THE LIBRARY 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 33 
 
 SIR 
 
 N.X^^\Ljfv7v^

 
 CHATTANOOGA
 
 CHATTANOOGA 
 
 A ROMANCE 
 
 AMERICAN CIVIL WAR 
 
 BY 
 
 F . A . M I T C H E L 
 
 LATE U. S. A. 
 
 THIRD EDITION 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE AMERICAN NEWS COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS, WHOLESALE AGENTS
 
 COPYRIGHTED, 1891, 
 
 BY 
 F. A. MITCHEL. 
 
 All rights reserved. 
 
 THE MF.RSHON COMPANY PRESS, 
 RAHWAY, N. J.
 
 THE SCENE OF THE STORY. 
 
 WHAT more inviting spot to the romancer of the 
 Civil War than Chattanooga? At least it is so to 
 me. When scarcely out of my " teens," an aide-de 
 camp on the staff of my father, the late General 
 O. M. Mitchel, then operating in North Alabama, 
 it had all the fascination of an objective point, a 
 place beyond the lines whence came vague rumors 
 and wherein lay that unknown force, the enemy. 
 
 I well remember once looking down from a moun 
 tain plateau toward Chattanooga and wondering 
 what was going on there. I did not think that 
 thirty years later the incident would suggest an 
 opening for a story. Then some of the great events 
 of the war occurred there. Armies left Chatta 
 nooga to march on great campaigns, or fought 
 battles " in the clouds " on her heights. 
 
 While the story is purely one of love and ad 
 venture, the dates, topography, location and move 
 ments of troops referred to are given correctly. 
 
 F. A. M.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I. No MAN'S LAND, i 
 
 II. A CHANGE OF UNIFORM, ... 13 
 
 III. A CONFEDERATE HOUSEHOLD, ... 28 
 
 IV. SLACK, THE FARMER'S SON, ... 37 
 V. GLORIOUS PERFIDY, 46 
 
 VI. IN THE ENEMY'S LINES, ... 55 
 
 VII. THE CAMPS AT CHATTANOOGA, ... 64 
 
 VIII. PASSING A PICKET 72 
 
 IX. A DESPERATE SITUATION 84 
 
 X. THE RED SILK HANDKERCHIEF, . . 94 
 
 XI. DE CAUSE OB FREEDUM 105 
 
 XII. A WILLING SERVANT, .... 113 
 
 XIII. FLOATING FOR LIFE 121 
 
 XIV. MARK'S KEEPER, 136 
 
 XV. SOURI AND JAKEY, 147 
 
 XVI. A SOUTH CAROLINA GEOLOGIST, . . 155 
 
 XVII. SURPRISED, 168 
 
 XVIII. OFF FOR THE UNION LINES, ... 182 
 
 XIX. THOMAS GREEN AND WIFE, . . . 195 
 
 XX. FLIGHT 208 
 
 XXI. THE BALL is OPENED, 215
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 i. 
 
 NO MAN'S LAND. 
 
 IT was the 2Oth of August, 1862. Corinth 
 had been evacuated more than two months 
 before. The Army of the Ohio had moved 
 eastward into northern Alabama. The Presi 
 dent and eminent Union generals were anx 
 ious as to east Tennessee, where, it was ru 
 mored, the Confederates were preparing for 
 some new move. 
 
 High in the Cumberland Mountains a sol 
 dier in the blue and yellow -uniform of a pri 
 vate of cavalry sat on his horse, looking down 
 on the valleys of the Sequatchie and the Ten 
 nessee. A carbine was slung over his shoul 
 der, a Colt's revolver was at his hip. He was 
 long, and lithe, and graceful. About him was 
 an air of refinement seldom found under a pri 
 vate's uniform, except during that war which 
 called out men from all classes, both in the 
 North and in the South. His hair was light,
 
 2 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 his blue eye was restless, and denoted its 
 possessor to be a man of great mental and 
 physical activity. While there was something 
 statuesque in the appearance of the man and 
 horse, they presented a marked contrast, 
 accoutered as they were for war, with the 
 peaceful scenes before them and about them. 
 Not a sound was to be heard up there in the 
 mountains, except such as came from the in 
 sects or the birds. The equestrian figure, 
 mounted on its lofty pedestal, was the per 
 sonification of war in solitude. 
 
 As the soldier gazed down upon the expan 
 sive view, different expressions flitted across 
 his face. At one moment there was a serious 
 look, such as men wear on the eve of battle ; 
 at another a shrinking expression ; then a 
 dreamy one. He saw territory that lay beyond 
 the Union lines. He wondered what warlike 
 scenes were hidden down there within the 
 blending of rocks, and rivers, and undulations, 
 lying calm and sweet before him that summer 
 afternoon. Were clusters of white tents there ? 
 Were brigades, divisions, army corps, march 
 ing? Now he thought he could hear a distant 
 creaking of caissons and gun carriages. But he 
 knew this could not be. If they were there, 
 they were too far to be heard. The sounds 
 never became real. The young man's fancies
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 3 
 
 were always broken by the actual rustle of the 
 leaves or some sound from the furred or 
 feathered inhabitants of the mountains. 
 
 Then a scene he had passed through the pre 
 vious evening came up before him. 
 
 He stood in the presence of a general of 
 division, the finest specimen of physical 
 splendor of all the generals of the Union 
 army, one who was a year later to achieve 
 the title of " the Rock of Chickamauga." The 
 general was speaking, while his subordinate 
 was listening respectfully and attentively. 
 
 " I am ordered by the Department Com 
 mander to find out what is going on at Chat 
 tanooga. Our reconnoitering parties have 
 thus far brought us nothing save that there is 
 no enemy very near. We are liable to be 
 flanked and cut off from east Tennessee. See 
 here ! " He turned to a map spread out on a 
 pine table. " Here is Chattanooga ; here the 
 Sequatchie Valley ; up here to the north is 
 Knoxville, held by General Kirby Smith for 
 the Confederates. Here is Cumberland Gap. 
 If the enemy is concentrating at Chattanooga 
 he may not only hold it against a greatly 
 superior force, but can march right along 
 here," he traced the route with his finger, 
 " form a junction with Gerreral Smith at 
 Knoxville, and into Kentucky. Louisville and
 
 4 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 Cincinnati will be in danger. Forrest and 
 Morgan are hammering at our communica 
 tions ; we get reports of immense forces of the 
 enemy at Knoxville ; everything points to this 
 or some similar plan of campaign on the part 
 of the Confederates. If so, they must be con 
 centrating at Chattanooga as a point of ren 
 dezvous." 
 
 The General paused ; then looking the sol 
 dier in the eye said impressively: 
 
 " You are the only man to whom I can in 
 trust so important a mission. I can't order 
 you, as you know, beyond our lines, except in 
 uniform. Go as far as you dare as a soldier ; I 
 leave the rest to you. Will you undertake to 
 bring me the information we require?" 
 
 " I will, General." 
 
 " Very well. The fate of this army, the suc 
 cess of the Union arms in the West, perhaps 
 the prolongation of the war, depend upon you." 
 
 The young man bowed, but said nothing. 
 
 "You will need a pass to get beyond our 
 pickets." The general drew a camp chair be 
 side a pine table and took up a pen. " How 
 will you have it written?" 
 
 " ' Pass Private Mark Malone ' that name will 
 do as well as any 'beyond our lines at will.'" 
 
 The general wrote the pass, and handing it 
 to Private Malone, " Go, and God bless you !"
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 5 
 
 he said. He took his emissary's hand and 
 pressed it heartily. 
 
 As the words, " Go, and God bless you," 
 rang again in memory, the soldier touched the 
 flanks of his horse lightly with his great brass 
 spurs, and began to descend the mountain. 
 
 An hour later he entered the little town of 
 Jasper. Riding up to the tavern he reined in 
 his horse and let him drink at the rough wooden 
 trough in front. A number of country people 
 were sitting on the veranda, and every one 
 fixed his eyes on the soldier who sat on his 
 horse looking about him with as much apparent 
 indifference as if he were within the Union 
 lines. When the animal had drunk his fill his 
 rider cast the reins to a negro and dismounted. 
 Then detaching his carbine from where he had 
 hooked it to his saddle, he took it in his hand and 
 tramped into thehouse to the jingle of his spurs. 
 
 Not a word was spoken by those watching, 
 in admiration, the strapping young fellow with 
 so young a face set on so stalwart a frame. He 
 paid no attention to them, but walked into the 
 dining-room and called for supper. After de 
 voting himself to a plate of bacon and corn 
 bread, with a cup of chicory in lieu of coffee 
 (for the blockade of the Southern ports had 
 stopped the flow of the coffee bean from for 
 eign countries), he walked out on the gallery,
 
 6 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 and, seating himself on a wooden bench, took 
 a briarwood pipe and a tobacco pouch out 
 of his pocket and began to smoke. 
 
 Jasper was "no man's land." The people 
 living there and thereabout were nearly all 
 Confederate sympathizers, but had learned to 
 look for Union or Confederate troops with an 
 equal chance of either. From the moment of 
 the soldier's arrival they had discussed his com 
 ing in whispers. Soldiers of either side usually 
 came in numbers. It was seldom that a single 
 trooper had the hardihood to enter the town 
 of Jasper alone, especially one wearing the 
 blue. Presently an old man, dressed in " butter 
 nut," got up from his seat among the loungers 
 and approached the stranger for the purpose of 
 reconnoiter: 
 
 "Reckon y' come from Decherd, Yank?" 
 
 "Thereabout." 
 
 "Over the mountains?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "You uns got many sojers over thar?" 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "At Sparty." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Murfreesboro' ? " 
 
 "I don't know." 
 
 "Reckon thar's a powerful sight at McMinn- 
 ville?"
 
 CHA1TAXOOGA. 7 
 
 "A division, perhaps." 
 
 The man paused a moment and then went on : 
 
 "Thet's an all fired peart rifle o' yourn. 
 Wouldn't mind letten me handle it,would yer ?" 
 
 Mark cocked the piece, took off the cap, and 
 handed it to his interrogator. He still had his 
 revolver, while the man had a weapon which 
 could not be fired without a percussion cap. 
 
 " Wai now, thet's quar." 
 
 The man looked from the rifle to the soldier, 
 not knowing which to admire most, the mech 
 anism of the former or the coolness of the lat 
 ter. Then he handed it back. 
 
 " You ain't no Yank." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 "Yanks don't come down hyar all alone. 
 Besides a Yankee sojer wouldn't ride a blooded 
 mar like that-a-one. Morgan's men rides them 
 kind o' critters and wears them uniforms some 
 times." 
 
 Mark smiled knowingly. 
 
 "You think I'm one of Colonel Morgan's 
 men, do you? " 
 
 "Reckon yer one o' ourn, anyway." 
 
 And the man walked away, well satisfied 
 with his penetration. 
 
 The soldier got up, went into the tavern and 
 paid for his supper with one of the postal shin- 
 plasters used at the time in lieu of silver;
 
 8 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 then he came out and called for his horse. 
 While waiting he stood leaning against a post 
 of the gallery, maintaining the same easy confi 
 dence that had characterized him since his ar 
 rival. Presently a negro came around from 
 the barn, leading the slender-legged mare, and 
 the soldier, sauntering up to her leisurely, 
 stroked her neck ; then mounting, without once 
 looking at his observers, he rode away. 
 
 But Private Malone's confidence was all as 
 sumed. He did not start on the road he de 
 signed to follow; he trotted off up the valley 
 intendi-ng later to find a path or a cross road 
 which \vould take him southward to the Chat 
 tanooga pike. He suspected that the group he 
 was leaving would not suffer him to ride that 
 night in safety, and he did not care to let them 
 know his true route. 
 
 Mark trotted on up the road while the daylight 
 was fading. He was musing upon the difficult, 
 the hazardous task before him. The road was 
 deserted except by himself ; the evening was 
 still, and his horse's hoofs beat loud on the 
 stones beneath him. When he was riding in 
 the open, he felt comparatively confident ; but 
 upon entering a thicket he would uneasily 
 reach down and put his hand upon his rifle. 
 He knew the bushwhacker of the period, and 
 fancied that a rifle or a shotgun lurked behind
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 9 
 
 every tree. Amid the peaceful quiet of a sum 
 mer evening in the country, it was strange that 
 one should look for death ; none but a prac 
 ticed scout would have been thus on the alert. 
 
 The twilight was nearly faded. Mark had 
 gone about three .miles from the tavern, when 
 nearing a fork in the road he heard : 
 
 "Halt, thar!" 
 
 Instinctively his hand went to the handle of 
 his revolver, for the sound was near enough to 
 indicate that a pistol rather than a rifle might 
 be needed. 
 
 "Air you uns the sojer ez tuk.supper at the 
 tavern at Jasper? " asked a voice, singularly 
 soft for a bushwhacker. 
 
 "Well, suppose lam! " 
 
 " I know y' from yer voice." 
 
 " How's that ? " asked the soldier, puzzled. 
 
 "Kind o' deep and smooth like. Y' mought as 
 wall put up yer shooten iron. I got a bead ony'." 
 
 Mark could see no one, but, judging from the 
 voice of the speaker, his alarm partially subsided. 
 
 " I reckoned y' mought come along hyar, so I 
 jist squatted and waited." 
 
 " Well, what do you want with me? " 
 
 " I'm one o' the Slacks. We're Union, we 
 Slacks air. They're goen to drive us out soon, 
 I reckon."
 
 10 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Union, eh? What are you man, woman 
 boy, or girl ? " 
 
 "I'm a gal." 
 
 "The Dickens. What are you stopping me 
 for at the muzzle of a gun ? " 
 
 " Lordy ! How'd I know y' ? Y' mought a 
 ben a bushwhacker. I war at the tavern whar 
 y' tuk sopper. The landlord's wife, she's my 
 aunt. I sor y' come in and hearn y' talken to 
 old Venables. They reckoned y' war Confed 
 erate till y' paid in Yankee shinplasters ; then 
 they reckoned y' mought be Yankee after all." 
 
 Mark began to be interested. It was now 
 evident to him that this being, ensconsed be 
 hind a snake fence, holding him under cover of 
 a gun, was a friend instead of an enemy. 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " I kem out hyar to tell y' 'bout it." 
 
 " Then let me see you as well as hear you." 
 
 A figure with a gun climbed over the fence 
 and advanced toward the soldier. When it 
 came near enough Mark saw a girl who might 
 be anywhere between sixteen and eighteen, for 
 her skirt only reached to the tops of her shoes, 
 and her hair was cut square around her neck. 
 She came very near to him and spoke in a low 
 tone : 
 
 "After y' left the tavern some on 'em 'lowed
 
 CHATTANOOGA. II 
 
 y' was Union, and some on 'em 'lowed y' was 
 Confederate ; least-a-ways, they wasn't sartin. 
 Uncle, he's bad secesh, and he 'lowed y' was 
 Union and bound on some errant fur the Yan 
 kees. So he pursuaded several on 'em ter 
 mount 'n follow y'. They was gitten ready, 
 and I slipped out to the barn and tuk my 
 pony, what I rode over on this afternoon, 'n 
 Jakey's squirrel gun (Jakey's my brother), what 
 I allus carries when I ride round in these hyar 
 war times, 'n I makes tracks cross country by 
 a trail I allus goes to uncle's, 'n comes hum 
 agin, while the men air comen by the road. I 
 jist rode Sally Maria among the trees thar and 
 tied her and squatted behind the fence till y' 
 come along and Lordy sakes ! " 
 
 " What's the matter now ? " 
 
 " Listen ! " 
 
 They were both quiet for a moment, the 
 girl's two big black eyes denoting her anxiety. 
 They could distinctly hear the tread of horses 
 coming on a brisk lope. 
 
 Without a word the girl seized Mark's bridle 
 rein and led horse and rider off the road into 
 the wood. At a short distance behind a rise in 
 the ground, she stopped. Mark was inclined to 
 go on further. 
 
 " No, no," she said hurriedly. " My pony's 
 right thar. If she ketches sight o' your horse 
 she'll whinny."
 
 12 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 Mark dismounted, and the girl, plucking a 
 handful of grass, held it to his horse's mouth 
 to keep his attention from other matters that 
 he might not neigh and betray them. The 
 two stood looking at each other, while the 
 sounds grew lounder, dreading every moment 
 that either one of their horses might give the 
 signal that would lead to their discovery. 
 There were evidently not less than half a dozen 
 of the horsemen on the road ; altogether too 
 many for one man, even if well armed, to meet. 
 
 The men rode up to the fork of the road, 
 where they reined in their horses for a parley. 
 It was a question, doubtless, which road the 
 Yankee soldier had taken. Presently they 
 divided, one party taking the left hand road to 
 Tracy City, the other the road leading up the 
 valley. 
 
 As soon as they were gone, Mark took the 
 girl's hand and gave it a grateful pressure: 
 
 " God bless you, my girl ; you've saved me 
 from capture or being shot in the back shot, 
 I expect." 
 
 The girl shuddered. She knew well enough 
 the fate he would have met if his pursuers had 
 overtaken him. They would have come upon 
 him warily and shot him from behind a tree. 
 When the sounds from the retreating horse 
 men had died away in the distance, she said : 
 
 " Come ! "
 
 II. 
 
 A CHANGE OF UNIFORM. 
 
 r PHE soldier followed her, leading his horse, 
 A till they came upon her own pony tied to 
 a sapling. Mark offered to help her mount, 
 but she was not used to such civility, and lead 
 ing her horse to the trunk of a fallen tree, 
 mounted by herself. 
 
 Crossing the road the two entered a wood 
 on the other side. The girl kept a straight 
 course till she came to a creek which she 
 forded below and near a log that had been 
 felled across it to be used for a foot bridge. 
 On the further side she struck an old road, 
 abandoned, at least, for wheels. Mark rode up 
 alongside of her. She was a wild-looking 
 thing, with hardly a trace of civilization about 
 her except her calico dress and cowhide 
 shoes. 
 
 "Where are you taking me to?" asked 
 Mark. 
 
 "Hum." 
 
 " Where's home? "
 
 1 4 Off A TTA NOOGA . 
 
 " Tother side o' th' Sequatchie River." 
 
 " How far is it to the river? " 
 
 " 'Bout a mile from the creek we just 
 crossed." 
 
 " And how far from the river to your home ? " 
 
 " 'Bout another mile. We live on a road 
 ez runs from the Chattenoogy pike to An 
 derson." 
 
 " That's well. I want to reach the pike." 
 
 "Wai, y'll only hev ter go a couple o' mile 
 from our house t 1 git thar." 
 
 " You seem to know all about this country." 
 
 " Reckon I do. I was born hyar. I done a 
 heap o' hunten in these hyar woods. I toted 
 a gun all over 'em." 
 
 " Tell me something about yourself. What's 
 your name? " 
 
 " Souri." 
 
 " Souri what ? " 
 
 " Slack." 
 
 " Oh yes ! You're one of the Slacks, you 
 told me. Isn't Souri a singular name for a 
 girl?" 
 
 " Wai, dad he kem from Missouri. So that's 
 what he named me." 
 
 " Have you a mother?" 
 
 " Yas." 
 
 " Brothers and sisters? " 
 
 " Henery and Jakey."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 15 
 
 " How old are they?" 
 
 " Henery, he's 'bout twenty-two. He's in 
 Jim Brown's company o' east Tennessee Cav 
 alry? " 
 
 "What? Union cavalry ?" 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 "You mean regiment, not company. I know 
 Brown well. How old is your other brother?" 
 
 " Jakey ? he's thirteen." 
 
 " At home ? " 
 
 " Yas." 
 
 " What are you going to do with me when 
 you get me to your home ? " 
 
 "Take y' to the barn, I reckon." 
 
 " Why not to the house ? Aren't your folks 
 all right? I thought you said they were 
 Union." 
 
 " Oh, they're all Union. But mebbe they 
 mought suspect at the tavern (seein I'm gone 
 'thout sayen good-by and knowen I'm Union), 
 that I ve put y' up to somepen or tuk y' 
 hum." 
 
 " Souri," said Mark meditatively, " do you 
 know that since I met you I have been " 
 
 " Doin' a job o' thinkin' ? " 
 
 " You've hit it exactly." 
 
 "What about?" 
 
 " I've been thinking that you're nobody's 
 fool."
 
 1 6 CHA TTA NOOGA . 
 
 The girl laughed, or rather chuckled. She 
 enjoyed the compliment and was too unsophis 
 ticated to pretend that she did not. 
 
 They soon struck a dirt road leading directly 
 south, which they followed till they came to 
 the Sequatchie River, striking a ford at the 
 same time. Souri led the way into the ford, 
 Mark following. Her pony was used to such 
 crossings, this one in particular, while Mark's 
 horse preferred to feel his way slowly ; conse 
 quently Souri reached the opposite bank before 
 Mark had got half way over. 
 
 It was now night, but it was clear, and a half 
 moon cast its faint light upon the land and the 
 river. Mark suddenly looked up from the 
 water, and saw Souri on the bank watching 
 him. Had he been near enough he would have 
 seen anxiety depicted on every feature of her 
 face. 
 
 "Keep up the stream! " she called, pointing 
 at the same time. 
 
 He turned his horse's head as she directed, 
 but soon, lowering his eyes to the water, began 
 to go down stream again. 
 
 " Look at me " ; she called, " don't look at 
 the water. It's runnen makes it seem sif y' war 
 goen straight when yer goen crooked. Thur's 
 a ledge o' rocks below thar and deep water 
 beyond."
 
 CHA T TA NOOGA. 17 
 
 Mark fixed his eyes on his guide, and turn 
 ing his horse's head toward her, urged her for 
 ward. She picked her way slowly, as if con 
 scious of danger, and at last, coming to the 
 brink, stepped quickly out of the water and 
 shook herself. 
 
 " What makes you tremble so ? " he asked 
 of Souri. 
 
 " I ain't," she said, coloring. 
 
 " Is that a dangerous ford ? " 
 
 " Ef you'd a tumbled offen the ledge y'd a 
 drownded." 
 
 " I've done some scouting before this, but I 
 see now that I haven't learned to cross a cur 
 rent till to-day. Next time I'll look out for 
 something on shore to steer by." 
 
 Another ten minutes brought them home. 
 They came upon the house from its rear. It 
 fronted on the road running northward, and 
 faced east. Souri led the way to a rickety barn, 
 where both horses were stabled. She left 
 Mark in the barn while she went into the 
 house to inform the inmates of his presence. 
 
 Presently she came out. 
 
 " Dad lows y" mought come in fur a spell 
 'thout much resk. They won't know o' y'r 
 bein' hyar yet a while. Least-a-ways thar's no 
 hurry. But dad reckons y' mought sleep in 
 the barn with one eye open."
 
 1 8 CHA TTA NOOGA . 
 
 " I shall not sleep anywhere to-night. I 
 must go on. But I'll go in with you for a 
 while." 
 
 A man met them at the door with white, 
 shocky hair and a stubble beard. He looked 
 sixty, though he was ten or fifteen years 
 younger. He walked as if he were following 
 the plow. His trousers were drawn nearly up 
 to his arm-pits, a double-breasted waistcoat 
 served in lieu of a coat, and an old woolen hat 
 covered his head to the back of his neck. 
 
 "Them blue clothes looks kinder peart to 
 we uns down hyar, ez ain't seen nothen but 
 gray," said the man. " I 'lowed when you uns 
 went up ter Chattenoogy last June and fired 
 them big guns at the town yer was agoin' to 
 hold onto these hyar parts." 
 
 " Perhaps it was a mistake," said Mark, " but 
 I never criticise the acts of my superiors." 
 
 "Come inter th' house." 
 
 The dwelling was composed of two square 
 log houses, some ten feet apart, under one 
 roof, with a floor between the two. The man 
 led Mark into one of these parts or houses. 
 The articles in it that struck the soldier's eye 
 were: a very high bedstead, heightened further 
 by a feather bed ; a chest of drawers, and a 
 clock on the mantle, that ticked loud enough 
 to be heard out in the barn. There were some
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 19 
 
 pieces of rag carpet on the floor, two or three 
 hard-seated chairs, and a rocker. 
 
 "What yer got fur supper?" the old man 
 asked as his wife entered. 
 
 " I don't want any supper," said the soldier. 
 " I only ate an hour or two ago." 
 
 The woman, who was bent down through 
 some nervous disease, went to the chest of 
 drawers, took therefrom a cob pipe and some 
 tobacco, and began to smoke. 
 
 " Much shaken among the sojers,-stranger?" 
 she asked. 
 
 " At the beginning of a fight there's a good 
 deal," replied Mark; "but after they're once 
 in, they get on without much trouble." 
 
 "Don't mean that kind o' shaken ; ager." 
 
 " Oh, ague. No, I don't think there's much 
 ague." 
 
 "Fever?" 
 
 " There's always more or less' camp fever. 
 It seems as if every man who campaigns in this 
 country must have a dose of typhoid to get 
 acclimated." 
 
 " Thur's a powerful lot o' fevers 'bout hyar. 
 Thur's the typhoid, the broken bone, the in- 
 termitten, and the ranitten, and onct en a 
 while we git yaller Jack when it comes up the 
 Mississippi from Orleans." 
 
 " That's a good deal of fever," replied Mark ;
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " but, to come down to business, I want to say 
 a few words to you people. You're sure you're 
 Union?" 
 
 " Sartin," said the old man. 
 
 "Got a young'un in Jim Brown's company 
 of east 7>;/nesseans," said the old woman. 
 " I hearn th' all hed the measles in th' spring. 
 Henery hed it." 
 
 " Yes, that regiment was nearly all down at 
 one time. Now, I'm going on a very dan 
 gerous mission. May I rely on who are 
 
 you ?" 
 
 A boy about thirteen years of age had come 
 into the room, and squaring himself before 
 Mark began to stare at him. 
 
 " Jake," replied the intruder. 
 
 "I have something of importance to say to 
 your father and mother." Then turning to the 
 parents, " Won't you please send him out ? " 
 
 " Jes's y' li'ke stranger," answered the father, 
 " but mebbe Jake mought show y' th' way or 
 somep'n. He's purty peart." 
 
 Jake's appearance did not bear witness to 
 the encomium. 
 
 " Well, let him stay. I would like to rely 
 on this house as a place of refuge in case I have 
 to get back here rapidly. I want you to take 
 care of my horse, and if I never come you can 
 keep him. If I do come, I'll pay you more lib-
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 21 
 
 erally for horse fodder than you ever were 
 paid before." 
 
 " You talk purty rich fer a common sojer." 
 
 "Don't fear for that. I have money," and 
 Mark showed a roll of bills that astonished his 
 host. 
 
 " Do you agree? " 
 
 " Sarten, but the money don't make no differ. 
 I'm a Union man to the backbone." 
 
 " Have you any citizen's clothes ? " 
 
 " Thur's Henery's store clothes, ez he left 
 when he went to jine th' army." 
 
 " Will they fit me ? " 
 
 " Reckon so. Henery's 'bout your size," 
 
 Slack took the soldier into the twin log cabin 
 and there gave him a suit of clothes which 
 were intended for best wear, but they had evi 
 dently been so intended for years, with fre 
 quent deviations from the intention. Mark 
 took off his uniform which, with his rifle and 
 pistol and other accouterments he put under 
 the bed. Then he drew off his boots (so loose 
 that he could easily remove them without un 
 buckling his spurs), and put on a pairof shoes. 
 A felt hat completed his attire. 
 
 " La sakes ! " said Souri, raising her hands as 
 she met him passing between the cabins, thus 
 arrayed for secret service. 
 
 As Mark entered the room where he had
 
 2 2 CHA TTA NOOGA . 
 
 left Mrs. Slack and Jakey, their eyes stood out 
 worideringly. Jakey 's admiration for the sol- 
 dier in uniform had been great, but one who could 
 suddenly transform himself was an object of cu 
 riosity. Mr. Slack followed Mark into the room. 
 
 " Now, how about the road ? " asked Mark. 
 
 "Whar?" 
 
 " To Chattanooga." 
 
 " Wai, y' mought go right up the road in 
 front 'n the house fur 'bout a mile. Then 
 y'll come ter a road leadin' sort o' southeast 
 like. Ef y' go down this ar road it'll take y' 
 ter th' Chattenoogy pike. Jakey, you mought 
 go along 'n show 'm th' way." 
 
 " Do you know the road your father speaks 
 of, leading to the Chattanooga pike? "asked 
 Mark of the boy. 
 
 " Does I know Souri ? " 
 
 " None o' them side-a-ways talken, Jake. 
 Answer straight," said Mr. Slack severely. 
 
 " Recken I does. I knows all th' roads 'bout 
 hyar." 
 
 Mark looked at the boy and thought a few 
 moments without speaking. He was a stupid- 
 looking child, but Mark thought that if he 
 could get him to go with him it might avert 
 suspicion. Were he brighter he might be of 
 use, perhaps. At any rate, he would doubtless 
 serve some purpose.
 
 CHA TTANOOGA, 23 
 
 " Jakey," he asked, "how would you like to 
 go with me on a trip ? " 
 
 " How would I like to shoot squirrels?" 
 
 " You Jake ! Didn't I tell yer t' answer 
 straight ? " from the father. 
 
 " Yas, I'd like ter go." 
 
 " I've a mind to take you, if your father will 
 let you go," said Mark meditatively. 
 
 "Many fevers 'bout Chattenoogy ? " asked 
 the mother, taking her pipe out of her mouth 
 and casting an anxious glance at her son. 
 
 " What yer goen ter do with him ? " asked 
 Slack. 
 
 " I only want him for a companion to divert 
 suspicion and well I can't tell exactly what, 
 for an emergency, perhaps." 
 
 " What's a 'mergency ? " asked Jakey. 
 
 " Well, if I should learn something of im 
 portance, I might want to send you back with 
 the news ; or if I should be caught in a in 
 a ' 
 
 "Tree, like a coon, with a gun or a dorg be 
 low," supplied Jakey. 
 
 " That's it exactly. I might want to send 
 word about that." 
 
 " I'm afeard he's too little ter be of any use 
 that-a-way," said the father. 
 
 " Oh, Jakey can't go. He's got ter stay 
 right hyar 'n do hoen'," chimed his mother.
 
 2 4 CHA T TA NOOGA . 
 
 " What do you say, Jakey ? Do you want to 
 go?" asked Mark. 
 
 "Would I ?" 
 
 " You Jake ! " again shouted his father. 
 
 " Course I want ter go." 
 
 " I'll tell you what I'll do. If you will let 
 him go I'll bring him or send him back safely, 
 and leave a twenty dollar greenback here with 
 you for him on his return." 
 
 " Souri ! Souri ! " called Slack. 
 
 Souri came in so quickly as to argue that 
 she had not been out of hearing of all that had 
 passed. 
 
 " Snack fur these two uns," said her father. 
 
 Souri departed, and presently returned with 
 a bundle containing cold eatables. 
 
 " Now, Jakey," said his father, as they all 
 stood at the front gate before the departure of 
 the two travelers, " remember yer a Unioner, 
 'n treat the stranger far." 
 
 " Oh, I ain' no slouch 'f I am little," replied 
 the boy, with a shrug and a scowl, indicating 
 that he regarded the injunction entirely un 
 called for. 
 
 " 'N Jakey," called his mother, "don't yer 
 go en sleep out nights 'n git th' ager." 
 
 " Never yer mind, maw. I ain't go'n ter git 
 no ager." 
 
 The two started off up the road. The air
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 25 
 
 was pleasant, and it was not too warm for 
 tramping. They passed out of the clearing 
 and were about entering the wood into which 
 the road took them when they heard a 
 step behind them. Turning, there was 
 Souri. 
 
 " How long d' y' 'low y' mought be gone 
 down thar? " she asked. 
 
 Mark looked into her face and she lowered 
 her eyes. 
 
 " Why do you want to know, Souri ? " 
 
 " Wai, maw, she'll worrit 'bout Jakey." 
 
 " I can't tell you." 
 
 " How fur y* goen ? " 
 
 "To Chattanooga. Perhaps further, but 
 not likely." 
 
 " What'll th* do t f y' ef they ketch y'?" 
 
 " They'll probably lift me off my feet with a 
 hemp cord." 
 
 " They won't, will they ? Don't talk that-a- 
 way." 
 
 She looked at him with her black eyes and 
 shivered. 
 
 " I guess I can get through all right," said 
 Mark reassuringly. " I've done it before." 
 
 The girl stood for a few moments irresolute. 
 Then she drew a red silk handkerchief from her 
 bosom and handed it to Mark. It was the only 
 bit of finery she possessed.
 
 26 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 " What is that for, Souri ? " asked Mark, af 
 fected in spite of himself. 
 
 "Wai, ef I don't see y' no more, y' mought 
 
 keep et ter ter . Mebbe ef y' git inter 
 
 trouble y' mought find a chance ter send it ter 
 me Jakey mought tote it 'n I'll go down 'n 
 
 'n " She turned away. It was evident 
 
 she could not clearly express her meaning, and 
 her voice was getting husky. 
 
