T'^'i. 
 

 I 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 OF CIML WAR NOVELS 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
/ A 
 
 i^*****oou«^ieN 
 
<^/ 
 
 V 
 
TOBIAS WILSON 
 
 J^ TA.LE 
 
 OF THE 
 
 GREAT REBELLION. 
 
 BY 
 
 HOK JERE. CLEME^^S. 
 
 FIRST SERIES. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA: 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO. 
 
 18 65. 
 
Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1865, by 
 
 J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Conrt of the United States for the Eaatern 
 
 District of Pennsylvania. 
 
To Mu Wife. 
 
 It is now, my dear Mary, more than a quarter of a century since we 
 began the journey of life together. Both were infants in law, and 
 children in reality; but the love and faith which were plighted then, 
 with mingled smiles and tears, have never been blighted by adversity, 
 or corrupted by prosperity. In joy and in grief, amid petty trials and 
 in great afflictions, you have been a comfort and a support to me — rob- 
 bing sorrow of its sting — relieving sickness of its weariness and pain, 
 and ever pointing, from the gloom of night, to the brightness of the 
 coming morn. What the future may bring forth, we cannot foreknow; 
 for life is a Pandora's box from which strange and fearful things are 
 forever winging their flight to homes and to hearts that are apparently 
 the most secure. But the past is ours; and in the memory of that^a«^ 
 I have thought it appropriate to write your name on this page of a 
 work which records a love as pure and trustful as ever glowed in the 
 bosom of a daughter of Earth, although its opening life was the fruit of 
 troubled times, and blood and tears were witnesses to its maturity^ 
 
 JERE. CLEMEXS. 
 West Philadelphia, January, 1S65, 
 
 602772 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 Whex the last work of the author was given to 
 the public, he promised that it should be followed 
 by a sequel. But in a few months the fires of ci^^l 
 war were kindled in the land. The mad ambition 
 of a few unprincipled leaders, aided by the insane 
 fears of the Southern slaveholders, brought about 
 a rebellion which has no parallel in history, whether 
 we reo;ard the insisrnificance of the causes which 
 led to it ; the madness of engaging in it for such 
 causes,' or for any cause short of intolerable oppres- 
 sion ; the immensity of the means and resources 
 which have been developed on both sides; the 
 grandeur and obstinacy of the struggle; the hero- 
 ism manifested in a bad cause on one side, or the 
 steady and dauntless courage, unfiinching nerve, 
 and unwavering resolution to maintain the right on 
 the other. 
 
 Located, as the author was, for more than three 
 years in the very heart of this Titanic contest, 
 
VI - PREFACE. 
 
 steady devotion to literary labor was an impossi- 
 bility. A few memorandums were made, a few 
 notes taken, a few pages were written from time 
 to time as opportunity offered ; but, day by day, the 
 subject diminished in interest as events of a more 
 excitins: character throno:ed the arena. After his 
 removal from the theater of war to the quietude 
 of this city, the work was resumed, but finally laid 
 aside as better adapted to publication in more 
 peaceful times. 
 
 The characters of this story are real, though, of 
 course, the names and locations are changed, so as 
 not to wound the sensibility of the survivors, their 
 friends, or relatives. ^N'othing is depicted here 
 which did not occur as related, or which has not a 
 parallel in some other actual occurrence. 
 
 I remember that in a kindly criticism of a for- 
 mer work, written by a gentleman who is' now a 
 o;eneral officer in the armv of the United States, 
 certain passages were commented on as too extrava- 
 gant for even the privileges of fiction. li so hap- 
 pened that those very passages icere literal transcripts 
 from real life. He was young then, and I venture 
 to assert, that if he were to write that criticism 
 over again, in the light of his experience as an 
 officer, it would be a very different affair. 
 
 In what I have now written, and in what I shall 
 
PREFACE. Vll 
 
 write hereafter, for this book is onlv the first of a 
 series, my object is to give a true and faithful pic- 
 ture of life during the first years of the rebellion, 
 at least in parts of the Southern States. Omnia 
 vidi magna pars fid, if not literally true as to every 
 incident, is true as to the greater part. 
 
 It is impossible for any one who has not wit- 
 nessed them to appreciate the wrongs, indignities, 
 and outrao^es to which the Southern Union men 
 have been subjected. Their property taken or de- 
 stroyed, their persons constantly threatened with 
 incarceration, if not assassination, and their sons 
 dragged to the slaughter-pen ; these were common 
 occurrences, whose frequent recurrence deprived 
 them of half their horror. The sending of our 
 wives into exile, without the means of subsist- 
 ence, and dependent for bread upon the charity 
 of the people of the I^orth, or of such chance refu- 
 gees who had escaped under happier auspices, — 
 this, too, in time ceased to be a subject of com- 
 plaint. But there were a thousand acts of brutal- 
 ity which cannot be described without giving of- 
 fense to the ears of decency. From a faithful 
 X-)icture of such things the eyes of a modest woman 
 would turn away with unutterable loathing. From 
 the present series all of these are omitted, and only 
 such matter is introduced as may be read without 
 
Vnl PREFACE. 
 
 a blush, unless it be a blush of indignation rather 
 than of shame. 
 
 One word more. In this volume, everything has 
 been sacrificed to the painting of a correct portrait. 
 If my readers look for other adjuncts to keep alive 
 their interest in the tale, they will be apt to reap 
 disappointment. 
 
 The Author. 
 
 Philadelphia, Jan. 9, 1865. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In the wild and mountainous region of North Alabama, 
 near the sources of Paint Rock River, there lived, in the 
 year 1860, an old man with a widowed daughter and her 
 only son. Time had dealt kindly with Robert Johnson, 
 for although he had passed his sixty-fifth year, he was yet 
 strong and healthy, his bearing was erect, his step firm, and 
 his gray eyes clear and bright. His daughter, Mrs. Wil- 
 son, had inherited the strong constitution of her father, 
 and now, in the thirty-eighth year of her age, her symmet- 
 rical but rather too masculine form betrayed no symptom 
 of decay. Her face had never been beautiful, but there 
 was about it an expression of quick intelligence and of 
 frank good humor, which harmonized well with her comely 
 figure, and made her altogether a very pleasant person to 
 look upon. The boy, who was about eighteen years of 
 age, bore little resemblance to his mother or grandfather. 
 He was light and slender, so much so that he appeared at 
 least two years younger than he really was. His originally 
 chestnut-colored hair, from constant exposure to sun and 
 wind had changed to a dingy brown, and his features were 
 irregular and sallow, but they were lit up by dark hazel 
 eyes as piercing and brilliant as those of the hawk on his 
 native mountains. 
 
 2 (9) 
 
10 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 Mr. JohDson had no neighbors properly so called. The 
 valley in which his hnmble cabin stood was one of the 
 most secluded in that wild and thinly settled region. If 
 the reader will give roe his (or her) attention while I de- 
 scribe it, the tale which I am about to relate will be better 
 understood. 
 
 It is a little low spot, of not more than a hundred acres, 
 shut in completely on three sides by high and precipitous 
 mountains, — among the loftiest and most rugged of the 
 Cumberland Mountain range. At the northeastern ex- 
 tremity, near the base of the mountain, there is an unex- 
 plored cave, from the mouth of which flows a stream of icy 
 coldness. This stream runs alonor the eastern base of the 
 mountain, and finally makes its way out through a narrow 
 opening, of not more than twenty yards in width, at the 
 south side of the valley. The only road by which the val- 
 ley cau be entered by anything on wheels, is the gravelly 
 bed of the stream. In the dry season it is nothing more 
 than a tiny rill. But in winter and the early spring the 
 volumes of water which rush down from the sides of the 
 mountain convert it into a deep and dangerous torrent. 
 On the narrow strip of land between this stream and the 
 mountain side, and within a few yards of the cave from 
 which the streamlet flows, stand, or rather stood, the cabin 
 of Robert Johnson. The dwelling was a double cabin, 
 built of unhewn logs, with a passage between. One room 
 of the cabin served Mrs. Wilson as kitchen, dining-room, 
 and bed-room. The other room was occupied by the old 
 man and his grandson, and such rare visitors as sometimes 
 found their wav to this secluded dell. 
 
 It was early in October, in the year 1860, and on the 
 day our story begins, there was a political meeting in a 
 large valley over the mountain, about five miles from John- 
 son's house. There were speakers representing respect- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 11 
 
 ively the parties of Bell, Douglas, and Breckenridge. At 
 the close of the meeting, Mr. Johnson cordially invited me 
 to spend the night at his house, and, as by crossing the 
 mountain at that point I could save nearly twenty miles of 
 my next day's journey, I gladly accepted his invitation. 
 A bridle path was the only road leading over the mount- 
 ain, and I knew it to be steep and rugged in the extreme ; 
 but I had been accustomed to scrambling over such paths 
 from my childhood, and felt sure that I should be more 
 than compensated for the fatigue by the glorious scenery 
 through which it led. 
 
 There are few things in nature to equal the mingled 
 beauty and sublimity with which the Cumberland Mount- 
 ains are wrapped when autumn throws its many-colored 
 robe about their giant forms. In other lands, and in our 
 own, I have seen loftier mountain peaks and reveled in 
 the contemplation of landscapes as lovely and as sweet ; but 
 in the one case it was grandeur alone, and beauty in the 
 other. Nowhere else is there such a mingling together of 
 all that is soft and beautiful with all that is grand and sub- 
 lime. The day was clear and bright, and not a cloud 
 darkened the blue heaven above us. The sun was still 
 above the western tree tops, and poured a flood of golden 
 radiance upon the mighty wall which rose before us with 
 its rugged sides adorned and almost hidden by living gar- 
 lands of green and purple and gold, scattered there in 
 magnificent profusion by the prodigal hand of nature. In 
 that land the mountains are almost invariably covered with 
 a thick growth of trees and bushes, embracing every va- 
 riety of the productions of the soil, and the effect produced 
 by the first frosts of autumn is indescribably beautiful. 
 Upon one tree the leaves have assumed a deep purple tint, 
 another has changed to a bright yellow, another has 
 clothed itself in sober russet ; upon yet another, the foli- 
 
12 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 age at a little distance presents the appearance of having 
 been freshly painted white, and thickly scattered among 
 these the evergreen, pine, and cedar spread out their 
 branches, with seemingly conscious pride, to challenge the 
 admiration of the beholder for the brighter green which 
 the cool days of autumn have brought to take the place of 
 the dull verdure they had worn under the scorching sua 
 of summer. 
 
 As we approached the mountain, the path gradually be- 
 came so narrow that it was necessary to ride in single file, 
 an interruption to our conversation which I hailed with 
 joy, since it left me in undisturbed liberty to feast my 
 senses upon that glorious panorama. It was a scene upon 
 which a great poet or a great painter might have gazed 
 forever, not only with undiminished, but increasing rap- 
 ture. 
 
 We had ascended a little more than half way when we 
 reached a bench of the mountain, upon which my compan- 
 ion halted to breathe his horse. When I reined up by hia 
 side, his first remark satisfied me that he had been drinking 
 in the rapturous delight I had fancied was all ray own. 
 
 "It is not often, Mr. ," he said, pointing to the val- 
 ley below us, "it is not often that such a picture can be 
 found in the galleries of the greatest masters !" 
 
 "Xot often!" 1 exclaimed; "say rather never. No 
 human hand can paint, no human tongue can justly de- 
 scribe it I" 
 
 He looked at me for a moment in some surprise, I thought, 
 at the enthusiasm of my words and manner. 
 
 " I thought," he said, in the tone of one asking a ques- 
 tion, "that you were a native of these mountains." 
 
 " So I am. I am too proud of my birth-place to conceal 
 or deny it." 
 
 "Then you must be fauiiliar with sights like this, and yet 
 
TOBIAS WILSOX. 13 
 
 you speak of it with as much enthusiasm as if you had 
 discovered a great treasure, or drank for the first time from 
 the cup of a new joy." 
 
 "I have been, indeed, familiar with such sights from a 
 period which dates further back than memory will serve 
 me. I even think that I know some points in this range 
 of mountains from which the view is more striking than 
 this; but it is a new joy, as you term it, nevertheless, for 
 it is one with which the soul can never be sated." 
 
 "I think you are right," he replied. "When I came to 
 this country, some ten years ago, and enjoyed for the first 
 time the wild beauty of its mountain scenery, I thought 
 that after awhile it would become so familiar as to be in- 
 difi'erent to me ; but years have passed, and the sensations 
 it creates are still the same." 
 
 "But," he continued, "we must be jogging on. We 
 have barely time to reach my cabin by sundown, and it is 
 far more pleasant to gaze upon these mountains by daylight 
 than to wander among them after nightfall." 
 
 This was an assertion which my experience did not allow 
 me to contradict. Some such idea seemed also to have 
 taken possession of our horses, for when their heads were 
 again turned up the steep ascent, they moved forward of 
 their own accord at such an increased rate of speed as gave 
 unmistakable proof that shelter and food would be as 
 agreeable to them as to their riders. Much of the beauty 
 of the scenery still lingered about us, but the words of my 
 companion had afforded me other themes for thought. I 
 could not doubt that he was an educated and cultivated 
 man, and that he had been reared in a different society 
 from that about him. 
 
 Was he one of that not uncommon class who, having 
 "seen better times," wither away at the first breath of mis- 
 fortune, and become ever afterward alike useless to them- 
 
 2* 
 
14 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 selves and to society? No; he was clearly not a man to 
 give way to despair. There was in his tone and manner 
 no symptom of discontent. His whole bearing was free, 
 easy, independent, without a trace of that weak and un- 
 manly spirit which goes about begging for even the sym- 
 pathy of strangers. I had been told that he was a farmer 
 in humble circumstances, how humble I did not know, but 
 it was apparent that his situation was one over which he 
 shed no tears himself, and for which he asked the sympathy 
 of no one else. 
 
 When we arrived at the summit of the mountain, the 
 shadows had already deepened in the valley below us. The 
 sun was still shining, but its beams were completely shut 
 out from the little glen by the lofty mountains wliich every- 
 where hedged it in. The domestic fowls had long since 
 sought their roosting places, and, as we descended, we were 
 greeted by that peculiar twittering of birds and insects 
 which gives notice that they have settled themselves for a 
 night's repose. A little lower we perceived the glimmer- 
 ing of a light through the window of the cabin, and heard 
 the barking of dogs, not exactly in anger, but rather in 
 doubt. It was a notice to the inmates that some one was 
 approaching, but whether friend or foe, these canine senti- 
 nels had not yet decided. Before we reached the gate, how- 
 ever, they came bounding over the slight impediment of a 
 rail fence which surrounded the premises, whining and 
 leaping upon their master's horse in the exuberance of their 
 joy. Soon afterward, the boy who has been described in 
 the preceding pages emerged from the cabin, bearing an 
 iron lamp to light his grandfather to the house. 
 
 "Here, Tobias," said the old man, "take our horses, and 
 when I have shown this gentleman in I will join you in the 
 stable." 
 
 I demurred to this arrangement at once, — insisting on 
 
T B I A S W I L S N. 15 
 
 taking care of my own horse. It was so settled at last, 
 and all three proceeded to the stable. After the horses 
 had been well fed and rubbed down, we passed on to the 
 cabin. Here we found Mrs. Wilson busily engaged in pre- 
 paring the supper. She suspended her occupation for a 
 minute or so when I was introduced by her father, but al- 
 most immediately resumed her household duties. A large 
 fire of logs was burning on the ample hearth of the ad- 
 joining room, and much to my satisfaction I was soon 
 seated before it, enjoying to the full the animal comfort it 
 imparted. Here the idea that ray entertainer had been 
 accustomed to more polished society than was to be found 
 in these mountains again occurred to me. I would not be 
 guilty of the rudeness of putting direct questions upon the 
 subject, but I did not hesitate so to direct the conversation 
 as to bring it out, if he was disposed to be at all communi- 
 cative. I cannot tell whether or not he suspected my 
 object, but, at all events, he said nothing to gratify my 
 curiosity, and I sat down to the supper-table not a whit 
 wiser than before. As usual in that country, the evening 
 meal was a bounteous one, consisting of ham, eggs, veni- 
 son, butter, biscuits, corn cakes, coffee, and milk. My 
 mountain ride and the keen air of an October evening had 
 given me a voracious appetite, and I feasted to excess upon 
 the solid food before me. Mrs. Wilson retired early after 
 supper, but the old gentleman and myself talked long and 
 earnestly of the threatening aspect of the times. 
 
