked Wilson, as they approached
the door.
"'Bout two miles," answered the farmer. "Wait there, and I'll take a look
at ye." He reached to one side and took a lamp. Then, shielding his eyes
from the light, he held it up and glanced from one to the other. The dog
came toward them, whining and growling. "Shut up, Shep. All
right--come on in."
They entered the shanty. In one corner of the room a dilapidated stove
was glowing; in another corner there was a bed, made of rough boards,
with a pile of dirty bedding on the straw. A table and one chair
completed the furniture. Near the door some farm implements were
stacked. A rusty, battered pan on the floor caught the water that dripped
in through a leak in the roof.
Now, for the first time, the three adventurers had an opportunity of
seeing each other. Tom, as he took off his cape and water-soaked coat,
glanced first at Wilson, then at Shadrack. Wilson was a tall man, nearly
forty, with a serious face. His mouth was stern, and he had sharp gray
eyes. Shadrack was short and plump. He was still blowing and puffing
from his exertions in the mud, but he laughed as he took out a
handkerchief and wiped his face. He had, in truth, been eating mud, for
his face was streaked with it. "Had my mouth open when I fell," he
explained.

The farmer stood at the door, watching them silently as they took off
their shoes and put them by the stove. Finally he asked, "What are you
going to Wartrace for?"
Tom had been wondering what story they had better tell him. They
were still north of their own lines, even though they were in enemy
country, and he felt that there might be some danger in saying that they
were on their way to join the Southern army. He decided to leave the
response to Wilson, who, because of his age and experience, was the
natural leader. But, before Wilson could speak, Shadrack replied:
"We're from Fleming County, Kentucky, and we're going through the
lines to join the Confederate army."
Wilson frowned and shook his head at Shadrack.
"So?" asked the farmer. "Goin' to fight the Yanks, eh?"
"Yep," answered Shadrack, "an' we're goin' to give 'em a good licking!
That's what they need! We've seen all we want to see of Yanks."
"Well, I'll tell you right now that you're going to waste yer time,"
replied the farmer. "An' maybe you'll waste more than that."
Shadrack sat down on the floor near the fire, and Tom squatted beside
him.
"You have some pretty bad rainstorms in this part of the country, don't
you?" Wilson asked.
While Wilson was speaking, Tom nudged Shadrack, and muttered, "Be
careful--don't talk too much." Shadrack's eyes lighted in puzzled
surprise.
After a long silence, the farmer spoke: "You men better turn around
again an' go back to yer homes. Yer folks need you more than the
South does. The North is going to win this war."
In their hearts they were elated to hear a Southerner say that their own

troops would be victorious; but, having told one story, they decided not
to change.
"No," said Wilson solemnly, "we must go on."
Presently the farmer arose and stretched, "I'll go out an' see if the
chickens are all right," he said, and left the shanty.
"Don't be a fool," said Wilson earnestly, "Don't be a better rebel than
the Southerners."
"I'm sorry," replied Shadrack. "That's what we were told to say...."
"I know," interrupted Wilson, "but we have to be careful in the way we
tell that story. For one thing, remember that we're still inside our own
lines."
"Yes," replied Shadrack ruefully.
"I think you'd better do the talking for us," suggested Tom to Wilson.
"We'll just agree to what you say."
"Now, that's a good idea!" exclaimed Shadrack. "We'll just nod our
heads an' say, 'That's right!' I'll not say a word after this."
A half-hour passed before the farmer returned. Without speaking, he
took off his boots and coat, and lay down on his bed. The others
arranged themselves