 "Good-by, my little girl," said Mark, going 
 up to her and taking her hand. " I have a 
 notion that if it is necessary to the Union 
 cause for my life to be saved again, you will 
 be on hand to save it." 
 
 Then the girl went back to the house and 
 the travelers went on their way. 
 
 " Jakey," asked Mark, " can your sister read 
 writing? " 
 
 " Reckon not." 
 
 " Can you ? " 
 
 " Can I sing like a bird ?" 
 
 "Do you mean that you can or you can't?" 
 
 " I can't." 
 
 "Well, your sister is a good girl, and a smart 
 girl, and a courageous girl. She has saved me 
 once, and if I get into trouble I would rather 
 have her near by than a sergeant and ten men." 
 
 " Reckon she giv y' th' hanshicuf ter send 
 instead o' writen."
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 2 7 
 
 Mark looked down into the stupid face of 
 the boy beside him. He began to think that 
 the child's stupidity was not flattering to him 
 self, inasmuch as Jakey had penetrated farther 
 than he had into Souri's design, and her diffi 
 dence as to confessing her ignorance. 
 
 " I hope there'll be no necessity for that, 
 Jakey. But we must arrange what we shall 
 pass for in Dixie. Now do you know what 
 you are ? " 
 
 " Do I ? " 
 
 " Yes, do you ? " 
 
 "I'm y'r little brother." 
 
 " Exactly ; and what are we going to Chat 
 tanooga for ? What shall we tell 'em ? " 
 
 " Goen ter buy caliker fur maw 'n Souri, 'n 
 galluses fur paw, 'n terbacker fur you uns, 'n a 
 squirrel gun fur me ! " 
 
 When he came to the squirrel gun his little 
 eyes glistened under the rim of his hat. 
 
 " By George ! " exclaimed Mark laughing, 
 "you ought to be 'Old Pap's' chief scout in 
 stead of me." 
 
 "'S that what y' air?" 
 
 " I am, just now." 
 
 " Golly ! "
 
 III. 
 
 A CONFEDERATE HOUSEHOLD. 
 
 MARK and Jakey trudged on. They met 
 no one on the way, but at one part of 
 the road, running through a thick wood, they 
 saw a light in the distance to the right in the 
 thickest part. They halted for a moment and 
 then advanced cautiously. Coming to a place 
 where they could get a view of what the light 
 revealed, they saw several men in " butternut," 
 whose horses were picketed near by, lying 
 around the embers of a fire. 
 
 " Guerrillas," quoth Mark. 
 
 Not caring to disturb these villains, who had 
 no more respect for Confederates than Union 
 ists, they passed on stealthily. 
 
 About midnight they came to a rivulet, 
 and Mark concluded to bivouac there. They 
 turned in among the trees beside the road. 
 
 " Jakey," said Mark, " before we go a step 
 farther or do anything, in fact, we must fix 
 this money." 
 
 He pulled his roll of bills from his pocket. 
 
 " Take off your boot," he said. 
 28
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 29 
 
 Jakey pulled off his boot and handed it to 
 his companion. Mark took a number of bills, 
 and ripping out the lining of the boot put it 
 back in its place with the bills under it. 
 Smoothing it down, he handed the boot back 
 to Jakey, and told him to put it on again. 
 
 They took a bite of the snack Souri had pre 
 pared for them and a drink from the rivulet. 
 Then they laid down, resting their heads against 
 the root of a tree. It was not long before 
 Jakey was asleep, and Mark drew his head over 
 toward himself and laid it against his own 
 breast. Thus the two rested. Mark slept at 
 intervals ; Jakey, with all the soundness of 
 healthy, irresponsible boyhood. 
 
 The moon was setting, and Mark caught a 
 glimpse of it between the lower branches of 
 the trees and the horizon. When he cast his 
 eyes upward he saw the stars. He fell to mus 
 ing upon his singular position. He remem 
 bered that far to the north of him Confederate 
 cavalrymen were dashing hither and thither, 
 attacking bridges, capturing the guards, threat 
 ening Union pickets, and in every way harass 
 ing the army of the Ohio. Yet here he was 
 beyond the Union front, in a region which be 
 longed to no one save the outlaw guerillas 
 ruled neither by the United States nor the 
 Confederacy with all silent and peaceful about
 
 30 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 him. An innocent face, careless of danger, lay . 
 on his breast. The leaves of the trees hung 
 listlessly above him. 
 
 Then that blue vault above ! Its serenity 
 seemed to mock the puny contests upon a 
 world which, with all its campaigns and battles, 
 was but a grain of sand among the heavenly 
 hosts. Its heaviest artillery could not be 
 heard at the nearest planet. Its marshaled 
 armies could not be seen. Save for the re 
 flected light of the sun it would revolve in 
 space, unknown by those on even the nearest 
 planets. And so musing he fell asleep. 
 
 At the first sign of dawn Mark waked Jakey, 
 and after they had both thrown the refreshing 
 water of the rivulet over their heads they 
 started in search of a house at which they 
 designed to " happen in ' at breakfast time. 
 Fortunately they soon found such a place. 
 Turning into the gate at the first farm-house, 
 a farmer's wife received them kindly, and gave 
 them what for that time and country was a 
 palatable meal. 
 
 Refreshed by their breakfast they walked 
 on. Various people countrymen, negroes, 
 Confederate soldiers, and occasionally a squad 
 ron of cavalry passed them on the road, but 
 they were not questioned or interfered with 
 by any one. Occasionally they would ask the
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 31 
 
 road, but upon receiving the necessary informa 
 tion, and after making a few commonplace re 
 marks, would go on. At noon they turned 
 aside from the pike in among the trees and ate 
 what was left of their snack. 
 
 About sunset they reached a large place set 
 back off to the left of the road. The premises 
 were more imposing than any they had yet 
 passed, and they judged by it that they were in 
 the environs of Chattanooga. The house was 
 a large, square, old-fashioned building, with a 
 very high basement. It had two stories, with 
 a peak roof in which were dormer windows. 
 A gallery or veranda extended across the front 
 both above and below. Some large trees were 
 scattered about the yard. In the rear were 
 the negro quarters and the barn. 
 
 Mark determined to ask for food and shelter 
 for the night here. Turning into the gate, he 
 followed a straight road leading for perhaps a 
 hundred yards to the house. A young girl 
 robed in a white muslin dress, of a very simple 
 pattern, and a pink sash, stood on the veranda 
 watching them as they came on. When they 
 reached the steps leading up to where she 
 stood, Mark saw a pair of black eyes looking 
 at him, which, conscious of the deception he 
 was about to practice, seemed to read him 
 through and through. Indeed he was suffi-
 
 32 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 ciently confused to take off his hat to the girl 
 with all the grace and manner of a polished 
 gentleman. 
 
 " If you please, ma'm," he said, assuming the 
 dialect of a countryman, " me 'n my leetle 
 brother's goen ter Chattenoogy. My brother 
 he's walked a right smart show fur sech a 
 younker. Could y 1 give us some supper and 
 a place ter sleep all night?" 
 
 "You can come up here and sit down, and 
 I'll see." 
 
 " What a musical voice," thought Mark. 
 
 The travelers went up on to the veranda and 
 sat on some wooden benches ranged along the 
 rail. 
 
 "Have you come far?" asked the girl, who 
 regarded them with evident curiosity. 
 
 " From our leetle farm on the Sequatchie." 
 
 "Your brother does look tired. Are you 
 hungry, little boy?" 
 
 " Is it a gitten dark?" 
 
 " Why, yes," she said surprised. " What has 
 that to do with it ? " 
 
 " I'm hungry jist as sartin," and Jakey's 
 little eyes glistened at the thought of a hot 
 supper. 
 
 The young lady laughed and went into the 
 house. 
 
 "Mamma, there's a young countryman and
 
 CHA TTAtfOOGA. 33 
 
 his little brother out on the gallery ; they 
 want some supper and a bed for the night." 
 
 An elderly lady, with two white puff curls on 
 either side of her face, looked up from a book 
 she was reading. Her appearance was digni 
 fied and refined. 
 
 " The young man looks quite like a gentle 
 man, if he is a countryman," added the 
 daughter. 
 
 " We must be very cautious, Laura ; you 
 know how we are situated ; your father and 
 brother away, and no man in the house ; we 
 can't let strangers sleep here. But they may 
 have something to eat and peihaps it might do 
 to let them sleep in the barn if they look right." 
 
 " Where shall they have their supper?" 
 
 " Have it put on the hall table downstairs." 
 
 The daughter paused a moment and thought. 
 
 "Do you know, mamma, I can't exactly feel 
 satisfied to put the elder brother in a place 
 given up to the servants." 
 
 " What nonsense, Laura ! We are taking a 
 great risk to let them into the house at all. 
 Heaven grant that the horses are not all taken 
 before morning. The man may be in league 
 with a band of guerrillas, for all we know." 
 
 The daughter withdrew, for the moment 
 quite impressed with her mother's prudence. 
 As she stepped out on the veranda, Mark rose
 
 34 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 respectfully, and stood looking into her black 
 eyes with his blue ones. Her mother's caution 
 fled away before that honest countenance. 
 
 " You can have some supper," she said, " if 
 you care to eat in the lower hall ; and you can 
 sleep you you can sleep " 
 
 Mark was bowing his thanks. 
 
 "Would you mind sleeping in ?" she 
 
 paused again. 
 
 " The barn ? Certainly not." 
 
 " You know these are troublous times," she 
 said apologetically, " and we are alone. I 
 mean we haven't many men in the house," she 
 quickly added, conscious of having made known 
 the household's weakness to a stranger. 
 
 Mark smiled. The young lady was looking 
 at him as he did so, and she thought he had a 
 very charming smile. 
 
 " We will sleep anywhere you choose to put 
 us. Least-a-ways we ain't purticular." 
 
 The first sentence was spoken in his natural 
 way; the second in dialect. Mark's manner 
 of speaking to her was singularly mixed. 
 
 " I suppose your men are fighting our bat 
 tles," he remarked, to relieve an awkward 
 pause. 
 
 " Papa is away." 
 
 " Have you no brothers?" 
 
 "Yes, one; he is fighting for the Confederacy."
 
 CHA TTANOOCA. 3$ 
 
 " And your father? is he at the war? " 
 
 " No ; papa does not care much about the 
 war." 
 
 " Perhaps he's a Union man." 
 
 " Well, yes. Papa is Union." 
 
 Mark concluded to hazard a surmise. "Was 
 he driven out ? " he asked. 
 
 " Not exactly," she said, with a frown. 
 " He's gone North, though." 
 
 She did not like to tell the whole story to a 
 stranger, who was gradually getting a good 
 deal of information. Her father had come to 
 Chattanooga from the North years before, 
 where he had married a Southern woman. 
 After the opening of the war, on account of 
 his pronounced Union sentiments, he had been 
 warned several times to leave, and his family 
 were much relieved when he was well away 
 from the danger that threatened him. 
 
 " You are divided," said Mark, " as we are. 
 Now, my leetle brother hyar's a Union boy. 
 I'm Confed'rate." 
 
 There was a pause, and the girl, remarking 
 that she would see about their supper, turned 
 and went into the house. 
 
 There was a delay in getting the meal ready. 
 Perhaps the negro cook demurred at cooking 
 for " poor white trash "; at any rate, it was 
 quite dark before supper was announced. The
 
 36 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 mistress of the house came out, and as Mark 
 saw her eyeing them both, he knew that she 
 came to have a look at them. Fortunately for 
 him, the darkness prevented her getting a 
 good view of him. Mark at once commenced 
 to probe a mother's heart by dwelling on the 
 tired condition of little Jakey, and kept it up 
 till the lady was quite unwilling to send the 
 boy to sleep in the barn. She inwardly re 
 solved that the child should have a comfort 
 able bed. 
 
 Jakey ate a hearty supper the heartier for 
 the delay and the two wayfarers were shown 
 upstairs to a large room with a big bed in it. 
 A few sticks were lighted on the hearth to dry 
 the dampness, for the room had been long 
 unused, and there was a general air of comfort. 
 Jakey, who had never seen such luxury, rolled 
 his little eyes about and wondered. But he 
 was too tired to waste much time in admira 
 tion. He was soon in bed and asleep.
 
 IV. 
 
 SLACK, THE FARMER'S SON. 
 
 MARK took his pipe and went down to the 
 yard to have a smoke. Going back to 
 the barn, he entered into conversation with an 
 old darky sitting on a barrel by the stable 
 door, and evidently master of the horse. 
 
 " Fine night, uncle." 
 
 " Yas, bery fine night, sah." 
 
 "That's not very good tobacco you're smok 
 ing, uncle. You'd better take some o' this 
 hyar." 
 
 "Thank y', sah." 
 
 " Do you hear any news, uncle ? " 
 
 " Dan'l. My name's Dan'l, sah. No, sah ; I 
 don* git no news 'cept de sodgers is getting 
 mighty thick at Chattenoogy." 
 
 " Do you know how many are there ? " 
 
 " I reckon 'bout free hundred thousand." 
 
 Mark laughed. 
 
 " You're not much at figures," he said. 
 
 " No, sah ; I ain't got no larnen." 
 
 " Uncle, I shan't want anything of you while 
 I'm hyar, but you must have somep'n to 
 
 37
 
 38 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 remember me by all the same," and Mark put a 
 new crisp dollar greenback in the old man's hand. 
 
 " Bress de Lo'd ; you is de fines' specermon 
 ob a po' white genleman I eber had de facila- 
 tude ob meeten." 
 
 "Well, don't spoil it all by tellen tother 
 hands. Keep it to yourself." 
 
 " Sho nuff. I ain't gvvine to tell nobody." 
 
 Mark left Uncle Daniel chuckling on his 
 barrel, and strolled about the grounds. Pres 
 ently he found himself walking near the front 
 of the house. The mother and daughter sat 
 on the veranda in the moonlight. Presently 
 the daughter came down the steps and ad 
 vanced to where Mark was loitering. 
 
 " Mamma says that if you like you may she 
 would be pleased to have you come up and sit 
 on the veranda." 
 
 " Thank you ! " Mark was about to lift his 
 hat in his usual deferential manner, but sud 
 denly remembered that he was not supposed to 
 be a gentleman. He followed the girl up on to 
 the veranda, and she placed a seat for him 
 near where they were sitting. 
 
 " Your brother is a good deal younger than 
 you," said the mother, when Mark was seated. 
 
 " Oh, yes, ma'm ; he is ten years younger." 
 
 " You don't resemble each other at all. You 
 are light and he is dark."
 
 CHJLTTJLXOOGA. . : 
 
 "So we don't. Jakey's my stepbrother, 
 you know." 
 
 " You didn't tell us that," remarked the lady. 
 
 " You're very thoughtful of him," said Mi >> 
 Laura, "considering he is only your step 
 brother." 
 
 "Wai, ma'm. I'm very fond of him all the 
 same." 
 
 " He seems to be a peculiar child." 
 
 "Yas, Jakey he is peculiar; very peculiar, 
 ma'm." 
 
 " You haven't told us your name yet," said 
 the mother. 
 
 u Slack. I'm Farmer Slack's son." 
 
 " How many field hands does your father 
 own ? " 
 
 " Father, he don't own no niggers at all. 
 We're jest only poor whites," 
 
 *' You're very frank about it," said Laura. 
 
 "Wai, there ain't no use maken purten- 
 tions." 
 
 " And you go to Chattanooga to-morrow ? " 
 asked the mother. 
 
 " Yas, ma'm ; I caUate ter do some traden 
 thar." 
 
 " And you will return this \\ 
 
 " I reckon I'll be along hyar in a few days." 
 
 The mother continued the pumping process 
 fora while, but whether she made no progress,
 
 40 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 or whether Mark succeeded in establishing 
 himself in her confidence, she arose, and walked 
 with all the stateliness of a Southern high-born 
 matron into the house. There she resumed 
 the book she had been reading earlier in the 
 evening. 
 
 Mark had kept up his assumed character very 
 well during her presence. Now that he was 
 left alone with the daughter, he was put to a 
 much severer test. The girl had something of 
 the stateliness of her mother, as that stateliness 
 had appeared in her mother's youth. Mark 
 had been so used from his childhood to meet a 
 refined bearing with one equally refined that 
 he found it difficult to avoid doing so now. 
 
 " Don't you love to look at the stars, Mr. 
 Slack ? " asked the young lady. 
 
 " Wai yes, Miss " 
 
 " My name is Laura Fain." 
 
 " I hev always been fond o' the science of 
 He paused ; he suddenly remembered 
 
 that poor " white trash " were not usually 
 versed in any of the sciences. 
 
 " Astronomy? " she supplied. 
 
 " Wai, yas." 
 
 " How did you come to learn astronomy ?" 
 
 " Oh, I don't know nothen 'bout it," he said 
 quickly. " I hearn a man at Jasper talken onct. 
 He said a heap o' quar things."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 4* 
 
 "What bright star is that?" pointing. 
 
 "Venus, I reckon." 
 
 "I wonder how far it is from us?" she said 
 musingly. 
 
 "Venus? why Venus is sixty-eight millions 
 of miles, I reckon." 
 
 " I happen to know that's a correct answer. " 
 
 Mark suddenly became conscious of having 
 forgotten himself. He recollected his critical 
 position and resolved to proceed with greater 
 care. 
 
 " How far is the moon ? " asked Miss Fain. 
 
 " The moon's a hundred million miles, I 
 reckon." 
 
 " Oh, no. You're far out of the way there. 
 It's only about two hundred and forty thou 
 sand miles." 
 
 " Wai, now ! " exclaimed Mark, in well 
 feigned surprise. 
 
 She looked searchingly at him, but Mark 
 looked as if he had simply received an interest 
 ing piece of information. 
 
 " Do you like poetry?" she asked, changing 
 the subject. 
 
 " Some 'at." 
 
 " My favorite poet is Tennyson. Is he 
 yours, too?" 
 
 This was dangerous ground for Mark. He 
 had a special fondness for poetry and was
 
 4 2 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 more likely to betray himself on this than on 
 any other subject. 
 
 " No," he said, " I love Shelley best." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Slack ! how can you understand 
 Shelley? I can't." 
 
 " Wai, he is kinder obscure like." 
 
 "Do you remember any of his poems? If 
 you do I would like to hear you repeat it." 
 
 " Wai, I mought give you a few lines of the 
 ' Ode to the Spirit o' Nature.' " 
 
 " Please do." 
 
 Mark would have done well to let the " Ode 
 to the Spirit of Nature " alone ; but with a 
 beautiful girl beside him, the half moon sink 
 ing in the west, and all nature in repose, he 
 momentarily forgot his assumed character en 
 tirely. He began, intending to give only a 
 few lines and not to forget his dialect ; but the 
 spirit of nature was in him as well as in the 
 poem, and by the time he had recited a few 
 lines he was as oblivious to the character of 
 Slack the farmer's son, as if he had been the 
 poet himself. Suddenly he awoke to the con 
 sciousness of having given the whole poem in 
 his natural tone, and with his ordinary ac 
 cent. 
 
 " Mr. Slack," said his listener, when he had 
 finished, " did you learn that from a man in 
 Jasper ? "
 
 CHA TTA NOOGA . 43 
 
 " No no I wal," he stammered, " I read it 
 in a book." 
 
 He stole a glance at his companion, but 
 failed to detect any unusual expression on her 
 face. He took courage. 
 
 " What do you raise on your plantation ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Oh, we put in some potatoes and corn and 
 straw this year." 
 
 "Straw?" 
 
 " No, no ; not straw." Mark was as little 
 conversant with the farmer's art as he was 
 familiar with the poets. " I mean hay." 
 
 The girl looked at him and smiled. 
 
 " The wheat was all gotten in early this sum 
 mer, I am told," she remarked casually. 
 
 " Yas, we got in ourn early. We jest finished 
 up before I kem away." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Slack ! " 
 
 Mark knew that he had blundered again. 
 
 "Wheat is gathered in July," she informed 
 the young farmer. 
 
 " I mean the corn," he said wildly. 
 
 " The corn comes later. It is ripening now." 
 
 Mark felt it was all up with him so far as de 
 ceiving Miss Fain as to his being a farmer, but 
 he struck out boldly to undo some of the mis 
 chief : 
 
 " Wal, you see, Miss Fain, to tell the whole
 
 44 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 truth, dad he don't reckon much on my farmen. 
 He says I aughter be a perfessor or somep'n 
 o* that sort." 
 
 " A gentleman, for instance." 
 
 Mark made no 'reply. For the first time he 
 detected irony in her tone. 
 
 " Mr. Slack if that is really your name, 
 which I don't believe you are certainly not 
 very complimentary to my sense of perception." 
 
 " How so? " 
 
 " In trying to make me think you are not an 
 educated gentleman." 
 
 Mark saw the futility of keeping up the 
 sham with Miss Laura Fain any longer. He 
 resolved to give her so much of his confidence 
 as was necessary to keep her from betraying 
 him, if indeed he could do so at all. His man 
 ner and his tone changed in a twinkling. 
 
 " I will be frank with you. I am not what I 
 have pretended. But I am not here to injure 
 you or your?." 
 
 "Who arc you?" She spoke with a cer 
 tain severity that she had not shown before. 
 
 "I cannot tell you. My secret is not my own." 
 
 " Are you a Union man ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "A Northerner?" 
 
 " Yes ; but let that suffice. You would re 
 gret it if I should confide anything more to
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 45 
 
 you. Yet from this brief interview I have 
 learned to trust you sufficiently to place my 
 life in your keeping." 
 
 She thought a moment. A faint shudder 
 passed over her. 
 
 " I don't want to know your secret." 
 
 " Will you tell your mother what you have 
 discovered? " asked Mark anxiously. 
 
 " Not for worlds." 
 
 "You suspect He paused and looked 
 
 at her inquiringly. 
 
 " Yes, yes. Don't say any more. Don't 
 breathe another word. Only go away from 
 here as soon as possible." 
 
 " I shall go to-morrow morning. I shall 
 always hold you in grateful remembrance. 
 You are a splendid a lovely woman. I owe 
 you " 
 
 " Yes, yes ; go ; go early." 
 
 She rose and went into the house. In a few 
 minutes a colored boy came out and told Mark 
 that he would show him to his room. As Mark 
 had been there before, he knew this meant that 
 he was expected to retire for the night. 
 
 As he went by the parlor he glanced in. The 
 mother sat by a lamp on a " center table " read 
 ing. Miss Pain's face was also bent over a 
 book. It was white as the margin of the page 
 she pretended to read.
 
 V. 
 
 GLORIOUS PERFIDY. 
 
 WHEN Mark went downstairs the next 
 morning, followed by Jakey, they were 
 invited into the breakfast room. Laura Fain 
 was there, but her mother was not. Mark 
 looked at Laura, but she avoided his gaze. 
 He asked after her mother. 
 
 " Mamma scarcely ever gets up to break 
 fast," she said, as she poured out a substitute 
 for coffee. 
 
 During the meal she said but little, and that 
 was only on commonplace subjects. She 
 seemed to have more on her mind than the 
 soldier who was taking his life in his hands, 
 and studiously avoided looking at him at all. 
 
 Jakey ate heartily. Mark noticed him eat 
 ing with his knife, and otherwise displaying 
 his humble origin, while he was himself eating 
 like a gentleman. He thought that it was 
 lucky Mrs. Fain was not at the table. 
 
 After breakfast Mark followed his hostess 
 through a door opening into a sitting-room on 
 the opposite side of the hall from the parlor. 
 
 " Miss Fain," he said, " I know too well the
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 47 
 
 station of your family and Southern customs 
 not to accept as a gift the hospitality you have 
 afforded. I can only express my indebtedness, 
 and the hope that some day the war may be 
 over and I can come down here and show my 
 gratitude for something of far more moment to 
 me than a night's lodging." 
 
 He paused and then added : 
 
 " May I ask a question? Are you a Union 
 or a Confederate girl ? " 
 
 " Confederate." 
 
 Mark looked at her uneasily. 
 
 " I inferred from what you said last night 
 that you will not betray me." 
 
 "I will not." 
 
 "But you think you ought to." 
 
 " I do." 
 
 Mark stood gazing at her. She was looking 
 out of the window with a troubled expression. 
 
 "Miss Fain," he said, " you may be doing 
 wrong ; you may be doing right. At any rate 
 you are acting the part of a woman, and this 
 act makes you in my eyes the loveliest woman 
 that lives." 
 
 The words were scarcely spoken when the 
 muscles of the girl's face contracted into an ex 
 pression of horror. Mark could not understand 
 why his speech had so affected her. The nat 
 ural uncertainty of his position impelled him
 
 48 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 to look about him for the cause. Glancing 
 out of the front window he saw an officer in 
 gray uniform on horseback in the act of reach 
 ing down to open the gate. 
 
 "Come! quick!" she said, seizing his arm. 
 " No, no ! Mamma! She doesn't know. Oh, 
 what shall we do ? " 
 
 Mark took her by the hand and spoke to her 
 coolly but quickly. " Call Jakey for me and we 
 will both go downstairs and from there to the 
 barn. We can then go out without meeting 
 this officer, for he is doubtless coming in. There 
 is no especial danger. We shall meet plenty 
 of soldiers before we return." 
 
 She flew out of the room to find Jakey. 
 While she was gone Mark watched the ap 
 proaching horseman. He was a fine specimen 
 of a Southern man ; tall and slender, with long 
 black hair, mustache and goatee, and a fine 
 black eye. He looked, as he came riding up 
 the roadway, the impersonation of the South 
 ern gentleman. 
 
 Before he had dismounted, Mark and Jakey 
 were on their way to the barn. 
 
 Laura Fain opened the front door just as the 
 officer was coming up the steps. 
 
 " Why, Cameron ! " she exclaimed, " how did 
 you get away ? I thought you told me you 
 were to be officer of the guard to-day."
 
 CffA TTANOOGA. 49 
 
 " I persuaded my friend the adjutant to de 
 tail another man." 
 
 " Was there a special reason ? " 
 
 "Certainly. I positively couldn't stand it 
 another day not to see you. Besides, we are 
 momentarily expecting orders to cross to this 
 side of the river." 
 
 " But you will be nearer to us then, won't 
 you ?" 
 
 " I am afraid not. Once on this side we'll 
 not stop nearer than Dallas or Foe's. We may 
 join Colonel Forrest near Sparta, or wherever 
 he may be, doubtless somewhere in the enemy's 
 rear. He seldom troubles the Yankees in front. 
 But you are not listening, my darling ; and you 
 are pale ; you are not ill ? " 
 
 "Certainly not." 
 
 "You are sorry that I came?" 
 
 "Why, Cameron; what do you mean? You 
 know I always want you to come." 
 
 She led the way into the sitting-room from 
 which Mark had disappeared but a minute be 
 fore a minute is a long while sometimes ; 
 Mrs. Fain entered and received the guest 
 most graciously. 
 
 Captain Cameron Fitz Hugh was a young 
 Virginian, a graduate of the University of Vir 
 ginia law school, the son of wealthy parents, 
 whose acres and negroes were numbered by
 
 5<> CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 thousands. He had known the Fains before 
 the war, Mrs. Fain having been born and reared 
 in the Old Dominion. During a visit of Laura 
 to his people, shortly before the breaking out 
 of hostilities, he had fallen in love with her, 
 had proposed and was accepted. Both families 
 being agreeable, the two were engaged to be 
 married. 
 
 "This is an unexpected pleasure, Captain" 
 said Mrs. Fain. 
 
 " I did not suppose I could get away to 
 day." 
 
 " Everything is unexpected in these times. 
 We never know who is coming to us. Last 
 night I slept uneasily for fear that we harbored 
 a guerrilla in the house." 
 
 " How is that ? " asked Captain Fitz Hugh. 
 
 " Where are the strangers, Laura? " 
 
 " I think they are gone, mamma." 
 
 " A countryman and his little brother," said 
 Mrs. Fain to the captain. " Laura thought 
 him quite a gentleman for one so poorly 
 dressed." 
 
 " But I changed my mind, mamma," said 
 Laura quickly. 
 
 "And what was the occasion of so sudden a 
 bouleversement ? " asked the captain. 
 
 "Why why, when we were sitting on the 
 veranda after you went in, mamma "
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 5 1 
 
 " Sitting on the veranda with a country 
 man ! " exclaimed the lover. 
 
 "Well, yes; mamma said to invite him up. 
 But I was going to say," Laura's inventive 
 powers had gained time to act, by the interrup 
 tion, " I found that he was only an ignorant 
 farmer after all, for I asked him how far the 
 moon was, and he said he reckoned it was a hun 
 dred million miles." 
 
 " That doesn't prove anything " Fitz Hugh 
 remarked. " I don't believe there's an officer 
 in my regiment knows that. But it becomes 
 us to be very careful : the commanding general 
 has made it known unofficially through his 
 staff officers that he is especially desirous of 
 concealing his intentions. One spy penetra 
 ting for even a day at Chattanooga might 
 frustrate all his plans. If the enemy knew 
 that we are concentrating there, and how weak 
 we are there at present, he would, or at least he 
 should, come down with a large force and 
 drive us south." 
 
 A troubled expression crossed Laura's face. 
 
 " Indeed ! " said Mrs. Fain. " I was not 
 aware of that. Suppose the young man was a 
 spy." 
 
 " Cameron," said Laura, " I wish you wouldn't 
 talk so to mamma. She will be suspicious of 
 every poor beggar that asks a crust. The
 
 S2 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 man's name was Slack. There are plenty of 
 Slacks among the poor whites about here. I 
 have a sick family of that name on my hands 
 now not a mile up the road." 
 
 "Has the fellow gone?" asked Fitz Hugh. 
 " I think I would better see him." 
 
 " Gone ? of course he's gone," said Laura, 
 with a heaving bosom. 
 
 " Where did he say he was going ? " 
 
 " To Chattanooga," said Mrs. Fain. 
 
 " I'll mount and follow him. I can easily 
 overtake him on horseback." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Laura with a pout ; "you 
 have kept away from me for a week, and now 
 you are going as soon as you've come." 
 
 " But, my darling, would you have me " 
 
 " I would have you stay where you are : 
 and " 
 
 Mrs. Fain, seeing that some cooing was 
 coming, wisely withdrew. 
 
 "And what, sweetheart?" 
 
 " Tell me what I love to hear," she said 
 softly. 
 
 " I've told you that so often you should cer 
 tainly be tired of it by this time." 
 
 Fitz Hugh looked inquiringly into her face 
 as he smoothed back her hair. He was used 
 to these requests to repeat his assurances of 
 affection, but there was a nervous something
 
 CHA TTA NOOGA . 5 3 
 
 about his fiancdc this morning that puzzled 
 him. 
 
 His back was toward the window, while she 
 was facing it. Suddenly she clasped her arms 
 tightly around him. 
 
 " Now go if you can," she said, affecting a 
 playful tone. 
 
 " Why, Laura ! What does this mean ? " he 
 asked, astonished. 
 
 "You don't love me," she whined. 
 
 " Love you, pet ! You know I do." 
 
 " Then why do you act so ? " 
 
 "Act how?" 
 
 " You never come any more but you want to 
 go right away." 
 
 " But, sweetheart," a half dozen kisses for 
 exclamation points, " I only intend being gone 
 a little while." 
 
 " If you once start out to follow somebody 
 you don't know anything about, you'll be gone 
 all day, and then you'll be ordered away, and 
 may be I'll never see you any more." 
 
 Never was a lover more charmed at such 
 evidence of woman's affection, and never had 
 this lover less cause to be charmed at the evi 
 dence of his hold upon Laura Fain. Had 
 Captain Fitz Hugh seen what Laura Fain saw 
 from the moment she put her arms around 
 him and held his back to the window, Mark
 
 54 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 and Jakey going down the walk to the gate, 
 
 he would have exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, woman, thy name is perfidy ! " 
 
 " Oh, woman," the departing soldier would 
 
 have responded, " thy name is indeed perfidy ; 
 
 but how glorious thy perfidy ! "
 
 VI. 
 
 IN THE ENEMY'S LINES. 
 
 " T AKEY," said Mark, as they passed behind 
 
 J trees that hid them from the house. " I 
 don't like that officer coming to the Fain plan 
 tation just at this time. There'll surely be 
 some mention of us, and it is possible he may 
 want to have a look at us. You know, Jakey, 
 we're only poor, modest people, and don't 
 want to be stared at." 
 
 " We ain't got our store clothes on, and 
 don't want ter make no acquaintances," Jakey 
 observed solemnlyc 
 
 Mark had noticed Laura Pain's agitation 
 when she caught sight of the officer at the 
 gate, and knew there was good reason for it. 
 He did not fear that she would betray him un 
 intentionally, but that she might be led to do 
 so from her very anxiety to keep his secret. 
 
 " The first chance we get, Jakey, we'll take 
 to the woods. We told them we were going 
 to Chattanooga, and if this officer takes it into 
 his aristocratic head to escort us with true 
 Southern politeness a part of the way, he'll 
 expect to find us on the Chattanooga pike." 
 
 55
 
 56 CHA J^TANOOGA. 
 
 " 'N 'twouldn't be perlite fur ter git in his way." 
 