 " We are passing through a fearful ordeal," he said, 
 "and I am not ashamed to confess that I am alarmed be- 
 yond measure. You heard those men who were shouting 
 for Breckenridge to-day. They are honest and well-mean- 
 ing citizens, but their minds have been poisoned by the 
 devilish arts of those who have crept into their confidence 
 by preaching democracy, and they are now being blindly 
 
16 T B I A S W I L S X. 
 
 led on to the commission of a terrible crime, which must 
 be followed by an equally terrible retribution." 
 
 " I admit," I replied, " that there is great danger ; but let 
 us worli to avert it, and still hope." 
 
 '^Woi'kl certainly!" he exclaimed; "but hope is not alto- 
 gether a creature of the will. I have tried to hope, and 
 cannot. I suppose that other men's neighbors are in all 
 essential particulars like mine, and that they are equally 
 liable to be operated upon by like passions and like mo- 
 tives. Tell a Breckenridge Democrat that there is danger 
 to the Union from him and his leading supporters, and lie 
 will believe in his heart, if he does not tell you to your 
 face, that you are trvins: to cheat him out of his vote bv 
 practicing a Whig trick upon him. To the minds of such 
 men there is no avenue for the entrance of unprejudiced 
 reason. They must taste the bitter fruit before they will 
 believe that it exists. 
 
 "I assume that the great body of the democracy in the 
 Southern States are like these, and as they constitute a 
 large majority, we may look for the worst. They are not 
 prepared now to take the irrevocable step. If it was pro- 
 posed to them they would shrink back with horror; but they 
 will be led on by their wily leaders from one act to an- 
 other, they will so fetter themselves by the adoption of 
 threatening resolutions, and so commit themselves to re- 
 sistance upon the happening of this or that contingency, 
 that at last it will be easy to persuade them they cannot 
 retrace their steps with honor, and that the only hope of a 
 peaceful settlement is to be found in presenting an united 
 and determined front." 
 
 " Well," I asked, " may not good come from that union ? 
 May it not lead to an understanding which will effectually 
 secure us against dangerous quarrels in the future? Is it 
 not better that the South should present an united front in 
 
TO BIAS WILSON. 17 
 
 whatever course it takes, at least until the sword is drawn 
 and the dark stain of a brother's blood discolors the soil, 
 and cries out to heaven for vensreance on the wronsr-doer ?" 
 
 "Undoubtedly," he said, "if our leaders were honest, 
 and there was really any wrong to be redressed, the una- 
 nimity of the demand would increase the chances of a 
 peaceful settlement; but what wrong has the Government 
 of the United States ever done to us ? What is there to 
 be settled? Individuals and communities throughout the 
 North have spoken and acted in a manner hostile to slav- 
 ery. Be it so. The Government is not responsible for 
 that. It has discharged its whole duty and more than its 
 duty in this respect. There has never been a time when 
 our peculiar institution was hedged round with so many 
 defenses as it now is; and yet we are on the verge of a 
 revolution, whose results no human wisdom can foresee, 
 from no other cause than a vague and undefined fear that 
 slavery may be destroyed by the Government which is, and 
 has been, its only protector. But these are matters I need 
 not discuss with you. I know that you are as fully alive 
 to the danger as I am, and far better informed as to its 
 causes. I supposed that you wished to hear the opinions 
 of a clod-hopper like myself, and I have therefore ex- 
 pressed them freely." 
 
 I assured him that I had been alike interested and in- 
 structed by his remarks, and I entered a decided protest 
 against the application of the word "clod-hopper" to such 
 a man. 
 
 "I did not need," I continued, walking up to some rough 
 boards, in a corner, on which his books were arranged, "I 
 did not need this tell-tale witness to convince me that you 
 had been accustomed to very different society from that 
 which is to be found among these mountains." 
 
 "You are right in your conjecture," he replied. "I 
 
18 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 was once better ofif, in the world's view, than I am now ; but 
 as my story has nothing in it which is romantic, criminal, 
 mysterious, or unaccountably unfortunate, I will not bore 
 you with it. There is your bed, sir. You must be con- 
 tent to share this chamber with my grandson and myself." 
 I went to bed, but not to sleep. My thoughts were for 
 a long time occupied with questions and conjectures con- 
 cerning my host. How came that educated and polished 
 gentleman in the garb of a common laborer? What was 
 that clear and strong intellect doing in this seclusion ? 
 Why did he not go out into the world and battle with his 
 kind for those posts of honor which he was so well calcu- 
 lated to adorn ? His daughter, too, though strong and 
 healthy, could never have been mistaken for anything but 
 a lady, and the household drudgery which she now went 
 through with so much ease and grace, must have been in 
 former years a deep mystery to her. But notwithstanding 
 the great change v/hieh it was clear had come over them, 
 the most acute physiognomist would have failed to detect 
 a single line of discontent upon the face of either the father 
 or the daughter. I tried in vain to find some probable 
 solution of the enigma. First one, and then another was 
 called up, examined, and dismissed. In the mean time the 
 effects Df the heavy supper I had eaten, and the warm fire 
 still burning on the hearthstone, began to be felt. I knew 
 that my faculties were clouded, that I did not have the 
 full use of my reason, but still I was awake, or thought I 
 was. After awhile I saw a large dog push open the un- 
 latched door, and coil himself down before the fire, then 
 another, and then the fire seemed to grow dull and indis- 
 tinct, and all the various objects in the room became min- 
 gled and jumbled together. There w^as a strong impres- 
 sion upon my mind that I w^as not sleeping, only a little 
 drowsy. How long I remained in this state I do not know. 
 
T O.B I A S W'l L S N. 19 
 
 Suddenly, as it seemed, the drowsiness passed away. It 
 was summer. I was standing upon a mountain side whose 
 summit the rising sun had j,ust begun to gild. There was 
 a lovely valley below me, through which a little stream 
 flowed gently toward the South. A cluster of log cabins 
 on one side were the only signs of human habitation. 
 Stacks of oats and wheat were standing in the field from 
 which thev had been cut, and a little farther off there was 
 a field of Indian-corn, which extended around a spur of 
 the mountain that jutted into the valley, so that the upper 
 part was invisible from the place where I stood. Then an 
 old man, followed by a boy with a rifle on his shoulder, 
 came out of the principal cabin and proceeded to the 
 stable, from which they soon emerged, the old man leading 
 a horse geared for plowing. The boy let down the bars, 
 and, putting them up again when his companion had passed 
 through, shouldered his rifle and turned up the mountain, 
 where he was soon lost to view among the thick under- 
 growth which covered its sides. I watched the old man in 
 his progress to the field until he had turned the spur of the 
 mountain, and was also lost to sight. For some time after 
 his disappearance I remember nothing. Then, by one of 
 those changes common in dreams, I was transferred to the 
 opposite side of the valley. It was near noon. I could 
 now see that part of the corn field which had been con- 
 cealed by the spur of the mountain, and the old man I had 
 noticed in the morning was busily plowing in the luxuriant 
 corn which almost concealed both his horse and himself. 
 Not far off, to the right and behind him, three men were 
 stealthily creeping through the bushes. They were armed 
 with rifles and knives. Entering the corn-field, they fol- 
 lowed rapidly along the furrow the old man was plowing, 
 until near the end of the row, when two of them, dropping 
 their rifles, sprang suddenly upon him and pinioned his 
 
20 ' TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 arms behind him. His face was now, for the first time, 
 turned toward me, and I recognized the features of my 
 host. The next step was to bind a yellow bandana hand- 
 kerchief over his eyes. This made a stronger impression 
 upon me, because it was an article of great rarity in that 
 country, and because I did not remember to have seen it 
 used for years by any but members of the Pedo-Baptist 
 Church. He was then hurried up a narrow gorge, cut, for 
 the most part, out of the earth by torrents created by the 
 winter's rain. TTithiu thirty yards of his own corn field 
 they halted, two of them stepped back six or seven paces, 
 raised their rifles and fired. One or both balls must have 
 touched the heart, for he fell with that peculiar doubling 
 up of the limbs, that absence of catching for support, which, 
 to a practiced eye, is an unerring indication that life is 
 utterly extinct. At this horrible sight I uttered a fearful 
 cry and sprang upright in my bed. My host and his grand- 
 son were both upon their feet in a moment, eagerly in- 
 quiring what was the matter. For awhile I was so con- 
 fused and bewildered that I could give no explanation, but 
 at length I made them understand that it was nothing 
 more than a bad dream, produced, no doubt, by the inordi- 
 nate supper I had eaten. Again we addressed ourselves 
 to sleep, and again that horrid dream, without material 
 variation, haunted my pillow. This time, however, I did 
 not awaken my room-mates, but rising, and drawing a rough 
 arm-chair close to the fire, prepared to pass the night in a 
 sitting posture. I must have slept soundly, for when I 
 awoke it was long after daylight, and Mr. Johnson was 
 more than half dressed. The boy was not in the room ; he 
 had gone to look after the horses, and I heard Mrs. Wil- 
 son making preparations for breakfast in the adjoining 
 room. In that primitive land no time is wasted upon the 
 toilet. Ours was soon concluded, and, at the suggestion 
 
TOBIASWILSON. 21 
 
 of Mr. Johnson, we stepped out to breathe the fresh and 
 bracing air of an October morning. The first glance at 
 that lovely vale, and its magnificent mountain inclosures, 
 made every drop of blood in my veins run icy cold. Itivas 
 the valley of my dream. 
 
 The reader will remember that the shadows of night 
 shrouded the place when I descended from the mountain on 
 the previous evening. I could not catch even an outline 
 of the landscape, and although I had often traveled in that 
 neighborhood, it so happened that I had never seen this 
 secluded spot. I had looked upon it for the first time in a 
 dream. Yet there it was, clear, vivid, distinct. All its 
 marked characteristics were burned in on my memory as if 
 with a brand of red-hot iron. There was the stream, the 
 spur of the mountain, the little nook hidden from view 
 where we now stood, and when I looked up I again saw 
 the very ledge of rock on which I was standing when the 
 old man came forth to his daily labor. I shuddered, and 
 perceiving that I was observed, muttered something about 
 the coolness of the morning, and returned to the house. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 Neither at the breakfast table, nor before, ^vas any al- 
 lusion made to the emotion which I was sure had not passed 
 unobserved. I could not help feeling that it must have 
 appeared very singular to my host, — but how could it be 
 explained? Silence was the only course to be pursued. 
 It was far better to submit to the suspicion of some extra- 
 ordinary weakness than run the risk of wounding the feel- 
 ings or darkening the anticipations of my kind entertainer. 
 But, under the circumstances, conversation was necessarily 
 restrained, and almost immediately after the meal was con- 
 cluded I expressed a desire to resume my journey. Mr. 
 Johnson interposed no objection, only remarking, with win- 
 ning politeness, "I know your engagements, and suppose 
 you must go ; but it is hard for one situated as I am to be 
 so soon deprived of the most agreeable society he has en- 
 joyed for years." 
 
 I expressed my sense of the compliment he had paid me, 
 and very soon afterward I bade adieu to Mrs. Wilson and 
 her son, Mr. Johnson having agreed to pilot me through 
 the narrow opening in the mountains, and over the rough 
 country immediately beyond, to the public road. At that 
 point we parted with mutual expressions of good-will and 
 hopes of meeting again before long. 
 
 For hours I could not drive that dream from my thoughts. 
 How could that valley have been so faithfully and distinctly 
 painted in sleep when I had never seen it, never heard of 
 it, — was in fact totally ignorant of its existence ? In vain 
 I pondered upon this unaccountable phenomenon. Once 
 (22) 
 
TOBIAS WILS ON. 23 
 
 the idea crossed my mind that although I could not re- 
 member to have visited that place before, I must have done 
 so and forgotten it, and that memory had at last recalled 
 it in a dream ; but the place was too peculiar, too remark- 
 able, and my own organ of locality, as the phrenologists 
 term it, was too well developed to admit of this solution. 
 I ran over in my mind all the stories I had ever heard or 
 read of strange and unaccountable visions, and for most of 
 them I could find some possible explanation ; but here 
 there was none, and I determined that the best thing to be 
 done was to dismiss it from my thoughts. It was easier, 
 however, to resolve upon this than to perform it. Do 
 what I would, it would come back at the most unex- 
 pected times, for weeks and even for months. At length I 
 related it to a friend. He laughed at me, as I expected he 
 would, but could give no reason for his avowed belief that 
 it was nothing more than a common nightmare. Those 
 were times, however, in which real events were beginning 
 to crowd upon us, more strange and fearful than any of the 
 creations of fancy, and the memory of ray dream was 
 gradually fading away. The tide of war had rolled south- 
 ward. Gen. A. S. Johnston had been driven from Bowling 
 Green, through Nashville, Huntsville, and Tuseumbia, to 
 Corinth, the junction of the Mobile and Ohio with that of 
 the Memphis and Charleston Railroad. At Corinth he 
 sustained a defeat and lost his life. With considerable 
 skill and ability, Beauregard had withdrawn his army, no 
 one knew exactly where. 
 
 It was at this period of time that I again met Mr. John- 
 son and his grandson. Referring to our conversation when 
 I was his guest in the fall of 1860, he said: "You see, sir, 
 I was something of a prophet." 
 
 "ISTot much," I replied. "The probable consequences 
 of the mad career that some of our friends and neighbors 
 
24 TOBIASWILSON. 
 
 were then running were too palpable to require a prophet's 
 ken to foretell tliem." 
 
 "True," he answered. "And yet many who are wiser 
 than I am, and much more in the habit of mingling with 
 the world, were deceived. Worse even than that, Ihey will 
 not profit by the lesson, which is now before them, full of 
 humiliation and of anguish as it is. They will persist in 
 believing that the efforts of the Government to re-establish 
 its rightful supremacy over its own subjects are nothing 
 more nor less than a brutal exercise of power and a wicked 
 invasion of their territory, for the purpose of reducing them 
 to the condition of vassals or serfs." 
 
 "I know it," was my response. "I know it. And I 
 know too how difiQcult it will be at such a time to obtain a 
 hearing for the voice of reason. Still it must be attempted, 
 unless we are content to remain idle and inactive, while 
 those who love us, and whom we love, are rushing madly 
 to destruction." 
 
 "The effort must indeed be made," he said mournfully; 
 "but I have dark forebodings of the result. I do not de- 
 ceive myself as to the danger. It may be a prison, a scaf- 
 fold, or murder without the forms of trial. To all of these, 
 be assured that every Union man is liable wherever the 
 Confederate Government has power, or a secession popu- 
 lation predominates. I may escape. I may find in obscu- 
 rity an immunity which those who are better known can 
 hardly hope for. But danger threatens us all." 
 
 I told him that his apprehensions, though certainly not 
 
 groundless, were nevertheless unduly excited; that the 
 
 Anglo-Saxon was not a blood-thirsty animal, and took no 
 
 delight in taking away the life of an unresisting enemy. 
 
 France 
 
 "Got drunk with crime to vomit blood ;" 
 
 but we were of a different race, and I thought that those 
 
T B I A S W I L S X. 25 
 
 who remaiDed peacefully at home need fear no personal 
 violence. 
 
 " Remain peacefully at home I "Will they let us ? Will 
 they allow us to enjoy our own opinions ? Will they let us 
 express those opinions by our firesides, or the firesides of 
 our neighbors? If they do leave the old and the infirm 
 at home, will they not drag away the children upon whom 
 we lean for support ? Will they not rob us, and then say 
 that we ought not to complain because they are fighting 
 for our rights — our rights in the Territories, and our rights 
 in slave property, — rights which we do not believe are in 
 any danger, and for which, perhaps, we would not be will- 
 lug to dissolve the Union if they were? Will they not do 
 this, and more than this; aud if we raise a voice in remon- 
 strance, proclaim us as traitors, aud turn loose the off- 
 scourings of their camps to prey upon or murder us at 
 will?" 
 
 To these rapid and energetic questions I could find no 
 answer satisfactory to my own mind, and contented myself 
 with replying, " I hope not I" 
 
 "Hope not! So would I if I could, but I can find no- 
 thing upon which to hang a hope !" 
 
 "At all events," I said, "we can avoid much that might 
 be both disagreeable and dangerous by prudence and mod- 
 eration. We must not parade our opinions in places where 
 we know they will be offensive, or engage in acts of oppo- 
 sition which will only endanger us without promoting the 
 cause of the Union, or smoothing the pathway to peace. 
 We can wait until a time comes when action promises to 
 be useful. Through the bloody vista before us I think I 
 can see the dawn of a new day. The old Union will never 
 be restored, but a better union will spring from its ashes. 
 War, like fire, is a terrible agent, but it purifies as well as 
 destroys, and not unfrequently burns out from the body 
 
 8* 
 
26 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 politic the putrefying sores and loathsome cancers which 
 are eating its life away. As much as we loved and gloried 
 in the old Union, it is impossible to deny that some of 
 these things were beginning to make their appearance upon 
 it, and it may be that this war has been sent in mercy, not 
 in anger. It may be that it will so effectually remove all 
 cause of disagreement in the future between the two sec- 
 tions, that the sights and sounds of fraternal strife will 
 never again be heard on the North American Conti- 
 nent." 
 
