, and
pushed off into the darkness. The current was strong, and Marcy hugged
the bank to keep out of it as much as he could, and by so doing brought
himself to the notice of half a dozen sentries who compelled him to come
ashore with the countersign. Of course this was a bother, and the
progress he made with his one-handed sculling was slow and laborious;
but it was safer than following a lonely road and running the risk of
falling in with some of those rebel soldiers whom General Burnside had
sent to their homes. Marcy told himself that that was about the worst
thing that could have happened to him. He was afraid that these paroled
prisoners would be pliant tools in the hands of Captain Beardsley, and
they were so numerous that the thirteen Union men, who were all there
were left of the band that had rescued him and his mother from the power
of the robbers, could not hold their own against them.

"Things will be worse now than they ever were before," thought Marcy, as
he sculled his boat out of the river into Seven Mile Creek, and sat down
to take a much-needed rest and eat a portion of the lunch that Captain
Benton's steward had put up for him. "Beardsley will be more vindictive
than ever, because I did not say a word for him when Captain Benton put
him in irons, and if the truth will not answer his purpose, he'll not
scruple to lie about me. He'll try his best to force me into the army so
that he can have a clear field for his operations, but I'll tell you
what's a fact, I'll not go," said Marcy hotly. "Jack declared that he
would take to the swamp before he would fight for the Confederacy, and
why shouldn't I do the same? I will. I'll become a refugee rather than
shoot at the flag my brother is sailing under. Refugee: one who flees
for refuge or safety. That's me, as Dick Graham used to say. I'll seek
safety among the Union men who spend the most of their time in the
woods. It's my opinion that from now on they will have to spend all
their time there, for I don't believe that the prisoners Burnside
released will leave any houses for them to go into. Mother's will have
to go with the rest."

Marcy had often made the trip from his mother's house to Plymouth and
back in a rowboat, and if he thought it hard when he had two hands to
use, it was doubly tedious and discouraging now that he had only one,
and nothing but the most gloomy thoughts for company. He had almost made
up his mind that he would camp on the bank for