 They had gone but a trifling distance when 
 they come to a creek flowing as a wayfarer 
 they met told them through Moccasin Gap. 
 The road crossed it by something betwixt a 
 bridge and a culvert. Mark led the way from 
 the road up the creek, and began to climb the 
 hills, on which there was sufficient growth of 
 timber to afford concealment. For an hour 
 he trudged along with Jakey beside him. He 
 tried to get the boy to give him his hand to 
 help him along, but Jakey demurred indig 
 nantly, and kept his sturdy little legs so well 
 at work that he never once fell behind his com 
 panion. 
 
 At last they came to a hut occupied by an 
 old negro. 
 
 " Good-morning, uncle ! " said Mark. 
 
 " Mornen, sah." 
 
 " Hev y' seen anything of a colored boy 
 'bout eighteen years old go by hyar this 
 mornen ? " 
 
 " No, sah." 
 
 " He's my boy Sam, and I'm a hunten him. 
 He run away last night. He'll git a hundred 
 ef I ketch him." 
 
 " I ain't saw him, sah, 'n I tell y' what, 
 marstr, ef I had saw him I wouldn't inform y' 
 ob de fac."
 
 CHA TTA NOOGA . 5 7 
 
 "That's the way with you niggers, since the 
 Yankees turned your heads. But it won't last 
 long. Our boys '11 drive 'em so fur no'th 
 pretty soon that you darkies '11 hev to stop 
 runnen away." 
 
 " Now don' y' believe dat so sartin." 
 
 "Do you really believe the Yanks can whip 
 us?" 
 
 " De Lord hes sent 'em to tote his colored 
 people out o' bondage." 
 
 Mark was satisfied with this preliminary ex 
 amination that he could trust the old man. 
 
 " Uncle, I'm no Secesh. I'm a Union 
 man. I want to stay with you to-day and 
 travel to-night. Keep me all day and I'll go 
 away as soon as it is dark." 
 
 " Fo' de Lord. I knowed y' wa'n't no 
 South'n man all de time." 
 
 " How?" 
 
 " Y' ain't got de South'n man's way o* 
 talkin'. Yo' did hit well enough, but y' caint 
 fool me." 
 
 "Well, will you keep us?" 
 
 " Reckon I will." 
 
 " What's your name ? " 
 
 " Randolph's my name, sah. JefT'son Ran 
 dolph. My marstr said he gib me a mighty big 
 name, but hit didn't do no good. Dey always 
 call me notten but Jeff."
 
 5 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " You're as well off as the President of the 
 Confederacy in that respect," said Mark. " I 
 guess we'll go inside." 
 
 " Yes, go in dar. Keep dark." 
 
 Mark and Jakey waited for the day to pass, 
 and as they had no means of amusing them 
 selves it passed very slowly. Jakey played 
 about the creek for a while, but both were glad 
 when the darkness came and they could get 
 away. 
 
 Before setting out on his expedition Mark 
 had carefully studied a map of the region, pre 
 ferring to fix it in his mind than to carry it 
 about his person. Upon leaving Jefferson 
 Randolph's hut he made direct for the Tenn 
 essee River. Once there, he knew from his 
 remembrance of the map that he was not far 
 from Chattanooga, and that between him and 
 that place was Moccasin Point, formed by a 
 bend, or rather a loop, in the river, the point 
 putting out southward for more than two 
 miles, with a distance of nearly a mile across 
 its neck. But he knew the ground was high 
 on the east shore of the peninsula, and he did 
 not know the proper place to strike inland and 
 cut off the distance around the river's margin. 
 There was no one near to inform him, so he 
 kept on by the river. 
 
 It was late at night when they reached a
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 59 
 
 point where the river took a slight turn to the 
 east, and about a mile from the quick bend 
 around Moccasin Point. Mark was anxious to 
 enter Chattanooga either late at night or soon 
 after daylight, hoping to meet few people, that 
 his entrance might not be noticed. He cast 
 his eye about for some means of crossing the 
 river. Noticing a skiff moored just below a 
 hut he surmised that the skiff belonged to 
 some one living in the hut. Going to the door 
 he knocked. 
 
 "Who's thar? M 
 
 " Do you uns own the skiff on the river 
 below hyar? " 
 
 " Wai, supposen I does ? " 
 
 " I want to cross." 
 
 "What d' yer want ter do thet fur at this 
 time o' night ? " 
 
 " Father dyen. Just got word a spell 
 ago." 
 
 " What'll y' give ter get over? " 
 
 " Five dollars." 
 
 "What kind o' shinplasters? " 
 
 " Greenbacks." 
 
 " Whar d' y' git 'em ? " 
 
 " From some people ez got 'em traden' with 
 the Yankee sojers at Battle Creek." 
 
 "All right, stranger, but it's a sight o' bad 
 times ter be called ter a man's door at night.
 
 60 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 You uns go down ter the river 'n I'll cover y' 
 with my gun tel I know yer all right." 
 
 " I won't mind a small thing like that, ef 
 you'll put me 'n my leetle brother across." 
 
 Mark and his companion went down to the 
 river. Pretty soon a wild-looking man, with a 
 beard growing straight out from his face like 
 the spokes of a cart wheel, came cautiously 
 down, covering them with a shot gun as he 
 proceeded. 
 
 " Got a pass, stranger ? " 
 '"No." 
 
 " Reckon they won't let y" land when y' get 
 over thar." 
 
 "These army fellers are like a rat trap," 
 said Mark; " they ain't so particular as to gocn' 
 in; it's the goen' out they don't like. But y' 
 better try to strike a point on the river whar 
 ther ain't no guard." 
 
 " Fur how much ? " 
 
 " An extra fiver." 
 
 " Greenback?" 
 
 " You ain't very patriotic. Won't y' take 
 Confederate bills?" 
 
 " Not when I can get green uns." 
 
 " Y' ain't a Union man, are y'?" 
 
 " No. But I know a valyble thing when I 
 sees it." 
 
 The night would have been very dark had it
 
 CffA TTANOOGA . 6 1 
 
 not been for the moon behind the clouds. As 
 it was the boat could only be seen from the 
 shore when they drew too near. They pulled 
 up the river west of Moccasin Point, keeping 
 near the east bank. They could see camp fires 
 of guards on the other shore. Once, getting 
 too near a river picket, they were seen and 
 challenged. 
 
 " Who goes thar? " 
 
 "Oh, none o' your business!" said Mark 
 jokingly. 
 
 " Pull in hyar, or I'll make it some o' my 
 business." 
 
 "Oh now, see hyar! We can't stop every 
 five minutes to please a guard ; how do you 
 know but we're on army business?" 
 
 " Well, pull in hyar and show yer papers." 
 
 Meanwhile the ferryman was keeping the 
 oars moving gently and the boat turned at an 
 angle with the current, which was taking the 
 boat toward the east shore. " Now pull away 
 hearty," whispered Mark, and the boat shot 
 out of sight of the picket in a twinkling. A 
 bullet whistled over their heads, but wide of 
 the mark. 
 
 "Golly!" exclaimed Jakey. "Whatapurty 
 tune it sings ! " 
 
 They were now off Moccasin Point, and Mark 
 began to look for a landing place. Just above,
 
 62 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 he noticed a camp fire, and above this was a 
 place where the bank was low, with overhang 
 ing trees. Mark directed the ferryman to pull 
 for these trees. He slipped a handkerchief in 
 one of the row locks the only one used in 
 turning the boat into shore so as to muffle the 
 oar. The coast seemed to be clear for a land 
 ing, but as they drew near they proceeded cau 
 tiously and listened for the slightest sound. 
 The boat's nose touched without noise and 
 Mark and Jakey got out. 
 
 Mark handed the wild-whiskered ferryman 
 the crisp ten-dollar note, which he clenched 
 eagerly. 
 
 " Yer purty well ter do, stranger, considerin' 
 yer close." 
 
 " Didn't y' hyar what I said to the guard 
 'bout business for the army ? " 
 
 " Yas." 
 
 " Wai, don't say nothin' 'bout it. Th' Con 
 federate service pays ez it goes." 
 
 The ferryman cared little whom he pulled if 
 he could make ten dollars in one night, and 
 dipping his oars in the water, rowed away from 
 the shore. 
 
 Mark turned to look about him. His first 
 move was to get under the trees. From there 
 he proceeded inland for a short distance, look- 
 for something.
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 63 
 
 "Ah, here it is!" he said presently. " Now 
 I know where I am." 
 
 He had struck the Nashville & Chattanooga 
 railroad, which runs close to the river bank 
 for about a mile near where he landed. He 
 knew he was about two miles from the town. 
 
 " Now, Jakey," he said, " we'll bivouac right 
 here. As soon as it is light we must set out. 
 Are you sleepy?" 
 
 "Ami? Reckon I am."
 
 VII. 
 
 I 
 
 THE CAMPS AT CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 AT the first sign of dawn Mark awakened his 
 companion, who was sleeping so soundly 
 that it required a good shake to rouse him. 
 Jakey sat up and rubbed his eyes with his fists 
 while Mark looked about him. He could see 
 down the river for half a mile, where he noticed 
 bluffs to the water's edge, and thought it was 
 lucky he had not been forced to land there. 
 Beyond were the Racoon Mountains, while 
 close to the southwest Lookout Mountain 
 towered above him. 
 
 After Jakey had completed his fist toilet 
 the only toilet either made Mark led off on 
 the railroad ties to Chattanooga. The railroad 
 soon left the river bank, and they proceeded in 
 a northeasterly direction, striking the town 
 from the south. 
 
 A great many tents were in sight as they 
 passed along, and Mark judged at once that 
 there was a large force concentrated there. He 
 was tempted to turn and retrace his steps, for 
 he knew already what he was sent to discover,
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 65 
 
 but to get out was more difficult than to get 
 in, and he was not willing to risk an attempt 
 in the day time, so he entered the town in 
 which citizen and soldier were alike asleep, and 
 without meeting a soul, walked about till he 
 came to a hotel called the Crutchfield House. 
 As he approached, the door opened and a 
 negro boy with a broom in his hand stood in 
 the opening. 
 
 " Can I git a room ? " asked Mark. 
 
 " No, sah ; not till de proprietor wakes up." 
 
 " My little brother is tired ; he must go to 
 sleep at once." 
 
 The boy's eyes opened wide at a dollar bill 
 slipped in his hand. Without a word he took 
 a key from the rack above a desk in the office, 
 and in a few minutes both travelers were safely 
 lodged, with no one but the negro having seen 
 them enter the town or the house. 
 
 " So far, so good," said Mark. " Now comes 
 the real racket. By this time to-morrow morn 
 ing I shall be either safe across the river again, 
 or I wouldn't give a Confederate bond for my 
 life." 
 
 After a few hours' sleep he rose, and calling 
 Jakey, they made a toilet and went down to 
 breakfast. Mark had purposely neglected to 
 write his name on the register, and hoped that 
 the landlord would not notice the omission.
 
 66 Off A TTANOOGA. 
 
 But he did, and the guest entered his name as 
 Mark Slack, Jasper, Tenn. 
 
 After breakfast he took Jakey and strolled 
 around the town, making purchases. He 
 thought it prudent to get some of his green 
 backs changed for Confederate bills. He fol 
 lowed the suggestion Jakey had made at set 
 ting out and bought some calico and tobacco, 
 and the squirrel gun Jakey had modestly sug 
 gested for himself. Mark was not unwilling to 
 have the gun with them, as he thought it might 
 possibly be of service in case he should get 
 hunted and cornered ; but in that event he 
 counted very little on any means of defense 
 except flight or deception. 
 
 Mark was astonished at the number of 
 officers and soldiers he saw in the streets. He 
 found a new general in command, of whom he 
 had not heard as a prominent leader, Braxton 
 Bragg. He made a circuit of the town and an 
 estimate of the troops, but this was of little 
 value, for upon the arrival of trains, regiment 
 after regiment marched into camp. Mark 
 stood on the sidewalk holding Jakey by the 
 hand, looking at the Confederates tramping 
 along under the Stars and Bars, their bands, 
 when they had any, which was rare, playing 
 discordantly "Dixie" or "The Bonny Blue 
 Flag."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 67 
 
 "What regiment air thet ar?" asked Mark 
 of a soldier standing beside him puffing at a 
 rank cigar. 
 
 " Eighth Tennessee." 
 
 " Whar they all come from ? " 
 
 " Tupelo. Come from thar m'self a spell 
 ago." 
 
 " Whar y' goen' ? " 
 
 " Only old Bragg knows, and he won't tell. 
 Reckon we're goen no'th to Knoxville ter foller 
 th' two brigades ez went up a spell ago." 
 
 " What troops air all these hyar and them 
 ez is comen ? " 
 
 " Wai, thur's Cheatham's and Withers's 
 divisions and I reckon Anderson's. I sor 
 Gineral Polk ter-day 'n they say Hardee's 
 hyar. I'm in th' Twenty-fourth Tennessee 
 m'self, and thet's Cheatham's. Lay's cavalry 
 brigade is hyar. Thet's all the cavalry I 
 knows on." 
 
 Mark was amazed. A large Southern fog:e 
 was concentrating at Chattanooga and perhaps 
 they would pour into Tennessee or Kentucky 
 by one of the routes pointed out to him by his 
 general. It was a splendid plan, provided the 
 general who was to execute it could keep his 
 enemy from knowing his intentions long 
 enough to throw an army on his flank or 
 rear.
 
 68 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 Then in making a circuit of the town Mark 
 was impressed with the natural strength of the 
 position. He gazed over the plain eastward, 
 his eye resting on Missionary Ridge ; but did 
 not dream of the soldiers' battle destined to 
 take place there a year later, when the men in 
 the Army of the Cumberland, disregarding the 
 plans of their superiors, would start from the 
 bottom of that mountain and defeat an enemy 
 pouring shot and shell down upon them from 
 the top. 
 
 " Why didn't our generals occupy this place 
 when they could?" sighed Mark. " Now it is 
 too late." 
 
 While it was evident to Mark that the enemy 
 were concentrating for a move against the 
 Union lines, there was nothing to indicate 
 where they would strike except the mention of 
 the two brigades as having gone to Knoxville. 
 He knew that they might strike any one of 
 several points from Battle Creek to Knoxville, 
 and eagerly sought for some indication where 
 it would be. He strolled about with Jakey all 
 the afternoon, the two sufficiently resembling 
 country bumpkins to avoid suspicion. Passing 
 a recruiting station, Mark went inside the tent, 
 where an officer was writing at a pine table. 
 
 " Cap," he said, " I ben thinken I'd like ter 
 jine the army."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 69 
 
 " You're just the man we want. You've got 
 plenty of bone and muscle. I should reckon 
 you'd a been in the ranks afore this." 
 
 "Wai, I don't want ter fight outen my State 
 'f I kin help it." 
 
 " What State ? " 
 
 " Tennessee." 
 
 " I reckon you'll have a chance to fight in it, 
 if you join the army." 
 
 " Reckon so ? " 
 
 "Yas; I'm recruiten fur Cheatham's division. 
 Thur all Tennessee rigements in our division 
 except the artillery 'n a rigement o' Georgia 
 and one o' Texas infantry." 
 
 " Whar is yer division ?" 
 
 " Across the river. At Dallas or Poe's ; some- 
 whar up thar. Y* better let me put yo' down 
 fur my rigement, the th Tennessee." 
 
 " I mought hev ter go way down South." 
 
 " No fear o' that just now." 
 
 " What makes y' cal'clate on 't ? " 
 
 " There's two divisions across now ourn 
 and Withers's. Y' don't reckon their goen ter 
 cross the river fur the purpose o* marchen 
 south, do y' ? " 
 
 " Oh, I don't know nothen "bout military." 
 
 " Wai, will you join us?" 
 
 " Ef y' reckon all the sojers here is goen to 
 fight in old Tennessee, I reckon I will. The
 
 7 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 abolition army hez overrun our State, 'n I want 
 ter see 'em driv out." 
 
 " The way to do it, my good man, is to take 
 a musket and help." 
 
 " Do you reckon that's what \ve're goen ter 
 do?" 
 
 " I tell you that two divisions are already 
 across, and I happen to know that all the trans 
 portation in the shape of cars and locomotives 
 that can be found are bein' corraled hyar fur a 
 further movement. Come, now, my man, stop 
 talken and take yer place whar yer aughter be. 
 What's yer name ? " 
 
 The officer took up a pen. 
 
 " All right, Cap ; count me in. I'll jist go'n 
 git my bundle and be back hyar in half an 
 hour." 
 
 The captain hesitated. Mark began to fear 
 that he was thinking of using force rather than 
 let so promising a recruit go. 
 
 " Are you sure you'll come back ? " 
 
 " Sarten, Cap." 
 
 Mark moved away, and it was not until he 
 had got out of sight that he realized he had run 
 a great risk, for he saw that the captain would 
 have detained him had he not believed in his 
 sincerity about enlisting. 
 
 Mark went straight to the hotel and paid his 
 bill. He feared the recruiting officer might
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 71 
 
 send for him or have him followed, so without 
 waiting to eat his supper he made a package of 
 his purchases ; Jakey took his gun and slung 
 his powder and shot flask over his shoulder ; 
 then the two left the hotel to begin an attempt 
 to leave Chattanooga. Their stay had been 
 only from sunrise to sunset, but Mark had 
 gained all the information he was likely to 
 acquire, and was anxious to get away with it. 
 True, he did not know where the enemy would 
 strike, but this he would not be likely to learn.
 
 VIII. 
 
 PASSING A PICKET. 
 
 down to the ferry they found a boat 
 \J which had all it could do to carry the 
 soldiers and citizens who were crossing. Mark 
 thought he would try what assurance would do 
 in getting across without a pass. He found 
 the guard more watchful than he expected. 
 
 " Can't y' pass me 'n my leetle brother, Lieu 
 tenant?" he asked. "We ben doen some 
 traden in Chattenoogy and want ter git home. 
 We ben buyen some caliker fur the wimmen 
 folks." 
 
 " Old Bragg himself couldn't go over without 
 a pass," responded the officer. 
 
 " Whar mought I git one ? " asked Mark. 
 
 " At headquarters, I reckon." 
 
 Mark turned away. He considered the ex 
 pediency of going to headquarters and asking 
 for a pass, but regarded this course fraught 
 with too much risk. He determined to make 
 an attempt to get out of town and across the 
 river by the route over which he had entered. 
 He knew the ground by this route, and that 
 73
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 73 
 
 was a great advantage. If he could steal his 
 way beyond the picket he could doubtless find 
 a method of crossing. Perhaps he might make 
 his way down the river and across at Shell 
 mound, or still lower to the mouth of Battle 
 Creek, held by the Union forces. 
 
 Mark skirted the town on the west, and then 
 took a course directly south, till he came to 
 the railroad. This he followed to a point near 
 where he had bivouacked the night before. 
 Crawling to a rise in the ground and motion 
 ing Jakey to keep back, he laid down on his 
 stomach to make a survey. 
 
 It was nearly dark. Silhouettes of figures 
 were passing between him and a camp fire be 
 side the railroad track. Beyond, the palisades 
 of Lookout Mountain stood out boldly against 
 a streak of twilight in the west. Between the 
 track and the river was an open space, over 
 which he must pass to get by the picket. The 
 river bank would afford some protection. 
 Near where he was it was steep, and the cur 
 rent set directly against it, but lower down by 
 the picket there appeared to be places where a 
 man could walk under the low bluff. 
 
 The moon was about three-quarters full, and 
 the night was clear except for clouds that 
 would float lazily over Lookout Mountain 
 and across the moon's face, so that at timec
 
 74 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 her light was partly obscured. Mark thought 
 of waiting till she had set, but this would not 
 be till after daylight. He made up his mind 
 to make the attempt at once. 
 
 Calling Jakey, he gave him an account of 
 what he intended to try for, and told him that 
 if it should be necessary to run under fire, the 
 boy was to lie down, and if necessary give 
 himself up, but on no account to risk being 
 shot. Jakey only half promised, and Mark was 
 obliged to be satisfied with this. Then, wait 
 ing for a little while longer for the twilight to 
 entirely disappear, and a cloud to obscure the 
 moon, he lay on the ground gathering his forces 
 and getting his mind into that cool state re 
 quisite for one who is about to make a very 
 hazardous attempt. 
 
 Presently the conditions were favorable and 
 he got up and led the way to the river bank, 
 which he proposed to skirt. He left his bundle, 
 but took Jakey's gun, loaded and capped, in his 
 hand. They soon gained the point where 
 they had landed the night before, nearly 
 opposite where Mark had seen the silhouettes 
 on the railroad. Treading as noiselessly as 
 possible, they passed along the river margin 
 under the overhanging bank, till they came to 
 a place where the bank was low. Stooping, 
 they proceeded for a short distance till they
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 75 
 
 reached the root of a tree that had been felled 
 long before. Here they paused and listened. 
 
 Suddenly they heard what sounded like a 
 musket brought from a shoulder down to the 
 hollow of a hand, and a voice : 
 
 " Who comes thar? " 
 
 " Corporal of the guard, with relief." 
 
 "Advance, Corporal, and give the counter 
 sign." 
 
 Then there was some muttering, and foot 
 steps tramping away. 
 
 Mark peeped between the roots of the stump 
 toward the point from which the sounds had 
 come. He saw, not a hundred feet away, a 
 man sitting on a log with his musket resting 
 against his shoulder, the butt on the ground. 
 He was looking listlessly up at the sky. Pres 
 ently he took a clay pipe out of his pocket, which 
 he filled, and, touching a match, lighted it. 
 
 " He's the river picket," said Mark to him 
 self. 
 
 The sentinel sat smoking while Mark medi 
 tated. His first thought was, why did I bring 
 this boy? The situation was perilous enough 
 without an incumbrance. The guard was fac 
 ing the space over which they would have to 
 pass to escape ; there might be a slight chance 
 for life to make a dash were he alone, but with 
 the boy it was not to be thought of, and Mark
 
 ^6 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 was unwilling to leave him. He looked back 
 with a view to retracing the route over which he 
 had come. He was horrified to see a sentinel 
 pacing a hundred yards above. He had been 
 placed there by the relief. 
 
 The only hope was to wait for the man near 
 est him to relax his watchfulness, and attempt 
 to pass him. The sentinel up the river was not 
 to be feared except by going back, for, from the 
 nature of the ground, the fugitives would be 
 hidden from him if they should go forward. 
 
 Mark resolved to wait and watch. 
 
 The minutes seemed hours : the hours days. 
 The soldier still sat on the log, though now and 
 then he would get up, and leaving his musket 
 leaning on it, saunter back and forth on his beat. 
 He well knew there was no enemy to fear ; his 
 duty was little more than a form. 
 
 He began to hum a few strains of " The 
 Suwanee River." 
 
 " Poor devil," said Mark to himself, " he, too, 
 is thinking of home. What a cursed thing war 
 is ! If ever I get out of this I'll do no more 
 such duty. Give me an enemy face to face, 
 bullets before me, and no gibbet behind 
 me." 
 
 But he had said this many a time before. 
 
 " My good man," talking to the soldier, but 
 without making any sound, " if you will go far
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 77 
 
 enough from that musket you'll never get back 
 to your Suvvanee River." 
 
 " Nonsense, Mark," the sentinel seemed to 
 say to him, " a shot would arouse the whole 
 picket post. Besides, if that's your game, 
 why don't you riddle me with Jakey's shot 
 gun ? " 
 
 Then the stillness was broken by the sound 
 of oars out on the river. How Mark longed for 
 the boat to come and take him from his terri 
 ble position. But whoever was working those 
 oars pulled on, unmindful of the man who so 
 keenly envied the oarsman's freedom. The 
 sounds became fainter and fainter, till Mark 
 could hear them no more. He sighed as if he 
 had lost a dear friend. 
 
 " Jakey's comfortable, anyway," he said, 
 looking down at the boy. He had dropped 
 asleep, and Mark, for the first time in his life, 
 envied a human being the protection of weak 
 ness. There was innocent childhood, uncon 
 scious of danger, sleeping sweetly, the boyish 
 face lighted by the moon. 
 
 At last Mark heard the relief coming. The 
 sentinel took his gun and began to pace his 
 beat. The usual form was proceeded with and 
 the relief marched to the sentinel up the river. 
 Mark observed the man that had been left on 
 post.
 
 7 8 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " I hope this fellow will be more inclined to 
 rest," he mused. 
 
 But he was disappointed to see the man be 
 gin to pace his beat energetically. He seemed 
 to fear that if he did not keep moving he would 
 get drowsy. A half hour passed with scarcely 
 a rest ; then another half hour. It was tramp, 
 tramp in one direction, turn, and tramp, tramp 
 back again. 
 
 The clouds which continued to pass over the 
 moon became heavier. If the sentinel would 
 only relax his vigilance, these periods of com 
 parative darkness would be favorable to flight. 
 But if the soldier was to keep a proper watch 
 the clouds might die away. Then there was 
 the morning to come. Mark began to lose that 
 coolness which thus far had characterized him. 
 It was the waiting that was wearing him out. 
 
 In perhaps an hour after the sentinel came 
 on picket he yawned. This was the first sign 
 of hope for Mark. After a while he sat down 
 on the log and yawned several times at inter 
 vals.- He got up and paced for a while, but at 
 last sat down again. This time he sat longer 
 and his chin sank on his breast. He roused 
 himself and sank away again. He would not 
 go to sleep comfortably in accordance with 
 Mark's muttered prayer, but took short naps. 
 Mark considered the feasibility of an attempt
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 79 
 
 to escape between these naps. Without Jakey 
 he would do it ; with Jakey it was too hazardous. 
 
 At last the soldier slid down on to the 
 ground, stretched out his legs, and rested his 
 back against the log. 
 
 Mark's heart went up into his throat with a 
 sudden joy. 
 
 As near as he could guess there remained a 
 quarter of an hour till the next relief would 
 come. He looked at the moon, which was now 
 shining with provoking brightness; he looked 
 at the man and tried to make sure that he was 
 asleep. It was impossible to tell with any 
 certainty. 
 
 "I'll risk' it," he said. 
 
 He took Jakey up in his arms very carefully, 
 hoping not to waken him, fixing the boy's 
 limp body in the hollow of his left arm. In 
 the right hand he took the squirrel gun, cocked 
 and capped, using the arm at the same time to 
 hold the child. When all was ready he rose 
 slowly, and fixed his eyes on the soldier. 
 
 The man did not stir. 
 
 Mark moved slowly forward, his eyes riveted 
 on the sentinel. A few steps convinced him 
 that the man really slept. Mark turned his 
 back on him and walked a dozen steps noise 
 lessly, picking a place to plant his foot at each 
 step.
 
 8o CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 Halt ! 
 
 Was it the soldier's voice ? Should he turn 
 and shoot him ? 
 
 No, only an explosion of a burning brand in 
 the camp fire at the picket guard on the rail 
 road track. 
 
 His heart, which had stood still, began 
 thumping like a drumstick. 
 
 He turned to look at the sentinel. The man 
 sat there gazing straight at him ; at least so he 
 appeared to Mark. The figure was as plain as 
 day in the moonlight, though too far for Mark 
 to see the eyes. He cast a quick glance down 
 into Jakey's face. He, too, was sleeping peace 
 fully. While these two were in slumberland, 
 Mark felt himself suspended between heaven 
 and hell. And how still it was. Even the hum 
 of insects would have been a relief. 
 
 All this occupied but a moment. Mark 
 turned his back again and moved cautiously 
 forward. 
 
 His imagination had never served him such 
 tricks. Surely he heard the soldier move. 
 He was getting up on his feet. His musket 
 was leveled at an " aim." A sharp sting under 
 the shoulder blade, and a warm stream flowing 
 down his side. Certainly he had been shot. 
 
 Nonsense ! away with such freaks of fancy ! 
 
 Suddenly he trod on a rotten branch. It
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 81 
 
 cracked with a sound which seemed to him 
 like the report of a pistol. 
 
 Again he paused and turned. He saw the 
 sentinel motionless. He had slipped farther 
 down and his hat had fallen farther over his 
 forehead. 
 
 Thank God ! 
 
 He moved backward, his eyes fixed on his 
 sleeping enemy, occasionally turning to see 
 where he stepped. He was getting near to 
 cover. In this way he passed to within a few 
 steps of concealment. How he coveted the 
 overhanging bank near to him, yet far enough 
 to be useless should the sentinel awake too 
 soon ! 
 
 Cachew ! 
 
 This sound was real; it was a sneeze from 
 the picket. 
 
 Mark knew that it was a signal of awaken 
 ing. He darted behind the bank and was out 
 of sight. 
 
 He heard the sentinel get up, shake himself, 
 give a yawn, a grunt, as if chilled, and begin to 
 pace his beat. 
 
 Mark moved away cautiously, a great flood 
 of joy and thankfulness welling up through 
 his whole nature. After going a sufficient dis 
 tance to be out of hearing, he awakened 
 Jakey.
 
 82 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Jakey ! Wake up ! " 
 
 The boy opened his eyes. 
 
 " We're beyond the picket." 
 
 " Whar's my gun ? 
 
 " Oh, blessed childhood," thought Mark, " that 
 in moments of peril can be interested in such 
 trifling things ! " 
 
 " I have your gun here in my hand. It's 
 safe. Stand on your legs, my boy. We're 
 going on." 
 
 Jakey stood on the ground and rubbed his 
 eyes with his fists. Once awake he was awake 
 all over. 
 
 They moved on down the river toward the 
 base of Lookout Mountain, soon leaving the 
 river margin and striking inland behind some 
 rising ground. Finding a convenient nook in 
 a clump of bushes wherein to leave Jakey, 
 Mark told him to lie down and stay there 
 while he reconnoitered to find a way to get 
 down the river and to cross it. 
 
 Mark hunted nearly all night. He could 
 find no practicable route. He did not know 
 how to proceed around Lookout Mountain, and 
 could find no means of crossing the Tennessee 
 near where he was. At last, looking down 
 from a knoll, he could see the margin of the 
 river at a place where the bank concealed the 
 shore between the base of the bank and the
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 83 
 
 verge of the water. But what he saw espe 
 cially, and which gladdened his heart, was a 
 boat moored to the shore and in it a pair of 
 oars. 
 
 Going back to the place where he had left 
 Jakey, he wakened him and together they 
 returned to the knoll. The boat was still 
 where he had seen it. Leading the way, Mark 
 descended to the bank. So intent was he upon 
 seizing the boat, that he did not think to ap 
 proach cautiously. He forgot that where there 
 was a boat with oars in it, the oarsman would 
 likely not be far away. 
 
 He jumped down to the slanting ground 
 below and landed in the midst of a party of 
 Confederate soldiers.
 
 IX. 
 
 A DESPERATE SITUATION. 
 
 NEVER was there a more surprised look on 
 any man's face than on Mark's at the 
 moment he discovered the men into whose 
 midst he had fallen. He knew the range of 
 the Confederate picket line and was unable to 
 understand how this party could be a part of 
 it. The men looked equally surprised at his 
 appearance. Indeed, they seemed more dis 
 concerted at his sudden coming than he was at 
 their being there. When he made his leap 
 among them they were about to get into the 
 boat, and one of them held the painter in his 
 hand. Mark in a twinkling made up his mind 
 that they were not pleased at his appearance. 
 He determined to play a bold game. He had 
 no defined plan when he began to speak to 
 them ; it came to him as he proceeded. 
 
 " What are you men doing here ? " he asked, 
 in a tone that none but a soldier knows how to 
 assume. 
 
 No one answered. 
 
 " What regiment do you belong to ? " 
 84
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 85 
 
 No answer. 
 
 " Is there a non-commissioned officer among 
 you ?" 
 
 There was so much of authority in Mark's 
 tone that it compelled an answer, and a re 
 spectful one. 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " You men are away from your commands 
 without permission. I can see that plainly." 
 
 The men looked guilty, but said nothing. 
 
 "You evidently don't know me. I am an 
 officer of General Bragg's staff, on an important 
 mission of secret service." 
 
 He waited a moment to discover the effect 
 of his words and then proceeded : 
 
 " It is a matter of the greatest moment that 
 I get across the river at once. I want you 
 men to pull me over and then report im 
 mediately to your colonel. Give me your 
 names." 
 
 Without appearing to doubt for a moment 
 that he would be obeyed, he called on the 
 men successively and each man responded with 
 his name. There were five men, and as each 
 answered he saluted respectfully. 
 
 " Now, what regiment do you belong to ? " 
 
 "The th Tennessee." 
 
 " The old story," said Mark severely. " You 
 men are doubtless from east Tennessee. You
 
 86 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 are deserters, trying to get back to where you 
 came from." 
 
 Mark had hit the nail on the head. The 
 men looked terror-stricken. He knew, when 
 he ordered them to pull across the river, that 
 they would obey him gladly. And if he should 
 leave them to report to their colonel, they 
 would attempt to make their way North in 
 stead. 
 
 " Get into the boat, every one of you." 
 
 Every man got into the boat and one of 
 them took the oars. 
 
 " Now, if you will get me over quickly I'll 
 see what I can do for you with your command 
 ing officer when I return." 
 