 " God grant that it may be so," he fervently rejoined ; 
 "and if my old blood is needed as a sacrifice toward bring- 
 ing about that glorious end, oh, how cheerfully will it be 
 offered upon the altar of my country !" 
 
 "I think," he continued, "that I understand your mean- 
 ing. You believe that this war will destroy slavery, and 
 when it is gone there will remain no other cause sufiBciently 
 powerful to arm our hands against each other's lives." 
 
 "Yes, that is my opinion; but it would not be prudent 
 to proclaim it from the house-tops." 
 
 "No, indeed I The time for doing that is yet afar off!" 
 
 It was late before we parted for the night, and when we 
 did, the memory of my strange dream came back upon me 
 with startling power, and it was long before slumber visited 
 my eyelids. 
 
 The next day he returned to his home, and shortly after- 
 ward the Union army, under Gren. Buell, were drawn away 
 to repel the invasion of Kentucky by Gen. Bragg. Scat- 
 tered troops of Confederate cavalry were roaming through 
 the country, but as yet they had committed few outrages, 
 and, indeed, with the exception of helping themselves to 
 whatever thev needed, thev furnished the citizens with few 
 causes of complaint. But another class of marauders were 
 gradually making their appearance under the name of par- 
 
T B I A S W I L S X. 27 
 
 tisan rangers. The worst materials in the Confederate 
 army were rapidly absorbed in these irregular bands. 
 They were generally employed as quartermasters' and con- 
 script ofiBcers' guards. There was not even a semblance 
 of discipline among them. They went where they pleased, 
 stayed as long as they pleased, and returned when they 
 pleased, living at free quarters wherever they went and 
 committing whatever outrages their devilish fancies might 
 suggest. The citizens were, for the most part, unarmed, 
 except those who were their accomplices, and often part- 
 ners, in the robberies they committed. In the spring of 
 1863, when Bragg was preparing to place the Tennessee 
 River between himself and the army of Rosecrans, these 
 bands infested almost every part of North Alabama, and 
 no citizen residing beyond the limits of a town or village 
 could lay his head upon his pillow with a feeling of security. 
 The secluded dell in which Mr. Johnson lived had been an 
 effectual protection against their visits, and as he rarely 
 went from home he had thus far been unmolested. But 
 one day, by some untoward chance, three stragglers found 
 their way to his dwelling. They were hungry, they said, 
 and asked for something to eat and a feed for their horses. 
 This was promptly furnished. While eating they talked 
 of the war, of the cowardice and brutality of the Yan- 
 kees, and boasted loudly of their own exploits. Mr. 
 Johnson was disgusted, but prudently held his tongue. 
 When their hunger had been appeased, they went to the 
 stable to saddle their horses. One of them immediately 
 proposed an exchange for a fine gelding belonging to Mr. 
 Johnson. His own horse, he said, he knew was a great 
 deal the best animal, but his back was badly hurt, and as 
 they had some hard work before them it would be cruel to 
 ride him in that fix if it could be helped. Mr. Johnson 
 was satisfied of the excellence of the trooper's horse, but 
 
28 T B I A S W I L S N. . 
 
 preferred to keep his own for various reasons, one of which 
 (though he did not express it) was, that he had heard the 
 doughty warrior, within the last half hour, boast that he 
 had taken him from "a d — n — d old Union traitor in 
 Tennessee," 
 
 The unwelcome visitors rode away. When out of hear- 
 ing, as they supposed, a tall and powerful man of not more 
 than twenty-two years of age, whose smooth and almost 
 beardless face contrasted strongly with the hairy visages of 
 his companions, and whose bearing denoted some kind of 
 authority over them, drew up his horse and made a rapid 
 survey of the locality. 
 
 "By jingo !"he exclaimed, "this'would be a glorious spot 
 for Captain Walter's headquarters, if Stanley's d — n — d 
 blue-bellies ever get down here." 
 
 "Yes," answered one of the men, "it's mighty purty, but 
 in gineral I keeps an eye out for safety, and I don't think 
 this place would suit me edzactly." 
 
 " Safety ! why, Bob, that's just what I was thinking about. 
 I was born in seven mile of this hollow, and I have knocked 
 about these mountains considerable in my time, and I never 
 knowed about this place before. It would take a regiment 
 of Yankees three months to find it if they didn't have no- 
 thing else to do but to hunt for it." 
 
 "I mought agree with you in that, and I don't know but 
 I do. But just tell me, Sergeant Miller, what is to keep 
 that d — n — d old rip up yonder," pointing to the house, 
 "from telling 'em !" 
 
 "A pistol-bullet or the end of my horse's halter would 
 do that if he showed any signs of trying to make us uncom- 
 fortable. But I don't think he would if we did not impose 
 upon him too much !" 
 
 "Well, sergeant, for a lad of your experience, and I will 
 say cuteness, too, you are mighty easy to be fooled. Or, 
 
T B I A S AV I L S X. 29 
 
 may be, you was watching that good-looking woman too 
 close to have an eye on her dad. As sure as gun's iron, he's 
 a dead out Union feller ; and if you want to sleep safe, don't 
 spread your blanket down in his cabin when there's a com- 
 pany of Yankees in ten mile of it !" 
 
 "What did you see. Bob, to make you think so? I 
 never noticed anything amiss. Did you, Tom Simmons ?" 
 
 "Yes," said the individual thus addressed, who was a 
 coarse, heavily built man, of forty years or upwards, with 
 shopk hair and beard, and keen blue eyes set deep in his 
 head, which were always alive with watchfulness and yet 
 always seemed to be in repose. It was a common remark 
 among his companions, that, although Tom Simmons was 
 never known to look a man in the face, he was never in com- 
 pany with any one for five minutes every feature of whose 
 face he could not describe even to the most minute peculi- 
 aritv. This remarkable facultv made him extremely useful 
 as a spy or a scout, although his thieving and plundering 
 propensities sometimes rendered it hazardous to employ him, 
 since he never failed to gratify these, no matter what ne- 
 glect of duty or what danger of detection it involved. 
 
 To the question of his officer he answered deliberately. 
 "Yes. I watched him when Bob Jenkins was bragging 
 about things there warnt no needcessity for telling, sup- 
 posin' them to be true, which all on 'em wasn't, and if he 
 didn't think we three ought to be hung in short order, I'm 
 no judge of snakes 1" 
 
 "Ah ! is that so ? Well, the Yankees are not here yet, 
 and in the mean time we can make the most of the good 
 feeding and foraging we have found !" 
 
 "And if I don't capture that gray horse," said Simmons, 
 "before another week is out, I shall consider myself in 
 d_n— d bad luck !" 
 
 "So be it!'' said Sergeant Miller; "but now we must 
 
30 T B I A S W I L S N. 
 
 be traveling. Trot ! "We must get to Maysville to- 
 m£?ht!" 
 
 Tobias Wilson had been hunting that morning, and, re- 
 turning a little footsore, he had taken off his shoes and 
 seated himself under a ledge of rocks to bathe his feet. 
 While engaged in this operation his grandfather's depart- 
 ing visitors had reined up within ten feet of the place where 
 he was sitting, and he had listened, securely hidden by the 
 rocks, to the whole of the foregoing conversation. As 
 soon as the horsemen were out of sight, he ran to the house, 
 and related what he had heard to his mother and grand- 
 father. As the boy proceeded with his story, Mrs. Wil- 
 son's face became ashy pale. With her father it was 
 different. At first his features betrayed no unusual emo- 
 tion, but as his grandson went on there was a stern knitting 
 of his brow, and the lines about his mouth grew deeper 
 and firmer. For a minute or more after the story was ended, 
 not a word was spoken. The silence was broken by Mr. 
 Johnson. 
 
 "I feared it would come to this, mv daucchter, and I have 
 been thinking of removing you to Nashville. Tobias can 
 go with you, and after you are comfortably situated he can 
 return to me. We must not leave the crop untended. I 
 have barely enough money to support you for a twelve- 
 month, and no source to look to for a new supply except 
 our growing crop." 
 
 "I cannot leave you, father," firmly replied his daughter. 
 " If you are in danger here, I must share it. I should feel 
 more uneasiness when away from you than by your side ; 
 and besides, I do not see how you could get on without 
 me. If you and Tobias could do your own cooking and 
 washing, you cannot weave your own cloth, or make and 
 mend your clothing. If you have any apprehensions for 
 my nerves, dismiss them. I am not a fine lady now, w^hat- 
 
T B I A S W I L S N. SI 
 
 ever I may have been, and if the worst comes I can mould 
 bullets, as my grandmother did when Bean's Station was 
 attacked by the Indians." 
 
 In that family there was no affectation of any kind. 
 What one said the others were persuaded was said in earn- 
 est, and it was rare that either argument or remonstrance 
 was resorted to for the purpose of changing an opinion 
 once decidedly expressed, or a resolution once taken. 
 
 Mr. Johnson did not seem to be surprised at his daugh- 
 ter's determination, and made no effort to overcome it. 
 After a brief time given to reflection, he said : 
 
 "Be it as you will, Margaret I though I had much rather 
 that you left us. My heart would be lighter if I only knew 
 that you were safe !" 
 
 "Safe, father! what danger do I incur by remaining at 
 home ? and who is likely to injure me V 
 
 "You may be safe from personal danger, my child, and I 
 think you are ; but you are in danger of being called on to 
 witness that which will be very painful to you. Yet even 
 that is uncertain, and, with God's blessing, we may escape." 
 
 Bat little more was said at the time, and the subject of 
 their conversation was not again referred to until the next 
 morning at the breakfast table, when Mr. Johnson abruptly 
 asked his grandson if his rifle was in good order. Upon 
 receiving an aflBrmative reply, he continued : "I have not 
 used mine lately, and it needs cleaning up. After break- 
 fast, I wish you to wash it out for me and oil the lock. See, 
 too, that the powder horns are filled, and that there is a 
 good supply of bullets in our pouches." 
 
 When the morning meal was finished, Mr. Johnson geared 
 his own horse and went out to the field, saying to his 
 grandson : 
 
 "You need not come to the field this morning, Tobias. 
 When you have put the guns in order and moulded the 
 
82 TOBIASWILSOX. 
 
 bullets, you can chop out the weeds and grass from the 
 potato patch. I shall stop work at twelve o'clock for the 
 day." 
 
 Mr. Johnson conjectured that his dang-erous visitors 
 would not return before the succeeding day, and perhaps 
 he might not hear of them for a much longer period, but 
 he was certain that they would come sooner or later, and as 
 he could not tell what time they would select, he thought 
 it best to be always on his guard. The next day passed, a 
 week went by, and no footsteps had pressed the lonely 
 glen except those of its owner and his little family. Mrs. 
 Wilson, with the usual hopefulness of woman, believed that 
 the danger had gone by, if, indeed, it ever existed. Xot 
 so her father. He knew it would be just as rational to 
 expect that the bloodhound would lose the scent within a 
 hundred yards of his prey, as that these marauders would 
 fail to return to a place where they knew that there was an 
 abundance of provision and forage to be had, and at least 
 one remarkably fine horse to be stolen. He had made up 
 his mind that they should not again trespass upon his hos- 
 pitality, and that any attempt at force should be met by 
 determined resistance. 
 
 Tobias Wilson was well aware of his grandfather's feel- 
 ings and intentions, and equally as determined that the first 
 indication of violence should be the signal for sending a 
 leaden messenger to the heart of one of the robbers. The 
 years which had passed since he was first introduced to the 
 reader had added to his stature, though he was still slender 
 and apparently delicate. Any one, however, who calcu- 
 lated upon this seeming feebleness of body, would have been 
 grievously disappointed. His limbs, though small, were 
 muscular and firmly knit, and they had been hardened by that 
 kind of labor and exercise best calculated to develop the 
 physical man. His grandfather had been celebrated as an 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 33 
 
 amateur wrestler and boxer in his youth, and believing that 
 these attainments might be of service, and could be no dis- 
 advantage to a peaceable and well-disposed youth, he had 
 not failed to impart all his knowledge to his grandson. 
 Added to these physical advantages, Tobias Wilson carried 
 in his bosom the heart of a lion. At the age of twenty-one 
 he could remember nothing he had ever feared except the 
 half-angry, half-repro.achful look of his mother, when he 
 had said or done something which was not in accordance 
 with her strict notions of the conduct which best became a 
 Christian and a gentleman. 
 
 His grandfather had been his teacher in everything, but 
 he was so gentle and so indulgent in his own family, and 
 his reproof was always so mild, that the idea of punish- 
 ment, as connected with it, had never found a place in the 
 young man's breast. He was almost as ignorant now as he 
 was when a child, of the deep and concentrated passions 
 which, in other years, had struggled lon^ and fearfully with 
 the better nature of his parent, and which were still so far 
 unsubdued that they were at any time liable, under great 
 provocation, to break out with the sudden and destructive 
 violence of a West Indian tornado. But of this the boy, 
 as both mother and grandfather called him, was ignorant. 
 He felt a little awed, as no one of his age could help feel- 
 ing, in presence of that strong and decided nature, but that 
 awe was unmingled with fear. A new leaf ^^^as now 
 opened for his perusal. A stern and relentless purpose 
 had settled in the old man's bosom, and the evidences of 
 it could not be entirely suppressed, either in the tones of 
 his voice or his general demeanor. Tobias Wilson ob- 
 served the change, but as he felt well assured that it boded 
 no opposition to his own resolves, he made no comment 
 and asked no questions. 
 
 4 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 Nearly two weeks had passed. Mr. Johnson was stand- 
 ing in the passage of his house just after the mid-day meal, 
 when he observed three men riding up the bank of the 
 iittle stream, of whose identity he had no manner of doubt. 
 They were yet more than a quarter of a mile distant, and 
 as his plan of proceeding had long since been fully decided 
 upon, there was ample time to make the few preparations 
 which he deemed advisable. Locking the doors and barr- 
 ing the windows of the room in which he was accustomed 
 to sleep, he went with his grandson into the room occupied 
 by his daughter. This room was then carefully secured 
 inside, loop-holes had already been made by removing, in 
 places, the "chinking and daubin'" from betw^een the logs 
 of the cabin. Their rifles were taken down and exam- 
 ined; their bullet-pouches and hunting-knives slung over 
 their shoulders, and then Mr. Johnson placed himself at 
 the little square opening dignified with the name of window, 
 while Tobias seated himself on the floor, his rifle resting 
 in one of the loop-holes which commanded the approach 
 to the stable. Everything had been arranged beforehand, 
 and their dispositions were made with a quiet celerity not 
 in the least resembling nervous hurry, but which, neverthe- 
 less, precluded conversation while it was progressing. 
 
 When the riders stopped at the bars through which ad- 
 mission to the yard was obtained, the closed doors and the 
 stillness within and about the cabin led them to believe 
 that it was untenanted. 
 (34) 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 35 
 
 "Hello !" shouted the sergeant. 
 
 " What do you want ?" was the answer from the window. 
 
 "Something to eat for man and horse; we have had a 
 hard ride to-day, and we are tired and hungry I" 
 
 " You will have to ride still farther, for you can get no- 
 thing here." 
 
 "We'll see about that I" answered the sergeant, delib- 
 erately dismounting from his horse and tying him to the 
 fence. "I suspected you of being a d — n — d old traitor 
 before, and I know it now I" 
 
 " I give you fair warning," said Mr. Johnson, in a raised 
 and angry tone, "if you cross that fence with a hostile pur- 
 pose, you are a dead man !" 
 
 The freebooter had the reputation of being a bold and 
 daring man, but as he had no inclination to throw his 
 life awav, the tones of the voice that now addressed him 
 were sufficiently determined to make him hesitate. His 
 companions had also dismounted. Taking the precaution 
 to keep their horses between them and the cabin, they held 
 a brief, whispered consultation with each other. 
 
 "He's got help in thar," said Tom Simmons, "or he 
 wouldn't talk so big; but it can't be no great deal, or he 
 wouldn't lock up and fortyfy hisself. Let's divide ; if he's 
 got friends in thar we'll find it out, and then there's no- 
 thin' for it but to leave and wait until some night when we 
 catch him asleep !" 
 
