LITMIR.BIZ

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see the whole thing,” said Macgreggor. “This Hare has sent his negro over to Jasper to bring the Vigilants here to take charge of us, and to string us up, no doubt, to the first convenient tree. The sooner we get away from here the better for our lives. Jasper is only two miles off, and the Vigilants will be riding over here before we have time to say Jack Robinson.”

      “There’s still time,” said George, “and as there’s only one man here against us now—I mean Hare—we can seize him, tie him to something, and then escape into the darkness.”

      “So we can, my boy,” replied Watson, who was thinking as deeply and as calmly as if a game of chess, rather than a matter of life and death, were the issue. “There’s no trouble as to our escaping. But remember this. It’s pitch dark and raining again like cats and dogs; we don’t know our way; we are sure to get lost before we have run fifty yards from the house, and these Vigilants, who understand every foot of the country, will divide into small parties, and hunt us down, as sure as fate. And if they can’t, they will put hounds on our track—and then we’ll be beautifully carved up into beefsteaks. I have seen hounds, and I know how they appreciate a nice little man hunt.” Watson smiled grimly.

      Macgreggor walked silently to one of the windows, opened the sash just a crack, and listened. He could hear nothing but the downpour of the rain. Yet it would not be long before the Vigilants dashed up to the house. No doubt they had all been telling anecdotes in the corner grocery store, and they would take but a short time for the mounting of their horses. Cautiously closing the window he returned to the centre of the room.

      “It’s a dark night,” he said, “and all the better for a plan I have to propose. We are each secretly armed with pistols, are we not? Well, then, let us put out this candle, and open the window to the left, looking out towards the highroad to Jasper. When the Vigilants come riding up the road and get in front of the house we will suddenly fire on them. This may cause a panic, as the fellows will not be able to tell just where the enemy are, and then——”

      “Pshaw!” interrupted Watson. “You don’t know whom you’re dealing with. These Vigilants are as brave as they are reckless, and there are at least twenty-five or thirty of them. Three men can’t frighten them. They would only get us in the end, even if we did succeed in disabling one or two of them in the first surprise.”

      “Then what are we to do?” asked George eagerly. Watson was so composed that the boy felt sure he must have some better plan for escape.

      “I have a scheme,” said Watson, quite simply. “I have been hatching it in my brain while we were talking. But the quicker it’s put to the test, the quicker will we save our necks. Are you willing to trust me blindly?”

      There was a whispered “yes” from both the other conspirators. Watson inspired confidence by his assurance.

      “Then let us get all our clothes, shoes, everything on at once, and walk boldly down-stairs.”

      Three minutes later the trio were marching down-stairs into the kitchen. Hare and his wife were standing at the fireplace, looking the picture of surprise, as their guests burst into the room, with the irrepressible Waggie at their heels. The old negro “aunty,” who had been dozing on a stool near the hearth, jumped to her rheumatic feet in consternation. “Hallelujah! Hallelujah!” she cried, throwing her withered arms above her turbaned head. For the guests held revolvers in their hands, and the “aunty’s” heart always sank at the thought of gunpowder.

      The farmer took a step forward, as if uncertain what to do or say. At last he said, trying to smile, yet only succeeding in looking hypocritical: “You ain’t going to leave us this time of night, are you? Wait till morning, and get some breakfast.”

      “It’s a nice breakfast you’d give us in the morning,” laughed Watson, with a significant look at their host. “A halter stew, or some roast bullets, I guess!”

      Hare jumped backward with such suddenness that he almost knocked into the fire his frightened wife who had been standing directly behind him. “What do you mean?” he hissed.

      “You know perfectly well what I mean, Mr. Hare,” said Watson, looking him straight in the face, whilst the other spectators listened in breathless interest. “You have sent word to the Jasper Vigilants to ride over here and arrest us, on the suspicion of being spies.”

      Had the heavens suddenly fallen, the countenances of the Hares could not have shown more dismay.

      “How did you find that out?” asked the farmer, quite forgetting to play his part of amiable host.

      “Never mind how,” cried George, who was burning to play his part. “Only it’s a pity you haven’t as much mercy in you as your wife has.”

      “Listen,” said Watson, as he motioned the others in the room to be silent. “George, you will watch this old negress, and if she attempts to make a sound, or to leave the room before we are ready, give her a hint from your revolver.”

      With a scream of fright, comical in its intensity, the “aunty” sank back on her stool near the hearth, and covered her dark face with her hands. There she sat, as if she expected to be murdered at any moment.

      “And you, Macgreggor,” continued Watson impressively, “will keep the same sort of watch over Mrs. Hare. Happen what may, there is not to be a sound from either woman.”

      Mrs. Hare started in confusion. Her husband made a bound for the kitchen door. With another bound no less quick Watson darted forward, caught the farmer, pushed him back at the point of the pistol, and bolted the door.

      “What do you want to do?” demanded Hare. “Are we to be murdered?”

      “No,” cried Watson, “but——”

      Then there came the sound of horses’ hoofs in the distance. Every one listened eagerly, and none more so than the farmer.

      “You’re done for,” he said slowly, casting a half-malevolent, half-triumphant glance at the three Northerners.

      “Not by a great deal,” said Watson. “March with me to the parlor, open the front door just a crack, and, when the Vigilants come up, say to them that we three men have escaped from the house, stolen a flatboat, and started to row across the Tennessee River. Send them away and shut the door. I will be standing near you, behind the door, with my pistol leveled at your head. Make one movement to escape, or say anything but what I have told you to say, and you are a dead man!”

      The patter of the horses was becoming more and more distinct.

      “Will you do as I tell you?” asked Watson, very coolly, as he toyed with his revolver.

      “If I won’t?” asked Hare. His face was now convulsed by a variety of emotions—fear, rage, craftiness, and disappointment.

      “I give you three seconds to choose,” said Watson. “If you refuse, you will be stretched out on that floor.”

      Mrs. Hare, with white cheeks, leaned forward, and whispered to her husband: “Do as he tells you, Jake. Better let these Yankees go, and save your own life.”

      “One—two——” counted Watson.

      Hare held up his right hand, and then dropped it listlessly by his side.

      “I give in,” he said sullenly. “You’ve got the better of me.” He looked, for all the world, like a whipped cur.

      There was not a second to lose. The horsemen were riding up to the house. Watson motioned to the farmer, who walked into the parlor, which was unlighted, closely followed by the soldier. There were sounds without, as of horses being reined in, and of men’s gruff voices. Hare opened the parlor door a few inches, while Watson, safe from observation, stationed himself within a few feet of him, with cocked revolver. “Remember!” he whispered, significantly.

      “Is that you, boys?” shouted Hare. “Those three spies I sent word about escaped from here ten

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