 Jakey was standing on the bank with his 
 eyes wide open at this scene. Mark had been 
 a hero with him : now he was little less than a 
 god. 
 
 " Do you want to get across the river, my 
 little man?" asked Mark, as if he had never 
 seen the boy before. 
 
 " Does I want ter? Course I does." 
 
 "Jump in then, quick. I've no time to 
 lose." 
 
 Jakey came down and got in with the rest. 
 
 " Give way," cried Mark, and the boat shot 
 out from the shore. 
 
 Not a dozen strokes had been taken before
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 87 
 
 Mark, who was delighted at the success of his 
 assurance, saw a sight that made his heart sink 
 within him. A boat shot around Moccasin 
 Point from the eastward. 
 
 God in heaven ! it was full of armed men. 
 
 As soon as they saw the skiff with Mark and 
 the deserters in it for such they were they 
 pulled straight for them. In five minutes they 
 were alongside. 
 
 " I reckon you're the men we're looking 
 for." said an officer, seated in the stern. 
 
 " Who are you looking for?" asked Mark, 
 with as much coolness as he could assume. 
 
 " Deserters from the th TVwnessee." 
 
 Mark knew it was all up with him. His 
 assumption of being on General Bragg's staff, 
 which had been so successful a ruse, suddenly 
 appeared to him a halter about his neck. 
 
 " Hand over your guns," said the officer. 
 
 The guns were handed into the boat, all ex 
 cept Jakey's shot-gun. 
 
 " That other-one, too." 
 
 "That's only a shot-gun, Captain," said 
 Mark. 
 
 "Well, never mind the pop-gun." 
 
 Every moment the deserters looked for 
 Mark to declare his exalted position on Gen 
 eral Bragg's staff ; but no such declaration 
 came. It seemed possible to them that per-
 
 88 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 haps he would not wish to disclose his identity 
 to so many; at any rate, they said nothing. 
 Had it not been for this assumption, Mark 
 would have applied to the captain to let a poor 
 countryman and his little brother pass. Had 
 he done so it is quite possible that the men he 
 had deceived, surmising that he was a refugee 
 like themselves, would not have betrayed him ; 
 but Mark knew that, besides this danger, the 
 officer having found him in such company 
 would not let him go. 
 
 Mark's heart was heavy, as the boat in which 
 he sat was pulled slowly against the current to 
 Chattanooga. He realized that there was now 
 no opportunity for his wits, on which he usually 
 relied, to work. He was in the hands of the 
 enemy : he would not be released without a 
 thorough questioning, and he could say nothing 
 that would not tell against him. 
 
 On landing, all were taken to the provost mar 
 shal's office. The soldiers acknowledged that 
 they were members of the th Tennessee Regi 
 ment, but stoutly denied that they were de 
 serters. They were Union men, some of them 
 Northerners, who had been impressed into the 
 Confederate service, or had enlisted for the 
 purpose of flying to the stars and stripes as 
 soon as they could get near enough to warrant 
 an attempt. They were sent to their regiment
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 89 
 
 under guard. As they were leaving, one of 
 them said to Mark : 
 
 " I hope you'll keep your promise." 
 
 Mark did not reply ; he had cherished a hope 
 that they would be taken away before any 
 thing would come out as to his assumption of 
 authority. 
 
 "What promise?" asked the provost mar 
 shal quickly. 
 
 " He's an officer on General Bragg's staff. 
 You ought to know him, Colonel." 
 
 "The devil!" exclaimed the colonel. 
 
 "Oh, I saw the men were doing something 
 they were ashamed of, and I bluffed 'em to row 
 me across," said Mark, with assumed careless 
 ness. 
 
 " Who are you ? " 
 
 " I belong in east 7>/messee." 
 
 " You don't belong in any such place. 
 You're not Southern born at all. You're a 
 Yankee. I thought you were only trying to 
 get North with these men, now I believe you 
 are a spy." 
 
 "I'm a Southern man, sartin," said Mark, 
 with such coolness that the officer was for a 
 moment in doubt as to his surmise. 
 
 " Let me hear you say New York." 
 
 " New York." 
 
 " New York," repeated the colonel ironi-
 
 90 CHA TTA NOOGA . 
 
 cally. " If you were a Southern man, you'd 
 say Niew Yawk. I shall have to hold you for 
 further information." 
 
 " I would like to go to my home in Ten 
 nessee. I came here to buy a gun for my 
 brother. But if you won't let me, I'll have to 
 stay with you, I suppose. Only I hope you 
 won't separate us. Jakey's very young and I 
 don't want to turn him adrift alone in a strange 
 town." 
 
 "I shall have to hold you till I can report 
 the case to headquarters," said the officer ; 
 and Mark and Jakey were led away to a room 
 in the house occupied by the provost marshal 
 for prisoners temporarily passing through his 
 hands. 
 
 The reply that came to the announcement 
 of the capture of the citizen and the boy was 
 to hold them under vigilant guard. It was 
 reported that Mark had been personating an 
 officer of the staff and this looked very sus 
 picious ; indeed, quite enough so to warrant 
 their trying him for a spy by drum-head court 
 martial, and executing him the next morning. 
 
 Mark was searched and everything of value 
 taken from him. They went through Jakey's 
 pockets and felt of the lining of his coat, but 
 as he was a child, the search was not very 
 thorough, or they would have found the bill:-
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 91 
 
 in his boot. They took his gun, but by this 
 time Jakey realized that there was something 
 more momentous than a squirrel gun at stake 
 and parted with it without showing any great 
 reluctance. He realized that Mark, for whom 
 he had by this time conceived a regard little 
 short of idolatry, was in danger, and the boy 
 for the first time began to feel that his friend 
 could not accomplish everything. 
 
 Jakey stood looking on stolidly as Mark was 
 searched, till he saw a soldier take Souri's red 
 silk handkerchief. He had produced the im 
 pression on the searchers he had at first pro 
 duced upon Mark, that he was stupid beyond 
 his years. As the man grasped the handker 
 chief, and was about to put it in his pocket, 
 Jakey set up a howl. 
 
 " What's the matter, sonny?" asked one of 
 the soldiers. 
 
 " My hanchikuff," he whined. 
 
 " Is it yours? " 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 " Give the boy his wipe," said the man to 
 the would-be appropriator. " Don't rob a 
 child." 
 
 So Jakey preserved his handkerchief. 
 
 Then they were marched away together to a 
 small building used for a negro jail. It was 
 two stories high, though the lower story had
 
 9 2 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 no windows. The upper part was reached by 
 a long flight of steps outside the building. 
 The lower part was a dungeon, and though 
 used to confine negroes, there had been a num 
 ber of East Tennesseeans imprisoned there. 
 The place was kept by an old man and his wife, 
 named Triggs. Mark was put into a room in 
 the upper story. A guard was stationed at 
 the door, and the only window was barred. 
 Had Mark been arrested with definite proof 
 that he was a spy, he would doubtless have 
 been put in the dungeon. As it was, he was 
 only guarded with ordinary caution. "This, 
 however, seemed quite sufficient to prevent his 
 escape. Jakey was put into a room by him 
 self, but he was not required to stay there. 
 He was suffered to go and come at will, except 
 that the guard at the gate was ordered not to 
 let him leave the yard. He asked the jailer's 
 wife to permit him to go in to Mark so often, 
 the first morning of his arrival, that at last the 
 guard at the door was instructed to pass him 
 in and out at will. 
 
 " Well, Jakey," said Mark, when they were 
 together in their new quarters, " this looks 
 pretty blue." 
 
 " Reckon it does." 
 
 " You'd better not stay here. Go out in the 
 yard and I'll try to think up some plan. But
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 93 
 
 I must confess I don't see any way out," and 
 Mark rested his elbows on his knees, and put 
 ting his face in his hands, thought upon his 
 perilous situation. 
 
 " Jist you don't worrit," said Jakey. " Some 
 pin '11 turn up, sho." 
 
 " Well, go out into the sunlight ; don't stay 
 here. If they sentence me to hang I'll try to 
 get them to send you home."
 
 X. 
 
 THE RED SILK HANDKERCHIEF. 
 
 r^REATNESS underlying an uninviting ex- 
 \J terior is often called out by circumstances. 
 President Lincoln would not have been the 
 " Great Emancipator," had he not been born 
 in the nick of time. General Grant would not 
 have become prominent as a soldier, had the 
 civil war occurred before or after he was a fit 
 age to lead the Union armies ; and Jakey 
 Slack well, Jakey would not have developed 
 his ability as a strategist, had it not been for 
 his friend Mark Malone and the negro jail at 
 Chattanooga. 
 
 Jakey was as incompetent to sit down and 
 think out a plan for his friend's escape as he 
 was to demonstrate a proposition of Euclid. 
 He could neither add columns of two figures 
 nor spell words of one syllable ; indeed, he 
 could neither read, write, nor cypher ; the 
 want of an ability to read or write being a 
 great disadvantage to him in his present re 
 sponsible position. But the desire to help his 
 friend out of a bad fix having got into his
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 95 
 
 brain, from the nature of the case, it simmered 
 there, and then boiled a little, and simmered 
 and boiled again. Like most people of genius, 
 Jakey was unconscious of his own powers ; but 
 there was one person in whom, next to Mark, 
 he had great confidence ; that was his sister 
 Souri. Then came the thought that if Souri 
 were only there, " she mought do a heap." 
 This led Jakey up to the problem, how to get 
 her there. The problem was too difficult for 
 his young brain to solve, so he got no further, 
 until circumstances came to his aid ; or may 
 he not have had the germs of reason within 
 him to go further without being definitely con 
 scious of them. 
 
 When he left Mark he went out into the jail 
 yard and began to stroll about with his hands 
 in his pockets. To a casual observer he was 
 simply a boy with no playmates, who did not 
 know what to do with himself. If anyone had 
 been near him he would have seen his little 
 eyes continually watching for some means of 
 communication with the outside world. Occa 
 sionally he would wander near the fence, first 
 casting a sly glance at the jail. There were 
 cracks between the boards, and Jakey was 
 looking out for a good wide crack to spy 
 through. At last he found a place to suit him 
 and hovered about it listening for a footstep,
 
 9 6 CHA TTA NOOGA . 
 
 and occasionally getting a quick glance through 
 the opening by putting his eye to it. But 
 Jakey knew well that if caught at this he 
 would be called into the jail and forced to stay 
 there ; so he preferred to rely on his sense of 
 hearing rather than on his sense of sight. 
 
 The jail was in an unfrequented place, and 
 he was not soon rewarded. A man went by, 
 but he was too far. Then another man ; but 
 Jakey studied his face and let him go without 
 stopping him. At last an old negro woman 
 passed with a basket on her arm, smoking a 
 short clay pipe. 
 
 " Auntie ! " called the boy. 
 
 " Lawd a massy ! is de angel ob de Lawd 
 speaken to his saryent from de clouds?" said 
 the old woman, starting and dropping her 
 basket. 
 
 " Auntie ! hyar at the crack." 
 
 "Who is yo' callen ? Yo' mus' be a chile 
 from yo' voice." 
 
 " Put yer eye close up to de fence and y' 
 can see me; at the crack." 
 
 The woman drew near and put her eye to the 
 crack. Jakey stood off a little way and she 
 could see him plainly. Meanwhile he pretended 
 to have lost something on the ground. 
 
 "Why bress my po' ole heart, Honey, ef y' 
 ain't nothen but a leetle boy in de jail yard.
 
 CHA TTAtfOOGA. 97 
 
 'T'aught t' be 'nuf to keep dem po' misable 
 po f white East Tennessans dar what dey had 
 in de cellar wid-out keepen a chile." 
 
 "My brother's a prisoner 'n so air I," said 
 Jakey, in a melancholy voice. 
 
 " Climb oberde fence, Honey, and run away." 
 
 " The fence air too high and I ain't a goen fur 
 to leave my brother anyway. See hyar, aunty, 
 are you niggers Union or Secesh ? " 
 
 " Why, Honey, do you tink we turn agin ou 
 own folks ? Ain't de Yankee sojers comen 
 down fur to gib us liberation ? " 
 
 " Ef y' c'd save a Union sojer from a hangen 
 w'd y' do it ?" 
 
 " Fo' de Lawd, I would ! " 
 
 " Then send this hanshicqf to Souri Slack." 
 
 "Who Souri Slack?" 
 
 " She's my sister ; she lives at Farmer 
 Slack's." 
 
 " Whar dat ? " 
 
 " On the Anderson road, close onter the 
 Sequatchie River." 
 
 While this conversation was going on, Jakey 
 continued his efforts to find something at his 
 feet. He picked up a stone, rolled it in the 
 handkerchief and threw them over the fence. 
 
 "What good dat do?" asked the colored 
 woman, picking up the missile of war. 
 
 " When Souri git's it she'll know."
 
 9 8 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 "Will dat sabe de Union sojer's neck?" 
 
 " Mebbe 't mought, 'n mebbe 't mought n't." 
 
 " I cain't go myself. I'm too ole. But I'll 
 start hit along. Reckon de darkies '11 tote it." 
 
 She picked up her basket and was moving 
 away when Jakey called to her. 
 
 "Auntie!" 
 
 "What, Honey?" 
 
 " Yer mought git some un to tote hit ter 
 an old nigger named Jefferson Randolph, ez 
 lives up a creek 'bout five mile from hyar, near 
 the pike runnen that-a-vvay. Mebbe he'll pass 
 hit on." 
 
 " Sho' nuff." 
 
 " Yo' boy thar ! " 
 
 The jailor's wife was standing in an open 
 window regarding Jakey severely. 
 
 " Come away from that ar fence ! " 
 
 Jakey skipped along toward her, doing a 
 little waltzing as he went. 
 
 " Ef that ar boy wasn't sich a chile, I'd think 
 he'd been up to somepen." 
 
 "What war yer a doen by that ar fence?" 
 she asked when he came up. 
 
 "Nuthen." 
 
 " What war that yer throwed over ? " 
 
 " Oh, I war only throwen stones." 
 
 " What yer throwen stones that-a-way fur ? " 
 
 " Fur fun."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 99 
 
 " Well yer just keep away from th' fence er 
 y' shan't play in th' yard at all. I'll shet y' 
 up with that big brother o' yourn." 
 
 " Wai, I won't go thar no more," And Ja- 
 key took a top out of his trouser's pocket and 
 began plugging imaginary tops on the ground. 
 
 Mark hoped that the preparations the Con 
 federates were making for the expected move 
 would cause them to forget him. He was not 
 destined to be so fortunate. The second day 
 after hi.s capture he was taken before a court 
 martial held in a house occupied by the staff 
 department, to be tried on the charge of being 
 a spy. 
 
 The court was assembled and ready to pro 
 ceed with the case. An officer had been de 
 tailed to defend the prisoner, but he had not 
 arrived, and the court waited. Presently a 
 clatter of horse's hoofs was heard outside. It 
 stopped before the door of the house, and in an 
 other moment Mark's counsel entered the room. 
 
 Mark looked at him with astonishment. In 
 the tall, straight soldier, with black hair and 
 eyes, mustache and goatee, bearing about him 
 that something which indicates "to the manor 
 born," he recognized the officer who had called 
 at the Fains' on the morning he had left them 
 Captain Cameron Fitz Hugh.
 
 i oo CHA TTA XOOGA . 
 
 As soon as he entered, he beckoned the 
 prisoner to follow him to a corner of the room 
 apart from the others for consultation. It was 
 not a convenient place for such an important 
 interview, but one charged with being a spy 
 was not likely to get many favors, and the ex 
 igencies of the case did not admit of aught 
 except the bare forms of justice. 
 
 " Will you give me your confidence, my man, 
 or shall I proceed at random ? " 
 
 "At random." 
 
 " If you think it best to trust me, I give 
 you the word of a Virginia gentleman, that I 
 will not betray you, and I will do all I can for 
 you. I am a Fitz Hugh." 
 
 He said this unconscious of how it would 
 sound to a Northerner. To him, to be a Fitz 
 Hugh was to be incapable of a dishonorable 
 act. Mark understood him perfectly; indeed, 
 his counsel inspired him with every confi 
 dence. 
 
 " I would explain everything to you, Captain, 
 but my secret is not all my own. I would be 
 perfectly willing to trust my fate in your 
 hands if I could honorably do so. You will 
 doubtless fail in your defense, but I thank you 
 for the effort you will make." 
 
 The trial was of brief duration. The sol 
 diers in whose company Mark was taken were
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. I o I 
 
 called and testified to his having masqueraded 
 as a staff officer. Knowing now that he was 
 probably a Union spy they would have shielded 
 him, but they had already given up the secret. 
 Mark \vas asked where he lived. He had 
 entered his name at the hotel as coming from 
 Jasper, so he gave that place as his residence ; 
 but when asked what county Jasper was in he 
 could not tell. The maps he had studied 
 being military maps did not give the counties. 
 Then some Tennessee soldiers were brought 
 in the town swarmed with them who testi 
 fied that they lived at Jasper and had never 
 seen the prisoner there. The closing evidence 
 against Mark was given by the recruiting offi 
 cer with whom he had promised to enlist. 
 Hearing that a spy had been taken, and sus 
 pecting it might be his promised recruit, he 
 went to the court-room and there recognized 
 the prisoner. His testimony was sufficient. 
 The court had made up its mind before the 
 prisoner's counsel had said a word. 
 
 Captain Fitz Hugh seemed distressed at not 
 being able to bring forth any evidence in be 
 half of the prisoner. When he arose to speak 
 in Mark's defense, the court listened to him 
 with marked attention and respect ; indeed 
 they were as favorably impressed with the ac 
 cused's counsel as they were unfavorably dis-
 
 102 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 posed toward the accused. The captain was 
 obliged to content himself with warning the 
 court against convicting a man of being a spy 
 because his identity \vas not satisfactorily ex 
 plained and on circumstantial evidence. He 
 asked that the prisoner might have more time 
 than had been given him in which to gather 
 evidence in his behalf. 
 
 The court denied this request and proceeded 
 with a verdict. In forty minutes after Mark 
 entered the court-room he was found guilty of 
 being a spy. 
 
 " Have you anything to say why the sentence 
 of the court should not be passed upon you ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 Captain Fitz Hugh interposed once more for 
 delay. 
 
 "I would suggest," he said, "that inasmuch 
 as some explanation may come to hand bear 
 ing on the case, the court fix my client's punish- 
 ishment to take place on a day not nearer than 
 a week from to-day." 
 
 " I had intended to fix it for to-morrow 
 morning at sunrise," said the president, " but 
 in deference to the wishes of the prisoner's 
 counsel, I will compromise with him midway 
 between a week, as he desires, and to-morrow, 
 or allowing three days. The sentence of the 
 court is that the prisoner be hanged by the
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 10, 
 
 neck until he is dead, on the 2/th day of 
 August, 1862, or three days from to-day." 
 
 Before Mark was led out of the court-room, 
 his counsel approached him. Considering the 
 prejudice against the prisoner, another man 
 would have suffered him to go without a word. 
 Not so Captain Fitz Hugh. He strode up to 
 Mark, the officers and soldiers present making 
 a way for him, leaving him alone with the 
 prisoner by withdrawing to another part of the 
 room, and extended his hand. 
 
 " One thing is plain to me," he said, "who 
 ever you are, you are a gentleman, and I believe 
 you have sacrificed your life to your sense of 
 duty. I am sorry that you did not trust me 
 with your secret. Then I might have done 
 something for you. As it is, I have done 
 nothing." 
 
 " It would have availed nothing," said Mark. 
 "You have done all you could under any cir 
 cumstances. Besides, had I told you who I 
 am, you might have felt it your bounden duty 
 to your cause to make known the facts." 
 
 " Never !" said Fitz Hugh proudly. " I owe 
 more to myself, more to my sense of honor, 
 more to my birth and breeding, more even to 
 my State, than to the Confederacy." 
 
 " Captain Fitz Hugh," said Mark, with a 
 voice in which there was a slight tremble
 
 104 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " you are of too fine grain. You are too frank, 
 too truthful. Do not feel a moment's regret 
 at not having been able to save me. Mine is 
 but one of thousands of lives that must go 
 out in this great struggle for human liberty. 
 Mine is an ordinary nature. You are fit 
 ted for nobler work than war. I trust you 
 will be spared to become an honor to your 
 State and a reunited country. From the bot 
 tom of my heart I thank you." 
 
 The men clasped hands and Mark was led 
 away between two soldiers.
 
 XL 
 
 DE CAUSE OB FREDUM. 
 
 ON the morning after Jakey's interview with 
 the colored woman through the crack in 
 the jail-yard fence, Souri Slack was washing 
 dishes by an open window in the kitchen, an 
 addition built of pine boards to one of the 
 united houses which formed the Slack dwel 
 ling. The sun was shining brightly, and a 
 morning-glory she had trained up to grow 
 about the window was fresh with dew. Souri's 
 heart felt unusually light. The air was so 
 fresh ; the sun was so bright ; the morning- 
 glory flowers had such a companionable look 
 in them that Souri was very happy. 
 
 Suddenly there came to her a quick sinking 
 away from the pleasurable sensation. A sense 
 of danger rushed in to take its place. Surely 
 something horrible was about to happen. 
 
 In a moment she heard the clatter of horse's 
 hoofs, coming at a gallop. Looking up the 
 road, of which she had a view from the window, 
 she saw a horse covered with foam tearing to 
 ward her with a negro boy on his bare back. 
 In a moment the rider was at the fence and
 
 io6 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 had reined in his horse. Wild with haste and 
 excitement, seeing Souri at the window, he 
 called : 
 
 " Am dis Slack's place ? " 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 "Whar Souri Slack?" 
 
 " Hyar." 
 
 "You?" 
 
 " Yas." 
 
 The boy held up a red handkerchief, and 
 then jumping off his horse, threw the reins 
 over a picket in the fence, which he vaulted, 
 and running up to the window, poked the hand 
 kerchief at her. Souri at once recognized the 
 handkerchief she had given Mark. Sewed 
 on to a corner she noticed a piece of dirty cot 
 ton cloth on which some one had written with 
 a pen in blotted letters : 
 
 " Whar d' yo git this ? " asked Souri, her face 
 white as ashes. 
 
 " Dunno. Left wid de niggers at Mr. Tor- 
 but's plantation. I'se Mr. Torbut's nigger."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 107 
 
 " Who tole yer ter tote hit hyar? " 
 
 " Ole nigger what leabe hit." 
 
 " What d' he say ? " 
 
 " Nuffen." And the boy pointed to the cor 
 ner, as if that was sufficient explanation for any 
 one. 
 
 Souri could not read what was written there, 
 but she knew Mark had been captured, and it 
 was fair to suppose that he was at or near 
 Chattanooga. 
 
 " Wai," she said, " you niggers hev passed 
 this ter me ; reckon yer ken pass me back ; 
 I'll go 'th y'. Air y' hungry ? " 
 
 " 1's rid since one o'clock dis mawnin." 
 
 " Wai, take yer horse round ter the barn fur 
 a feed, and then come in hyar." 
 
 The darky showed his white teeth and did 
 as he was bidden. When he came in, Souri 
 placed something to eat before him, and then 
 went in to inform her mother of what had hap 
 pened. 
 
 " Maw," she said, " Jakey's tuk." 
 
 "La sakes!" exclaimed the mother with a 
 scream. " Air they goen ter hang him ? " 
 
 " Don't know. The sojer's tuk too. Reckon 
 they'll hang him, sartin'." 
 
 " How d' yer know ?" 
 
 Souri told her about giving Mark the hand 
 kerchief and its return "In de cause ob fredum,"
 
 108 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 "What shall we do?" moaned the mother, 
 rocking in concert with her feelings. 
 
 " I'm goen ter Chattanoogy ter find out." 
 
 "They'll hang you too," whined Mrs. Slack. 
 
 " Reckon not. I mought find a way ter git 
 Jakey outen jail." 
 
 "'N th' sojer too?" 
 
 " Mebbe." 
 
 "Air y' goen jest's y' air? " 
 
 Souri thought a while without replying. She 
 would go with the colored boy, of course. He 
 could show her the way, and she might pass 
 for some relative. But that would not do. She 
 was white and the boy was black. Why not 
 darken her face? The idea was a good 
 one. 
 
 " Maw," she said, " I'm agoen out ter find 
 some berries to make me a merlatter," and 
 before her mother could reply, she was off. 
 When she returned, the negro boy had finished 
 his breakfast. She told him that she would be 
 ready to go back with him in half an hour. 
 While she was talking to him he fell asleep. 
 Then she thought it would be better to let him 
 sleep all day and travel at night. Time would 
 be lost, but there would be less liability to in 
 terruption, so she aroused him with difficulty, 
 and conducted him to an old sofa, where he at 
 once dropped off again into slumberland.
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 109 
 
 It was about four o'clock in the afternoon 
 when Souri awakened the boy. Seeing a mu 
 latto girl standing by him in an old calico 
 dress and a sun bonnet on her head, he was 
 astonished. 
 
 " Who yo' ? " he asked. 
 
 " Don't you know me ? " 
 
 " Sho' 'nuff ! " 
 
 " What's yer name ? " 
 
 " Julius." 
 
 " What's yer tother name ? " 
 
 " Ain't got none ! " 
 
 " I'm goen with yer t' where y' started from. 
 Then I reckon I'll have ter go on alone." 
 
 " Ole man dar ; he tote y' furder." 
 
 " Wai, come along. Eat a snack 'n then 
 we'll go." 
 
 When Julius had eaten his fill, they counted 
 the horse, the girl sitting straddle behind him. 
 Souri, in a common calico dress and a very 
 large sun bonnet, looked for all the world like 
 a negro girl. Julius took her over hills innum 
 erable ; and at midnight drew rein near a large 
 plantation. There they both got down, and 
 Julius, who had surreptitiously taken one of his 
 master's horses, returned it to the stable. Then 
 he led the way to a row of negro cabins. 
 Going to one of them he knocked on the door. 
 It was opened by the negro with whom Mark
 
 HO CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 and Jakey had stayed on the creek between 
 the Fains' and Chattanooga. 
 
 " Dis de gal," said Julius. 
 
 " Goen to Chattanoogy?" asked the old 
 man. 
 
 " Reckon." 
 
 " I show yo' de way. Go righ' off ? " 
 
 "Yas." 
 
 " Hab t' foot hit. Ain't got no horse." 
 
 " I can do hit." 
 
 The negro was evidently ready and expect 
 ing them, for without going back into the 
 cabin he led the way eastward. 
 
 Souri tramped in his company the rest of the 
 night, and at daybreak they were at his cabin 
 on the creek. There she took a few hours' 
 rest, and after the sun was up, ate a breakfast 
 which the old man prepared for her. After 
 this he set out to show her the way to Chat 
 tanooga. He asked no questions. All he 
 knew was that his efforts were in " de cause ob 
 fredum," and that was quite enough. The old 
 woman who had brought him the handkerchief 
 had told him where her cabin was in Chatta 
 nooga, and he seemed to understand that he 
 was to guide Souri there. She gave him some 
 information as to a man and a boy at the jail 
 in Chattanooga. This was all he knew. 
 
 They crossed the river by the regular ferry,
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. Ill 
 
 having no trouble in doing so, for citizens and 
 negroes were passing all the while. About 
 ten o'clock in the morning they reached the 
 cabin of the old negress who had started the 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Fo' de Lo'd ! " exclaimed the woman. 
 " How'd yo' git hyar so quick ?" 
 
 " Trabel all night," said the pilot. 
 
 " Who dat yaller gal ? " 
 
 " I'm Souri Slack. Whar's the jail ? " 
 
 The woman led Souri out to show her the 
 way, and the man left the cabin on his way 
 homeward. Souri was taken to a place where 
 she could see the jail, and the woman told her 
 where to find the crack through which Jakey 
 had conversed with her. 
 
 Souri went to the place alone, and going to 
 the fence hunted till she found the crack. She 
 peeped in, hoping to see her brother, but 
 Jakey was not there. She waited an hour or 
 more, but he did not appear. 
 
 " Reckon I'm wastin' time hyar," she said 
 at last. " I'm goen right in ter git round th' 
 ole woman, ef there is one." And she went to 
 the gate and presented herself before the sen- 
 tine]. 
 
 " What d' y' want ? " he asked. 
 
 Souri didn't know whether the jailer had a 
 wife or not, but she hazarded the reply :
 
 1 1 2 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 " De jailer's wife tole me to come in 'n tote 
 de washen." 
 
 The soldier looked at her doubtfully, but 
 suffered her to pass in. 
 
 She had scarcely entered before she saw a 
 party of soldiers conducting a man from the 
 jail. They passed near her and she recognized 
 Mark. He was going to his trial. He did not 
 recognize her, darkened as she was, and she 
 was too wise to make herself known. Jakey 
 followed his friend and was going to pass out 
 with him, but was stopped by the guard. 
 
 Souri saw tears trickling down the boy's 
 cheeks as he went back and strolled about in 
 the yard. She longed to take him in her 
 arms, but did not dare to even make herself 
 known to him. She did not know where 
 Mark was being taken, so going back to the 
 guard she asked with apparent idle curiosity : 
 
 " Whar dey goen wid dat man ? " 
 
 " Reckon thur goen ter try him."
 
 XII. 
 
 A WILLING SERVANT. 
 
 QOURI determined to attempt to get service 
 w with the jailer's wife. She hoped that she 
 might be received with less suspicion while the 
 prisoner was away. Besides, she must com 
 municate with her brother as soon as possible. 
 
 She went into the jail and found a woman, 
 whose hair was streaked with gray, sweltering 
 over a cooking stove. 
 
 " Y' ain't got no washen, ner nuffin fur me, 
 hab y' ? " said Souri, suddenly appearing before 
 her. 
 
 "No! git out o' hyar." 
 
 "Any cooken ? " 
 
 " Cooken. Can yer cook ? I don't want no 
 nigger ter cook fur me, but there's niggers in 
 the ' black hole,' I wish I had some un ter 
 cook fur." 
 
 " I'll cook fur 'em." 
 
 " Who owns y' ? " 
 
 " I's a free nigger." 
 
 " Wai, I ain't got no money ter pay fur a cook 
 and I reckon I'll heve to sweat it out. Git 
 'long." 
 
 "3
 
 1 14 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 " I don't want nuffin but somp'n ter eat. I 
 can sleep at my aunt's, ober de hill." 
 
 " Wai, take hold hyar fur a spell. I'm boil- 
 en." And she drew away from the stove and 
 mopped her face. 
 
 Souri took hold and showed a pleasing apti 
 tude at baking corn bread and boiling some 
 coarse meat which simmered in a pot on the 
 stove. 
 
 Presently the jailer came in, and taking some 
 of the food, lifted a trap-door, and lowered a 
 meal to those below in the black hole. 
 
 " Hyar's a gal," said his wife, " ez hankers 
 ter do some cooken fur me." 
 
 " Ain't got nothen ter pay with." 
 
 " Don't won't no pay," said Souri, " I's 
 starven. Want somp'n ter eat." 
 
 "Wai, yer won't git much hyar," said the 
 jailer, " but I reckon it's good enuff fur 
 niggers." 
 
 So Souri was allowed to help, but there was 
 no understanding that her services should ex 
 tend beyond the present moment. 
 
 She was leaning over the stove when Mark 
 was brought back. He had just been sen 
 tenced, and there was a haggard, hopeless look 
 on his face, as he passed the girl without 
 noticing her. He was put in his room and it 
 was hard for Souri to keep from following to
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 11$ 
 
 tell him of her coming. Jakey came in with 
 the party and went with Mark into his 
 room. 
 
 In the afternoon Souri saw that she must 
 make work for herself, or there would be no 
 excuse for her to stay about the place. So 
 without saying a word she took a pail of water 
 and a scrubbing brush and began to scrub the 
 floor. Then she suggested to Mrs. Triggs 
 that she sweep her bedroom. The woman 
 concluded that, as it had not been swept for 
 more than a month, Souri " mought's well " 
 do it, especially as the girl seemed to be willing 
 to do all this work for a little boiled meat and 
 corn bread. 
 
 " Yo' don' look right smart, Miss Triggs," 
 said Souri, after cooking the supper and eat 
 ing her share, " 'n I don' know whar I gwine t' 
 git any breakfast less I come 'n cook fur y'. " 
 
 Mrs. Triggs succeeded in getting her hus 
 band's consent to Souri coming back in the 
 morning, and the man went out to the gate 
 with her and told her if the guard did not pass 
 her in to send for him. 
 
 She was at the jail bright and early and got 
 in on telling the sentinel that she was Mrs. 
 Tri'crcr's servant. She cooked the breakfast, and 
 
 o o 
 
 when she saw Triggs about to carry Mark's 
 meat and corn bread in to him she offered to
 
 Ii6 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 do it, but Triggs paid no attention to the 
 offer and carried it in himself. 
 