 This plan was at once adopted, and while Sergeant Mil- 
 ler remained in front, sheltered by the fence and the horses, 
 the other two made a circuit and approached the cabin 
 from different sides. On his side Bob Jenkins met no op- 
 position : Tom Simmons had gained the rear of the stable, 
 as he supposed without attracting observation ; but as he 
 came around in front, within twenty yards of the house, a 
 sharp voice commanded him to " halt !" The redoubtable 
 
36 TOBIASWILSON. 
 
 Tom was a little startled at first, for this was not the voice 
 of the man who held the brief colloquy with his sergeant, 
 and it verified his suspicion that the old man was not alone. 
 He detected the loop-hole, and saw at a glance that he 
 could, by a quick movement, easily avoid that danger, but 
 he did not know what he would encounter On the other side, 
 and thought it best to come to a parley. 
 . " Well, I am halted ! What'll you have ?" 
 
 ''That, sir, is what I wish to know of you !" 
 
 '' Haven't we told you we were tired and hungry, and 
 wanted something to eat ?" 
 
 "Yes, and you were told that you could get nothing 
 here ; and now, sir, if you have any regard for your 
 safety, you had better be off I" 
 
 "Ef I could only git you out'n that cabin, my chap, its 
 more'u likely you'd be thinking on your own safety; and 
 may be I'll have a chance yet to larn you how to treat sol- 
 diers who are fighting to save your truck from the d — n — d 
 Yankees who are rampaging over these here mountains 
 this very day." 
 
 " When we want your help against the Yankees we will 
 let you know it ; but until then we do not intend to be plun- 
 dered and robbed by every " 
 
 Tobias Wilson's speech was cut suddenly short, for Tom 
 Simmons, who had been gradually and almost impercepti- 
 bly moving toward the door of the stable, now sprang sud- 
 denly within it, and, resting his revolver in a crack between 
 the logs, fired with a quick but certain aim at the loop-hole 
 through which the foregoing conversation had been carried 
 on. Tobias Wilson saw the motion, and at once divining 
 what it meant, fell with his face to the floor. It was well 
 for him that he did so. The delay of an instant would have 
 been fatal to him, for the ball passed directly through the 
 loop-hole and buried itself in the logs on the opposite side 
 of the room. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 37 
 
 While the foregoing conversation was progressing, Ser- 
 geant Miller had led away the horses of the party, and se- 
 cured them under the steep bank of the stream. Mr. John- 
 son might, have interfered very eifectually with this pro- 
 ceeding, but he was determined to act only in self-defense, 
 and shrank from firing the first shot. When the attempt 
 upon the life of his grandson was made, it was too late ; 
 Sergeant Miller was safe, and Jenkins, by making a wide 
 detour, was able to rejoin him without risk. 
 
 Both of them now unslung their carbines, and, availing 
 themselves of every sheltering object, again cautiously ap- 
 proached the house. On his side Tom Simmons was in 
 doubt whether the silence which followed his shot was the 
 stillness of death, or whether his intended victim was watch- 
 ing an opportunity to return it. Acting upon a sudden 
 impulse, he had brought matters to a point where no com- 
 promise was possible, and nothing more remained to be 
 done but to take the cabin by storm, or retreat. He might 
 set fire to the cabin and shoot down the inmates as they 
 were driven out by the flames, but that did not suit his own 
 views or the views of his comrades, since it involved the 
 destruction of the booty they designed appropriating to 
 themselves. While thus cogitating, his eye rested on the 
 gray steed he so much coveted. 
 
 "Well, my beauty," he said, walking up to the horse and 
 patting him on the neck, "I'll make sure on you this time, 
 and when I come agin, we'll try for the rest !" So saying, 
 he took down a plow bridle, the only one in the stable, and 
 put it on the noble animal. In his approach he had "let 
 down " the fence at the back of the stable, and there was 
 now no obstruction between him and the wood which 
 skirted the mountain. Mounting the horse, and lying flat 
 on his neck, he rode through the door', turned the horse's 
 
 head toward the mountain, and put him at once almost to 
 
 4* 
 
38 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 the top of his speed. But Mr. Simmons's motions had been 
 watched by an eye as keen and vigilant as that of the lynx. 
 The horse had not made twenty bounds when the sharp 
 crack of a rifle reverberated along the mountain sides. 
 The lawless freebooter, who, as he sped away, had raised 
 himself to a half-sitting posture, now rose straight up; in 
 a moment his head dropped upon his breast, his hand re- 
 linquished its hold upon the rein, and he fell heavily to the 
 ground. The horse made a few more leaps forward, until 
 finding itself unrestrained, it turned rapidly toward the 
 stable. 
 
 Miller and Jenkins were in full view of Simmons when he 
 fell, and did not for an instant doubt that he had received 
 his death wound. They were too familiar with such scenes- 
 to entertain a hope that he would ever join in another ma- 
 rauding expedition. The number of assailants and de- 
 fenders were now equal, and with the advantage possessed 
 by the latter, the robbers despaired of a successful termina- 
 tion of their enterprise. A retreat was inevitable. This 
 was easv ; but it involved the abandonment of their com- 
 rade, which they were not willing to do, partly, let us sup- 
 pose, from a touch of human feeling still lingering in their 
 bosoms, but chiefly because his arms and accoutrements 
 were valuable, even if he had nothing else about his person, 
 and they felt accordingly no disposition to let them fall into 
 the hands of the victors. After some delay, Sergeant Mil- 
 ler called out to Mr. Johnson : 
 
 "You have murdered a Confederate soldier rather than 
 give us a meal's victuals, and the consequences must be 
 upon your own head. Do you mean to let us carry him 
 away peaceably, or must we burn your infernal den and 
 bury him by its light ?" 
 
 "You can do what you please," was the answer, "out- 
 side of ray yard ; but if you cross my fence, or lay a finger 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 39 
 
 on my property within rifle range, I shall serve you as he 
 has been served. Take him away as soon as you can. I 
 hope he is not dead, but he deserved it if he is. I give 
 you half an hour to carry him off!" 
 
 Miller and Jenkins promptly availed themselves of the 
 privilege accorded them, and in less than half the time 
 mentioned were on their way down the little stream with 
 the dead body of Simmons lashed to his horse. 
 
 That night her father again addressed Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 "It is certain, my daughter, that you cannot now remain 
 here in security. There is no telling at what hour of the 
 day or the night we may have a band of robbers upon us. 
 Tobias and I may escape to the mountain, but you will cer- 
 tainly be subject to insult, and it may be to worse things. 
 You had better prepare to go to Nashville to-morrow." 
 
 "I shall stay with you, father, be the consequences what 
 they may. I will not deny that I am a little frightened at 
 what may follow from this sad day's work, but I will stay, 
 nevertheless, and hope to be of service rather than an in- 
 cumbrance." 
 
 For several days Mr. Johnson and his grandson carried 
 their rifles to the field, and one of them watched while the 
 other worked. A neighbor, so called in that wild region, 
 though his house was some seven miles distant, had been on 
 a visit to Huntsville, and on his return, finding that he could 
 not reach his own house before nightfall, took "the short 
 cut " through the valley and over the mountain by Mr. 
 Johnson's house. It was not much past seven o'clock, but the 
 darkness of night had settled upon that secluded spot, and 
 not liking to undertake a journey across the mountain at such 
 an hour, he called to ask a lodging for the night. From 
 him Mr. Johnson learned for the first time the story which 
 had been spread abroad in relation to the death of Sim- 
 mons. It was said that he, Simmons, had called in a peace- 
 
40 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 able and orderly manner with his comrades, to obtain some 
 refreshment, after a hard day's scouting, and had been 
 shot down in cold blood by some one inside of the cabin. 
 He farther learned that the neighbors had been only de- 
 terred from executing Lynch's law upon the inhabitants of 
 the little valley by the presence of Union cavalry in that 
 vicinity. Mr. Johnson was advised by his neighbor, who 
 happened to be a strong friend of the Union, to change his 
 residence at once, and was offered shelter in his house, 
 which he thought more secure from the fact of being in a 
 thickly settled country. 
 
 "I thank you, Mr. Rogers," was the reply, "both for 
 the information you have given me and for your kind offer. 
 And I beg tlaat you will not consider it uncourteous if I 
 do not accept it. This house is mine. "When the great 
 secession orator, Mr. Yancey, traveled through this country, 
 he told us that every cabin was a castle, from which we had 
 a right to expel any intruding foot. It was about the only 
 thing in his speech with which I agreed, and I am resolved 
 to put it to the test. I shall harm no one except in my 
 own just defense ; but here I shall stay, at least until my 
 crop is gathered, and those who interfere with me must 
 take the consequences. I shall be very grateful, however, 
 if you can persuade my daughter to go with you." 
 
 "I will try, Mr. Johnson. And I tell you further, that 
 there is a plan on foot to arm the Union citizens for their 
 own defense. I saw Gen. S. yesterday. He will supply 
 us with arms, and we can then protect ourselves against 
 such roving parties as have visited you, even when aided, 
 as they are, and will be, by some of the worst of our neigh- 
 bors." 
 
 At this point Tobias Wilson for the first time joined in 
 the conversation. It was his custom to listen in grave and 
 respectful silence to the utterances of his grandfather; but 
 
TOBIAS WILS ON. 41 
 
 he could not restrain himself when he heard that arms 
 would be furnished to such Union citizens as would use 
 them in their own and the country's defense. 
 
 " Tell General S.," he said, " that if he will give us guns, 
 and powder, and ball, a thousand lojal hearts will thank 
 him, and a thousand loyal hands will be found ready to use 
 them." 
 
 "I shall do so," was the reply of Mr. Rogers. "But he 
 will be in this neighborhood in two weeks, and you can see 
 him yourself. That is, if you will go with me to a place 
 of greater safety. If you remain here, I do not think that 
 your grandfather or yourself will be among the living this 
 day fortnight." 
 
 "It may be so," answered Mr. Johnson, again taking up 
 the conversation. "God only can foreknow the future; 
 but I will not leave my house to be burned, and my crops 
 destroyed, by a band of thieves and robbers, who desecrate 
 the name of my country by calling themselves its defenders. 
 I will perish upon my own doorsill before even the pittance 
 I am able and willing to give in charity, shall be wrested 
 from me by violence, or extorted from me by threats." 
 
 "You are right, Mr. Johnson, in one sense, but wrong 
 in another. Perhaps two others, for there are two views^ 
 of this matter which do not seem to have struck you. The 
 first is, that probably no open attack will be made upon 
 you. Your house may be fired at night, and you may be 
 murdered while trying to escape from the flames. You 
 may be shot down while at work in your field, or disposed 
 of in many other ways, without a chance oi resistance. On 
 my honor, I believe you to be in great danger of some such 
 fate every hour that you abide in this out-of-the-way place, 
 where murder is so easy of accomplishment, and detection 
 of the criminal so difiicult. The other view is, that even 
 if openly attacked, you may, in your defense, destroy the 
 
42 TOBIAS TVILSON. 
 
 life of some one who is guilty of being found in bad com- 
 pany certainly, but in reality innocent of any intention to 
 commit robbery, or shed blood, except under circumstances 
 which in his view of the law would justify the act." 
 
 "I understand your first suggestion," replied Mr. John- 
 sou, "and admit its force. My resolution was taken after 
 long and anxious thought, and this was a contingency too 
 palpable to be overlooked. I know that it is one which 
 cannot be effectually guarded against, supposing your 
 enemy to be wily and determined ; but I calculate some- 
 what upon my own and my grandson's vigilance, and the 
 watchfulness of our dogs, and still more upon the over- 
 confidence of those who may be disposed to do us an in- 
 jury. Your second suggestion I do not think I clearly 
 understand. I have never thought of taking the life of 
 any one who does not come here with a robber's or a mur- 
 derer's purpose; and do not see how I can incur the risk 
 of shedding innocent blood. '^ 
 
 " I did not say innocent blood," was the rejoinder. " My 
 remark was comparative. I neither say, nor believe, that 
 any innocent man will come here upon an errand of 
 violence. But comparatively good men may be deceived 
 by false representations. We know not a few who loere 
 honest and kind-hearted in other days, but who are the 
 companions of robbers and murderers. They have not 
 lost their horror of the crime, — they are only blinded to 
 the brutality of the criminals, because those criminals are 
 called Southern -patriots. Such men may be reclaimed : 
 nay, more, many of them have been reclaimed, and the 
 scales are daily falling from the eyes of others." 
 
 "God speed the good work," said the old man, fervently. 
 "No one shall be more ready than I to aid and encourage 
 them to the extent of my poor means. But,"^ he added 
 more sternly, "they must give evidence of repentance be- 
 
TOBIAS WILS ox. 48 
 
 fore they can expect to be separated from the bloody crew 
 with whom their lot has been voluntarily cast. When they 
 become good citizens I will extend to them the right hand 
 of fellowship. Until then, I cannot allow them to inflict 
 injury upon me or mine with impunity, because I have 
 hopes of their future repentance. If they come here it can 
 be for no good, and I shall make no distinction between 
 visitors whose errand is the same." 
 
 " Nor would I have you to do so, and I must have ex- 
 pressed myself poorly to be so understood. What I mean to 
 argue is, that by getting out of the way for the time, you 
 may be spared the necessity of a mortal contest with men 
 who, I believe, will before long discard their errors, and 
 become valuable auxiliaries in the cause of right and of 
 liberty. I do not ask you to spare, but to avoid them."* 
 
 " And that, unfortunately, is just what I cannot do. If 
 I leave here, my crop goes to waste, even if no strolling 
 vagabond should take a fancy to appropriate it to himself. 
 Everything I have exclusive of my crop would not support 
 my daughter and myself for more than a twelvemonth ; so 
 you see, Mr. Rogers, I must stay or starve. Take my 
 daughter with you, and I shall be very grateful ; as for 
 Tobias and myself, I believe we are of one mind, and that 
 is, to brave the worst." 
 
 The kind-hearted Rogers went into the opposite room, 
 and with some difficulty persuaded Mrs. Wilson to take up 
 her abode for some time at his house. She would not be 
 far removed from her father and her son, and she reasoned, 
 rightly, that they would feel more at ease, and be more at • 
 liberty to concert measures for their security, when they 
 knew that she was beyond the reach of immediate danger. 
 
 And so the next morning, Mr. Rogers departed with 
 Mrs. Wilson in his company, — a single horse, besides the 
 
44 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 one she rode, being sufficient to "pack" her small wardrobe 
 over the precipitous path they must needs traverse. 
 
 Another week had been added to the cycle of the year. 
 The warning they had received had not been neglected. 
 Everything had been done, which could be, to guard against 
 surprise, and, in case of overpowering necessity, to secure 
 a safe retreat. Resistance to the death was the fixed and 
 unalterable purpose of both the old man and the young; 
 but neither of them had any intention of throwing away 
 their lives in a useless struggle. They had accordingly 
 discussed and agreed on a place of safe retreat in the 
 mountains, in the event of being assailed by overwhelming 
 numbers. In the mean time, they watched and worked by 
 turns in the daytime, and watched and slept by turns at 
 night. Their immunity thus far did not at all abate their 
 vigilance, and they allowed nothing to separate them until 
 their stock of meal was exhausted, and it was necessary 
 that it should be replenished. 
 
 Early on a bright summer morning in July, 1863, Tobias 
 Wilson set out for the mill, some six miles distant, with a 
 bag of corn under him and his rifle across his knees. It 
 was long past noon when he returned. Riding up to the 
 cabin, he found the doors fastened as they were that 
 morning when he left home for the mill, after his grand- 
 father had gone to the field. Looking under a slab of 
 wood where it was their habit to leave the key, since his 
 mother had taken up her residence with Mr. Rogers, he 
 found it where he had placed it in the morning. The 
 doors were locked as usual, and nothing about the place 
 indicated that it had been visited since morning. A vague 
 feeling of apprehension crept over him. He went to the 
 stable; his grandfather's horse was not there, nor were 
 there any indications that the stable had been entered by 
 any one during the day. The dogs came whining and leap- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 45 
 
 ing for joy around him. The barn-yard fowls were scratch- 
 ing in the dirt, and a couple of calves were munching at a 
 stack of fodder. "Something is wrong," he murmured. 
 "Grandfather has not been home to dinner. Where can 
 he have gone and what has taken him away ?" 
 
 Then a fearful suspicion crossed his mind. "My God! 
 can he be murdered ?" After a moment's thought, he shook 
 off this impression. "No," he said, "no; in that case 
 they would have robbed the house, and probably burned it. 
 No; I don't think they have killed him, but may be they 
 have captured and taken him off. I mus^t see." 
 
