had depended upon the
situation of the rebel deserter for his own safety.

The farmer looked at his intractable guest, and then upon his dutiful
son; and the idea tardily passed through his dull brain that the soldiers
would be just as dangerous to the welfare of the son as to the visitor.
Probably he had intended, when the military force came, to send Tom up
the chimney, as he had done a dozen times before; but the secret was no
longer in the keeping of the family alone.

"I see you understand the case perfectly," said Somers, as he
contemplated with intense satisfaction the blank dismay of both father
and son. "If you had the wisdom of Solomon, you couldn't comprehend it
any better."

"I reckon ye're about right, stranger," replied the farmer.

"You can see now it is for your interest as well as mine that we make
friends. Tom's safety and mine are both the same thing. The best you can
do is to take good care of me to-day, and at night help me to make my way
over to the other side of the river."

"Then yer be a Yank?"

"I didn't say so. Tom can go with me if he likes. He will be safer there
than here."

"Tom?"

"If he is a deserter from the rebel army, he will be caught sooner or
later, and be shot. He will be safe on the other side of the river."

"Go over to the Yanks! He hates 'em wurs'n pizin. Don't yer, Tom?"

"Bet yer life I do, dad," replied the hopeful son. "I won't go over thar,
nohow."

"Just as he pleases about that. I only wanted to do him a friendly act."

"Well, stranger, I don't mind keepin' yer to-day; but Tom can't go with
yer."

"Very well; then I will stay in this room; and, if the soldiers come, I
can go up the chimney with Tom," replied Somers. "I'm tired and sleepy.
Didn't sleep a wink last night. I will take a nap on the floor. You will
wake me, Tom, if there's any danger; won't you?"

"Yes, I'll wake yer," replied the deserter with a broad grin.

"We'll see that you don't git caught; kase, if yer do, of course, Tom'll
git caught too," added the farmer.

There was something in his manner which Somers did not like. Though he
was a man of dull mind, there was a kind of low cunning visible in his
look and manner which warned Somers to be cautious. He stretched himself
on the floor; and the farmer and his son left the room, closing the door
behind them.

Our scout was, as he had before declared, both tired and sleepy; but rest
and sleep were luxuries in which he could not permi