 Then she asked Mrs. Triggs when she did 
 her washing, and as the old woman had no reg 
 ular time and not many clothes, Souri offered 
 to do what there was. When she went out to 
 hang up the clothes to dry Jakey was in the 
 yard. She called him to her and in a whisper 
 made herself known. Jakey, who was wonder 
 ing what had become of the message he had 
 sent was both overjoyed and astonished. He 
 turned two or three summersaults on the 
 ground, and otherwise demonstrated his child 
 ishness to Mrs. Triggs, who at that moment 
 appeared at a window, but not before Souri 
 had told Jakey to inform Mark of her presence, 
 and that she would try to get into his room as 
 soon as she could be intrusted with a meal for 
 him. 
 
 Again at noon she offered to take in his din 
 ner but without success. She was at her wits' 
 ends for an excuse to stay about till supper 
 time, but thinking that Mrs. Trigg's wardrobe- 
 might need mending she offered to undertake 
 the task, and spent the afternoon over the old 
 woman's threadbare garments. 
 
 All this while Souri was thinking of a plan 
 for Mark's escape. She learned that he was to 
 be hanged in a few days, and knew there was
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 117 
 
 little time. The most natural plan -under the 
 circumstances occurred to her, a plan by 
 which more prisoners have made their escape 
 than any other one method, walking out 
 before the guard in women's clothes. Souri 
 determined, if she could secure an entrance into 
 Mark's room at any time after dark, she would 
 give him her dress and sun bonnet and leave 
 him to make an attempt. Then she began to 
 think over a plan to gain an entrance at a 
 specified time. 
 
 In the evening her patience was rewarded. 
 Mark's supper was standing on the stove. 
 Triggs was not in the jail and Mrs. Triggs 
 went down the stairs outside to get something 
 she wanted in the yard. 
 
 Souri caught up the supper and walked 
 straight past the guard into Mark's room with 
 it. Mark, who had been informed of her com 
 ing by Jakey, was expecting her. When he 
 saw the mulatto girl he grasped her hand. 
 
 " Souri ! God bless you ! " he said in a low 
 tone. 
 
 " I ain't got no time ter talk. I'm watchin' 
 fur a chance ter give yer my clothes ter go out 
 with." 
 
 " But what would you and Jakey do ? " he 
 asked hurriedly. 
 
 " Th' ain't goen ter hang a boy or a gal.
 
 Il8 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 Pertend ter be sick ter-morrer 'n ask fur some 
 medicine. Mebbe they'll send me ter git it." 
 
 With that she went out. When Mrs. Triggs 
 came in she was bending over the stove. 
 
 " Whar's the Yank's supper ? " she asked. 
 
 " Oh, 't\var gitten cold 'n I toted hit in ter 
 him." 
 
 Souri made herself so useful that she was 
 permitted to stay about the jail the next day. 
 She managed to keep an indifferent mien to 
 all about her, but within there was a tempest. 
 The next morning Mark was to swing, and 
 preparations were being made for the purpose. 
 " If there war only time," thought Souri, " I 
 mought help him away, but to-morrer!" and 
 no one being near to see her she wrung her 
 hands. There seemed but little chance that, 
 having only one evening to effect her plans, 
 she would succeed. It could only be by good 
 luck. 
 
 In the afternoon Mark began to moan. 
 Triggs went in to see him and asked what was 
 the matter. Mark told him that he was ill. 
 As the afternoon wore away the prisoner 
 groaned and moaned till Triggs went back to 
 him, and Mark told him that he thought he 
 was going to die. Mrs. Triggs carried in his 
 supper, but he refused to eat. 
 
 " What yer got ? " she asked.
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 119 
 
 "Cholera, I reckon." 
 
 "Good Lord! " 
 
 " I want some medicine," said Mark. " If 
 you'll send the black girl for it I'll pay you and 
 her well." 
 
 " Y' ain't got no money." 
 
 " Yes, I have, but you don't know whar it is." 
 
 Mrs. Triggs reported the matter to her hus 
 band, who, fearing that the prisoner would not 
 be in condition for the hanging which was to 
 occur the next morning, consented. Mark 
 was furnished with a scrap of paper and a pen 
 and wrote the name of a mixture he remem 
 bered for cholera morbus. Triggs told Souri 
 to warn the druggist not to send poison, for he 
 feared Mark might be intending to make way 
 with himself to escape the gallows. She was 
 furnished with money extracted from Jakey's 
 boot, and hurried to town. 
 
 When she came back it was quite dark. 
 Only a faint line of light was left in the west. 
 As she entered she met Triggs going out of 
 the gate. She quickly mounted the staircase 
 with her heart in her throat. As soon as she 
 entered the building she saw that Mrs. Triggs 
 was not there ; she was in her room. Souri 
 went on tiptoe to Mrs. Triggs' door and looked 
 in. The woman was sitting on a chair by the 
 window, waiting her return. Souri went as
 
 120 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 quickly as she could go without being heard 
 to the prisoner's room. 
 
 " Medicine," she said to the guard, and 
 passed in without waiting permission, leaving 
 the door partly closed behind her. 
 
 " Here, quick ! A burnt cork. Rub "t on yer 
 face," she whispered. 
 
 Mark seized the cork and applied it. Souri 
 stood in the corner with her back to him, and 
 taking off her dress threw it to him. Mark 
 took off his outer clothes and threw them to 
 her. Each put on the other's garments, Mark 
 inclosing his head in the sun bonnet. 
 
 Looking the gratitude he did not dare to 
 speak ; pressing her hand and carrying it to 
 his lips, Mark passed out. 
 
 The guard wondered why Souri looked so 
 tall and strapping. 
 
 Going out of the door and down the stairs 
 Mark went to the gate, and walked by the 
 sentinel posted there, as Souri had often done. 
 
 The guard also noticed how tall she looked, 
 and called to her; but by this time Mark was 
 well out of his reach and pretended not to 
 hear. The sentinel, not thinking it worth while 
 to follow and leave his post unprotected, let 
 him go and thought no more about the matter.
 
 XIII. 
 
 FLOATING FOR LIFE. 
 
 MARK had very little idea how long a time 
 would elapse before it would be discovered 
 that Souri was in his place and he had escaped. 
 It might be a few minutes : it might be half an 
 hour: it might possibly be not till morning; 
 though of this he had little hope. He believed 
 that within half an hour he would be pursued, 
 and as he was well acquainted with the methods 
 in vogue in the South at the time, he knew he 
 would be traced by bloodhounds. 
 
 He had been about the town enough to 
 know the direction of the river, and started 
 toward it. During the day he had thought 
 over what he would do in case Souri's ruse 
 should be successful, and made up his mind 
 that any delay in getting across the river would 
 be fatal. He was at home in the water, and 
 determined that he would not attempt to find 
 a boat, but would plunge in and swim for his 
 life. The width of the river at Chattanooga 
 was only about three-quarters of a mile, and 
 Mark did not regard this a great distance for 
 a good swimmer. Once across, the dogs would
 
 1 2 2 CHA TTANOOGA . 
 
 have to pick up the scent on the other side, 
 and if he should permit the current to carry 
 him far down the stream, the difficulty in doing 
 so would be greatly increased. 
 
 Though Mark had been in prison but a few 
 days, the transition from duress to freedom 
 was very grateful. It was a soft summer even 
 ing and the larger stars had already begun to 
 shine. Casting a glance to the right he saw a 
 streak of light over Missionary Ridge, and 
 knew that before long he would be at a dis 
 advantage from the rising of a full moon. He 
 walked briskly whenever any person was in 
 sight, and when he thought that he was unob 
 served he ran. When he first left the jail yard 
 his heart was in his throat. His agitation 
 diminished as he proceeded, and in five minutes 
 he had come down like one in a race to a con 
 centration of all his faculties a gathering of 
 all his forces for the struggle between life and 
 death before him. With these well in hand, 
 the dreaded scene of the morrow acted as a 
 tremendous and effective stimulant. 
 
 No one of the few people who passed the 
 strapping negro girl, whose face was hidden 
 within the blue check sun bonnet, dreamed that 
 a Union soldier was passing; that the scaffold 
 was being cheated ; that a messenger with the 
 secret of one of the most important moves any
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 123 
 
 Confederate general had made or was destined 
 to make during the war was on his way North, 
 in the person of the negro woman hurrying on 
 toward the river. And it was fortunate for the 
 flying soldier they did not, or he would never 
 even have got half a mile from the jail. 
 
 He sped onward, running and walking briskly 
 alternately, till he came to a place where a 
 board fence was capped by a narrow strip. He 
 mounted it and walked as far as the fence ex 
 tended, perhaps a hundred yards, hoping by 
 this means to throw the dogs off the scent for 
 a few minutes and thus gain a little time. Then 
 he jumped down and hurried forward. A man 
 passed and called to him ; but he paid no at 
 tention to the call, and the man stood looking 
 after him, doubtless suspecting that the girl was 
 a runaway slave. 
 
 At last the grateful sight of the river met his 
 gaze. It cheered him, and seemed to beckon 
 him on to rest upon its bosom, or, as an alter 
 native with the dreadful tragedy of the morn 
 ing, to find oblivion beneath its surface. 
 Between the river before him, and the jail, the 
 dogs, the gibbet, for a time his feelings of hope 
 and fear neutralized each other and left his 
 faculties free to act with perfect coolness. 
 
 He stood for a moment beneath a low clump 
 of trees on the bank, listening and looking up
 
 1 2 4 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 and down the river. A boat was passing and 
 he felt it necessary to wait for it to go by. He 
 lost five minutes, but it seemed half an hour. 
 Then taking off his dress, and shoes, and bon 
 net, he put the dress and the shoes in the bon 
 net and tied the strings around his neck, rest 
 ing the bundle on his back. Going down to 
 the margin, and again listening a moment to 
 make sure he was not observed, he waded out 
 as far as he could touch bottom and then be 
 gan to swim. 
 
 As it was midsummer, he had expected to 
 find the water warm. His expectations were 
 realized to a reasonable degree, and he felt 
 that he could remain in it a long while without 
 being chilled. His plan was to drift down a 
 considerable distance. He might be expected 
 to swim across as rapidly as he could, and the 
 current, in this case, would land him perhaps a 
 mile below the town. Those who would fol 
 low him with dogs would doubtless track him 
 to the river margin, then take the dogs across 
 and endeavor to pick up the scent some dis 
 tance below on the other side. Mark had 
 weighed all these circumstances, and deter 
 mined to drift down as far as possible, land at 
 the mouth of a creek if he could find one, enter 
 it, and swim or walk up it in the water, thus ren 
 dering it difficult for the dogs to track him.
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 12$ 
 
 He swam slowly till he reached the middle 
 of the river, then floating with scarcely any 
 motion of his hands and feet, he permitted 
 himself to drift down with the current. A 
 favorite way with him, when a boy, of resting 
 in the water, had been to float on his back. 
 Unmindful of the wetting he would give the 
 clothes tied around his neck, he turned over 
 and drifted with his arms spread beside him, 
 his eyes turned directly to the sky. 
 
 It may seem singular that a man who was 
 being carried from so dreadful a death should 
 have thought of anything else. But Mark did 
 not want to think of it. He had never been 
 unnerved except after his sentence, with an al 
 most certain execution before him, and felt it 
 best to let his mind drift into other channels. 
 Then, danger is not, and was not especially with 
 Mark, to be compared with certain destruction. 
 The soldier on the field of battle is a different 
 man from one who awaits the bullets of a file 
 of soldiers, drawn up in line to take his life de 
 liberately. Mark was a changed man from the 
 moment he got into the river, for he then felt 
 that he had a chance for his life. 
 
 In the position on his back he could only 
 look upward at the stars. There was the great 
 dome above him spangled with myriads of 
 bright points and spanned by the " milky way."
 
 126 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 He had always been fond of the stars, and in 
 order to divert his mind, picked out some of 
 his favorites, and traced a few constellations 
 with which he was familiar. In this way he 
 diverted his mind until his nerves became 
 quite steady. 
 
 His observations were suddenly checked by 
 a sound. It was very faint, but enough to 
 freeze the marrow in his bones. It was the dis 
 tant bark of a dog. He listened and presently 
 could hear more. Evidently there were a pack. 
 They drew nearer. Then they ceased for a 
 while. Perhaps they had come to the place 
 where he had walked on the fence. Then the 
 barks began again, growing only slightly louder 
 as they came, for Mark was floating rapidly 
 from the point where he had entered the 
 river. 
 
 He involuntarily turned over on his chest 
 and struck out lustily. The current was swift; 
 swimming would not add to his safety; it would 
 only tax his strength and render him more 
 liable to recapture on the other shore. But 
 swim he must. With the terrible sound of 
 those dogs in his ears he could not lie idly on 
 the water and leave the current to bear him 
 onward. 
 
 Soon there came another cessation of sound 
 from the dogs far above on the shore, and
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 12? 
 
 Mark judged that they had lost the scent at 
 the place where he had entered the water. 
 
 Then he began to think of Souri and Jakey. 
 What had they done to Souri when they had 
 discovered her trick ? Would they punish her ? 
 Would they treat the boy harshly? He was 
 comforted with the thought that there would 
 be nothing gained by this ; it would not bring 
 the prisoner back ; but he muttered a prayer 
 for the girl who had placed herself behind those 
 prison bars, who had incurred the rage of his 
 jailers to save him. 
 
 He heard no more of the dogs, and floated 
 on, swimming and resting alternately. The 
 high bluffs of Moccasin Point were before him 
 on his right. An owl on their summit, watch 
 ing the rising moon, occasionally gave a dismal 
 hoot, the intervals being supplied by the mel 
 ancholy whippoorwill. The current bore him 
 on around the point, carrying him in near the 
 shore where he had passed the picket with the 
 sleeping Jakey in his arms, a few nights before. 
 So close was he that he could see a man walk 
 ing back and forth on the very beat of the one 
 he had passed. As he drifted away he saw the 
 relief approach and the picket changed. 
 
 He was borne directly under Lookout Moun 
 tain, and on down for a mile, to a point where 
 the river makes another bend. Here the bank
 
 128 CHATTANOOGA, 
 
 was low, and as Mark was getting chilled, he 
 swam to the southern bank for a rest. He 
 laid himself down for a few moments on the 
 dry ground, and then getting up, walked back 
 and forth rapidly, swinging his arms at the 
 same time^to restore circulation and fit him to 
 endure a longer stay in the water. He looked 
 about for some piece of wood on which he 
 might float further. There were logs of various 
 sizes scattered around, but most of them were 
 rotten. He was so much at home in the water 
 that he was not disappointed on failing to find 
 one suitable to his purpose. 
 
 Plunging in again he moved on down past 
 the bluffs at the foot of the Racoon Mountains, 
 swimming on his chest most of the time, and 
 keeping a lookout before him. He had not 
 passed any boats, at least none near him, and 
 did not fear this danger, but he wanted to keep 
 his surroundings well in view in order to know 
 his location. The moon was now well up, and 
 he could see quite distinctly. Below and to 
 his right a boat was putting out from the east 
 shore. It was larger than an ordinary skiff, 
 but as it was in a shadow he could not tell 
 what kind of a craft it was. As it came over 
 the river at right angles with the shore 
 and Mark was drifting toward it, he soon 
 found that he was in danger of meeting it in
 
 CffATTAMOOGA. 129 
 
 the middle of the stream. The current was 
 quite rapid, and before he was aware of it he 
 was close on to the boat. It was evidently a 
 ferry-boat, and Mark, who knew the location 
 of Brown's Ferry from the maps, judged that 
 it was the boat belonging there. 
 
 But Mark was concerned with other consid 
 erations besides his location just then. He 
 was too late to get out of the way unobserved 
 by swimming aside. He made up his mind in 
 a twinkling what to do. Drawing several long 
 breaths he filled his lungs with air, and then 
 putting his head down and his feet up he threw 
 himself under water. He had often been be 
 neath the surface for a considerable time, but 
 never as long as now. He remained under as 
 long as he thought he possibly could, and 
 then stayed a while longer. When he came to 
 light again, the boat was a hundred yards above 
 him and to the west of him. 
 
 Another mile brought him to an island. 
 He remembered it on his map as William's 
 Island, and knew that it was about two miles 
 long. He recalled the fact that the only creek 
 flowing into the river in this vicinity entered it 
 midway between the north and south end of this 
 island, and on his right, if he remembered 
 aright. He had about a mile to goto reach the 
 mouth of this creek.
 
 1 3 CHA TTAHOOGA. 
 
 Striking out he directed his course to the 
 eastward of the island, and swam very near to 
 the east bank of the river. Along this he 
 floated with scarcely a stroke except to keep 
 in close to the shore, watching eagerly for the 
 mouth of the creek. Fortunately when he 
 reached it he discovered it, and where he had 
 supposed he would find it. With a few lusty 
 strokes he was in it and soon at a place where 
 he could rest in the water with his feet on 
 terra fir ma. 
 
 But the knowledge that the dogs would soon 
 be upon him prevented a rest of long duration. 
 Perhaps a party would cross the neck of Mocca 
 sin Point, thus cutting off a greater part of 
 the long distance over which he had floated. 
 The thought added new terror, and he began to 
 wade and to swim alternately, as was necessary, 
 up the creek. Presently he came to the cross 
 ing of a road. He drew himself up on to it 
 and looked around. As a scout he had long 
 been accustomed to keep his mind fixed on 
 points along the paths he traveled, in order 
 that he might know them again. As soon as 
 he saw the little bridge :if it could be called a 
 bridge he knew that he was on the Chatta 
 nooga pike, over which he had passed a few 
 days before, and at the junction of the creek 
 running near the Fains' plantation.
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 131 
 
 Mark had not considered what he would do 
 in case he should succeed in getting safely 
 across the river. While in jail, he felt that once 
 out and across the Tennessee, he would feel 
 assured of safety. Now this had been accom 
 plished, he began to realize that but half the 
 battle had been won. Indeed, there were more 
 chances that he would be retaken than that he 
 would ever reach the Union lines. 
 
 He wrung the water from his clothes and 
 put them on, shielding his face with his sun- 
 bonnet ; for though he had no mirror to inspect 
 his features, he fancied they must be streaked 
 with burnt cork softened by water. Then set 
 ting out toward the Fain plantation, he delib 
 erated what he should do. 
 
 It was now between eleven and twelve o'clock 
 so Mark judged by the moon being nearly 
 on the meridian and he knew that all the 
 Fains were asleep. He reached the corner of 
 the yard and was about to enter it when he 
 heard a clattering of hoofs behind him. He 
 had hardly time to vault the fence and crouch 
 behind it when a troop of horsemen crossed 
 the bridge over the creek. They drew rein on 
 the hither side, not a hundred yards away from 
 him. Mark heard a voice : 
 
 " Lieutenant, take ten men and scour the
 
 i 3 * CffA TTANOOGA . 
 
 bank of the river from this on to the next 
 creek, where I will make another detail." 
 
 The lieutenant, with his men, broke away 
 from the column, which moved forward, passing 
 within fifty feet of where Mark lay crouching. 
 
 Mark was for a few moments so completely 
 overcome by the narrowness of his escape that 
 he seemed to have no power to move. If he 
 had been five minutes later, his capture would 
 have been almost certain ; for they would likely 
 have discovered him between the road and 
 the river, which space they were evidently in 
 tending to scour. 
 
 He got up, and getting on the outside of the 
 fence, walked beside a portion of it which led 
 back from the road, designing to enter the 
 negro quarters in the rear. He feared that 
 dogs were loose in the yard and that he would 
 have trouble with them ; he therefore stole 
 along till he came to the nearest point to one 
 of the negro cabins. A dog sleeping in the 
 moonlight near the house gave a low moan. 
 Mark paused a moment and listened ; then en 
 tering the grounds he walked in a stooping 
 posture, keeping one of the cabins between him 
 and the dog. He wanted to reach the rear door. 
 
 Mark felt assured that unless he could be 
 concealed in some place where searchers would 
 not be likely to intrude, he would be lost. He
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 33 
 
 well knew that every foot of ground within 
 five or ten miles of Chattanooga would be alive 
 with people hunting for him. The negro cabins 
 would not be safe, for no searching party would 
 respect them. There was but one chance for 
 him ; he must effect an entrance into the Fain 
 house ; and that with the knowledge, as to his 
 true character, of but one person Laura Fain. 
 
 He reached the negro cabin and knocked. 
 
 "Who dar?" 
 
 " Whar Uncle Dan'l sleep ? " 
 
 " Nex to de lef." 
 
 Mark went as directed and called up Uncle 
 Daniel. He heard a movement as of some one 
 getting up, and presently the old man stood at 
 the open door. 
 
 " Uncle, I'se got a message fo' yo' young mis 
 tress." 
 
 "Who from?" 
 
 " De po' white man what war hyar las' week 
 wid he leetle brudder." 
 
 "Nice man, dat ; hab he got in trouble?" 
 
 " Nebber mine dat, uncle ; go in de house 
 'n wake up Missie Laura." 
 
 " Ain't got no key." 
 
 " Cain't yo' wake up some one inside? " 
 
 " Why don' yo' wait till mornen ? " 
 
 " Cain't do dat no how. De message mus' 
 be giben at once."
 
 134 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Wai," said Dan'l at last, " I do what I can 
 fo' dat man ; he berry fine gentleman ef he war 
 po' white." 
 
 Mark followed the old man to the rear door 
 of the basement. On the way a huge dog 
 bounded at them, but seeing Daniel, his fierce 
 ness ended in play. Daniel succeeded in wak 
 ing a negro woman who slept within ; the door 
 was opened and they stepped inside. 
 
 " Go tell Missie Laura a culled gal want to 
 speak to her right off. Say she got message 
 from de man what war hyar wid he leetle brud- 
 der," said Daniel. 
 
 "At dis time o' night?" 
 
 " Yas ; de message muss be deiibered right 
 away," said Mark. " Don' wake no one but 
 Missie Laura. Tread sofly." 
 
 The woman lighted a candle, and went off 
 with it grumbling, leaving Mark and Daniel 
 in the dark. They waited for perhaps ten min 
 utes, when they heard steps and saw the light 
 returning. The negro woman was followed by 
 Laura Fain, dressed in a wrapper. She knew 
 Mark from the moment she saw him, but pre 
 tended only to see a negro girl. 
 
 " Hab message fur yo', Missie Laura, but 
 cain't tell it to yo' widout dese niggers git away." 
 
 " Come with me." 
 
 She took the candle and led the way to the
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 135 
 
 dining-room above, leaving the two colored 
 people below. Then she turned to Mark : 
 
 " Why in heaven's name did you come back 
 here ? " 
 
 " It was a choice between life and death. I 
 escaped this evening from Chattanooga, where 
 I was to be hanged to-morrow morning. Every 
 place of concealment on this side of the river 
 will be entered and searched. If concealed in 
 this house, occupied by a family of white 
 people and Confederates, I may not be found. 
 Otherwise my recapture is certain." 
 
 She thought a moment, rubbing her palms 
 together, as was her habit when excited. Then 
 she called to the servants below : 
 
 " Go to bed, Uncle Daniel, and you, too, 
 Auntie. This girl is worn out with traveling, 
 and I am going to fix a place for her to sleep." 
 
 Then turning to Mark, she motioned him to 
 follow her. 
 
 They went up two flights of stairs, stepping 
 on tiptoe, and at last reached a landing from 
 which a pair of steps led to a trap-door. 
 
 " Go up there," she whispered. 
 
 Mark climbed the stairs, pushed the trap 
 open, and entered the inclosure of the roof. 
 Before lowering the door, he looked back to 
 whisper a " God bless you," but all was dark. 
 Laura had gone.
 
 XIV. 
 
 MARK'S KEEPER. 
 
 MARK stood for a moment looking about 
 him. There were dormer windows which 
 let in the moonlight so that he could distinctly 
 see everything in the room. Some trunks were 
 piled in one corner, and in another some fur 
 niture. Among the latter he noticed a lounge 
 with threadbare upholstery, and taking it in his 
 arms, carried it, treading softly, to one of the 
 windows at the front of the house. The room 
 was very hot, and he raised the sash, moving 
 it with great care so as not to make any sound. 
 Then he sat down on the lounge, and looking 
 out of the window, began to meditate on his 
 situation. 
 
 While thus engaged he heard a light tap at 
 the trap-door. Opening it, he saw a bundle ex 
 tended by the fair hand of his preserver. He 
 took it and letting down the trap Miss Fain 
 did not utter a word he unrolled it. There 
 were complete suits of under and outer gar 
 ments ; the property of Miss Pain's brother. 
 
 The getting off of his damp garments and 
 136
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 137 
 
 donning snow-white linen was a grateful sensa 
 tion to Mark. Having put on what he needed 
 for the night he laid himself down on the lounge. 
 From his window he could see the Tennessee 
 rolling in the moonlight, half a mile away. He 
 thought how much more comfortable he was in 
 his dry clothes than he had been floating in the 
 water. Then he heard the bark of hounds. 
 They were on the water's edge, and he knew, 
 by the sounds, that they were endeavoring to 
 pick up the scent of his tracks. 
 
 " Bark on," he said. " When I leave this I'll 
 take with me something to die with. I'll not 
 be taken alive ; and if I meet you, some of you 
 shall roll over." 
 
 Then there came an inexpressible gratitude. 
 He felt thankful to Souri, thankful to Jakey, 
 thankful to Laura Fain, thankful to his God. 
 There was something especially engaging in Miss 
 Pain's efforts on his behalf, inasmuch as she re 
 garded him an enemy to her country. He 
 thought of Souri in prison, waiting for old 
 Triggs to discover her deception. What would 
 they do to her? And Jakey? Would they 
 injure a mere boy ? He vowed that if he should 
 escape and outlive the war he would find out 
 just what had happened ; and if either had been 
 harshly treated, he would have his revenge. 
 
 Musing he fell asleep, but he soon awoke.
 
 I3 8 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 It was past midnight. The day of his execu 
 tion. He shuddered. 
 
 He tried to go to sleep again, but the dread 
 ful fate which would have been his had not 
 Souri saved him, and on the very last evening 
 before his intended execution, got into his 
 head, and he could not drive it out. And now, 
 were not men and hounds hunting him for 
 miles around, to drag him back to Chattanooga 
 to that dreadful jail yard, the scaffold, the rope, 
 the black cap ? 
 
 And Laura Fain, suppose she should weaken ; 
 suppose she should, after all, consider it her 
 duty to give him up. Suppose a demand 
 should be made to search the house. Suppose 
 a thousand suppositions chased each other 
 through his excited brain. 
 
 He lay tossing till just before dawn, when 
 he again fell into a troubled slumber. 
 
 He was awakened by a squadron of cavalry 
 passing along the road. The sun had not yet 
 risen, but it was light. He could look right 
 down on them, though they could not see him. 
 They trotted along slowly, all looking worn 
 and sleepy. They were evidently the men 
 who had passed the night before and were 
 going back from an unsuccessful hunt. Mark 
 noticed the different positions many of them 
 took in order to rest in their saddles. The
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 139 
 
 sight took him back to his own troop and he 
 longed to be in the stirrups again with them. 
 
 There is no time like a wakeful night to 
 magnify distress, and nothing like an un 
 clouded rising sun to drive it away. Mark 
 looked out on the stretch of country to be 
 seen from his window the Tennessee, and 
 the mountains beyond, their tops tinged with 
 yellow light and was as unreasonably hopeful 
 as he had been unreasonably despondent. His 
 pleasurable sensations suddenly received a new 
 check. An officer of the cavalry that had 
 passed, followed by two men, came riding 
 back. Maybe they were coming to the house. 
 They stopped at the gate. One of the men 
 rode forward, dismounted, and opened it. The 
 officer entered and rode up to the front door. 
 
 Mark's heart seemed to stop beating. 
 
 He could not see what was going on below 
 so close under his window, but presently heard 
 the -officer talking to some one on the ve 
 randa. 
 
 "A Federal spy escaped last night from 
 Chattanooga, madam. He was in the disguise 
 of a negro girl." There was something more 
 which was unintelligible. 
 
 Then Mark heard the word " no " spoken in 
 a voice which he thought was Mrs. Pain's. 
 
 " He was tracked to the river, which he must
 
 140 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 have crossed. He probably landed a mile or 
 two below Chattanooga, and we believe he is 
 hiding somewhere within a few miles of this 
 place." 
 
 ''You are welcome to Mark could not 
 
 hear what the officer was welcome to, but he 
 surmised it was to search the house. 
 
 " What time did you go to bed ? " 
 
 The reply was inaudible. 
 
 "You saw nothing till then ? " 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " And everything was shut up at ten 
 o'clock." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "You are good Confederates, I reckon." 
 
 " Yes sir, my son Mark could not hear 
 
 the rest, except the word " army." 
 
 "Well, with your permission, madam, we'll 
 
 search ' The rest was lost. Indeed, Mark 
 
 was too terror-stricken to listen with due care. 
 He supposed the house would be ransacked. 
 
 In a moment his terror was turned to a de 
 licious sense of relief. The officer, after calling 
 to the men at the gate, rode around to the negro 
 quarters. 
 
 But there was a danger in the search which 
 would follow in the cabins. Daniel would re 
 member the negro girl he had let in the night 
 before, and would surmise that she was the
 
 CHA TTA NOOGA. 1 4 * 
 
 person the men were looking for. Would 
 Daniel betray him ? He thought not. Daniel 
 gave no hint, for presently Mark saw the trio 
 ride away to join the troop. 
 
 Laura Fain had spent a night no more com 
 fortable than Mark. The responsibility of a 
 human life weighed upon her heavily. At one 
 moment she would picture Mark's face, pale, 
 haggard, despairing, as he would be dragged 
 from his hiding place. The next she was con 
 science-stricken at the part she was playing in 
 shielding an enemy of her cause the cause of 
 her brother and her lover. She heard the dogs 
 as Mark had heard them on the river bank, 
 and lay shivering till the baying died away in 
 the distance. Then in the morning she saw 
 the cavalry go by, the officer come up and talk 
 with her mother, whom he asked the negroes to 
 call from her bed that he might question her 
 about the presence of the spy. Laura got up 
 herself and stood at the landing, listening 
 breathless while they talked. When the man 
 rode away she muttered a fervent " Thank 
 God." 
 
 As the morning brightened and it was time 
 to rise, her fears were less intense, and she 
 began to think of how she should keep her 
 prisoner concealed from the rest of the house-
 
 142 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 hold. How should she feed him ? When her 
 maid came up she told her that she would take 
 her breakfast in her room, but surprised the 
 girl by the large quantity of food she wanted 
 brought to her. When the breakfast came, 
 Laura was up and dressed. She directed the 
 girl to set it on a table and then sent her to 
 the stable with a message to Daniel about her 
 riding pony. Her maid having gone, Laura 
 took up the breakfast and carried it to the 
 trap. 
 
 In another moment she was standing on the 
 ladder with the tray in her hand, half her body 
 below and half in the attic, regarding a hand 
 some fellow looking very much like a gentle 
 man in her brother's clothes. He in turn was 
 regarding what he considered a very pretty 
 picture in the half-exposed figure of a young 
 girl holding a tray in her hands on which he 
 knew full well was a breakfast he was hungry 
 for. Then he took the tray and laid it on the 
 lounge. 
 
 It was the first time that Laura had seen 
 Mark dressed becomingly. This was the man 
 she had been instrumental in saving, the man 
 she was protecting, the man she must exercise 
 her wits to give an opportunity to get away 
 to a land of safety from the halter. It was 
 pleasant to see that he was good to look upon.
 
 CHATTANOOGA. . 143 
 
 What a fine brow ; what a resolute mouth. 
 Those locks are golden and fitted for a woman's 
 head. The eyes are heavenly blue. And all 
 this beauty holds a soul capable of plunging 
 into the most frightful of dangers. 
 
 And this being, so dazzling to a young girl, 
 scarcely twenty, was in her power. Could she 
 not at a word give him over to an ignominious 
 death ? And could she not, by care, almost 
 certainly insure his freedom ? He was her 
 slave, bound to her far more securely than 
 Alice her maid, who had been given her by lier 
 father. She could order him to crawl on the 
 floor before her, and he would have to do so. 
 She had once seen a woman enter a cage 
 of a lion with only a slender whip in her hand, 
 and the huge beast had obeyed her slightest 
 motion. Mark was her lion, and she felt in 
 clined to give him just one touch of the whip 
 to see what he would do. She stepped into 
 the room and let down the trap. 
 
 " Miss Fain," Mark said, " you cannot have 
 any conception of the fervor of my gratitude. 
 You stand between me and death. Not the 
 death of a soldier, but of a felon. And here," 
 pointing to the breakfast, " you are minister 
 ing to my wants with your own hands." 
 
 " And yet I told you not to come here." 
 
 " I did not understand you so."
 
 144 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 Mark was hurt. His heart was full of grati 
 tude. He could not understand how, after do 
 ing and risking so much for him, she could blame 
 him for throwing himself on her generosity. 
 
 " I am sorry that you regret your kindness," 
 he added, with almost a tremble in his voice. 
 
 " I did not say that I regretted it." 
 
 " But you remind me that it is not agreeable 
 to you." 
 
 " How can it be ? You are a Yankee, a spy, 
 and on a mission to discover the movements of 
 our troops." 
 
 " Why, then, do you not give me up ? " 
 
 She shrugged her shoulders. " Can I turn 
 executioner?" 
 