 So saying, he started to the field which he knew his 
 grandfather intended that morning to plow. As he 
 walked on through the springing corn and across the 
 "turning rows," the stillness which everywhere reigned 
 had its influence upon his spirits. "God preserve me," he 
 murmured, "from this trial! I promised my mother that 
 I would always try to be gentle and good. I have tried 
 to keep that promise. When I went to the 'Musters,' 
 and other boys called me 'Miss Nancy,' I have turned 
 away without touching them, although I knew I could break 
 every bone in their bodies. I have borne this, and I can 
 bear more ; but if I find that old man's white hairs stained 
 with blood, may God forsake me if I do not pay back every 
 drop with tenfold interest." 
 
 After turning the spur of the mountain, he had not 
 walked fifty yards before he saw his grandfather's horse, 
 with the gear on him, and still attached to the plow, 
 lazily feeding upon the growing corn. To the young man 
 this was a painful indication that the animal had been long 
 at liberty. It would not have been grazing so leisurely 
 if its appetite had not been nearly appeased. Passing by 
 the unconscious beast, he walked on, following the direc- 
 tion of the latest plowed furrow. Before he had pro- 
 
 5 
 
46 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 ceeded many steps, it came abruptly to an end. There 
 were the marks of a struggle, and the indentation of many 
 feet in the newly turned up ground. There were also un- 
 mistakable indications that the horse, neglected or for- 
 gotten in the struggle, had turned about and afterward 
 roved at will over the field, dragging the plow after him. 
 The footprints led toward a gorge in the mountains, and 
 there, within a hundred yards of the spot where the struggle 
 had taken place, and just beyond the field, he found the 
 body of his grandfather. Two rifle balls had passed 
 through his body, either one of which would have been 
 fatal. There he lay, still warm, and the expression of his 
 face varying but little from that he wore in life, in his 
 serious moods. For many minutes the young man scarcely 
 moved, but gazed in speechless agony upon all that re- 
 mained of what he had most reverenced in the world. 
 Then he stooped and kissed the corpse. He did not feel 
 the pulse. He did not put his hand on the bloody breast 
 to see if the heart still beat. He knew instinctively that 
 naught but a dead body yvas lying before him. Slowly he 
 went back, unharnessed the horse, led him to the spot 
 where the corpse was lying, and with the plow line tied 
 it fast upon his back. Then carefully but moodily he led 
 the animal to the now desolate cabin. Arriving there, he 
 lifted the body from the horse, and laid it gently upon its 
 accustomed bed. Going out again, he put his own horse 
 and that of his grandfather in the stable, and fed them well. 
 He had eaten nothing himself during the day, and finding 
 no cold meats in his mother's "cupboard," he broiled some 
 ham and baked a "hoe cake." After this frugal meal was 
 concluded, he called his dogs into the house, barred the 
 door, and placing his own and his grandfather's rifle 
 (which he had picked up on his way home) near the head 
 of his bed, prepared to pass the night alone with the dead. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 47 
 
 What were his thoughts during that night of horror? 
 No one ever knew. When I saw him afterward, he told 
 me many things, but nothing of that night's vigils, slum- 
 bers, resolves, or struggles. I could only guess from what 
 followed, that during that night of companionship with his 
 grandfather's corps, a stern, relentless, merciless purpose 
 settled upon his heart, whose appropriate fruits were blood 
 and tears. 
 
CHAPTER ly. 
 
 The next day, leaving the dead body in the cabin, he 
 mounted his horse, and rode across the mountain to the 
 house of Mr. Rogers, where his mother was now residing. 
 He seized her hand when they met, and almost crushed it 
 in his nervous grasp. "Mother," he said briefly, sternly, 
 and without a word of preparation, "grandpa is dead." 
 For a minute or more his mother sunk under the terrible 
 announcement. Her first exclamation was, " Oh, my poor 
 father!" A flood of tears gushed from her eyes, and her 
 almost Amazonian form drooped and shrunk as if the winds 
 of winter had swept over the lily in its bloom. Then she 
 murmured, "Dead ! dead, my son ! How did he die?" 
 
 "He was murdered; murdered by assassins." 
 ^ "Murdered by assassins !" she answered fiercely. "Mur- 
 dered ! and you with him when the deed was done, and 
 you are now here to tell it ! My God ! can it be that a 
 son of mine stood by and saw those gray hairs dabbled in 
 blood, and yet lived to tell the tale ?" 
 
 "I was not by him, mother, I was no witness to the 
 bloody deed, but I know it was murder. And, oh ! mo- 
 ther," he continued, striking his hand upon his breast, "if 
 you knew the hell that is burning here, you would tremble 
 for the consequences which may follow the words you have 
 now spoken. My thoughts were dark and bloody enough 
 before. God grant they may not lead me to a retribution 
 He will not pardon !" 
 
 "Forgive me, Tobias, if in this terrible agony I have 
 (48) 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 49 
 
 uttered words to wound you. I kuow not rightly what I 
 said ; but I know you well, my boy, better, oh, how much 
 better than all the world beside ! I know you to be true 
 and strong and braver than the lion in his hungry mood. 
 I did not mean to rouse you to revenge. It would be deep 
 sin to take into our hands what the Lord has declared is 
 His own, and avenge, according to our poor notions, deeds 
 which He has himself promised he 'will repay.' It may 
 be sweet, but it should be enough for us that it is forbidden." 
 
 "Yes," he replied gloomily, "vengeance is forbidden, 
 but not justice. I must have justice." 
 
 There was more in the tone, than the words, to create 
 apprehension in the deeply religious mind of his mother ; 
 and looking at him now attentively for the first time since 
 they had met, she read in the stern lines which had set- 
 tled on his face something which made her shudder. He 
 looked ten years older than he had done the day before, and 
 she felt instinctively that there had been a mighty change 
 within as well a'S without. How far it had already pro- 
 gressed beyond her guidance, she could not fathom. The 
 tears were streaming from her eyes, but his were dry. She 
 wiped them away, and again looked fixedly upon him be- 
 fore replying. 
 
 "That is a dangerous mode of reasoning, my child; but 
 we will not talk of that now. Tell me all, at least all you 
 know of this sad business." 
 
 So saying, she led the way to her own room, and listened 
 with quivering agony to all her son had to relate. When 
 the dark story was ended, she threw herself on the bed 
 buried her face in the pillows, and sobbed as if her heart 
 would break. The young man watched his mother in silence, 
 but even while he watched, the bloody thoughts which had 
 been coming and going in his mind like shadowy visions, 
 took form and substance, and settled themselves in his heart 
 
 5* 
 
50 TOBIAS WILSOX. 
 
 m 
 
 forever. Poising slowly, he walked from the room without 
 disturbing her, and making his presence known to the fam- 
 ily, inquired for Mr. Rogers. When that gentleman was 
 called in, he shook him warmly by the hand, and then said 
 in a husky voice : 
 
 "You will be sorry to learn, Mr. Kogers, that your 
 friendly warning has proved to be of no avail. My grand- 
 father was murdered yesterday while I was at the mill." 
 
 "Good God !" ejaculated his kind-hearted friend. "Is 
 this so ? Has my old neighbor been really murdered on 
 his own doorstep ? What devil from hell could have done 
 so foul and unprovoked a deed?" 
 
 " It was not exactly at his own door. He was surprised 
 ia his field, and dragged into the hollow of the mountain, 
 where I found him with two bullets through his body." 
 
 And then with stern calmness he repeated the story he 
 had related to his mother a few minutes before. 
 
 When he had ended, Mr. Rogers said, "Two bullets I 
 Were there but two of the assassins ?" 
 
 "I think there were more, but I did not examine the 
 footprints in the corn field particularly. I shall do so 
 when I return, and measure them besides. Trust me that 
 I shall neglect nothing which will lead to a detection of 
 his murderers. Upon that matter, however, I will confer 
 with you to-morrow. My present business is to beg your 
 aid, and that of one or two of your neighbors whom you 
 know to be trustworthy, to assist me in burying the body." 
 
 "Of course you shall have it. We can bring him over 
 the mountain before sundown to my house, and bury him 
 to-morrow at any hour to suit your mother." 
 
 "I need not say how sincerely and earnestly I thank 
 you; but, Mr. Rogers, he must be buried there. I want 
 that grave by me as long as I am able to watch over it. If 
 you will come over to-morrow morning with one or two 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 51 
 
 of your friends, a surgeon and a minister of the gospel, 
 bringing my mother with you, I shall be deeply grateful. 
 I have brought his horse for her to ride over." 
 
 "Everything shall be as you wish, ray young friend." 
 
 " Thank you, sir. And now if you will allow me to have 
 some conversation with my mother, I will ride back to 
 keep a solitary vigil by the dead." 
 
 "Xo, Tobias, that must not be. My son Thomas shall 
 go with you. He has an excellent rifle; he is young, 
 strong, and fearless ; and if these devils should come back 
 to finish their bloody work, they will be apt to find it a 
 more diflScult job than murdering an old man in his field. 
 Go in and see your mother; I will have him ready in 
 twenty minutes." 
 
 "I do not think they will come back; but, nevertheless, 
 I shall be glad of Tom's company." 
 
 Mr. Rogers went to call his son, and Tobias Wilson 
 sought his mother's room to explain the arrangements 
 which had been made, and bid her good-by. 
 
 In less than half an hour the two young men were riding 
 slowly toward that solitary glen, which but one short day 
 before had been stained with so foul a murder. Turning 
 the sharp angle of a corn field which ran up some distance 
 on the side of the mountain, they suddenly encountered a 
 horseman approaching from the opposite direction, who 
 had been completely hidden from view by the thicket of 
 weeds and bushes which grew along the worm fence. He 
 was a man of about fifty years of age, with a countenance 
 which would have been pleasing, but for the shaggy brows 
 which overhung the eyes, and eyes themselves that never 
 by any chance emitted a ray of gladness or of kindness. 
 The whole face betokened resolution and strong common 
 sense. In different times and with different training he 
 might have made a hillside preacher, such as would have 
 
52 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 won the heart of John Balfour, of Burleigh. As it was, 
 he had passed thus far through life without having estab- 
 lished any other character than that of a zealous Baptist, 
 bigoted, intolerant, and unforgiving. He had never been 
 known to express the slightest respect for any man's opin- 
 ions when they differed from his own, and he firmly believed 
 that every politician who was not a Democrat, was a knave, 
 and every Christian who was not a Baptist, was a hypo- 
 crite. He was well known to Thomas Rogers, and To- 
 bias Wilson had met him at more than one public gathering 
 during the exciting times of 1860. The path was barely 
 wide enough for two horsemen to pass, and Thomas Rogers, 
 who stood not a little in awe of his stern acquaintance, 
 reined his horse to one side, and bowed his head respect- 
 fully as he said, "Good day, Parson Williams." "Good 
 day, Thomas," was the rejoinder. "I hope your father's 
 family are well." He had never checked his horse for an 
 instant, and had not deigned to look a second time at To- 
 bias Wilson, or acknowledge his presence even by a nod. 
 By this time he had passed the young men, and rode on 
 without once turning his head. It might have been better 
 for him if he had done so. Tobias Wilson did not follow 
 his example, but, halting his own steed, turned in the sad- 
 dle, and honored both horse and rider with a keen and 
 searching gaze, which was not removed until they were 
 hidden by the intervening bushes. Had Parson Williams 
 observed that look and guessed the suspicions which caused 
 it, he could hardly have ridden on in such seemingly con- 
 scious security. 
 
 A little higher up the mountain, Tobias Wilson, speak- 
 ing for the first time since the unexpected meeting with 
 the Rev. Mr. Williams, said: 
 
 "What can that man be doing here ?" 
 
 "I have been trying to think," answered Rogers, "but 
 
TOBIAS WIL SOX. 53 
 
 I cannot. Nor could we have found out by asking him. 
 I did not ask, because I knew I should only get some 
 surly answer, such as, 'Mind your own business, boy,' or 
 the like." 
 
 "I am glad you did not ask him ; but that need not hin- 
 der us from asking one another, and indulging in such specu- 
 lations as our observations may suggest. This path leads 
 nowhere but to my grandfather's house, except that there 
 is a cattle path on the top of the mountain which leads 
 around to Jim Biles's cabin. You know every foot of these 
 mountains, Tom, as well as I do. Is not what I say true ?" 
 
 His companion mased a moment, and then replied : "It 
 certainly is. He must have come from Jim l&iles's, for you 
 know he would as soon put his foot in a den of rattlesnakes 
 as to pass within fifty yards of your grandfather's house." 
 
 "True enough, Tom, — unless it was to kill him." 
 
 " To kill him 1 Why, what on earth do you mean ? 
 Parson Williams is known to be bitter and unforgiving; 
 but he lived here before we were born, and in all that time 
 there has been no whisper against his character as an up- 
 right and law-abiding man." 
 
 " Don't I know it ? Don't I know that he has been held 
 up as a pattern for the rising generation by every gray- 
 haired fool in the neighborhood ? But let me get through 
 with my questions, and then we can the better form our 
 own conclusions. Did you notice his horse?" 
 
 "Certainly. I have known the horse for four years. 
 Everybody who knows Williams knows old Scuball." 
 
 " So much the better. Did you notice that he had lost 
 a shoe ?" 
 
 "jSTo. But," he continued after a brief pause, "now 
 that I think of it, I did notice that he limped." 
 
 "Exactly; and the reason was that he had lost a shoe. 
 There is no smith on that side, and the horse fell lame in 
 
54 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 crossing the mountain with one bare foot. Another ques- 
 tion, — did you notice his gun ?" 
 
 "Yes, particularly; for I had never seen him carry a 
 gun before. It was an old-fashioned, smooth-bore yager, 
 which carries a bigger ball than a musket." 
 
 "Well, now you have answered all the questions I desire 
 to ask at present, I will give you my thoughts, conjectures, 
 suspicions, or whatever you please to call them. There is 
 within ten miles of my grandfather's house but two mem- 
 bers of Mr. Williams's church, both of them bitter and ma- 
 lignant secessionists. Both of them with sons in the 
 Confederate army. Both of them known enemies of my 
 grandfather, who they have often been heard to declare 
 ought to be hung, as a traitor, to the nearest sapliug. 
 There are but three entrances to the valley in which we 
 live. One up the stream, which is too public to be trav- 
 eled by assassins in broad day, and besides, I myself went 
 out and came in on that road that very day, and neither in 
 going nor coming were any horse tracks visible. If there 
 had been any, I should have seen them; for we had been 
 warned by your father, and I never moved a step beyond our 
 yard without careful examination of the ground. By that 
 road then they did not enter our field. Another road is the 
 one we are now traveling. I examined it this morning as 
 closely as if my soul's salvation depended upon the discovery, 
 but it exhibited no sign of the footstep of man or beast. The 
 other leads down the gorge from Jim Biles's cabin, some 
 seven miles away. That one has not yet been examined. 
 But stop; we are now at a point where some further dis- 
 covery may be made. There is the path to Biles's. Tie 
 your horse, and let us follow it a little way." 
 
 They dismounted accordingly, and tying their horses to 
 some bushes, proceeded along the narrow pathway, not 
 treading directly in it, but each keeping a little on one side. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 55 
 
 The ground was hard and dry, and though there were sev- 
 eral places where it seemed to have been very recently dis- 
 turbed, it was Impossible to decide positively that the dis- 
 turbance had been caused by a horse's feet. In about two 
 hundred yards they came to a small open space, on one 
 side of which a large chestnut-tree was growing out of a 
 mossy mound. The attention of Rogers was attracted by 
 something at the root of the tree : approaching hastily, he 
 picked it up, and found it to be a torn fragment of a news- 
 paper. It was greasy in places, and crumbs of bread were 
 sticking to it. There could be no mistaking the use to 
 which it had been put. It had been wrapped around some 
 bread and meat, and had been left on the ground by some 
 one after his "snack" had been eaten. On further exam- 
 ination, the paper was discovered to be " The Baptist Re- 
 cord." 
 
 "Put it away, Tom," said Wilson sternly, but in a voice 
 so low as to be almost a whisper ; "put it away carefully. 
 And here," he added, stooping and picking up something 
 from the mossy bank, "here we have something else." 
 
 It was a cow's horn, well boiled and cleaned, but without 
 being trimmed or ornamented in any way. There was a 
 hole bored in the small or solid end, and a strong leathern 
 string run through it. 
 
 "It's the drinking cup from the spring!" exclaimed 
 Rogers. "The rascal has brought it here, and when his 
 meal was finished he was too lazy to carry it back. Many's 
 the sweet drink I've taken from that horn in the last five 
 years, and if we had not come along, it would have been 
 lost, all from that cursed fellow's laziness !" 
 
 " Perhaps he had darker things to think of. But come 
 along, we will take it back for him and hang it in its old 
 place on the red-berry sapling." 
 