 " I see. I am indebted for my present 
 safety to the fact that you do not care to do 
 an unwomanly act." 
 
 " You must draw your own inference." 
 
 " But I should like to be grateful. How can 
 I when you tell me that you do all this for me 
 that your white hands may not have a stain 
 upon them ? " 
 
 " It is not necessary that you should feel 
 grateful." 
 
 Mark studied her face for a moment earnestly. 
 Then his manner changed. 
 
 " Miss Fain, "he said, pointing, " take away 
 the breakfast."
 
 CffA TTANOOGA . 1 45 
 
 " Why so ?" she asked, startled. 
 
 " I will not be under any further obligation 
 to one who acts from pride rather than sweet 
 charity. You have saved me from the hounds 
 and from the gallows. Were it not for you, I 
 should now be either about to mount the scaf 
 fold, or have passed by this time into that land 
 where the only human attribute I can imagine 
 as fitted to be there is charity. Whether the 
 danger is now passed from this neighborhood 
 I don't know ; but I am going to risk it. I 
 am going downstairs and out from under this 
 roof." 
 
 "You will do no such thing! " 
 
 "I will!" And had she not placed herself 
 between him and the trap, he would have car 
 ried out his intention. 
 
 " Stay where you are ! " she said, in a voice 
 in which there was something commanding. 
 
 " By what authority do you assume to direct 
 me ? " 
 
 " Your life belongs to me." 
 
 " True." He bowed his head. 
 
 " You understand me," she spoke, with even 
 more authority than before. " I own you. I 
 own your life. You are my slave in a stronger 
 sense than my colored girl." 
 
 " It is that ownership of human beings, Miss 
 Fain, corning down to you from past genera-
 
 1 46 CHA TTA NOOGA . 
 
 tions, that has given you the spirit to tyrannize 
 over me now." 
 
 " I tyrannize ?" 
 
 There was a surprise that was not feigned. 
 She did not realize what she was doing. 
 
 " Yes ; never have I been so trodden upon 
 as by you." 
 
 There was a submission in the young sol 
 dier's tone that satisfied the imperious girl. 
 She was ready to heal the cuts she had given, 
 but she waited for him to speak again. 
 
 "What do you wish me to do?" he asked. 
 
 " Remain where you are till I regard it safe 
 for you to go." 
 
 "Then you have a desire for my safety?" 
 he asked, looking up at her quickly. 
 
 "You came here unbidden and placed your 
 self in my hands. Do you think it proper to 
 come and go at your pleasure ? " 
 
 Mark approached her, and bending low, took 
 her hand and kissed it. There was something 
 in the act to remind her of the lion after 
 the training.
 
 XV. 
 
 SOURI AND JAKEY. 
 
 IT was scarcely more than fifteen minutes 
 after Souri had bid Mark " God speed " 
 when old Triggs re-entered the prison grounds, 
 and mounting the flight of steps leading to the 
 second story went into the jail. No one 
 aeemed to be about the place. He entered his 
 bedroom and found his wife dozing in her 
 chair by the window. He asked for the col 
 ored girl, and his wife told him that she had 
 not yet returned with the medicine. He 
 waited, expecting every minute that she would 
 come in. Had he not noticed an absence of 
 the groans to which the supposed invalid had 
 been treating him all the evening, he might 
 have waited for Souri, without a movement, 
 much longer than he did. As it was, it oc 
 curred to him that perhaps the prisoner might 
 be dead. Taking up a tallow dip he went to the 
 room where Mark was supposed to be con 
 fined. A figure was lying in the corner. The 
 jailer went to it, and by means of the candle 
 saw what he supposed to be the prisoner. The
 
 1 4 8 CHA TTANOOGA . 
 
 face was to the wall, and he did not at first dis 
 cover the deception. 
 
 " Yank," he said, " air y' dead ? " 
 
 No answer. 
 
 He took hold of the figure's shoulder, and 
 shook it. 
 
 Still no reply. 
 
 Turning Souri over, he at once recognized 
 the face of the " mulatto girl." 
 
 In an instant he saw through the ruse that 
 had been practiced. Without stopping to in 
 terrogate her, he rushed from the room, past 
 the sentinel at the door, and out to the guard 
 house. There he gave the alarm, and in a mo 
 ment the whole guard were in motion. 
 
 Souri hoped that the sentinel at the door 
 would join in the chase, in which event she in 
 tended to go to Jakey's room, get him out, 
 and attempt to escape. But the soldier only 
 went as far as the door at the head of the long 
 staircase. Then, remembering that he would 
 doubtless be punished for letting one prisoner 
 escape, and that there were several negroes in 
 the " black hole " for him to guard, he went 
 no further. 
 
 In five minutes Souri heard the barking of 
 hounds without. 
 
 No word was sent to headquarters regarding 
 Mark's escape till the hounds had followed the
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 1 49 
 
 scent to the river and there lost it. Then one 
 of the guards was sent in to report the whole 
 affair. Being an infantry man, he was obliged 
 to walk, which took time. Cavalry was the 
 only arm of the service capable of following the 
 escaped man with a chance of success, and cav 
 alry must be ferried across the river or ordered 
 from Dallas, on the other side, ten miles above. 
 The latter course was chosen, and two squad 
 ron were directed to proceed at once, the one 
 to throw a chain-guard across the neck of Moc 
 casin Point, the other to scour the river bank 
 for a distance of several miles below. Had 
 there been any cavalry nearer, Mark would 
 have had a very slender chance to get away. 
 As it was, he barely escaped one of the squad 
 rons. 
 
 About noon of the day after Mark's escape, 
 the military authorities began to relax their 
 efforts to recapture him, as they had other 
 matters of more importance to attend to ; but 
 they induced the country people, by hope of 
 reward, to continue the search within a radius 
 of ten or fifteen miles from Chattanooga. The 
 provost marshal sent for Souri and Jakey with 
 a view to gaining from them whatever he might 
 concerning Mark's identity and his mission. 
 
 Souri, whose only clothing was that left her 
 by Mark, begged Mrs. Triggs to get her more
 
 150 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 suitable apparel before being taken out of the 
 jail. Had the old woman any excuse, indeed 
 had it not been for the presence of the guard 
 at the door, there is no telling what she might 
 have done to Souri. To have been thus duped, 
 put her into a towering passion. She went into 
 Souri's cell and berated her with her tongue 
 and shook her fist in her face, but refrained 
 from touching her. When Souri asked for a 
 woman's dress she at first flatly refused, but 
 fearing she would incur the displeasure of the 
 provost marshal still further than she had if 
 she should send a girl to him not properly 
 dressed, she selected an old calico frock of her 
 own and gave it to her. 
 
 Souri and Jakey were led to the marshal's 
 office, followed by a crowd of curious people, 
 who were aware that they had been the means 
 of the escape of a spy ; but when they arrived 
 the crowd were left outside. 
 
 Never was a man more puzzled what to do 
 with prisoners than the marshal in the case of 
 Souri and Jakey. He saw a simple, modest, 
 poor white country girl, apparently not out of 
 her "teens," and a stupid-looking boy, who 
 was not very far into them. 
 
 "Who are you? " he asked of Souri, not un 
 kindly. 
 
 " Missouri Slack."
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 151 
 
 " Where do you live ? " 
 
 " On the Anderson road, not far from 
 Jasper." 
 
 " And this boy ? " 
 
 " He's my brother." 
 
 "When did you come from home?" 
 
 " Three days ago." 
 
 " What brought you ; or how did you know 
 that the prisoner was here and in jail ? " 
 
 " Jakey sent me word." 
 
 " This boy ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " How ? " 
 
 " He sent me a silk hankercher what I give 
 tother un." 
 
 " How did you send it, boy? " 
 
 " Niggers." 
 
 " Urn." 
 
 " Well, you two are pretty young to be en 
 gaged in such mischief." 
 
 The officer looked at them with interest and 
 vexation mingled. He had lost a prisoner for 
 whom he was responsible, but he could not but 
 wonder at such a dull-looking boy achieving so 
 difficult a task as sending the communication, 
 and could not but admire the sacrifice made by 
 the girl. 
 
 "What do you think I ought to do with 
 
 ?n
 
 1 5 2 CHA TTANOOGA . 
 
 " Reckon y' mought gimme back my gun," 
 said Jakey. 
 
 The officer could not repress a smile. 
 
 "What gun?" 
 
 " Th' one yer tuk tother day." 
 
 " Go and get the boy's gun, orderly," he said 
 to a soldier on duty at the door. 
 
 The gun was not to be found then, but was 
 recovered later, and Jakey was happy in receiv 
 ing it. 
 
 "Do you know what you've been doing?" 
 the officer resumed, addressing Souri. " You've 
 helped a spy to escape, who will doubtless carry 
 information to the enemies of your country." 
 
 Souri made no reply. She stood looking at 
 the officer with her big black eyes. Fortu 
 nately for her, he had a daughter about her age. 
 
 Meanwhile some Tennesseeans who hailed 
 from Jasper had been sent for, and they came 
 in to have a look at the prisoners. Several of 
 them recognized both Souri and Jakey, and 
 told the marshal that they were what they 
 pretended. 
 
 This and their youth, together with the fact 
 that the provost marshal was not a harsh man, 
 saved them from punishment. There was a 
 great deal of feeling against " renegade " East 
 Tennesseeans; and had they been men, they 
 would have been taken back to the " black
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 153 
 
 hole " at the jail, and kept there till it \vas found 
 necessary to move them from the fact of an 
 approaching enemy. As it was, the marshal 
 directed that they be taken into another room 
 till he could hear from headquarters regarding 
 them. He knew the Triggs and the " black 
 hole," and feared to let them go back to them. 
 The officers at headquarters were too busy 
 to meddle with such a case. The provost 
 marshal's communication was returned with 
 the following indorsement. 
 
 Respectfully referred back to the provost marshal with 
 authority to do with these prisoners as he thinks for the 
 best interests of the service. The spy having escaped it 
 does not appear that there is any reason to hold them. 
 
 The brother and sister were brought in again 
 to hear what was to be their fate. Souri was 
 aware of the enormity of her offense and ex 
 pected a severe punishment. She had deter 
 mined to beg the officer to send Jakey back to 
 his parents, then he might punish heras he liked. 
 
 " Suppose I let you and your little brother 
 go home," said the marshal, " will you go 
 there and keep out of any interference in 
 matters that concern the Confederacy here 
 after?" 
 
 "I'll go home," said Souri. 
 
 " Well, I reckon you'd better go," replied 
 the officer. Then to the guard :
 
 154 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Send the corporal here." 
 
 " Take these children," he said to that 
 person when he arrived, " to the other side of 
 the river and turn them adrift. And see that 
 they don't get back here." 
 
 Souri's heart jumped into her throat for joy. 
 Turning her expressive eyes on the officer, 
 she said, "Thank you." 
 
 " Mr. Ossifer," said Jakey, " I thank yer fur 
 gimmen me back my gun." 
 
 A smile broke over the faces of those present. 
 
 The next day the brother and sister arrived 
 at home, and great was the rejoicing in the 
 Slack family.
 
 XVI. 
 
 A SOUTH CAROLINA GEOLOGIST. 
 
 WHEN the trap-door of the attic had closed 
 over Laura Fain, after her interview with 
 Mark, he stood for a few minutes pondering 
 on her strange treatment of him. Then he 
 turned to the breakfast. He had eaten noth 
 ing since the evening before and the sight of 
 the greater part of a fried chicken (it had been 
 killed by Laura's orders for him only that 
 morning) was especially grateful. Mark ap 
 plied himself to his meal, and while he ate, he 
 went over the scenes through which he had 
 passed since he set out on his mission. Surely 
 he must have been gone a month. He counted 
 the days. He had reached Jasper on the 
 evening of the 2oth of August ; Chattanooga 
 on the morning of the 22d ; tried on the 24th; 
 was to have been hanged on the 2/th ; escaped 
 on the 26th. That was only the evening before. 
 It was now the 2/th only a week. Never had 
 he passed such a week before, and he hoped he 
 never would again. 
 
 Soon after he had finished his breakfast, a 
 155
 
 1 5 6 CHA TTA NOOGA . 
 
 hand was extended through the trap, a pitcher 
 of water and toilet articles were left and the 
 dishes taken. At noon a meal was handed in 
 by the same fair hand. 
 
 Though but two meals had been thus left, 
 Laura began to perceive that she could not 
 thus feed her charge without soon being dis 
 covered. When she took Mark's dinner to 
 him she entered the attic, and had him close 
 the trap after her. 
 
 " It will not do for you to stay here much 
 longer," she said. " My mother has already 
 become suspicious that I have something on 
 my mind, and I fear being detected carrying 
 these meals. I dare not tell her all, and I dare 
 not risk her discovering that you are here." 
 
 " I will go to-night." 
 
 " It will be sure capture for you to go ; the 
 negroes tell me that the country people are 
 all out looking for the the spy." 
 
 " I can't sfay here and compromise you." 
 
 " I have a plan. This evening I will watch 
 for an opportunity for you to go downstairs. 
 You can introduce yourself as a guest, and 
 though you will be every minute in danger, you 
 will be safer than here." 
 
 " And in case I am discovered will not be 
 caught like a rat in a trap." 
 
 " You can appear as a traveler ; you must
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 157 
 
 have a hat ; I will bring you one. At the first 
 opportunity after dark I'll come to the trap 
 and knock. Follow me downstairs. I don't 
 think any one will recognize you in these 
 clothes ; they have been packed away since 
 my brother went to Virginia a year ago ; 
 mamma only saw you, when you were here 
 before, after dark on the veranda, and well I 
 think there will be a very good chance for you 
 to play guest without detection." 
 
 " The servants ? " 
 
 " They would never betray a Yankee. They 
 think you are all coming down to free them and 
 they'll have nothing to do but lie in the 
 sun." 
 
 " Not an unpleasant occupation on a pleasant 
 day," said Mark irrelevantly. 
 
 " Should anything happen, I only fear mam 
 ma. And after all, she is a woman," she added 
 significantly. 
 
 "Which you pretend not to be." 
 
 " If all goes well you will be assigned a room, 
 the guest chamber, perhaps, and if it is not 
 safe for you to be downstairs you may feign 
 to be ill and keep your apartment." 
 
 Mark was better pleased with the plan than 
 remaining where he was. He did not expect 
 to stay in the house longer than till the next 
 night, when he hoped those who were seeking
 
 1 5 8 CffA TTANOOGA. 
 
 for him would become tired of the hunt and 
 give him a chance for his life. 
 
 "I'll do all you suggest," he said to Laura; "and 
 whether you wish it or not, I am very grateful." 
 
 She lowered her eyes under his look of grat 
 itude, and then went below. 
 
 As soon as it grew dark, Mark listened for 
 the signal. It came a few minutes before nine 
 o'clock. Mrs. Fain had remained in the parlor 
 up to that moment, when she went upstairs 
 to get some article necessary to a piece of 
 work she was doing. Laura followed her, turn 
 ing out the lights by the way, and keeping on 
 up to the attic. 
 
 Within a few seconds after her knock, Mark 
 was descending the stairs and in a twinkling 
 was in the parlor. Not half a minute elapsed 
 between the signal and his arrival there. 
 
 It was not long before Mrs. Fain was heard 
 groping about upstairs, in the dark, wanting 
 to know who had turned out the lights and 
 calling on a servant to relight them. When 
 she entered the parlor she was surprised to see 
 her daughter in company with a stranger, who 
 was standing, hat in hand, as though he had 
 just come in from without. 
 
 " Mamma," said Laura, with her heart in her 
 throat, but with the most assured of innocent 
 tones, "this is a gentleman who Mr '
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 159 
 
 " Rhett," supplied Mark. 
 
 " Mr. Rhett of 
 
 " South Carolina." 
 
 Any old Virginia or South Carolina name 
 was quite enough to insure a welcome from 
 Mrs. Fain. Without waiting to hear what he 
 might say further, or an account of how he 
 came to be there so suddenly,she said : 
 
 " I'm pleased to see you, sir; are you related 
 to the Rhetts of South Carolina? " 
 
 " We all came of the same main stem, mad 
 am," said Mark, assuming the tone of a South 
 ern gentleman. 
 
 " Mr. Rhett is traveling, mamma. He says 
 that that 
 
 " I am looking for mines, madam. You 
 may not know it, but you are in the center 
 of a rich mineral region." 
 
 It is pleasant to hear that fortune may come 
 soon, and Mrs. Fain was evidently much 
 pleased at the information. 
 
 " Indeed ! " she said calmly. 
 
 " Yes, madam, I have been looking for ore. 
 I presume I need not say whether in govern 
 ment interest or not ; we must have cannons, 
 you know." 
 
 " Government officers are not bound to dis 
 close their identity or their objects, sir." 
 
 " I have been prospecting, madam, and am
 
 160 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 separated from my party, owing to the stupidity 
 of the driver of the vehicle which contains my 
 crucibles and chemicals. I appeared at your 
 door, and your daughter was kind enough to 
 ask me in ; not surprising, considering your 
 far-famed Tennessee hospitality." 
 
 "You are quite welcome, sir." 
 
 Mark bowed low, with his hand on his heart, 
 like a South Carolina gentleman of the old 
 school. 
 
 " Have you supped ? " asked Mrs. Fain. 
 
 " Yes, madam ; I succeeded in getting a 
 meal by the way. A poor one ; indeed, a very 
 poor one, with burnt beans for coffee. But 
 since the Abolition Lincoln Government has 
 violated all rules of civilized warfare by this 
 cruel blockade intending to starve us into 
 subjection I suppose we must take what we 
 can get. I repeat it, we must take what we 
 can get, madam." 
 
 Mark's eyes flashed with well-feigned indig 
 nation. 
 
 " It is our duty to bear our deprivations 
 cheerfully," said Mrs. Fain. "We shall gain 
 our independence at last, and that should be 
 an incentive." 
 
 " It should, madam ; and let me tell you we 
 are about to see stirring times and great suc 
 cesses. This region has become of especial
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 161 
 
 military importance. Our forces will be in 
 front of Nashville, perhaps Louisville, very 
 soon ; while General Lee can't fail with such 
 noble men as he has in his army the very 
 flower of the South the flower of the South, 
 madam he can't fail, I say, to drive the 
 Yankees out of Virginia ! 
 
 " You are very hopeful." 
 
 While Mark was thus performing, Laura 
 stood with downcast eyes, and if her mother 
 had not been so interested in the hopeful 
 words of the garrulous South Carolinian, she 
 would have noticed a slow heaving of her 
 daughter's bosom, with here and there a slight 
 spasmodic action. 
 
 "And now, madam," said Mark, " may I beg 
 a night's lodging? I fear it is too late to find 
 my party." 
 
 " Certainly, sir. Call Miranda, my dear." 
 
 Miranda was summoned, and directed to 
 show the gentleman to the guest chamber on 
 the second floor in the front of the house. 
 
 Mark went with the servant, and remained 
 in his room long enough to have made a toilet 
 and then sauntered downstairs. At the door 
 of the parlor, in which Mrs, Fain and her 
 daughter were sitting, he paused, as if waiting 
 for an invitation to enter. This was given him, 
 but he did not stay long. For a hot-blooded
 
 1 62 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 South Carolinian, he seemed not to bear the 
 heat well, and manifested a desire to get out 
 on to the veranda. Indeed, he had a whole 
 some dread of the light. Besides, he desired 
 to be where he could converse with Laura. 
 
 " If I may beg you to excuse me, ladies," he 
 said, " I will go out for a little fresh air." 
 
 He strolled out into the night and walked 
 back and forth on the veranda. 
 
 " Laura," said Mrs. Fain, " go out and enter 
 tain Mr. Rhett. I'm afraid of the night air 
 myself." 
 
 " Do you think it essential, mamma ? " 
 
 "Certainly I do. South Carolinians are 
 especially particular about the entertainment 
 of their guests, and I wouldn't have it go back 
 to Charleston that we had been remiss for the 
 world." 
 
 Laura obeyed her mother, and joined the 
 guest on the veranda. 
 
 Mark lifted his hat respectfully to her. 
 
 " The moon is rising," he remarked. "I see 
 the waxing light. If you will come this way," 
 going to the end of the veranda, "you can see 
 it better." 
 
 Laura followed him to the position, where 
 they were out of hearing. 
 
 The relief from keeping Mark concealed in 
 the garret, the success of the imposition of the
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 1 63 
 
 spurious South Carolinian on her mother, 
 Mark's talent for playing his part, all combined 
 to place Laura Fain in an exhilarated frame of 
 mind. Like most women, she admired daring, 
 and like most women, appreciated that daring 
 in one in whom she was interested in propor 
 tion to the distance of the danger attending it. 
 
 " You are safe for the present," she said, her 
 eyes glistening in the moonlight and a bright 
 spot on each cheek. 
 
 " Thanks to your courage and ingenuity." 
 
 "Oh no, no. That's absurd. For you to 
 speak of my courage ! Do you know that the 
 recklessness with which you put your neck into 
 a halter is as unintelligible to me as mathema 
 tics would be to one of our servants." 
 
 " For the cause," said Mark, " one ought 
 to 
 
 " Nonsense ! The cause ! You love these 
 dangers." 
 
 " There is a fascination in them, I admit. 
 So long as there is one chance for me, no mat 
 ter how many there are against me so long 
 as I have an arm or a weapon to fight with, I 
 am a man. When cornered and taken, I am 
 the veriest coward in the world. While in 
 prison in Chattanooga I moaned and whined 
 like a frightened child. The truth is, that 
 danger is fascinating only either before it is
 
 I<H CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 encountered or after it has passed. When I 
 am in it, I want to get out of it. When I am 
 out of it I want to get in it again." 
 
 " I don't believe you know the meaning of 
 the word fear." 
 
 " Indeed, you are mistaken. If I did not 
 feel fear there would be no fascination in dan- 
 ger." 
 
 " Then you have a way with you of making 
 people do what you like. When you were 
 here before, you fascinated all the servants. 
 You completely captivated Uncle Daniel, who 
 has talked of no one else since." 
 
 " Daniel is a good man. He'll be of use to 
 me yet." 
 
 " Yes, of use to you. You use every one, 
 either openly or by deception. I almost fan 
 cied you were Professor somebody, just now, 
 when you were deceiving poor mamma. You 
 reminded me of Mephistopheles for all the 
 world." 
 
 " You flatter," said Mark in irony. 
 
 " You are Mephistopheles. You come here 
 and compel me to harbor you. You are seek 
 ing to injure the cause I favor, and I give you 
 my brother's clothes, when that brother is 
 fighting for that cause. Why do I not send 
 for some one to come and take you?" 
 
 " On account of your native loveliness."
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 1 65 
 
 " You are a very devil." 
 
 " I never regarded myself a saint." 
 
 "And the worst of it is," she went on, her 
 eyes sparkling all the while, and talking 
 rapidly, " that such deviltry is especially fas 
 cinating to me. I would love to be a man. I 
 would do what you do. I would belong to the 
 cavalry. I would be a scout. I would be a " 
 
 "Spy?" 
 
 "Anything I had the courage to be. I 
 
 would delight in battles, in charges, in 
 
 Heavens ! " 
 
 The exclamation was occasioned by a horse 
 man who had approached while they were 
 talking. They had not noticed him till he had 
 opened the gate and was half-way between it 
 and the house. Laura sank into a seat ; all 
 color left her cheeks, and her heart seemed to 
 stop beating. 
 
 " Don't be frightened," said Mark, bending 
 over her and whispering in her ear. " It is 
 only a private soldier. He is not after me, and 
 if he is he can't have me." 
 
 Mark left her and advanced to the rail of the 
 veranda. 
 
 " Can you tell me how fyar 'tis ter Chat- 
 tenoogy?" asked the man. 
 
 " About two miles, I reckon, as the crow 
 flies ; three or four really."
 
 1 66 CHA TTANOOGA . 
 
 " Straight 'long up the road ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I'm a courier. I ben carry en despatches ; 
 but I didn't go this way." 
 
 " Well, you just keep the road and you'll get 
 through all right. Any news from the front?" 
 
 " Don't know any. I ben away from Chat- 
 tenoogy two days." 
 
 " Well, you haven't far to go." 
 
 " Good-night, sir." 
 
 " Good-night." 
 
 Mark went back to Laura. She had not re 
 covered from her fright, and he was obliged to 
 wait a few moments before he could get a word 
 from her. 
 
 " I suppose you think me a dreadful coward," 
 she said at last. "After all, I'm only a woman." 
 
 "Not cowardly for yourself ; for a poor devil 
 whose neck is in a halter." 
 
 " Yes, I'm only a girl, but I own the life of 
 a brave man, a soldier, a reckless monster, a 
 fiend, a spy." 
 
 "Anything else?" 
 
 " There are no more words to express what 
 I mean." 
 
 "Laura!" called Mrs. Fain. "If you're 
 going to stay out any later you'd better get a 
 shawl." 
 
 " I'm going in, mamma."
 
 CtIA TTANOOGA 167 
 
 They walked into the house together. Mr. 
 Rhett, of South Carolina, made a few common 
 place remarks to Mrs. Fain and then begged 
 to be excused, as he had been prospecting dur 
 ing the day and was very tired. He bowed 
 low to the ladies, and then went upstairs.
 
 XVII. 
 
 SURPRISED. 
 
 THE next morning Mark, hearing a tap at 
 the door, got out of bed and opened it 
 cautiously. As was natural under the circum 
 stances, he saw danger in everything that oc 
 curred. He half expected to see through the 
 slight opening he at first made the muzzle of a 
 revolver pointing directly at him. He saw a 
 very different sight. It was a large tumbler 
 with a straw in it on a silver tray in the hands 
 of a negro. 
 
 " Mrs. Fain's compliments, sah ! " and he 
 handed Mark a mint julep. 
 
 "Ah! " exclaimed Mark, with intense satisfac 
 tion. 
 
 " Present my compliments to your mistress, 
 and tell her I perceive with pleasure that this 
 noble Virginia custom has found its way into 
 Tennessee, as it has long ago into South 
 Carolina." 
 
 " Yes, sah ! " 
 
 " There are alleviating circumstances even 
 in the life of a spy," said Mark, contemplating 
 
 168
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 169 
 
 the beverage, " uncertain as that life is. Why 
 will man not always be a philosopher ? Here 
 I am in a beautifully furnished room ; have 
 been sleeping between the whitest linen, on 
 the softest of beds. I arise and behold this 
 delicate attention on the part of my hostess, 
 who, if she should know who I am, would bring 
 a dozen bayonets to hedge me in, and I should 
 be waving in the soft summer breeze at the 
 end of a hemp cord in twelve hours. But she 
 does not know who I am, and, considered 
 philosophically, I am Mr. Rhett, of South 
 Carolina, and in clover. Here's to Private 
 Mark Malone, poor devil ! " 
 
 However, Mark desired to keep his head cool, 
 considering the circumstances, and contented 
 himself with a few swallows of the julep; and 
 after completing his toilet, joined the ladies at 
 the breakfast table. He praised Mrs. Pain's 
 fried chicken, and light biscuit, and corn bread, 
 and was about to give the coffee a few words 
 of encomium, when, tasting it beforehand, he 
 discovered the prevailing chicory. So he en 
 tered upon a tirade against the blockade, and 
 ended by hoping that Abe Lincoln would at 
 last be hanged higher than Haman ; a reference 
 that gave him a disagreeable sensation about 
 the neck, and caused Laura's bosom to heave 
 tumultuously.
 
 : 7 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 The comforts surrounding Mark, the kind 
 ness of his hostess, and, above all, the pres 
 ence of a girl whose bosom seemed to contain 
 such volcanic forces as would best harmonize 
 with one whose chief object in life seemed to 
 be to get himself hanged, conspired to make 
 him feel a safety that he should not have felt 
 under the circumstances. He had been cam 
 paigning for a year, during which period he 
 had experienced no greater comfort than a 
 McClellan saddle, and the women of the 
 country through which he had passed had not 
 received him with any marked evidences of 
 pleasure. Is it to be wondered that he felt 
 approximate content if one can feel content 
 whose neck is in a halter in the Fain manor- 
 house ? 
 
 But Mark had something else on his mind 
 which he knew was of more importance than 
 his own safety, though its value, if he should 
 possess it, would be dependent on that safety. 
 He wanted some indication of where the enemy 
 would strike. He was not so foolhardy as to 
 think of going back to Chattanooga himself, 
 but he resolved to send a messenger. If he 
 could find some one to go to town that day, 
 the latest news could be brought him in the 
 evening. Then he would assume a disguise 
 and be off in the night.
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 171 
 
 After breakfast he took his pipe and went 
 out to smoke in the yard. He sauntered 
 around to the barn and found Daniel at work 
 upon the horses. 
 
 "Daniel," he said, "good-morning." 
 
 " Mornin', sah," said Daniel, eyeing him 
 suspiciously. 
 
 " Nice lot of stock you have here, Daniel." 
 
 "Yes, sah ; fine stock." 
 
 " And I see you take good care of them. 
 That pony shines as if his coat had been 
 oiled." 
 
 " Dat Missie Laurie pony, sah." 
 
 " Ah ! It's a fine animal. And is that her 
 phaeton ? " 
 
 "Yes, sah." 
 
 Mark was standing very near Daniel, and 
 suddenly turned and looked him in the eye, 
 knowingly. 
 
 " Daniel," he said, "are you all right on the 
 cause of freedom ? " 
 
 " Reckon I air, sah." 
 
 "Suppose you had a chance to favor that 
 cause, the cause which, if it triumphs, will make 
 all you darkies free, would you do it?" 
 
 " Reckon I would, sah." 
 
 " Well, suppose a Union man were to ask you 
 to " 
 
 " Yo'counterance air berry faliliar tome, sah."
 
 1 7 2 CHA TTANOOGA . 
 
 " Do I look like Mr. Slack ? " 
 
 " God bress de Lawd ! I wonder ef y'air Mr. 
 Slack?" 
 
 " Or the colored girl who came here the other 
 night," Mark asked, in a low, confidential tone. 
 
 " JV de Lawd ! " 
 
 " Never mind who I am, Daniel. I'm a 
 Union man. Now I want you to go into 
 Chattanooga and learn all you can of the latest 
 army news. Don't trust your own eyes, but 
 ask people what's going on. I want to know 
 if troops are leaving Chattanooga, and if so, 
 where they are going. Here are ten dollars. 
 Buy some things for the old woman and the 
 children, and ask questions of other people I 
 mean, not me." 
 
 " Trus* me fur dat," said the old man, and 
 dropping his work he began to harness a horse 
 to the family wagon. 
 
 When Mark finished smoking, he went into 
 the house. He passed into the library, where 
 he found Laura. She seemed to feel easier 
 than when Mark had been upstairs, but she 
 was in continued dread. Mark asked her to 
 sit on a sofa facing one window while he sat 
 facing another. " Then we'll have the position 
 enfiladed," he said. 
 
 Laura did not understand what that meant, 
 but she did as he desired.
 
 CHA TTA NOOGA . 173 
 
 They sat thus without suffering the watch 
 to relax during three delightful hours delight 
 ful notwithstanding the danger Mark was in. 
 Laura wanted an account of his adventures in 
 Chattanooga and he gave it. When she came 
 to Souri's part in his escape, Laura was visibly 
 affected ; indeed, so intensely were her feelings 
 wrought upon by this portion of the story 
 that she started at every sound, realizing the 
 more perfectly that Mark's neck was still in 
 jeopardy. 
 
 Then came an account of the trial ; the 
 march to the court-room ; the waiting for the 
 counsel ; the arrival of Captain Cameron Fitz 
 Hugh. 
 
 "Captain Cameron Fitz Hugh ! " 
 
 Then it was all out that Laura's lover had 
 defended the spy, and Laura confessed that she 
 was Fitz Hugh's betrothed. 
 
 In the midst of the excitement attending all 
 this, Mrs. Fain entered, carrying a silver tray 
 on which was a basket of cake and a decanter 
 and glasses. 
 
 " A little luncheon may not be amiss, Mr. 
 Rhett." she said. " I don't know your South 
 Carolina customs in such matters, but my 
 daughter and I occasionally take a biscuit at 
 this hour." 
 
 Mark rose and faced about. His hand went
 
 174 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 to his heart and he bowed low. Laura too 
 rose and stood looking at her mother. 
 
 " Madam," said Mark, " can I ever forget 
 this kindness." 
 
 " If you will discover the ore you seek on 
 our property, I shall feel amply repaid," said 
 the lady sententiously. 
 
 " Trust me, madam, I will have diligent 
 search made." 
 
 " Are you a geologist ? " 
 
 " None but a geologist would be hunting for 
 ore in the government service." 
 
 Mark stood with the stem of a wine glass 
 between his thumb and finger, appropriating 
 to himself such impressemcnt as would natur 
 ally fill the breast of a South Carolina geolo 
 gist hunting for iron with which to make 
 cannons for the government. 
 
 " That is a fascinating study," remarked 
 Mrs. Fain, who was a great reader and a very 
 intelligent woman. 
 
 Now Mark, though an educated man, and 
 born to a taste for the sciences, unfortunately 
 knew less about the profession he had tem 
 porarily adopted than any other. 
 
 " There are some curious geological facts," 
 Mrs. Fain went on, " which always interest me. 
 I was reading yesterday that a famous geolo 
 gist has said that centuries I have forgotten
 
 CHA TTA NOOGA . 175 
 
 ho\v many were consumed while Niagara 
 Falls were wearing their way from Lewiston to 
 the present site. How long was it, Professor? 
 I'm sure you have that title." 
 
 " It could not have been less than five hun 
 dred years, madam ! " said Mark, laying great 
 stress on the figures as something enormous. 
 
 " Five hundred ! I thought it was some 
 thing like twenty thousand." 
 
 Mark perceived that he had made a gross 
 blunder, but it would never do for him to 
 acknowledge it. 
 
 " I am aware," he said, " that such is the 
 opinion of a certain school of geologists with 
 more assurance than brains. I refer to those 
 scoffers who are continuously trying to find 
 evidence against the Mosaic account of crea 
 tion, but I regard their position untenable." 
 
 There was a pleased look on Mrs. Fain's 
 countenance. She belonged to the Baptist 
 denomination, and believed thoroughly that 
 the world was made in six days of twenty-four 
 hours each. 
 
 " Professor," she said, withdrawing from the 
 room at the same time, " I trust that you will 
 remain in the neighborhood along while, and I 
 beg you to honor us by making this house your 
 home in the mean time." 
 
 Mark was standing with a half filled glass of
 
 T 7 6 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 wine in his left hand, while his right was on his 
 heart. Mrs. Fain made her exit through the 
 door by which she had come, opening into the 
 dining-room. As the door closed Mark was 
 bending to the floor, admirably representing a 
 South Carolina gentleman of the olden time. 
 
 He heard something like a low cry half 
 surprised, half terror from Laura. Turning 
 quickly toward her he saw her eyes fixed in a 
 stare on some object at the door opening into 
 the hall. Another turn of his head, and there 
 stood the figure of Captain Cameron Fitz 
 Hugh. 
 
 Twice before had Mark seen that face ; once 
 when Fitz Hugh had approached the Fain 
 house the morning Mark had left it for Chat 
 tanooga, and once when the young Confederate 
 had defended him at his trial. 
 
 No sooner had Captain Fitz Hugh laid eyes 
 on Mark's face than he recognized the spy he 
 had defended at Chattanooga. 
 
 " Professor," he said coolly, " you are very 
 adroit." 
 
 Mark turned scarlet, and then ashy pale. 
 For a moment it seemed that his legs would 
 not support him. It required time for him to 
 collect himself, to make any reply whatever. 
 
 "Since you are so good at extricating your 
 self from difficulties, you have a fine opportu-
 
 CffA TTAtfOOGA . 177 
 
 nity to show your skill now." Fitz Hugh 
 spoke with his hand on the handle of his 
 pistol. " May I trouble you to throw up your 
 hands, professor f " 
 
 " It is not necessary," said Mark. " I am 
 unarmed." 
 
 A picture of his certain fate flashed across 
 his mind, and he wished Fitz Hugh would 
 shoot him. 
 
 " On your word of honor ? " 
 
 " Why do you ask such a question ? You 
 know that I am an arch deceiver." 
 
 " At any rate, you are a gentleman. Never 
 mind throwing up your hands." 
 
 Meanwhile Mark had been giving his heart 
 time to cease thumping, and had gathered his 
 wits. 
 
 Laura remained silent, staring at them both 
 as though she had lost her reason. Had she a 
 hundred things to say her tongue could not 
 have been made to utter one. 
 
 Mark turned toward Fitz Hugh and looked 
 him square in the face. He had conceived an 
 idea ; a forlorn hope, it is true, still a hope. 
 Quick to discern people's peculiarities, he had 
 gotten an insight into Fitz Hugh's character 
 when that officer had defended him at Chatta 
 nooga. He now resolved to take advantage of 
 that knowledge.
 
 1 7 8 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 " Captain," he said, " notwithstanding the 
 position in which you saw me a few days ago ; 
 notwithstanding the painful situation in which 
 you see me now ; you have on both occasions 
 done me the honor to consider me a gentle 
 man. I assume to a perception in this respect 
 not less keen than yours. Indeed, so sure 
 am I of the delicacy, the refinement of your 
 instincts, that I feel perfectly safe under this 
 roof." 
 
 " How so ? " asked Fitz Hugh, surprised. 
 
 " I am the guest of that young lady." 
 
 Mark stood with his arm outstretched, his 
 finger pointing to Laura Fain. Laura gave a 
 glance at Mark as he spoke, which caught the 
 eye of Captain Fitz Hugh. It contained ad 
 miration, devotion. Fitz Hugh gazed from 
 the one to the other without a word. 
 
 " I need not explain further, Captain," Mark 
 added. " A gentleman cannot mistake my po 
 sition ; only a gentleman can understand it." 
 
 "You mean, sir," said Fitz Hugh, "that I 
 cannot honorably enter this house and profit, 
 or cause my country to profit, by what I find 
 here without the consent of the inmates." 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " Mrs. Fain is the acknowledged head of this 
 house, and she is evidently deceived. But I 
 concede to Miss Fain the right to speak for
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 179 
 
 her. I acknowledge Miss Pain's right to hold 
 me to this secret, if any one has such a right. 
 But when Miss Fain shall have been fully ad 
 vised of all the facts " 
 
 " Pardon me ; she knows all you know." 
 " Then, when Miss Fain shall have duly con 
 sidered the interests of her country, I am quite 
 sure she will give her consent. '- 
 
 The attention of both men became fixed 
 upon Laura, for it was evident that she would 
 be called upon to make a decision between her 
 country and her lover on the one hand, and 
 the defenseless Union spy on the other. She 
 was standing near the sofa, on which she had 
 been sitting, steadying herself by resting her 
 hand on the back of a chair. It was a moment 
 of intensest feeling to all three. Laura knew 
 the sterling worth, the high sense of honor and 
 duty of her lover. She knew that if she held 
 him to secrecy he would consider it evidence 
 that she permitted her interest in the spy to 
 overwhelm her sense of duty. And would he 
 not attribute her protection to something more 
 tender than an ordinary interest? Fitz Hugh 
 realized her position ; indeed there seemed to 
 flash into both of them the feeling that her 
 decision would lie between two men her lover 
 and the Federal spy. With Mark it was a 
 question of life or death.
 
 i 80 ctfA TTANOOGA. 
 
 " Miss Fain Laura," said Fitz Hugh, speak 
 ing slowly and impressively, " I ask your per 
 mission to give up this impostor pardon me, 
 sir, for the plainness of my language ; it is es 
 sential this spy, who desires to carry informa 
 tion north to the detriment of our country ; 
 who seeks the defeat of our cause the cause 
 in which your brother is every day risking his 
 life ; lastly though this may be a matter of 
 small importance the cause for which I, your 
 lover, would lay down my life as I would lay it 
 down for you. It seems to me that it is a 
 question between your duty and your inclina 
 tion. Does it seem so to you ? " 
 
 " It does." 
 
 "Then tell me; may I send for a guard to 
 take him?" 
 
 Laura's eyes shone like those of a tigress at 
 bay. In a firm, clear voice, she said : 
 
 "No!" 
 
 For a few moments there was the stillness 
 of death. 
 
 " She has decided in your favor, sir," said 
 Fitz Hugh, whose color left his cheek when 
 Laura spoke the little word that decided his 
 and Mark's fate. " You have nothing to fear 
 from me." Then turning to Laura: 
 
 "I can understand the motive, the tempta 
 tion. The act remains."
 
 CHA T TA NOOGA . 1 8 1 
 
 " You may consider yourself released from 
 all ties with one whose act you do not ap 
 prove," said Laura. 
 
 "Be it so," and he turned to go. 
 
 Mark sprang forward and seized him by the 
 wrist. 
 
 " My God ! this shall not be. You believe 
 that this is due to more than an ordinary 
 womanly interest in Miss Fain for me. It is 
 not so. I swear to you, on the honor of a gen 
 tleman and a soldier, that Miss Fain has mani 
 fested no other feeling than one of commisera 
 tion for a man hunted for his life." 
 
 " Your words do you credit, sir. Miss Fain, 
 will you make my adieus to your mother, and 
 I leave it to you to impart to her whatever, if 
 anything, you may have to say as to the reason 
 for my farewell to you." 
 
 Despite the stateliness with which the words 
 were spoken, there was an indescribable sad 
 ness in the " farewell." He turned quickly and 
 left the room, and in another moment they saw 
 him ride down the roadway to the gate with 
 out once looking back.
 
 XVIII. 
 
 OFF FOR THE UNION LINES. 
 
 MARK'S first impulse after Fitz Hugh's de 
 parture was to leave the house at once. 
 He tried to say something to Laura, to soothe 
 her, to excuse his own unfortunate part in her 
 breaking with her lover. He could only go to 
 her and, taking her hand, kissed it without a 
 word. Then he told her that he should take 
 the risk of capture and depart instantly. 
 
 He was discoursing upon the method of his de 
 parture in quick, excited tones, when a horse 
 man entered the yard, and riding up to the ve 
 randa, drew a letter from his belt and handed it 
 to a negro who went out to receive it. It was 
 for Mrs. Fain. It had been sent through the 
 lines from Nashville, where her husband was 
 lying dangerously ill, and begged her to come 
 to him. 
 
 After its perusal Mrs. Fain determined to set 
 out the next day, taking with her her daughter 
 and the maid Alice. Daniel would drive 
 them. 
 
 " You shall go with us," said Laura to Mark. 
 183
 
 CHA TTA NOOGA . 1 83 
 
 "This is fortunate, In our company you will 
 be far safer than trying to make your way alone." 
 
 It occured to Mark that since he was being 
 hunted as a half-starved creature in the dis 
 guise of a negro girl, he would be less liable to 
 suspicion as a well-dressed man traveling with 
 a party of Southern ladies than in any other 
 character. At any rate he took this view of it, 
 and when Mrs. Fain announced her intention 
 to go, he offered to escort the party to the 
 Union lines. The offer was accepted and prep 
 arations made to leave the next morning. Mrs. 
 Fain wrote a note to the officer in command 
 at Chattanooga (to send with the letter she had 
 received from her husband for his perusal), ask 
 ing for a pass for herself, her daughter, and 
 two servants. Mark took the missives and 
 went out to find Daniel, who had just returned 
 from Chattanooga. 
 
 "Well, Daniel?" 
 
 " I been dar." 
 
 " What did you learn ? " 
 
 " I hearn ebery one talken 'bout sojers goen 
 to 'de Norf, and dey sayd day was goen t' 
 Knoxville. Dey was marchen 'n marchen all de 
 same way. I follered 'n dey brung up at de 
 depot ; 'n I sor one train arfter anudder go out 
 full o' sojers inside and hangen on to de plat 
 form and on de roofs."
 
 184 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " How many trains did you see go out ? " 
 
 " 'Bout forty hundred." 
 
 " Daniel," said Mark, smiling at the figures, 
 " you're smart as a whip. But you'll have to 
 go right back to Chattanooga, and take this note 
 to the commanding officer with this letter 
 from your sick master to show him. The note 
 is a request for a pass for the party to the 
 Union lines. Keep your wits about you, and 
 if he is an easy going sort of a man, you might 
 try to get him to put in three servants instead 
 of two. At any rate try to ring me in if you 
 can. Do you understand ? " 
 
 " Reckon I do, sah." 
 
 " Can you read ? " 
 
 " A leetle. Missie Laura larned me." 
 
 " Well, read the pass he may give you and 
 ask him to fix it so that it will include me as a 
 servant. But you must use your judgment." 
 
 Daniel drove again to Chattanooga. Mark- 
 waited anxiously for his return. Indeed, so 
 impatient was he that he thought the negro 
 had gone twice as long as he had when he saw 
 him drive into the yard. He at once went out 
 to the barn to meet him. 
 
 " Any luck ? " he asked anxiously. 
 
 " I got de pass fur Misses and de res', but I 
 didn't get what yo wanted. I got a paper 
 hyar. Mebbe it'll do."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 185 
 
 Mark took the paper. It was a pass for 
 Thomas Green and wife from Chattanooga to 
 the Union lines. 
 
 "How did you get this?" asked Mark, surprised. 
 
 " I hab to wait while folks was getten passes. 
 De officer go out to de udder room fur a 
 moment. Dis was layen on de desk 'n I tuk 
 hit up and brung hit away." 
 
 " Well," said Mark, <l it's not exactly what 
 I want, but ingenuity will have to help me 
 through. You're a trump, Daniel." 
 
 . In the morning, when all was ready for the 
 departure, two vehicles were brought around 
 to the door, the one a two-horse carriage, the 
 other Laura's phaeton drawn by her pony. 
 Mrs. Fain entered the former with Alice, 
 Daniel being in the driver's seat. Laura and 
 Mark got into the phaeton. 
 
 Mark took the lead, designing to make for 
 Battle Creek. The distance was not twenty 
 miles, and he knew that they could make it in 
 a few hours. It was a bold game he was play 
 ing, but the proximity of the halter was wear 
 ing on him, and he desired to get rid of suspense. 
 Besides, his presence, connected with his 
 critical situation, was wearing on Laura. He, 
 therefore, felt an exhilarating pleasure when 
 they drove out of the gate and trotted along 
 the pike westward. Hope cheered him.
 
 1 86 CHA TTAXOOGA . 
 
 All went well during the first ten or twelve 
 miles, when Mark received a piece of informa 
 tion which seriously interfered with his plan. 
 Meeting a courier riding toward Chattanooga, 
 who looked as if he might be the bearer of 
 some important news, Mark hailed him and 
 asked if he had anything from the front. 
 
 " The Yankees air getten no'th right smart," 
 the man replied. " Reckon th 1 air left Battle 
 Creek." 
 
 Mark argued that if this were true there 
 would be confusion on that route, and it would 
 be better to take another. They were not far 
 from the road leading from the Chattanooga 
 pike north to Anderson, on which the Slacks 
 lived. Mark concluded to take this road as far 
 as Anderson, and then strike west with a view 
 to reaching McMinnville on the other side of 
 the mountains. Mrs. Fain left all to Professor 
 Rhett, in whom she had perfect confidence, and 
 on coming to the road in question Mark led the 
 party northward. 
 
 The change of route was unfortunate, inas 
 much as it would add another day to the jour 
 ney. The departure from the Fain residence 
 had been delayed by the preparations till nearly 
 noon. McMinnville was a considerable dis 
 tance over the mountain, and Mark knew they 
 could not reach it that night. He remembered
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 18? 
 
 that they would soon pass the Slack's, and it 
 occurred to him that it would be a capital place 
 to pass the night, giving them a good day of 
 twelve hours light on the morrow to pursue 
 their journey. His disappointment at the de 
 lay was compensated for by the thought that 
 he would likely learn something of Souri and 
 Jakey, of whom he had heard nothing since he 
 left them in the Chattanooga jail. 
 
 Mark told Laura of his plan. She was dis 
 tressed at the delay. Something seemed to 
 tell her that - it would bring trouble. But 
 Mark's reasoning was unanswerable and there 
 seemed nothing else to do. If they must 
 spend a night anywhere it would better 
 be among those upon whom Mark could 
 rely. 
 
 At last they drove up at the Slack's gate. 
 Mark handed the reins to Laura and jumped 
 from the phaeton impatiently. Not seeing any 
 one in the front of the house, he proceeded to 
 the rear. The first person he met was Jakey. 
 He took the boy up and hugged him. 
 
 "Are you glad to see your big brother, 
 Jakey?" 
 
 "Airth" corn ripe?" 
 
 Souri came out of the house, her big eyes 
 glistening and her expressive face radiant with 
 pleasure and excitement. She had heard noth-
 
 1 88 CHA TTANOOGA . 
 
 ing of Mark since he left her in prison. Mark 
 seized her by both hands. 
 
 "You uns air safe. I knowed it," she said, 
 almost in a whisper. She could hardly speak 
 for joy. 
 
 " For the present, Souri, thanks to you." 
 
 Mark asked no questions then. He knew 
 that they were safe and at home, and he 
 hastened to inform them, and the father and 
 mother who came out to welcome him, that he 
 was with a party who was unaware of his true 
 character, which they must not betray, and 
 desired permission to stay in the house over 
 night. Then he led them around to the gate. 
 Daniel had meanwhile caught up, and the two 
 vehicles were halted in the road. 
 
 " We will spend the night with these good 
 people," said Mark. " They are quite willing 
 and will make us as comfortable as possible." 
 
 The party alighted and the horses were 
 driven to the barn. Mrs. Fain and her daughter 
 were given the room in which Mark had 
 changed his clothes when he went through to 
 the South, and Mark was assigned a bivouac 
 on the gallery, or in the barn, or any other 
 place he might select. 
 
 An apology for a meal was carried in to Mrs. 
 Fain and Laura, which they left untasted, 
 preferring a luncheon they had brought with
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 1 89 
 
 them in a basket. After supper Laura came 
 out and begged Mark to bring Souri and 
 Jakey to speak to her. She smoothed Jakey's 
 tumbled hair out of his eyes and asked him if 
 he remembered her. Jakey was about to re 
 ply in his usual fashion when he checked him 
 self, and for the first time since Mark had 
 known him answered directly. Souri stood, 
 eyeing Laura from the corners of her black 
 eyes, with a mingled expression of admiration 
 and antagonism. Laura spoke to her kindly, 
 but got only monosyllables in reply. 
 
 Mark passed the evening with the Slack 
 family, listening to a recital of Souri's and 
 Jakey's experience after he had left them in 
 the jail at Chattanooga, and he gave them an 
 account of his own adventures. 
 
 After all were asleep that night Mark took 
 Farmer Slack out into the yard where they 
 could converse unheard, and developed a plan 
 he had conceived for Souri and Jakey. 
 
 " It is due to your son and daughter," he 
 said, " that I am here at this moment ; indeed, 
 that I am alive. I .belong to a wealthy fam 
 ily and am wealthy myself. It only requires 
 means to make a splendid woman of the girl 
 and a fine man of the boy ; for means will pro 
 duce education, and education is the open door 
 to a desirable career. I am going to leave
 
 190 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 with you a letter to my father in Ohio, which 
 will contain an order for a sufficient amount of 
 money to insure both Jakey and Souri an edu 
 cation. Take or send them North, present the 
 letter, and you will find everything provided 
 for you. Souri may not consent at once, but 
 doubtless she will in time. Now, I must have 
 pen and paper." 
 
 " You uns is a good' un, stranger. You treat 
 us far. Hadn't you better send the letter when 
 y' git no'th ? " 
 
 " No. I must write it to-night. I am by no 
 means safe ; my neck is still in a halter." 
 
 The man led the way to his bedroom, where 
 the old woman was asleep. There he produced 
 writing materials, and Mark wrote an order 
 which, whether he lived or not, insured the fu 
 ture of his two friends, his preservers among 
 the " poor white trash " of Tennessee. 
 
 Mrs. Fain and her daughter began their 
 preparations for sleep early. From the time 
 of her earliest childhood Laura had yielded to 
 a feminine habit of looking under the bed be 
 fore getting into it. The troublous times had 
 only aggravated this disposition. True, guer 
 rillas the main objects of dread in those war 
 days unlike the traditional robber, did not 
 conceal themselves under beds. It might be 
 supposed that Laura would not look for a rob-
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 191 
 
 her in the house of a poor white man like 
 Farmer Slack. For one to conceal himself 
 there, to crawl out in the middle of the night 
 for the purpose of stealing jewelry, would be 
 absurd. Nevertheless, the force of habit was 
 strong in Laura, and before getting into the 
 bed she stooped and looked under it. 
 
 Mark, it will be remembered, had left his 
 uniform and arms under this very bed. Laura 
 saw a suspicious dark mass and started back 
 with what for want of a better name may be 
 called a shrieklet. But Laura was no coward, 
 and returning to the attack, she dragged out 
 the belongings of private Mark Malone. 
 
 "What do you suppose it means, mamma?" 
 
 " I fear," replied the mother, " that we shall 
 be murdered before morning." 
 
 " Why ? " asked Laura, aghast. 
 
 " These people are doubtless guerrillas, or 
 this place is the haunt of a guerrilla band. They 
 have murdered a Union soldier and hidden his 
 garments under the bed. Be careful, my child, 
 that gun is loaded ; it may go off." 
 
 " But, mamma," said Laura, who had mean 
 while recovered her equanimity, " I don't think 
 Professor Rhett would permit us to stop at a 
 place where we would be murdered." 
 
 " Dress yourself at once, Laura, and find the 
 professor: tell him what you have discovered."
 
 19^ CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 Mrs. Fain would not be satisfied till her 
 daughter did as she desired. Mark was called 
 from the company of the Slack family, and in 
 formed of the threatening danger. 
 
 To Laura's relief, his face, serious when she 
 began, broke into a smile as she proceeded. 
 
 " That's one of my stage costumes," he said, 
 " for a character which you have not yet seen 
 me perform. Go to bed and have no fear, for I 
 shall roll myself in a blanket and sleep on the 
 gallery at your door. Only be ready to hand 
 me my carbine and pistol in case I require 
 them." 
 
 " Mamma," said Laura, when she returned to 
 her mother, " Professor Rhett says that those 
 clothes belong to a Union soldier who passed 
 through here about a week ago to go to Chat 
 tanooga, as a spy on the movements of our 
 troops." 
 
 " I hope he has been caught and hanged by 
 this time," said Mrs. Fain, with spirit. 
 
 " Well, if he hasn't, and comes back to-night 
 and tries to get in here, the professor will shoot 
 him, because he told me to be ready to hand 
 him his rifle." 
 
 Such is the effect of evil communications. 
 Laura Fain was becoming as accomplished a 
 deceiver as Mark Malone. 
 
 The night was passed with snatches of sleep
 
 CHATTANOOGA. *9 3 
 
 by all the party. In the morning, after the 
 pork and corn-bread meal of the country, the 
 travelers again got into the carriages. While 
 they were standing before the gate prior to de 
 parture, Mark saw Souri out by the well-house. 
 He went there to bid her good-by. 
 
 " Souri," he said, " I wish there was some way 
 in which I could show you the gratitude I feel 
 toward you. When I think of my fate, had you 
 not appeared in the nick of time to save me by 
 your wit, and daring, and sacrifice, I feel that I 
 would like to make some corresponding sac 
 rifice for you." 
 
 " Laws, I didn't do nothen. Besides," she 
 leaned over the well, and looked down into its 
 depths, "you uns and me is too differ. You 
 uns is a gentleman and I air poor white trash." 
 
 There was an inexpressible melancholy in her 
 tone. 
 
 " Souri," Mark went on, " I have made an 
 arrangement with your father to make a lady of 
 you. I can't make such a sacrifice for you as you 
 have made for me ; that is impossible ; but I can 
 do this if you will act with me and consent to 
 the plan. I shall be off in a moment, and before 
 I go I want you to promise me that you will 
 consent. I. am still in danger, and you must 
 grant me this, as perhaps a last favor." 
 
 The girl burst into tears.
 
 194 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Promise." 
 
 " I don't keer what I do." 
 
 " Do you promise ? " 
 
 "Yas, I promise." 
 
 With a pressure of the hand he turned away, 
 and stalking to the gate, got into the carriage 
 beside Laura. Daniel and Mrs. Fain had started. 
 Mark followed, and had gone but a short dis 
 tance when he heard Jakey calling to him. He 
 pulled in the pony and waited for the boy to 
 come up. Jakey was holding something out 
 to him, which, as he drew nearer, Mark recog 
 nized as the red silk handkerchief. 
 
 " Souri sent it ter y'." 
 
 "Tell her that I'll never part with it." 
 
 " 'N I got the squirrel gun," said the boy. 
 
 "All right, Jakey; keep it to remember me 
 by." 
 
 Mark grasped the boy's hand and then drove 
 on. Laura Fain leaned back on the cushions 
 in silence.
 
 XIX. 
 
 THOMAS GREEN AND WIFE. 
 
 MARK designed driving to Anderson, some 
 twelve miles from the Slacks' house, 
 whence he knew there was a road leading up 
 in the mountains through a place called Alta- 
 mont, some twenty miles further, to McMinn- 
 ville. He was informed by people he met on 
 the road that Altamont had been recently oc 
 cupied in force by the Union troops. With 
 luck they might reach the Union lines, which 
 would doubtless extend several miles from 
 Altamont, that afternoon. 
 
 " Within six hours," said Mark, " I shall 
 either be safe among Union soldiers or on my 
 way back to Chattanooga." 
 
 Laura shuddered, but said nothing. 
 
 Mark found a very different condition of af 
 fairs at Anderson from what he had found 
 along the road. The Confederates had some 
 cavalry force there, and more at Dunlap, five 
 miles north. On the road he heard that Gen 
 eral Bragg was at Dunlap, but with no troops 
 save cavalry. 
 
 195
 
 i 96 CHA TTAtfOOGA. 
 
 " I see it all," said the spy to himself, " the 
 wily fox is confronting our forces with a hand 
 ful of cavalry, while the two divisions of 
 Cheatham and Withers are marching north 
 behind him, and the main force has gone to 
 Knoxville by rail on a line still further east. 
 No wonder our generals are puzzled and 
 watching a line from Battle Creek to Cumber 
 land Gap. If the Lord will only let me get 
 through to carry this information, I'll never ask 
 to live to go on another such expedition." 
 
 The party were stopped near Anderson by a 
 picket. Mrs. Fain produced her pass and 
 stated that the two behind were in her com 
 pany. The officer took no especial care in 
 reading it, and when Mark and Laura came up 
 they got safely through without question. 
 
 Mark was now anxious about the picket 
 which must be passed in a few minutes on the 
 road leading west from Anderson. Mrs. Fain 
 was still ahead, and he hoped that all would 
 go as well as at the picket just passed. Not a 
 word was spoken between him and Laura ; 
 both dreaded getting out of Anderson, but 
 once past the next picket they would breathe 
 easier. 
 
 When they reached it, Mrs. Fain had been 
 passed through and gone on. The officer in 
 command, however, had read the pass car.e-
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 197 
 
 fully. He had not noticed any mention of 
 Mark in it. 
 
 " Where's your pass? " he asked. 
 
 " Didn't the lady ahead show it to you ? " 
 asked Mark. 
 
 " Her pass didn't include you." 
 
 "Didn't it?" Mark feigned surprise. 
 
 " No." 
 
 "Oh, I forgot ; mine and my wife's is sepa 
 rate," and he drew out the pass of " Thomas 
 Green and wife." 
 
 Meanwhile Laura had turned white as a 
 cloth. The officer read the pass, and would 
 doubtless have let them go on, had he not 
 noticed Laura's agitation. 
 
 "You'll have to go back to headquarters and 
 get Major Taliaferro's order on that. He com 
 mands at Anderson." 
 
 Mark remonstrated. He argued that he 
 would become separated from Mrs. Fain ; he 
 urged his wife's desire to reach her sick father. 
 All in vain. He was told that the headquar 
 ters were only half a mile down the road, and 
 he would lose but little time. He made a vir 
 tue of necessity and drove back with apparent 
 good nature. 
 
 When he reached the house that was pointed 
 out to him as headquarters, he left Laura in 
 the phaeton and went inside. The command-
 
 I9 8 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 ing officer had gone to Dunlap, five miles 
 away, to pay his respects to General Bragg, 
 and would not be back for an hour or two. 
 
 Mark resolved to report his absence to the 
 officer of the picket post, in the hope that he 
 would not be compelled to wait. He drove to 
 the picket, and used his tongue persuasively, 
 but to no purpose. The more anxious he 
 seemed the more resolved grew the captain. 
 
 There seemed to be nothing to do but re 
 turn and await the arrival of the commanding 
 officer. Mark reluctantly turned the horse's 
 head and drove back to headquarters. Laura's 
 heart sank within her. 
 
 It was sunset when Major Taliaferro, a pleas 
 ant looking man of twenty-seven or twenty- 
 eight, rode up to the door, and turning his 
 horse over to an orderly entered the office. 
 
 " Major Taliaferro ?" asked Mark. 
 
 " At your service, sir." 
 
 " Major, I have been detained by the officer 
 at the picket, who wants your name on my 
 pass. My wife's mother has gone on and her 
 daughter is very anxious to join her. It is ex 
 tremely unfortunate for us to get so far sepa 
 rated from Mrs. Fain." 
 
 " Fain ? of the Fains of Chattanooga ? " 
 
 " The same." 
 
 " I have heard of the family, but have never
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 199 
 
 had the pleasure of meeting any member of it. 
 One of my friends is engaged to Miss Fain. I 
 have just parted from him at Dunlap." 
 
 Mark and Laura cast a quick glance at 
 each other, a glance of terror on the part 
 of Laura. 
 
 " We are fortunate in falling into your hands," 
 said Mark, " and I beg you will not delay us a 
 moment." And Mark handed him the pass. 
 
 "Certainly not." And the major took up a 
 pen to write his endorsement. First he read 
 the pass carefully. He was thinking of what his 
 friend Fitz Hugh had told him of the Fains. 
 He was under the impression that there was 
 but one daughter. 
 
 " Mr. Green," he said, looking up from the 
 pass, "hadn't you better stay here overnight? 
 The road is mountainous and infested by guer 
 rillas. It is positively dangerous to travel." 
 
 " By no means. What would Mrs. Fain 
 think of our not joining her on the road ? '' 
 
 " It is dangerous for her as well as you. I'll 
 send a messenger after her to advise her stop 
 ping at some farm-house. I'll do better than 
 that. I'll send a corporal and half a dozen men 
 to insure her safety till morning." 
 
 There was something in the man's tone, 
 polite as it was, that indicated to Mark that 
 he was held for further information.
 
 200 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " As you please, Major." 
 
 "And I shall insist upon your accepting my 
 hospitality. One connected in any way with 
 my friend Fitz Hugh must not want for any 
 comfort I can supply." 
 
 The house occupied by Major Taliaferro be 
 longed to a family who had gladly given up a 
 portion of it for the safety insured by the pres 
 ence of a commanding officer. The major was 
 given a room downstairs for an office, and a 
 bedroom upstairs. When it was decided that 
 Mark and Laura should remain he gave Mrs. 
 Green, as he called her, the use of the latter 
 for the purpose of arranging her toilet before 
 supper. 
 
 When Laura was upstairs Mark was looking 
 out of the window of the- major's office. He 
 saw the men ride off to overtake Mrs. Fain. 
 To his consternation another cavalryman, with 
 a letter in his belt, mounted his horse and 
 dashed down the road. 
 
 Laura came down at that moment and Mark 
 said to her anxiously : 
 
 " I am detained on suspicion. I shall be 
 taken back to Chattanooga," and he pointed 
 to the courier. 
 
 The color left Laura's cheeks. They had 
 got so near to safety, and no\v, after so many 
 dangers, the end was at hand. She could
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 2OI 
 
 scarcely sustain herself as she tottered into the 
 room occupied for the office. 
 
 This is the letter the courier bore north 
 ward. It was addressed on the envelope to 
 Captain Cameron Fitz Hugh, near Dunlap. 
 
 ANDERSON, August 29, 1862. 
 MY DEAR CAMERON : 
 
 A man purporting to be Thomas Green, with his wife, 
 formerly a Miss Fain, of Chattanooga, is here, desiring a 
 pass to the Union lines. There is something suspicious 
 about the man. The couple are separated from the 
 wife's mother and the father lies very ill at Nashville. I 
 dislike to detain them, and I do not regard it safe to pass 
 them. Can you help me out of the difficulty ? 
 Yours very truly, 
 
 WALLACE TALIAFERRO. 
 
 Major Taliaferro soon joined Mark and 
 Laura in his office, and offering his arm to 
 Laura led the way to the supper-room. His 
 treatment of both was most deferential, but 
 it failed to deceive either that they were 
 prisoners. 
 
 There was a strength of nerve in Mark that 
 would not break while there was hope. He 
 chatted with the host or jailor, whichever he 
 might be called, with ease, and at times with 
 gayety. Not so Laura. The situation was 
 too frightful for her to endure without some 
 manifestation of anxiety. She ate nothing.
 
 202 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 She did not hear what was said to her, and her 
 eyes plainly showed the troubled spirit within. 
 Mark made no reference to her condition till 
 after supper. . Then, when all three went out 
 on to the veranda, he said to her: 
 
 " Come, let us take a stroll. You have been 
 traveling all day, and this delay troubles you. 
 A walk in the air will revive you." 
 
 Mark assumed with such apparent careless 
 ness that he was free to walk about where he 
 liked, that Taliaferro had not the will to stop 
 him. Besides, he had no heart to interfere with 
 the pleasure of a woman whom he was pretend 
 ing to treat as a guest. The couple walked 
 leisurely down the road, Mark looking at the 
 sunset tints with well-assumed indifference, oc 
 casionally pointing to some object by the way 
 or in the distance, calling Laura's attention to 
 it at the same time. He knew the major's gaze 
 was fixed upon him and he was doing all this for 
 a purpose. 
 