 Walking to a rocky clitf some thirty yards distant, they 
 
56 TOBIASWILSON. 
 
 came to a remarkably cool but very small spring trickling 
 down the face of the rocks. The cattle raisers had placed 
 boards in such a way as to gather all the water from the 
 little spring into two large troughs, and in this way man- 
 aged to keep a supply for their stock in the driest season. 
 The ground about the troughs was soft, though not abso- 
 lutely muddy, the scanty supply escaping from the troughs 
 not being sufficient to do more than keep the earth moist. 
 Here the horse's tracks were distinctly visible. The rider 
 appeared to have ridden directly to the trough, and to 
 have dismounted while the animal was drinking. His foot- 
 print where he had alighted was plainly visible. It was a 
 large and rather broad foot which had been incased in 
 coarse boots or heavy shoes, with iron tacks on the inside, 
 from the ball of the foot to the toe, seemingly placed there 
 to prevent the sole from wearing away at the point of 
 greatest attrition. The horse's feet were equally wxll de- 
 fined in many places, and it was plain that he had on but 
 three shoes. When these discoveries had been made, the 
 young men gazed at each other in silence. It was broken 
 by Thomas Rogers, who said : 
 
 *' Come, Tobe, we have got enough ! The Devil himself 
 could not raise a doubt that Parson Williams has been here 
 this day. Let us take a drink from our old friend here," 
 patting the horn, " and be off. There is much yet to do 
 to-day 1" 
 
 "Wait a moment, Tom ! I want you to examine all the 
 peculiarities of this human foot, and see me measure it 
 exactly, both in its length and breadth." 
 
 "I don't see the use of it. We've got enough without 
 it, and besides, I once heard a lawyer in Bellefonte argue 
 to a jury that the print of a man's foot was the w'eakest of 
 all evidence, because a man deliberately intending to act 
 the scoundrel or the murderer, would be sure to put on 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 57 
 
 shoes of a diflferent size and shape from those he usually 
 wore. Still, if you wish it, I shall do as you ask, of 
 course 1" 
 
 " I do wish it ! No matter what the lawyer said, it is 
 evidence, and, besides, I expect to put it to another use, at 
 least to make it help other evidence if it is not evidence 
 itself." 
 
 Thomas Rogers gave close attention to all the peculiari- 
 ties Tobias Wilson pointed oat, though, to tell the truth, 
 he thought in his heart some of them were no peculiarities 
 at all. He saw the foot measured across the heel, across 
 the ball of the foot, across the toe, and from heel to toe. 
 When this was done, and the accuracy of the measurement 
 tested several times, they each took a long and hearty 
 draught from the horn, walked back to their horses, and 
 rode slowly down the mountain to the chamber of the dead, 
 which was watched only by the faithful dogs he had fed and 
 caressed in his lifetime. 
 
CHAPTER Y. 
 
 They found the dogs locked within the house. Nothing 
 had been disturbed. After a brief survey of the dead- 
 room they locked it up as before, fed the dogs and horses, 
 and started to the scene of the murder. There was now 
 not more than three hours of daylight, and they could not 
 afford to waste any part of that in preparing refreshments 
 for themselves. Going directly to the point where the old 
 man had begun his last furrow, they followed it toward the 
 place of the last dread scene of his life. About half way 
 they discovered where three men had entered the row be- 
 hind the plowman, and cautiously followed his steps. 
 Rogers proposed to trace these tracks to the point where 
 they had entered the field, but Wilson interposed a decided 
 negative. 
 
 "We will follow them," he said, "when we come back, 
 but I wish to make a full examination yonder while the 
 day lasts," pointing forward as he spoke. "We shall find 
 the strongest 'signs' there, and if we put it off until to- 
 morrow it may rain, and all the traces be obliterated." 
 
 While speaking, he had cut down four or five stalks of 
 corn, and piling them, standing on end, against one another, 
 formed a kind of stack to mark the place. 
 
 At the point where the furrow stopped they observed all 
 the marks of a violent scufiie. The old man must have re- 
 sisted his captors manfully. There were the prints of many 
 feet deeply indented in the soil. The corn was broken here 
 and there, and there was an appearance like that which 
 (58) 
 
TOBIAS WILSOX. 59 
 
 would have been made by the falling of a human body on 
 the soft earth. There was some torn clothing, but nothino- 
 of a kind to be clearly identified,— it was white, and only 
 showed that both assailants and assailed had probably been 
 in their shirt-sleeves. Near by they picked up a heavy 
 hickory club, but this could lead to nothing, for it had been 
 fresh cut, and was probably growing upon the mountain 
 side not an hour before the deed was done. Tobias TVilson 
 made an earnest but unsatisfactory examination of the foot- 
 prints. The soil was too loose and dry to retain well-de- 
 fined impressions. 
 
 "I see it all," he muttered almost inarticulately. ''He 
 fought until they knocked him on the head with this 
 murderous club, and then they dragged him into yonder 
 hollow, where they thought he would not be found for 
 many days, and shot him. Let us now go on to where the 
 last act in this bloody tragedy was enacted." 
 
 They did not fail to scrutinize every foot of the way ; but 
 no further discovery was made. The ground where the 
 body had been found was soaked with blood, but there was 
 no other witness to tell that from hence a soul had winged 
 its way to eternity. Up the ascent of the hollow there was 
 a comparatively level space, over which the water in the 
 rainy season did not rush in one compact volume, but 
 spread out on either hand for many feet, gathering conse- 
 quently much of the rich loam which was washed down 
 from the mountain sides by the winter rains. Except near 
 the middle of the plain, where the bed of the torrent was 
 in wet weather, and which was a cattle path in sum- 
 mer, it was covered with a heavy undergrowth of paw- 
 paws, hickory bushes, and the tall rank iron weed. To 
 this place Thomas Rogers made his way, while his com- 
 panion was still groping about his grandfather's death 
 couch. The sight of the blood seemed to have unnerved 
 
60 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 him, and the quick intelligence which had marked all his 
 movements up to this time, had fled. Those blotches of 
 red on the leaves, those clots of purple jelly on the hard, 
 dry ground had almost converted him into a woman. He 
 was roused by his companion's voice : "Here, Tobe; here 
 the whole damnable story is written." 
 
 Springing to the side of his friend, he grasped his arm 
 and exclaimed, "Where?" "There!" was the reply, as he 
 led him a few feet forward. " Don't you see where three 
 horses have been tied to these bushes? Don't you see 
 where they have bitten the leaves and stamped the gi*ound ? 
 Don't you see that the middle horse had three shoes, and 
 the farther horse none ? while the nearest one to us was 
 well and freshly shod ? Don't you see where that hickory 
 bush has been cut down ? Xow try the bludgeon in your 
 hand, and see if it does not fit the stump." 
 
 It did fit, and Tobias Wilson rose from his knees, saying 
 only, "It is enough." "Yes, it is enough; but there is 
 more. Look at this track where the middle horse waS 
 mounted. Here are the iron tacks on the inner side only. 
 Pull out your measure and see how it corresponds in other 
 respects." 
 
 The same foot had made the two tracks beyond all 
 doubt. 
 
 " We are not done yet," continued Rogers, leading Wil- 
 son to the torrent's bed, in the middle of the thicket. " Look 
 at these three pools of water which the deep shade has 
 prevented the sun from drying up. The lower one is still 
 bloody. It was here they washed their bloody hands. 
 Just over there, under that large limestone rock, you can 
 see where they knelt down and drank themselves, and here, 
 in this larger one, is where they watered their horses. 
 Afterward they rode through it, — you can see where they 
 went out and took up this hollow, which leads nowhere 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 61 
 
 but to Jim Biles's house. And look here," he added, ex- 
 hibiting a yellow bandana handkerchief, ''I found this on 
 the rock by the pool where they had kneeled down to 
 drink. It is soaked with blood — probably they spread it 
 oat on the rock to dry, and forgot it when they rode away. 
 A man can't have all his senses about him when engaged 
 in such a damnable 'spot of work' as this. It has no mark 
 upon it ; but when did you ever see a handkerchief like 
 this in the pocket of any man but a Baptist?" 
 
 "I do not understand it yet," said Wilson. 
 
 "Don't understand it? What the devil is the matter 
 with you ? Why don't you understand it?" 
 
 "Because this evidence is satisfactory only as to two 
 men, and we know that there were three. I don't under- 
 stand who the third one could have been." 
 
 "Fiddle-de-dee! Why, man alive, where are your wits 
 gone to? Didn't you tell me to-day that there were but' 
 two Baptists in ten miles of your house?" 
 
 "Yes, and that is certainly the fact." 
 
 "You needn't tell me who those two are, for I know 
 them myself, — Jim Biles and Josh Wilkins. One of the 
 horses hitched yonder was a gray, for he rubbed himself 
 against the sapling and left a part of his hair upon it. 
 That horse was shod all around. Jim Biles owns no gray 
 horse, and lives too far away from a shop to have him reg- 
 ularly shod if he did. He has been riding all this year a 
 sorrel colt, raised on the mountain, which has never had a 
 shoe nailed on it. That well-shod gray was, therefore, not 
 his ; nor could it have been Parson Williams's, for we 
 know that his horse had on but three shoes, and is a 
 scuball. Josh Wilkins rides an iron-gray, and a splendid 
 one he is. He is a conscript officer, and it is therefore ne- 
 cessary that he should keep his horse well shod; and 
 besides, it is but little trouble, for he has a smith's shop at 
 
 6* 
 
62 TO BIAS WILS ON. 
 
 his house. And now, if you can't trace out every link of 
 this infernal business, you can't read the print in my sister 
 Sophy's Bible. It has been brewing for some time, and I 
 would have ridden over to warn you, if father had not told 
 me he had already done so. I knew more than he did, 
 though I never suspected Parson Ben Williams; but I see 
 it all now. I told my father what additional particulars I 
 had gathered, and asked him whether I should go and tell 
 you ; but he said ' no,' that you knew enough to put you on 
 your guard, and that it was unnecessary to distress you 
 more." 
 
 "Your father was right," interrupted Wilson. "He 
 judged rightly, and acted, as he always does, prudently 
 and kindly. We could not have adopted any further pre- 
 cautions, unless we had moved away altogether, and that 
 grandfather never would have agreed to. Your father 
 did perfectly right." 
 
 "Well, I believe so. But let me go on with my story. 
 After what he said I was afraid to blab a word even to 
 Sophy ; but I kept a sharp look out, and hearing nothing 
 new, began to think it was dying away. Last Saturday I 
 heard that there was to be a Baptist preaching in Hog Hol- 
 low, close by Parson Williams's, and I asked Sophy to go 
 there with me. She refused, partly I think because she 
 don't like the Baptists, and partly because she doea like to 
 be always with your mother. So, as I had no one to go with 
 me, I concluded to stay at home myself. I wish now that 
 I had gone, for it was there that this devilish murder was 
 
 concocted. I think I can see old Williams now (d n 
 
 him !) sitting in his back porch, with pious Josh Wilkins 
 and snuffling Jim Biles, drinking peach brandy and honey, 
 and talking about the great glory they were going to ren- 
 der to God and their country, by murdering a Union 
 man, and an anti-Baptist. I know just what they said and 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 63 
 
 how they said it, and how they agreed to meet at Jim 
 Biles's house on Wednesday, and spend the night in drink- 
 ing, and praying, and perfecting their plan of murder. 
 Jim Biles's house was fixed on, because that was the only 
 way in which they could get into this valley, in the day- 
 time, without attracting observation, and they must have 
 suspected that you kept regular guard at night. Well, 
 yesterday they rode down to this place early, and tied their 
 horses. They did not expect, in my opinion, to find your 
 grandfather here, but somewhere else in the field. So they 
 crawled along the side of the mountain, outside of the 
 fence, watching like blood-thirsty panthers for their prey. 
 If you had been with him, they would have shot you both 
 from their cover; but you were not with him, and this 
 doubtless delayed operations for several hours. If they 
 shot the old man, you might be near enough to come up 
 before they could get away, and you had furnished them 
 proof, in shooting Simmons, that in that case one, at least, 
 of their horses would go back without a rider. It is my 
 belief that they waited until somewhere near twelve o'clock, 
 and then, fearing that the old man might 'turn out' at the 
 end of the next row, and go home to feed his horse, they 
 fell upon the plan of following after, (which was easy 
 enough from the rustling noise made by the plow and 
 horse in the high corn,) and pouncing upon him when he 
 neared the woods. I do not suppose he made any cry for 
 help, because he knew there was none at hand, and there- 
 fore they did not use the bludgeon until they found his re- 
 sistance greater than they expected. They naturally sup- 
 posed his horse would go back to the stable, and, if they 
 could get the body up this hollow, it would be weeks be- 
 fore it was found. Thus the few individuals they might 
 chance to meet outside of their own murdering crew, would 
 by that time probably forget so common a circumstance, 
 
64 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 and nothing would be left to connect them with the deed. 
 But, thank God, we have proof enough to hang two of 
 them, and I trust we shall get enough to hang the other." 
 
 Here Tobias Wilson broke in with a bitter, sneering 
 laugh. 
 
 "Hang a conscript officer and two original secessionists! 
 Hang them before a Confederate judge and jury! Oh! 
 Thomas, Thomas, it is you who are moonstruck now!" 
 
 "You think," exclaimed his astonished companion, "that 
 they will escape with all this evidence against them?" 
 
 "Assuredly I do." 
 
 " Then what have we taken the trouble to collect it for ?" 
 
 "For my own conscience' sake. But come, the sun is 
 below the mountain top. TYe must get back to the house, 
 and feed the stock. The poor brutes must not suffer be- 
 cause we are in trouble. We can talk further as we walk 
 on, and the night is all before us. I fancy that neither of 
 us will sleep much." 
 
 Shouldering their rifles, and taking the bludgeon and 
 the bloody handkerchief along with them, they turned their 
 steps homeward. They passed the little stack of corn 
 which had been made to mark the point where the mur- 
 derers entered the field, but neither of them noticed it. 
 They knew all that any further search could reveal. Each 
 was busy with his own thoughts of the future, — so busy 
 that they even forgot the suggestion that had been made 
 to hold further converse on the way. 
 
 In the same silence they reached the cabins, unlocked 
 the door of the kitchen, and deposited their rifles within. 
 Then Tobias Wilson went to feed the stock, and Rogers 
 set about building a fire to cook their evening meal. 
 
 Tobias Wilson had not tasted food during the day, and 
 Rogers had eaten nothing since sunrise, (that being the 
 breakfast hour in his father's house,) so that, notwithstand- 
 
TOBIAS ^VIL SON. 65 
 
 ing the great grief which had fallen upon them, and the 
 troublesome nature of the thoughts which afflicted them, 
 both did full justice to the plenteous meal prepared by 
 their own hands. 
 
 Supper over, lights were placed in Mr. Johnson's room, 
 and the two young men seated themselves by the fire, (which 
 is always agreeable at night among those mountains,) and 
 resumed their conversation. 
 
 "You must not suppose, Tom," said Wilson, "that I 
 would have put you, or myself either, to the trouble we 
 have this day taken, if I had entertained the remotest idea 
 of permitting a Confederate court to sit in judgment upon 
 my rights or my wrongs. The idea of hanging those 
 criminals, when tried before such a tribunal, is utterly pre- 
 posterous. Not a hair of their heads would be touched if 
 an angel came down from heaven to testify against them, 
 and an archangel to plead the cause of justice. Xo, my 
 friend, you must dismiss that idea !" 
 
 "What, then, do you intend to do ?" 
 
 "Kill them myself Send them, before the ground has 
 drank up his blood, to meet him at the bar of God's jus- 
 tice, — not of man's." 
 
 "In that case, Tobias Wilson, allow me to observe, that^ 
 if you expect to kill all three of these men yourself, you 
 are most damnably deceived." 
 
 "I know that there is danger and difficulty in the under- 
 taking. I know that they will be backed by many friends, 
 and I do not shut my eyes to the probability of losing my 
 own life instead of taking theirs. But, nevertheless, I shall 
 try the venture." 
 
 "That is not what I mean. I mean that I shall take a 
 part of the job off your hands." 
 
 " You I" answered his friend with a surprised look ; "you I 
 why, what was my grandfather to you that you should im- 
 
6Q TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 peril your life, it may be your soul, in this desperate adven- 
 ture? Xo, Thomas, you must not interfere here ; you have 
 nothing to avenge !" 
 
 "If I have nothing to avenge, I have a friend from whose 
 side I am not mean and cowardly enough to shrink in the 
 hour of his greatest need. Nay, he is something more than 
 a friend, for he loves my sweet sister Sophy and she loves 
 him ; and as they have both been foolish enough to tell me 
 of their love and of their future hopes, you must submit to 
 a little brotherly interference and accept a little brotherly 
 assistance in a matter which I think very deeply concerns 
 her happiness." 
 
 Tobias TTilson felt as if an aorue fit had laid its icy hand 
 upon hira. He bowed his head upon his bosom, and for a 
 moment strong traces of irresolution were visible upon 
 those hitherto marble features. By a mighty effort he 
 drove them away, but they soon returned, and, fixing an 
 eager gaze upon young Rogers's face, he said : 
 
 "Tell me, Thomas, and tell me honestly for the love of 
 Heaven, what will she say when she comes to know (for she 
 shall hear nothing of it before the deed is done) that my 
 hands are stained with the blood of those who deprived me 
 of a parent ?" 
 
 "What will she say? Why, I hope she will say what 
 she did when you shot Simmons, and a brainless old woman 
 ventured to call you a murderer in her presence. She will 
 say that you did what a brave man and a dutiful son could 
 not help doing, and that those who gave the act the name 
 of murder were themselves the worst of murderers, since 
 they were impelled by no motive but to destroy the char- 
 acters of those who were a thousand times better than 
 themselves." 
 
 "Did she say that? Did the brave girl thus defend the 
 absent? It is like her; just like her. But I never heard 
 it before 1" 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 67 
 
 " No ; for the foolish thing made me promise not to tell 
 you. She said you would be hurt to know that rude peo- 
 ple had spoken of you in terms of such injustice." 
 
 "Like her again! But suppose, Thomas, my mother 
 should tell her that it was her duty to break off an engage- 
 ment made with a man who was innocent at the time, but 
 who had since sold his soul to Satan for revenge." 
 
 The bold, frank brother, firm as his nerves were, turned 
 pale at the question. He hesitated, stammered, and fidg- 
 eted uneasily in his chair, but at last he caught an idea. 
 
 " That is a new view of the matter, and a puzzling one. 
 I was foolish to overlook it. But your mother will never 
 be such a bigoted ninny. It's a downright impossibility. 
 Putting aside her love for you, she loves Sophy too much. 
 It can't be. It's sheer folly to think of it !" 
 
 "But suppose she shouldV^ 
 
 "Then, Tobe, if you will have it, as God is my judge, I 
 believe Sophy would break her own heart and yours and 
 mine rather than disobey your mother's warning voice in a 
 matter of conscience and religion. It would kill her, but 
 she would obey in the case you put. But why ask me ? 
 You know her better than I, or at least you ought to do it. 
 You have given her your heart, your soul, everything you 
 had to give, and a great deal, which, as a responsible being, 
 you had no right to part with. She could make you turn 
 traitor to your God in an hour. Before putting such ab- 
 solute trust in a woman, you ought to have known her well 
 enough to decide with certainty what her conduct would 
 be in any and every contingency." 
 
 "I think I do know her as far as a nature like mine is 
 capable of comprehending one as sinless as hers. I have 
 often thought that there were degrees of purity and per- 
 fection even in heaven ; that there were beings so high, so 
 pure, so holy, that they were no more capable of being 
 
68 T B I A S W I L S N. 
 
 comprehended and understood by the lesser angels, than 
 we are capable of being comprehended and understood 
 by the lower animals of creation. In this light your sister 
 always appears to me. Her dutiful conduct as a daugh- 
 ter, her kindness as a sister, her charity as a friend, her 
 gentleness, and the sweetness of her disposition, I un- 
 derstand ; for these are qualities which are common 
 to others of her sex. But these are not all which is 
 requisite to make up the highest order of character. 
 There is something above and beyond this. Something 
 which I feel and worship, but cannot describe. And 
 therefore I turned to you. I had a hope, a faint one it is 
 true, but still a hope, that yoii, who had watched her in in- 
 fancy, petted her in girlhood, and stood by her side as a 
 strong tower of defense in the days of her blooming maid- 
 enhood, might somehow have obtained a glimpse of that 
 knowledge which is forbidden to me. I see that I was mis- 
 taken, and I acknowledge to a kind of selfish satisfaction 
 in making the discovery. It would have pained me, I fear, 
 to learn that the highest and noblest, though not the loveli- 
 est attributes of her nature, were better understood by an- 
 other than by myself. That scratch, at least, I have es- 
 caped. It may be that other and more dreaded wounds 
 may be avoided as easily. But as we are not likely to ar- 
 rive at anything satisfactory by a further discussion, let us 
 change the topic. In a few days we may think of some 
 form of putting the question to her or to my mother, which 
 will enable us to find out what we wish to learn without ex- 
 citing suspicion. My hand will not be fit for the work 
 that is before it until that question is solved. If I have 
 reason to think that she will approve — no, not that, — for I 
 know that she will not apjDrove, but that she will not utterly 
 condemn me, I shall go forward cheerfully as to a God- 
 appointed task. If she condemns — why, then I shall know 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 69 
 
 the worst, and may draw upon despair for the firmness and 
 calmness necessary to the performance of my task." 
 
 The last words, solemn as they were in themselves, and 
 still more solemn in their utterance, had, strangely enough, 
 excited a smile of quiet satisfaction upon the lips of Thomas 
 Rosrers. 
 
 " That's it exactly, Toby I Get Sophy's opinion somehow. 
 I don't care in what way you go about it, but get her opin- 
 ion by all means. And, in order that I may hereafter enjoy 
 some little reputation as a prophet, I will tell you before- 
 hand what it will be. She will tell you that it is somewhere 
 written in a certain book which sleeps every night under her 
 pillow, 'Vengeance is mine, saith the^Lord, I will repay.' 
 And if you go to arguing about the wickedness of allow- 
 ing such men as the murderers of Robert Johnson to go at 
 large, she will put her pretty little hand upon your arm and 
 answer, 'We must not do evil that good may follow,' and 
 then you will look down into the depths of those sweet 
 blue eyes, sweeter and lovelier than any which were ever 
 shaded by the eyelashes of an angel, and your very soul 
 will go out from your keeping. You will kneel at her feet, 
 call her your guardian angel, and fling vengeance to the 
 bottomless pit. You have never kissed her, Tobe ! I know 
 it; for one day last week when you came to see your mo- 
 ther, I tried to tease her after you were gone, and asked 
 if your parting kiss was a sweet one. She answered 
 quietly, that you had never offered to kiss her, either at 
 parting or at meeting. When you give op your proposed 
 vengeance for her sake, and at her bidding, that will be the 
 time to make up for what you have lost in the last three 
 years. Kiss her, Tobe, and then kiss her again, and again. 
 I will answer for it that, at such a time, she will submit as 
 gently as a sucking lamb. Kiss her as often as you please, 
 and then," he added, suddenly dropping the bantering tone 
 
 7 
 
70 TOBIAS WILSOX. 
 
 in which he had spoken, and clinching his hand, while his 
 brow grew dark, and his eyes lurid with inward fire, "and 
 then thank God that you have a brother-in-law, or at least 
 a friend who expects soon to be one. Sophy shall not go 
 down to the grave with a broken heart, nor shall you lose 
 your revenge. Instead of taking a part of the contract, I 
 take it all. In six weeks from this date, Ben Williams, 
 Josh Wilkins, and Jim Biles will be rotting under ground, 
 or Thomas Rogers, Jr., will be foresworn !" 
 
 The look of displeased annoyance with which Wilson 
 had listened to the foregoing part of this speech, now turned 
 to one of blank astonishment and dismay. 
 
 "Good God!" he exclaimed; "this must not, cannot, 
 shall not be !" 
 
 "It must; it can ; it shall !" 
 
 "But reflect, Tom, upon the terrible disgrace — " 
 
 "I shall reflect upon nothing," interrupted Rogers im- 
 patiently, and almost fiercely, "but the plain and palpable 
 fact, that if I let you and Sophy alone, you will either dig 
 untimely graves for yourselves, or you will permit three 
 tiger cats, in human shape, to prowl over the land and 
 gorge themselves with innocent blood. How do I know 
 that the next victim may not be my own father ? He is as 
 obnoxious to them as Robert Johnson was." 
 
 " But why take the worst view and assume its correct- 
 ness at once ? It might happen that although she would 
 oppose the deed before it was committed, yet after it was 
 done she would forgive me, and our engagement would re- 
 main unbroken." 
 
 " Jesus, God ! man, you will make me angry if you re- 
 peat such a supposition ! What ! Sophy take to her bosom 
 a man whom she would regard, in such a case, as a betrayer 
 of her love, as well as a sinner against God ! I tell you 
 that if the universe was rocking on its foundation stone, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 71 
 
 and such a husband was presented to her, with the assurance 
 that the mere answer, 'I will,' to the query of the minis- 
 ter, would save it from annihilation, she would clasp her 
 hands, commend her soul to God, and wait for the shock in 
 silence. But, pshaw ! what is the use of allowing myself 
 to get impatient! You know, Tobe," he continued coax- 
 ingly, " as well as I do, that I am speaking truth. You 
 never could have won her love if you had not appreciated 
 her principles. Give it up at once, like a good and brave 
 fellow as you are. You must come to it." 
 
 "Never ! never will I consent that any man, and you the 
 last of all men, should encounter the peril, and incur the 
 guilt, which by right belongs to me, and me alone. I will 
 give up your sister's love, though in doing so I give up 
 heaven, and go forth an avenger, all the more dangerous 
 and merciless, because no hope is left him, either here or 
 hereafter." 
 
 " Poor fellow ! from my soul I pity you, and I would to 
 God that I could save you from the struggle now going on 
 in your bosom. I wish I could save my sister, too, for she 
 also will have a fearful trial. But we are in the meshes of 
 fate, and must each fulfill the part assigned us. If you go 
 and tell my sister that you intend to kill those wretches, she 
 will forbid it, and you will obey her ; for you can no more 
 look into her eyes and say no to any request of hers, than 
 you can leap to the top of yonder mountain. If you kill 
 them, or any one of them, without telling her your purpose 
 beforehand, you may calculate that she will break off your 
 engagement, and that will kill her, and you too, and go a 
 long way toward killing me, for although my heart is a 
 pretty tough one, I don't think I should ever be good for 
 much after laying your heads in the grave. The only thing 
 you can do is to let them alone." 
 
 " But will vou let them alone also ?" 
 
72 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 " Not I I If I did, in the first place, you would lose your 
 revenge, which I have no mind to balk you in. In the 
 second place, I have a strong suspicion that if I did, Tho- 
 mas Rogers, Sr., would some day before long be served 
 just the same way your grandfather was. Therefore I 
 shall not let them alone 1" 
 
 " Bat if r??!/ taking the law into my own hands be so ter- 
 rible, why should not the same consequences follow from 
 your doing so ? Will the act not be as much reprehended 
 by your sister when committed by you, as it would be if 
 committed by me? Will not the consequences be the same 
 at last ?•' 
 
 "By no means ! She does not love me as a husband but 
 as a brother. To that tie she is not called on to say yes 
 or no. It is one which nature has made for us. She will 
 be shocked, mortified, and terribly hurt, I know that. But 
 she will forgive me soon. So she would forgive you. The 
 terms, however, will be separation. To you that would be 
 death, to me very different ; and, as I should have you here, 
 with a husband's rights, to plead for me, I think I may cal- 
 culate upon an early restoration to favor." 
 
 The absorbing nature of their conversation had prevented 
 the young men from observing that they were in nearly 
 total darkness. There was a kind of red glow cast by the 
 dying embers through the room, and sitting where they were, 
 close to the hearth, their shapes, though not their features, 
 were visible to each other. Just as Rogers concluded the 
 last sentence above quoted, two rifle shots rang sharply from 
 the base of the mountain, and rolled up its sides. Spring- 
 ing to their feet, their rifles were in their hands in an in- 
 stant, and taking opposite sides of the room they listened 
 keenly. The dogs, which had been lying in the passage, 
 rushed toward the outer fence with furious barking. This 
 served them to good purpose, for it pointed out the exact 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 73 
 
 spot from which the firing had taken place. Directly they 
 heard a yelping among the dogs, which showed that one of 
 them had been stricken, most likely with a stone. Wilson 
 was satisfied that the attention of those who had fired the 
 shots would be occupied for several minutes by the dogs, 
 and, walking over to Rogers, he said: 
 
 "Let us leave here. They are too busy with the dogs, 
 and it is too dark for them to see us. We will get out 
 where we may have a fair chance, or rather where all the 
 chances will be in our favor, since we know their where- 
 abouts and they will know nothing of ours." 
 
 In the daytime the more prudent course would have been 
 to remain within the shelter of the cabins, but this was re- 
 versed at night. Then, no matter whether they wished 
 to seek safety by flight from overpowering odds, or pre- 
 pare to do battle with equal, or nearly equal numbers, it 
 was the dictate of prudence to get into the open air as 
 speedily as possible. Tobias Wilson and his grandfather 
 had often discussed this point, and weighing well every 
 possible contingency, had deliberately planned the mode of 
 defense to be adopted in each separate case. 
 
 " We must not separate, Tom," whispered Wilson, as 
 leaving the house by a side door, they moved stealthily but 
 swiftly toward an angle of the fence which commanded 
 both the cabins and the stables. "Keep close to me, or 
 we may get to shooting each other in the dark." 
 
 The noise made by the dogs had changed a little, and 
 was now nearer the house, showing that the assailants, who- 
 ever they were, had no idea of flight, but were cautiously 
 approaching. About the same time the lights gleaming 
 through the cracks in his grandfather's room attracted the 
 attention of Wilson. 
 
 " We have had a narrow escape, Tom, and those lights 
 have probably saved our lives," whispered he to his com- 
 
 7* 
 
74 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 panion. " On the other side of the house there is a win- 
 dow, which I left open when we lighted the candles. On 
 the slope of the mountain from which the firing came, 
 everything in that room would be visible through the open 
 window. They have seen the dead body on the bed, and 
 supposing that he was merely asleep, have fired at it. What 
 surprises them now, and makes them approach so cautiously, 
 is that they hear no outcry from my mother. In a short 
 time they will suppose she is absent, and will approach more 
 boldly. Now let us move our position to where we can 
 command the window. We will get a shot before long, 
 depend on it." 
 
 As they moved around the fence to a point within twenty 
 yards of the open window, Wilson made his comrade ob- 
 serve every obstruction or inequality in the path, and pointed 
 out the place where a branch pathway led across the little 
 stream to the road. 
 
 ''By this path," he said, still speaking in whispers, "it is 
 not more than fifteen yards to the spring branch. If they 
 have tied their horses about the stable, as I think they have, 
 for the greater convenience of carrying off ours, they must 
 ride over a hundred yards before they can reach this point, 
 and we shall have no trouble in intercepting their retreat." 
 
 They had now reached a part of the fence which was built 
 upon a small ledge of rocks, some three feet high. By sitting 
 down behind this ledge, they had before them an impenetra- 
 ble natural breastwork, just high enough to enable them to 
 rest their pieces on the lower rails of the fence. They placed 
 themselves, as before, so as to be able to fire from adjoin- 
 ing panels of the fence. One of the dogs had run yelping 
 away, apparently badly hurt; the other still kept up a 
 continuous barking, but was "fighting shy." Pretty soon 
 a rock or some other missile struck him, and he too sought 
 protection under the cabin. All this had not occupied 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 75 
 
 raore than three or four minutes, and the two watchers 
 drew their breath hard, for they knew the time for action 
 was at hand. They were in full view of the window, from 
 which a strong light was calmly streaming. Directly a 
 dark object could be discerned moving on the outer edge 
 of the light. Then another. They were evidently puz- 
 zled, and came on slowly and cautiously. Taking a few 
 steps farther forward, they halted and held a brief consulta- 
 tion, then advanced directly to the window. One of them 
 laid his hand upon the sill, and looked in. Now was the 
 time. Two rifle shots, in quick succession, rang upon the 
 still night air. One of the marauders fell heavily to the 
 ground; the other discharged his gun in the direction of 
 the ambushed party, and then bounded toward the stable. 
 
 "Quick!" said Wilson. "Load quick, Tom; we shall 
 catch him at the spring branch." 
 
 To men who had been accustomed to the use of the 
 rifle from the time they were able to raise it to their shoul- 
 ders, and who in their pursuit of game, and in encounters 
 with the bears and panthers which infested that wild re- 
 gion, had often found celerity of loading essential to the 
 preservation of life itself, this was an operation which oc- 
 cupied scarcely a moment of time. Besides, on the pres- 
 ent occasion, they had anticipated its probable necessity, 
 and everything was in readiness. Their guns were loaded, 
 and they were within ten feet of the point Wilson had desig- 
 nated, before they heard the clatter of a horse's feet at full 
 speed coming down the road. "Let him pass," said Wil- 
 son, "before you fire. The road here runs nearly straight 
 for forty or fifty yards. We can hardly miss him if we fire 
 right down it." . 
 