 The road led straight from the house a short 
 distance and then entered a wood. As soon 
 as they were concealed behind the trees Mark 
 stopped suddenly and turned to Laura: 
 
 " My God, this is terrible ! " 
 
 "You are lost!" said Laura, faintly. She 
 could scarcely speak the words. 
 
 "// Yes, I. But you what have I led you
 
 CHA T TA NOOGA . 203 
 
 into ? Why was it not over on that morning 
 when it was intended ? Then you would not 
 be implicated, now your good name is 
 
 " No one will trouble me," she gasped. 
 " But you they will drag you 
 
 "You have protected me a spy. Not only 
 that that is nothing in comparison with 
 having passed as my wife. There is a blight." 
 
 " I can bear it." 
 
 " There is but one way out of this disgrace. 
 You must be married before we return to that 
 house. And to whom ? " his voice changed 
 from a rapid, excited tone to deepest gloom, 
 "to one who must die die on the scaffold. 
 At any rate you will be free. You will be a 
 widow." 
 
 Laura, stood, the very impersonation of 
 despair. 
 
 " All I can do to atone for this," Mark went 
 on rapidly, " and it is nothing is to make you 
 my wife, since I have passed you as such. 
 Laura, will you marry me ? " 
 
 She looked at him earnestly. Her eyes were 
 big with deep emotion. There was a look in 
 them that he could not understand. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "Then I can do nothing for you." 
 
 " I will marry only the man who loves me, 
 and whom I love."
 
 2 04 CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 " O Laura," he said, " if your heart were only 
 mine ! then it would be different. I love you 
 so well, I worship you with such fervor that I 
 would go back to that dreadful jail without a 
 word, could I place you where you were before 
 you met me. But you " 
 
 Laura burst into a torrent of tears. This 
 man, who had so suddenly appeared in her 
 life ; who had won her sympathy, who had 
 compelled her admiration ; who had absorbed 
 her whole being into his daring, chivalrous, 
 reckless nature this man loved her, and he 
 was doomed ! 
 
 With a cry she threw her arms around his 
 neck. 
 
 " Laura, sweetheart," said Mark, caressing 
 her, "we have but little time. We know not 
 whom we shall have to face. My true character 
 must soon be known. Will you give yourself 
 to one who will doubtless to-morrow be claimed 
 by- 
 
 Pale as ashes, she put her hand over his 
 mouth that he might not speak the word 
 "death." 
 
 " Will you ? Speak ! " 
 
 "Yes, now, quick, what can we do? " 
 
 "Marry ourselves." 
 
 "How?" 
 
 He grasped her hand. There was a ring upon
 
 CHA TTAtfOOGA. 205 
 
 it a plain gold band ; he took it off and put 
 ting it on her finger again, said: 
 
 " I, Mark 
 
 "Is it really Mark?" 
 
 " Yes, I am Mark Maynard. I, Mark, take 
 you Laura, to be my wife. Do you take me to 
 be your husband ?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Then we are man and wife in the sight of 
 of God " 
 
 " And for man we care not." 
 
 " Man and wife under the law. We are really 
 married." 
 
 Scarcely was this hurried ceremony over 
 when a cavalryman came riding leisurely from 
 the direction of headquarters. He had been 
 sent by Major Taliaferro who, as soon as 
 Mark was out of sight, became anxious with 
 regard to him with instructions to keep him 
 in sight without appearing to do so. 
 
 There was nothing left for them to do but 
 return to the house. As they walked, Mark 
 whispered : 
 
 " I feel again all the confidence I have ever 
 felt. I must live to make you happy. Be 
 ready for anything that may happen, my dar 
 ling, my wife. I shall, doubtless, play some 
 bold game ; I don't know what, but it will be 
 bold. If I leave you suddenly, meet me (should
 
 2o6 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 I succeed in my attempt) within the Union 
 lines. If not we will meet in heaven." 
 
 These few words were all that Mark had time 
 to say to his newly married wife. For scarcely 
 had they turned to go back, when they met the 
 major. He was uneasy lest Mark should depart 
 without leave. He accompanied them back to 
 the house.
 
 XX. 
 
 FLIGHT. 
 
 IT was nine o'clock in the evening. Major Talia- 
 ferro and his guests were sitting in his office 
 room chatting. A clatter of horses' hoofs was 
 heard at the front of the house and some one 
 dismounted. In another moment there was a 
 tramp of cavalry boots in the hall ; all turned 
 to the open door and there stood Captain 
 Cameron Fitz Hugh. 
 
 For a moment he regarded Mark and Laura 
 sternly, then advancing a few steps he bowed 
 low to Laura. 
 
 "Captain," said the major, rising, " I suppose 
 it is useless to deny to this lady and gentleman 
 that I deemed it my duty to make sure of their 
 identity before allowing them to pass. The 
 family to which they claim to belong is known 
 to you ; therefore I sent to you for information. 
 I see you have answered my inquiry in person. 
 If you vouch for them I shall be happy to pass 
 them in the morning and shall apologize for 
 their detention at the same time my excuse 
 being the cause we serve." 
 207
 
 2o8 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 All eyes were fixed on Fitz Hugh, Mark's 
 and Laura's with ill-concealed anxiety. 
 
 " This was Miss Fain," said Fitz Hugh. 
 " She would not be traveling as any man's 
 wife unless she were married to him. If you 
 detain them, you must do so on your own re 
 sponsibility." 
 
 Both Mark and Laura drew a sigh of relief. 
 
 "I have no desire to detain them," said 
 Taliaferro, "after what you have said; but it 
 is altogether too late for them to proceed to 
 night. The only amends I can make for dis 
 commoding them is to make them com 
 fortable. Mrs. Green, your room is ready for 
 you." 
 
 The pain that would otherwise have attended 
 this scene was alleviated in Laura's heart by 
 the delight she felt at a prospect of safety for 
 her husband. She gave her former affianced a 
 look of gratitude. Then she glanced at Mark 
 for instructions. Seeing no hint in his eyes 
 she passed out of the room and went upstairs. 
 
 " Captain," said Mark, " may I beg a cigar? 
 I usually smoke at this time of night." 
 
 " Here are cigars, gentlemen/' said Talia 
 ferro, producing a box. 
 
 " If you smoke, Captain," added Mark, " I 
 shall be pleased of your company." 
 
 " With pleasure."
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 2O$ 
 
 All lighted cigars, and Mark and Fitz Hugh 
 strolled out on the veranda. 
 
 "Captain," said Mark, as soon as they were 
 outside. " I have never met a man whom I 
 have so admired, so honored, as you ; and yet 
 I have robbed you of your love. This last act 
 of kindness to her and to me, so well indicat 
 ing your magnanimity, is more than I can bear. 
 I cannot accept anything more, even for 
 her sake. I cannot stay here to be shielded 
 by you and behind her skirts. I am about to 
 leave this veranda and fly to the Union lines. 
 Thank God, I have one who is the soul of 
 honor, in whose charge to leave my wife. Con 
 sider her under your care. She will doubtless 
 need all you can give her, for I expect never 
 to see her again. I shall doubtless be captured 
 before to-morrow noon. If you were not my 
 enemy, if you had not been my rival, I would 
 love you as a brother." 
 
 Without waiting for a reply Mark left the 
 veranda, and in another moment was lost in the 
 darkness. 
 
 Captain Fitz Hugh stood as one petrified. 
 So many conflicting emotions were within him 
 that nothing seemed real. For a time he was 
 in a sort of stupor. When he emerged from it 
 the first thing that took definite shape in his 
 mind was a deliberation as to what he should
 
 2 tb CHA TTANOOGA. 
 
 do. Should he go in and confess all to the 
 major? Should he keep the secret ? Laura's 
 secret. He leaned against a pillar of the ve 
 randa and passed his hand over his brow. 
 
 He could not stab Laura ; he could not even 
 betray the man who had left her in his care. 
 He did nothing. 
 
 Half an hour elapsed, when Taliaferro, who 
 had been busying himself with some papers, 
 began to wonder what had become of the two 
 men. He got up and went out on to the ve 
 randa. 
 
 " Where's Green ? " he asked quickly. 
 
 " Gone." 
 
 " Gone ?-" 
 
 " Yes, gone half an hour ago." 
 
 " What does this mean, Cameron ? " 
 
 " It means that I have been keeping from 
 you what I can keep no longer, or I would. 
 This man Green is a Federal spy." 
 
 Taliaferro threw up his hands in horror. 
 
 " And you have been protecting him ! " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Cameron my friend great God are you 
 a traitor ? There is something back tell me, 
 quick." 
 
 " Twice before he has crossed my path. He 
 was taken and tried at Chattanooga. I was 
 detailed to defend him. I had never seen him
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . * 1 1 
 
 before. He was found guilty and sentenced 
 to be hanged, but escaped. 
 
 " When I met him again it was at the Fains' 
 house. Laura Fain, the woman upstairs, then 
 my betrothed, but now his wife, was conceal 
 ing him." 
 
 " Well ? " 
 
 " I saw that she was infatuated with him. 
 She claimed him for her guest. I " 
 
 " Well, go on." 
 
 " I could not honorably inform on him." 
 
 " Oh, Cameron ! what absurdity what 
 idiocy what " 
 
 " This afternoon you sent for me. I came. 
 I saw the man I had seen twice before with 
 my with the loveliest, the noblest of all women 
 his wife." 
 
 The major only stared at his friend ; he had 
 no words to express his feelings, his sympathy. 
 
 " When we came out here he told me that 
 he would accept nothing further for himself at 
 my hands ; that he would not shield himself 
 behind a woman's skirts. He walked away be 
 fore me." 
 
 " And you ? " 
 
 " I permitted him." 
 
 Taliaferro shuddered. He knew that his 
 friend, by his act, had placed himself in a terri 
 ble position.
 
 2i2 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Cameron," he said, " do you know you are 
 liable to be shot for this ? " 
 
 " I do." 
 
 " I always told you," the major went on 
 anxiously, impatiently, " that your notions of 
 houor were absurd, quixotic." 
 
 " The highest sense of honor is never quix 
 otic. It is best fitted fora Christian, a soldier, 
 and a gentleman." 
 
 " And do you expect me to let this spy go ? " 
 
 " No. Protect yourself the cause. Send 
 after him. It is I who have connived at his 
 escape, not you. You must not suffer." 
 
 " The cause alone is enough," 
 
 " Orderly," he called, to a man standing by 
 the gate. 
 
 The soldier approached and stood at atten 
 tion. 
 
 " Go, tell Captain Heath that the man who 
 was here this evening has gone, and I want him 
 followed and brought back. Tell him to send 
 by all the roads." 
 
 The man saluted and went away. 
 
 " Cameron," said the major, after giving the 
 order, " God grant that this act of yours may 
 not be known. It will not be, for I am the 
 only one who knows of it, and it will never 
 pass my lips." 
 
 " I am responsible for my acts, and if it be-
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 213 
 
 comes known I trust I shall have courage to 
 meet the consequences like a man." 
 
 " And now, Wallace," he continued, " I am 
 going. The young wife who was left in my 
 charge, I leave in yours. I would gladly pro 
 tect her myself, but I prefer to spare her,, the 
 pain of being under my protection. If her hus 
 band is taken, and she needs me, send for me." 
 
 " Cameron, you are leading me to hope that 
 he will not be taken." 
 
 Fitz Hugh went to the gate near by where his 
 horse was standing, and mounting, rode away. 
 
 As soon as he had gone, Taliaferro called a 
 negro woman, and told her to go to the lady's 
 room and ask her (if she had not gone to bed) 
 to come to him, as he had a communication to 
 make. Laura had no thought of taking off 
 her clothes. She was waiting for what might 
 happen. When she received the major's mes 
 sage, she went down to him with a heart beat 
 ing wildly. 
 
 " Madam," said the major deferentially, 
 "your husband has gone." 
 
 "Where?" asked Laura, with a blanched 
 cheek. 
 
 " He walked away in the presence of Cap 
 tain Fitz Hugh, who would not detain him, or 
 inform me that he had gone till he was obliged 
 to do so."
 
 2 1 4 CHA TTANOOGA . 
 
 Laura clasped her hands, and mutely breathed 
 a blessing on the man who had spared her hus 
 band for her sake. 
 
 " How long has he been gone? " she asked. 
 
 " More than half an hour." 
 
 " Have you ordered his pursuit ? " 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " And he has a start of " 
 
 " Thirty minutes." 
 
 " You'll never take him. He bears a charmed 
 life." 
 
 " And now, madam, what can I do for you ? 
 My friend charged me to see that you have 
 every attention." 
 
 " I will go on and join my mother." 
 
 " To-night ? " 
 
 " To-night now." 
 
 " Your phaeton shall be at the door in a few 
 minutes. You must accept my escort. There 
 will be a guard beside." 
 
 " It is not necessary for you to go." 
 
 " I shall not permit you to go without me." 
 
 " Orderly ! Hey ! orderly ! The lady's phae 
 ton at once. And send for a corporal and six 
 men." 
 
 In ten minutes Laura, Major Taliaferro, 
 seated beside her, six stalwart cavalry men in 
 gray about her, was on her way to join her 
 mother.
 
 XXI. 
 
 THE BALL IS OPENED. 
 
 MARK knew the direction of the roads lead 
 ing from Anderson, and believed that he 
 could avoid the pickets. Making his way over 
 a space covered with bushes and a low growth 
 of timber, he struck the road by which he had 
 come that day at a point beyond the vedette. 
 Then half a mile's run brought him, out of 
 breath, to a house. The occupants were not 
 asleep, and Mark succeeded, by persuasion and 
 threats, in getting a horse to take him to 
 Slack's, promising to send it back the next day 
 with liberal pay for its use. 
 
 He arrived at Slack's shortly before midnight, 
 and his horse fell exhausted in the yard. 
 Slack received him with a shot-gun pointed 
 through the crack of the door. Mark made 
 himself known and asked for his uniform and 
 his arms. The old man got them for him, and 
 taking them to the stable, Mark put them on. 
 Then he went to the stall where his horse 
 stood. The mare knew her master when he 
 threw his arms about her neck and seemed as 
 glad to see him as he was to see her. 
 215
 
 2l6 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 "Ah, Madge, my darling! once on your 
 back, old girl, and the devil may catch me if he 
 can." 
 
 He lost no time in putting the bit in her 
 mouth, and strapping on the saddle. Then, 
 putting his foot in the leather-covered stirrup, 
 he lifted himself into his seat. 
 
 For the first moment in ten days Mark felt 
 the comfort of being in the saddle with his 
 arms about him. 
 
 A few steps took him out of the barn ; then 
 turning his horse's head in the direction from 
 which he had approached the place with Souri, 
 he rode away among the trees. Before going 
 a hundred yards he stopped and listened. 
 Some sound had caught his ear. It was the 
 gallop of horsemen. He waited, dreading a 
 neigh from his own horse, which he patted to 
 hold her attention. The horsemen passed on 
 down the road. 
 
 " Ride on, brave boys," said Mark, " if you're 
 after me, the faster you go in that direction 
 the better I'll like it." 
 
 In the light of the waning moon he trampled 
 over the shadows of leaves as on a " crazy quilt." 
 He crossed the Sequatchie by the ford over 
 which Souri had guided him, and took care not 
 to head too far down stream, as he had done 
 before. Then he crossed the creek near the
 
 CHA TTANOOGA. 217 
 
 fallen log. He struck the road by which he 
 had left Jasper just south of the fork at which 
 Souri had halted him. Without hesitating a 
 moment he struck out at a brisk canter over 
 the left of the two roads the one leading to 
 Tracy City. 
 
 Mark had never experienced such sensations 
 as now. On his own fleet horse, his carbine 
 slung on his shoulder, his pistol at his side, on 
 the road to the Union camps, a wife whom he 
 adored to join him in case he should arrive 
 safely why should not the spirit within him 
 fairly glow with hope? 
 
 And never had the beautiful Madge borne 
 her rider with such evident exhilaration. 
 Mark's feelings seemed to be infused into her, 
 as she sped on, her iron shoes dashing sparks 
 from the stones, far brighter than the light of 
 the waning moon glistening on the barrel of 
 his carbine. 
 
 He reached Tracy at sunrise. He did not 
 dare to go through the place, so he skirted it, 
 and once above it, rode along the mountain 
 plateau over a road leading directly north. 
 He was now familiar with the country. Arriv 
 ing at a place called Johnston's, he struck off 
 to the right to Purdons, where two roads join, 
 leading from there to Altamont. 
 
 Mark struck the main stem a few hundred
 
 2i8 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 yards from the junction. As he rode up a 
 slight rise on to the road, he cast his eye to the 
 right. There, standing at the fork, was a Con 
 federate cavalry vedette. 
 
 He saw Mark as soon as Mark saw him. 
 Shouting to the rest of the picket post, he 
 dashed forward. 
 
 " Now for it, Madge ! " 
 
 The animal knew by his tone that there was 
 work to be done, and although she had been 
 out since midnight she began the race with 
 vigor. On sped the Union soldier, followed at 
 a few hundred yards distance by the Confeder 
 ate, and half a mile by several others of the 
 picket post. Mark was within range, but his 
 pursuers did not care to draw rein in order to 
 fire, doubtless fearing that if they should fail 
 to bring him down by the bullet, he would 
 escape. 
 
 , Madge did nobly, and had she not been 
 riding up a mountain side for three or four 
 hours would have easily distanced her pur 
 suers. As it was, the man who followed first 
 was gaining rapidly. Mark knew that he must 
 either dispose of this fellow or be taken. 
 Coming to a slight bend in the road, he rode a 
 hundred yards beyond to a place where his 
 pursuer must" suddenly appear around the 
 trees. Reining in his horse, he faced about
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 219 
 
 and stood still with his carbine at an aim. As 
 soon as the man appeared Mark fired. 
 
 The Confederate fell from his saddle and his 
 horse made off into the woods. 
 
 Mark turned and was soon again flying for 
 ward. He judged that he could not be very 
 far from the Union pickets between him and 
 Altamont. Looking ahead he saw a horseman 
 standing in the road. Whether he was Union 
 or Confederate he did not know; but there was 
 no way to escape the remainder of his pursuers 
 except by keeping right on and trusting to 
 meeting a friend. As he rode on he noticed 
 that the horseman wore a forage cap. This 
 looked well, for the Confederates nearly always 
 wore hats. Then he could see that the man's 
 body had a dark hue. It must be blue. At 
 last he came near enough to discern yellow 
 facings. 
 
 There was a whistling of bullets by his ears ; 
 he turned his head and saw that his pursuers 
 had halted. They had evidently seen the 
 Union picket and fired a farewell volley at 
 the fugitive. 
 
 Private Mark Malone was within the Union 
 lines; his mission was ended. 
 
 Mark was taken to the officer in command at 
 Altamont. On the way from the picket line 
 he was informed that the place was occupied
 
 220 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 by McCook's Division. When he reached 
 headquarters he made himself and his mission 
 known, and in a few minutes a cypher telegram 
 was on its way to General Thomas at McMinn- 
 ville : 
 
 Bragg at Dunlap yesterday with no force except a few 
 cavalry. Cheatham and Withers marching north. The 
 main army gone by rail from Chattanooga on the 28th to 
 
 Knoxville. 
 
 PRIVATE MARK M ALONE. 
 
 Ten minutes later the spy was sound asleep 
 on a camp cot in a tent belonging to one of 
 the staff. 
 
 Mark had had no sleep for twenty-eight 
 hours, and for much of that time he believed 
 that he would be retaken and hanged. Now he 
 slept a deep sleep. Hour after hour went by, 
 and though bugles called and drums rattled, 
 he slumbered on. He dreamed that he was at 
 Chattanooga. He was standing on the scaf 
 fold. Soldiers surrounded him. The noose 
 was adjusted about his neck. He heard the 
 sound of the ax as it cut the rope. He awoke 
 with a cry. 
 
 Laura Fain no, Laura Maynard his wife 
 was standing beside him. 
 
 She sank down by the cot, and in a moment 
 they were in each other's arms. Neither spoke. 
 Neither wished to do aught but leave tears
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 2 2 1 
 
 tears of an exquisite happiness to flow on 
 silently. 
 
 Mark and Laura were too happy to ask each 
 other questions as to what had passed since 
 their parting the evening before. They knew 
 they were happy and that was all they cared to 
 know. Laura knew that the frightful doom 
 which hung over Mark so long for it seemed 
 an age to her had been averted. Again and 
 again she passed from the remembrance of her 
 terrible anxiety to the thought that he was 
 under his own flag, and she was his wife. She 
 reveled in these transitions. She would go 
 over every anxious moment; she purposely 
 dwelt on that brief but terrible ceremony which 
 had united her, only half a day before, with one 
 whom both considered doomed, that she might 
 experience the exquisite sensation of turning 
 from it to her present delight. 
 
 For a time she saw in Mark's face only a re 
 flection of her own happiness. He was feasting 
 his eyes upon her, passing his fingers through 
 her dark hair, or smoothing it back with his 
 hand, while he covered her face with kisses. 
 
 Suddenly a thought seemed to come between 
 her and him. 
 
 "What is it, darling? " she asked anxiously. 
 
 " I was thinking -"said Mark. " But no; I 
 will not think of that."
 
 222 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Tell me." 
 
 " I was wondering Laura, did you love 
 him?" 
 
 Laura cast down her eyes. 
 
 " Love ? Was it love ? " She asked the 
 question of herself. " It was a summer breeze ; 
 while this " 
 
 "This?" 
 
 " Is a tempest." 
 
 Drawing her lips down to his, before im 
 printing a kiss, Mark added to her simile: 
 
 " A wild west wind.' " 
 
 "You are thinking of your Shelley," she 
 said. " I shall love him, too, now, since it was 
 he who betrayed you to me." 
 
 "And I shall love him the more because he 
 betrayed me and made me " 
 
 He did not finish. He was thinking of the 
 morning in the garret when in her imperious 
 way she had claimed that saving his life had 
 made her its owner. She remembered it, too, 
 and smiling, finished for him : 
 
 " And made you my slave. But who made 
 me ' your lyre even as the forest is ' to the 
 west wind ? " 
 
 Her caresses prevented a reply for a time. 
 When there was a pause, Mark exclaimed won- 
 deringly : 
 
 " O woman, why must you so often deny to
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 223 
 
 the worthy that which you may give in such 
 abundance to one whose only recommendation 
 is an ability to catch your fancy ? " 
 
 Again there came into his face the expres 
 sion of a thought which seemed for the moment 
 to carry him away from her. 
 
 " What is it now ?" she queried anxiously. 
 
 Mark smiled. "You will laugh at me when 
 I tell you." 
 
 " Then you must be laughed at." 
 
 " I was wondering if, when I get back to 
 headquarters, the general will want me to go 
 right away on another mission." 
 
 Her arms were about him. She drew a little 
 away and fixed her black eyes upon him. 
 They shone like those of some savage but 
 beautiful animal about to be bereft of her 
 young. 
 
 " If you go again," she said fiercely, " into the 
 presence of such a death, I will go with you." 
 
 Mark made no reply except to throw his arms 
 about her neck and draw her to him again. 
 Her fierceness was with him her chief charm. 
 Then he made an effort to rise. 
 
 " Stay where you are," she said, in the same 
 imperious tone she had given the order once 
 before, when he threatened to leave the garret ; 
 "you shall lie there till you promise that you 
 will be a spy no more."
 
 224 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 " Let me up," cried Mark, smiling at her 
 earnestness. 
 
 " Lie still ! " 
 
 " Come, sweetheart," he said pleadingly, " let 
 me get up, and I'll say, with Hotspur to his 
 Kate, ' when I'm on horseback, I'll swear I love 
 thee infinitely.' " 
 
 Mark was on his back, his arms pinioned ; 
 he was powerless. He was surprised at Laura's 
 strength. 
 
 " Promise." 
 
 " Never ! " 
 
 " Promise." 
 
 " Why so ? I know I shall be dying to go 
 again in a week." 
 
 " Then you shall lie there till the war is 
 over." 
 
 " But I thought you told me once that if 
 you were a man you would be all I have been." 
 
 " So I would. And you, being a man, might 
 continue to be so were you the husband of any 
 other woman ; but mine, never! " 
 
 Mark looked into her eyes and knew that his 
 career in the secret service had ended. The 
 savage opposition he saw there to his ever 
 again risking such a death as he had but a few 
 days before barely escaped, was too strong for 
 him. Where was his adroitness, his ingenuity, 
 his readiness in peculiar situations? Vanished
 
 CtfA TTANOOGA. $2$ 
 
 under the gaze of his young wife. At last he 
 was subdued by a girl. 
 
 The arrival of Laura the night before at the 
 farm-house where her mother had stopped and 
 awaited her coming anxiously, their resumption 
 of their journey the next day, during which 
 Laura confessed all to her mother, their safe 
 arrival within the Union lines, the finding Mark 
 at headquarters, may be passed over in these 
 few short phrases. 
 
 Mark's meeting with his mother-in-law was, 
 to say the least, embarrassing. Mrs. Fain re 
 ceived him with the same dignity that had 
 characterized her throughout, but without her 
 former cordiality. As yet she knew nothing 
 about his connections, and she disdained 
 to ask. But Mark had satisfied Laura, and the 
 information she transmitted to her mother was 
 in a measure mollifying. 
 
 That afternoon the party that had ridden 
 into Anderson the day before, rode out of 
 Altamont in the direction of McMinnville. To 
 all outward appearance the situation was the 
 same ; but really, how different ! Yesterday 
 Mark was in imminent danger, while Laura 
 was in a state of terror. Then they rode with 
 scarcely a word. Now language was inade 
 quate to convey all they wished to ex 
 press.
 
 226 CHATTANOOGA. 
 
 In the evening the party drew up before 
 General Thomas's tent at McMinnville. 
 
 Mark went inside. 
 
 " General," he said, " you received my tele 
 gram ? " 
 
 " I did." 
 
 " Had you not received the information be 
 fore ? " 
 
 " If we had, why should we be here ? " 
 
 There was a brief pause. 
 
 " I have brought something besides informa 
 tion, general. May I introduce a party waiting 
 outside? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 Mark went out and brought in Laura and 
 her mother. 
 
 " General, permit me to introduce my 
 wife." 
 
 The general looked at the blushing Laura, 
 then at her mother, then at Mark, in undis 
 guised astonishment. 
 
 " I thought you had been on a scout," he 
 said. 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " And courted and wed at the same time? " 
 
 " Yes, general." 
 
 " Be seated, ladies. Now explain all this." 
 
 Mark gave an outline of his adventures, his 
 listener's eyes opening wider as he proceeded.
 
 CHA TTANOOGA . 227 
 
 When the recital was finished the general called 
 out. 
 
 " Orderly ! " 
 
 In a twinkling a man was standing in the 
 tent waiting an order. 
 
 " Send for Chaplain Gadsden." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " I'm a trifle uncertain about that wedding," 
 remarked the general. " I think we'd better 
 have it done according to the regulations." 
 
 All smiled save Mrs. Fain, who, since she 
 had been informed of all that had occurred 
 from the time of Mr. Slack's arrival at her 
 house to Laura's joining her the night before, 
 maintained a rigid and dignified silence. 
 
 While they were waiting for the chaplain, 
 the general wrote a telegram to Mr. Fain at 
 Nashville, announcing the arrival of his wife 
 and daughter. He did not mention the son- 
 in-law. 
 
 The chaplain came, and the bride and groom 
 were wed again ; this time with ample wit 
 nesses, for the whole staff had been ordered to 
 " report in person at headquarters to witness 
 marriage ceremony." The general gave the 
 bride away, and after the benediction, offering 
 his arm to Mrs. Fain, led the way to another 
 tent where a collation of foraged viands 
 foraged unbeknown to the general, and
 
 228 CHA TTAtiOOGA. 
 
 consisting principally of cold chicken was 
 served. Unfortunately there was not a glass of 
 wine in camp for the ladies, the only spirits be 
 ing "commissary" whisky and the "Robin 
 son County " of the country. 
 
 While the party were refreshing themselves, 
 word was received from Nashville that Mr. 
 Fain was out of danger and impatiently await 
 ing his wife and daughter. 
 
 After communicating this pleasant bit of 
 information, the general, turning to Mark, said : 
 
 " I shall need you hereafter on my staff. I 
 have learned from your colonel that there is a 
 vacant lieutenancy for you in your regiment, 
 and I will issue an order detailing you for duty 
 with me. But this rank need be only temporary. 
 The army is about to be divided into army 
 corps, and my troops will constitute one of 
 them. Under the recent law fixing the staff of 
 corps commanders, I shall nominate you for 
 inspector-general, with rank of lieutenant-col 
 onel, to be appointed by the President." 
 
 For the first time since she had been ap 
 prised of the fact that her daughter was a wife, 
 Mrs. Fain looked happy. 
 
 " General," said Mark, " while I appreciate 
 the honor you so kindly bestow upon me I 
 would prefer, were it not for my'wife, to remain 
 in the secret service. She certainly deserves the
 
 CHATTANOOGA. 229 
 
 distinction you offer, and I accept it for her. 
 I rejoice at the prospect of being near you 
 and shall Jiot be averse now, since I have so 
 much to live for, to a service not connected 
 with a constant reminder of hemp rope." 
 
 At this juncture an aide-de-camp entered 
 and handed the general a telegram; He cast 
 his eye over it, and said : 
 
 " The ball is opened. Nelson is fighting the 
 advance of Bragg's army at Richmond, Ken 
 tucky." 
 
 THE END.
 
 A MODERN KNIGHT. 
 
 ORMSBY MACKNIGHT MITCHEL, 
 
 ASTRONOMER AND GENERAL. 
 
 A Biographical Narrative by his Son, F. A. MITCHEL, 
 With Steel Portrait. Crown %vo,gilt top, $2.00. 
 
 THIS life of the famous astronomer, and hardly less famous 
 general, written by his son, and supplemented by his own 
 remarkably full, informing, and interesting letters, is a biog 
 raphy of special value. General Mitchel was one of the 
 most thoroughly living men America has ever produced, 
 and his immense energy was guided by keen intelligence, 
 trained judgment, and a noble moral purpose. The portion 
 relating to the War for the Union is not a superficial narrative 
 of military movements and battles, but traces the operation of 
 those principles which were at the heart of the conflict, and 
 the moral and political forces which decided the fate of armies. 
 
 From the New York Tribune. 
 
 The life of General Mitchel is memorable for a valuable work 
 accomplished under extraordinary difficulties and with far-reach 
 ing beneficial results, but the chief interest of his memoir by his 
 son lies in the extraordinary exhibition of a strong, well balanced 
 character, tested under strangely contrasted conditions and ring 
 ing out the same clear note in the silence of an astronomical ob 
 servatory and in the roar of battle. His distinguishing traits were 
 those of the pioneer eagerness to push forward, discontent with 
 inaction, impulsive courage, quickness of resource, a self-confi 
 dence almost audacious, and above all an aptness for the initiative, 
 lie was not only ready to strike into new paths, but he was the 
 first to find them, and he wanted no promptings to go on. In 
 whatever business occupied him he seemed to be the original cen 
 tral energy which started and sustained the movement. . . .
 
 From the Cincinnati Commercial Gazette. 
 
 General Ormsby M. Mitchel left a record in science and in the 
 art of war to which students of both will long turn for enlighten 
 ment and for a high example. He was the first American 
 astronomer of his day, and among the generals of the civil war he 
 had no equal for far-reaching, aggressive combinations and 
 rapidity of execution. 
 
 From the Boston Advertiser. 
 
 In reading the biography of this man, our faith in human nature 
 is increased. He was a great man in the truest and best sense of 
 the word ; and his life is one that can 'be held up to the youth of 
 the nation as an example for generations to come. 
 
 From the Hartford Courant. 
 
 This biography is admirably prepared, and is thus not only a 
 memorial of the soldier but a chapter of history, a picture of Ameri 
 can life for the period spanned by the life of the subject. It is full, 
 clear, abounding in detail, and of interest on every page. 
 
 From Prof. DAVID SWING, in the Chicago Journal. 
 
 The volume differs from the war literature which has been so 
 abundantly produced by the magazines ; for this sketch does not 
 abound in only the iron, lead, powder, and guns of the conflict, 
 but also in the mental struggles, hopes, fears, and sufferings which 
 many a true patriot underwent in the first two or three years of 
 the great crisis. . . . 
 
 This biography, written with a most just and eloquent pen, 
 makes one more picture in this vast landscape of life between the 
 two oceans. Ormsby Macknight Mitchel was once a common 
 clerk, then he became a student, then a lawyer, then a great 
 astronomer, then a general and an active Christian philanthropist. 
 Eloquent, original, enthusiastic, learned, pious, and loving, his 
 name stands worthy of being made the theme of a volume. In 
 the history of the nation this life will always fill an impressive 
 and beautiful page. 
 
 * # * For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by mail, postpaid, on 
 receipt of price, by the Publishers, 
 
 HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., BOSTON, 
 
 ii EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET, NEW YORK.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
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 JUL 2 7 1962 
 
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