 On came the horseman at reckless speed. lie passed 
 unconsciously within a few feet of his ambushed foes. 
 Again the guns were raised to their shoulders, and again 
 
76 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 the quick, sharp, deadly report of the Kentucky rifle echoed 
 in the valley and rolled upwards along the mountain side. 
 For a few bounds the rider kept his seat, then reeled in 
 the saddle, dropped the bridle, clutched at the mane of his 
 hors3, missed it, and fell heavily to the ground. 
 
 "I think," said Rogers, reloading his gun, "that we 
 have done for them both ; though this fellow isn't dead 
 yet. I hear him groaning. Go to the house, Tobe ; I 
 guess you will find that other fellow's horse hitched to the 
 fence. Bring him down, for I have no idea of toting yon- 
 der carrion on my shoulders. In the mean time I'll just 
 walk ap ixwi ask him what hurt him." 
 
 Thom&s Rogers spoke lightly and recklessly, but he did 
 not act ic the same manner. He crossed the spring 
 branch, and proceeded cautiously on the opposite side 
 from the road. The banks were almost everywhere high 
 and steep, and he had no difficulty in keeping pretty well 
 under cover. He thought the fallen man might be only 
 slightly wounded, and if so he would seek to revenge him- 
 self for the injury he had received upon the first one who 
 approached him. He knew that these marauders always 
 carried their pistols belted about the person, which made 
 it improbable that it would be lost in falling. When im- 
 mediately opposite the spot from which the groans pro- 
 ceeded, he leaped over the narrow branch, and, sheltering 
 himself by the high bank, said in an ordinary tone of voice : 
 
 "Who are you, and what's the matter?" 
 
 "Water!" gasped the wounded man; "for God's sake 
 give me water!" 
 
 "But who are you?" 
 
 "James Miller, Sergeant — th Tennessee Cavalry. Wa- 
 ter ! water ! Will you let me die of thirst ?" 
 
 Satisfied that no danger was to be apprehended, Rogers 
 now leaped over the bank and approached him, saying as 
 he did so : 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 77 
 
 "Give me your cap." 
 
 The wounded man raised his hand toward his head, but 
 let it fall with a cry of pain. 
 
 "I can't; take it, and be quick." 
 
 Rogers attempted to do so, but it was fastened under 
 the chin to prevent it from falling off, either in flight or 
 pursuit. 
 
 Kneeling down to unloose it, he bethought him of the 
 pistol, and instantly laid his hand upon it. 
 
 "I'll just appropriate this article first. You may be a 
 very good fellow, but I have heard of men who were 
 repaid with a bullet through the brains for just such serv- 
 ices as I am about to render you." 
 
 The wounded man made no reply. The water was 
 brought, and he drank greedily. Then drawing a long 
 sigh, he murmured, "Oh! how sweet!" It was probably 
 the first time in years that pure element would not have 
 been exchanged by him for a more fiery liquid. "Please 
 give me some more." It had been many a day since that 
 word "please" had passed his lips; and never before to a 
 Union man and a civilian. Another capful was brought, 
 and greedily swallowed. By this time Tobias Wilson had 
 come up with the horse. 
 
 "Where are you hurt?" he asked. 
 
 "My leg is broken and my shoulder is badly hurt ; but I 
 do not know whether it was from a bullet or by the fall." 
 
 " Can you ride, with one of us to walk by and hold you 
 on?" 
 
 "I'm afraid not; but if you will lift me up, I'll try." 
 
 He was lifted on the horse's back, and carried to the 
 house with but little trouble. One of the candles was 
 brought from Mr. Johnson's room, and the wounded man 
 deposited in the kitchen. They then went out and brought 
 in the body which was lying under the window. He was 
 
78 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 dead. While they were straightening and composing his 
 limbs on the floor, and examining the wounds which had 
 sent him to his long account, the wounded prisoner, who 
 was also h'ing on a blanket in another part of the room, 
 considerably strengthened and refreshed by a hearty draught 
 of brandy from a flask in his haversack, indulged himself 
 in a muttered commentary on all he saw and heard. His 
 first exclamation after the body was brought in was : 
 
 "He's as dead as a door nail." 
 
 As the examination progressed, his comments were mut- 
 tered from time to time somewhat in the following strain : 
 
 "Hit in the head, and shot through under the left arm ! 
 He never kicked; he couldn't have felt it, that's some com- 
 fort. Poor Bob! he was as true a comrade as ever went 
 out foraging, and now he's gone; and Tom Simmons be- 
 fore him, and I'm laid up to dry. It'll be six months be- 
 fore I can ride a horse again, even if these fellows don't 
 hang me, or turn me over to them as will. I wonder who 
 it was we shot at in t'other room ! They seem to be 
 mighty easy about him, and yet I'll bet my revolver to a 
 one dollar Con-fed note, that he's got two three-quarter 
 ounce balls through him. They've not said a word about 
 him, and I'm thinking it would'nt be exactly prudent for 
 me to broach the subject." 
 
 By this time Bob Jenkins (for it was he) had been de- 
 cently laid out on the floor, and a counterpane spread over 
 him. The two friends now approached the prisoner. 
 
 "Let us see what we can do for you, sir," said Rogers ; 
 "for although you deserve to have been left like a dog on 
 the road, we must not let you su9"er any more than we can 
 help." 
 
 "You may begin with this," he replied, coolly enough, 
 though he must have been sutferiug greatly, and pointing 
 at the same time to his left leg. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 79 
 
 A straw mattress was taken from under the bed, his 
 clothes were stripped off, and he was laid upon it. A 
 basin of water and some towels were placed on the floor. 
 Two other candles were lighted and set down, one 'on each 
 side of him, Rogers washed away the clotted blood as 
 carefully as if tending a friend. He saw at once that the 
 bone was badly shattered, about three inches below the 
 knee. 
 
 " We can do nothing here, Tobe, but bind it up and wait 
 for Dr. GrifiBn to-morrow. This must have been my ball. 
 Yours is not large enough to have shattered this bone so 
 effectually." 
 
 "True enough," said Wilson, stooping down and exam- 
 ining the wounded limb. " How are we to bind it up? It 
 is an awkward place to bandage." 
 
 " I saw Dr. Griffin do up a fracture of this sort once, 
 and I think I can manage it after a fashion, if you happen 
 to have such a thing as a pasteboard in the house." 
 
 " Yes, there is. My mother bought one not long ago 
 to make a sun-bonnet, but did not use it, thinking her old 
 one would last through the summer."* 
 
 " Then get it. Get also an old sheet to make a band- 
 age." 
 
 When the pasteboard and sheet were produced, Rogers 
 directed his friend to cut off two wide slips of the paste- 
 board, about eight inches in length, so as to extend above 
 and below the knee, while he himself tore off, and made a 
 
 * It is very common in the mountains, where people cannot go to 
 a store for every little thing they need, to keep always on hand 
 articles of this sort, for household use. The farmers, too, will 
 often purchase and put away articles they do not expect to use for 
 months. Thus many things of convenience or necessity are fre- 
 quently to be found in cabins where no one would look for them, — * 
 a circumstance which the reader may have occasion to notice sev- 
 eral times in these pages. 
 
80 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 roll of bandage of sufficient length. Beginning at the toe, 
 he bandaged the foot and ankle up to the place to which 
 he wished the pasteboard to extend. Then applying the 
 pasteboard on each side of the fractured limb, he continued 
 his bandaging process until it extended high enough above 
 the knee to render the joint immovable, remarking as he 
 did so : 
 
 "It is like enough that I may have more of this sort of 
 work to do, and I may as well get my hand in." 
 
 The other wound was through the right shoulder, where 
 bandaging was out of the question; but he managed to 
 fasten a bat of cotton tolerably securely on the orifice 
 where the ball entered, and another where it came out. 
 Then arranging his patient as comfortably as possible on a 
 straw mattress, he proposed to Wilson that they should get 
 some wood and make a fire. 
 
 "This fellow," he said, "has lost blood enough to make 
 him feel a little chilly, and I want to question him when 
 he is quite at his ease. I suppose there is no further dan- 
 ger of being shot at to-night. At all events, we can make 
 all safe by closing doors and windows. It cannot now be 
 very far from daylight." 
 
 A cheerful fire was soon made, and Rogers, seating him- 
 self with the air of a Supreme Court Judge, began his ex- 
 amination. 
 
 "I think I know you, Mr. Sergeant Miller." 
 
 "If you live in these parts, it's like enough; though I 
 don't remember you. I was raised in seven miles of here. " 
 
 '^Your father is a Baptist?" 
 
 "Yes, sir; do you know him?'' 
 
 "No; but I have heard of him as one of Parson Ben 
 Williams's flock of lambs. He is a special pet of the Par- 
 •son's, I believe, — one of the chosen vessels." 
 
 " Not by a darned sight. Dad is a Union man, and old 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 81 
 
 Ben thinks that's the next worst thing to bein' a Method- 
 ist. Dad belongs to his church ; bat there's no love lost 
 between them, 'specially when they gits on politics." 
 
 "Ah ! then how came you in the Confederate army?" 
 
 "That's easy told; but if you mean to ax me many 
 questions, you must give me some more brandy. I'm 
 mighty weak." 
 
 The flask and a cup of water were handed him. 
 
 " Never mind the water. I never spiles good liquor by 
 weakening it, and this is good. It come from Gen. Har- 
 dee's own jug." He took a drink of raw spirit from the 
 flask, and laid it on the bed beside him. 
 
 "Jest leave this here, so I can take a sip as I needs it, 
 and then drive on with your questions, — I'm ready." 
 
 "I asked you how it happened that you, the son of a 
 Union man, (and one who must be a true one, to have 
 stood out against his church,) should be in the Confed- 
 erate army." 
 
 "'Cause dad never took no papers but Parson Graves's 
 Baptist paper at Nashville, and hit was so keen to save 
 our souls, hit forgot to tell us of danger to our bodies." 
 
 "I am afraid I don't understand you. What do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 " Well, you see, Parson Graves never gived us no infor- 
 mation about the Conscript Act of Congress, and as I had 
 never heered anything about it, I was glad when mammy 
 axed me to take a meal bag full of bacon over to Winches- 
 ter, where we heerd the soldiers would swap sugar for it. 
 Well, I got there and made the swap, — a pretty good one 
 as I thought, for we had a plenty of meat, and was afeered 
 the soldiers would find it out and take it from us, as dad 
 was suspected of being disloyal to the Confederacy. After 
 that I went to buy two quart bottles of brandy for dad, 
 which he had charged me partickler to get good. Old 
 
 8 
 
82 TOBIAS WILSON.. 
 
 Ben Grimes showed me a sutler's store where he said I 
 could get the best ' old peach' in the State. The store was 
 full of people buying everything they could see. When I 
 axed the feller for the 'old peach,' he looked as black as 
 thunder, and said he'd give me to understand he was a 
 law-abiding man, and if I wanted to buy forbidden things 
 I must go somewhere else." (Here Sergeant Miller took a 
 sip from his flask.) "I went out mad as a hornet at old 
 Ben Grimes for fooling me in such a fashion, and when I 
 found him I began to curse him black and blue. At first 
 he didn't know what was the matter, but when he under- 
 stood the thing, instead of trying to knock me down he 
 burst out laughing. 'Why, you great goose,' he said, 
 'what else could you expect when you axed for 'old peach' 
 with a store full of people ? Come with me. Ill fix it, 
 for I likes your daddy, and I'm sorter dry myself.' When 
 the feller seed me come back with old Grimes he under- 
 stood it all in a minute. 'Well, my young one,' he said 
 mighty perlite, 'what will you have?' Old Grimes put in, 
 * He wants some doctor's stuff, Mr. Murray, his mammy's 
 
 got the di-ar-ree, and them d d Yankees has busted all 
 
 the 'pothecary shops. Aint you got something that'll do 
 the old ooman good?' 'Of course I has. It's a mighty 
 common complaint among the soldiers, and I always makes 
 it a pint to have a good lot on hand. But it aint here; 
 wait a minit. Tom will be in directly to tend the store, 
 and I'll go to the warehouse with you.' Tom was not far 
 off. I found out afterwards that he never was on such 
 occasions. Throwing the bag with the bottles on my 
 shoulder, me and Murray and Grimes went over to what 
 had been the smoke-house of the old tavern. He opened 
 the door, and following us in locked it on the inside. We 
 had a heap of chat, and took several drinks round before I 
 would agree to give his price, (four dollars a quart.) 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. _ 83 
 
 Finally, he agreed to fling in a pint flask, and fill it for my 
 own private use. But he charged me partickler never to 
 tell no one how cheap he had let me have it. I know'd he 
 was a swindling rae, but I didn't let on. The fact is, I was 
 bought up by that pint flask and the loilliin. I had never 
 had so much liquor before in my life. Murray locked his 
 door and went off to the store, but old Ben Grimes stuck 
 to me like a leech. I thought he wanted some of my 
 liquor, and instead of letting him keep me in town, I 
 hurried off quicker than I meant to do. He had sent a 
 runner for a conscript officer, and was trying to keep me 
 'till he come. But he didn't. I saw he was nearly crazy 
 to keep me in town, and I was determined not to be kept; 
 not that I suspected him of having anything to do with 
 conscription, for I didn't know the meaning of the word, 
 but I suspected him of wanting to drink my liquor. So I 
 mounted, and rode off in a trot. When I got home, dad 
 and the old woman were so well pleased with my sugar 
 trade, that they overlooked the liquor business, especially 
 as the brandy was really very good, and dad was furnished 
 with an excuse for shortening my allowance. It was late, 
 and by the time me and the old man had fed the stock, the 
 gals and my little brothers come in from work. I was the 
 oldest of the family. The three next to me were girls and 
 the other two boys. I was then just twenty. All the 
 heavy work was done by dad and me. The old woman 
 cooked, and on washing days my oldest sister helped her. 
 Besides, she always carae to the house a little earlier than 
 the others in the evening, to milk, bringing my younger 
 brother with her to help keep off the calves, while she 
 milked the cows. We were all healthy and willing to 
 work, and were getting along in the world contentedly and 
 well. We had prayers every night, and if they did me no 
 good at the time or since, it was not dad's fault. I believe 
 
84 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 that I should have been a good, sober, industrious man, as 
 dad is. He loves his dram, and takes it regular in his 
 family ; but he is honest, hardworking, and religious, and 
 never lets the liquor git ahead of him. I believe I should 
 
 have been too, if this d d war hadn't come along, 
 
 busting up everything, making men who were tolerably 
 well oif, poor, and poor men, beggars; making honest men, 
 thieves, and kind-hearted human beings, blood-thirsty pan- 
 thers. I wish the men who brought it on were in the bot- 
 tom of hell, and Jeff. Davis the lowest of the lot." (After 
 this outburst he took another sip from the flask, and re- 
 sumed.) "But to go on with my story. The children 
 came in and dad made a sweetened dram for them all 
 round, when we sat down to supper in the best kind of 
 humor. The little ones vrere still eating, and the old wo- 
 man was scolding them and helping them by turns, when 
 we heard the tramp of horses' feet, and the jingle of cavalry 
 spurs and sabres. It was an unwelcome soyind, but none 
 of us had the least idea of what it portended. It was a 
 conscript officer with a party of five, a corporal and four 
 privates. Old Ben Grimes had put them on my track. 
 They had a led horse which they had pressed on the way, 
 and I was hurried off with the corporal and two men, while 
 the officer with two others remained to take supper. Dad 
 seized the chance and pleaded, and pleaded in vain. He 
 told him our fix, — that there was no one but me capa- 
 ble of doing a good day's work. He pointed to the help- 
 less children huddled in a corner, to his own gray hairs, 
 and told him that they must come to want if I was taken 
 away from them ; but it did no good. The d d hypo- 
 crite pretended to be affected even to tears, but his duty 
 was imperative, he had no discretion. What could he do ? 
 The Government was just at this time in the greatest need 
 of men, and Gen. Bragg would take no excuse for any lax 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 85 
 
 enforcement of the conscript law. He had private advices 
 from Richmond, which was carefully kept out of the pa- 
 pers, and only entrusted to confidential officers like him- 
 self, that Gen. Lee was preparing to strike a blow that 
 would astonish the world. In three months Washington 
 would be ours, and the war over. His son, that is me, 
 would then come back to him covered with glory, and all 
 the girls in the county would be envying my sisters. To 
 all this, got by heart, and repeated a hundred times before, 
 dad made no reply. He was not fooled in the least, but 
 he saw it was useless and said nothing. That's the way, 
 sir, I came to be in the Confederate army."* 
 
 "And did you stay in that army willingly after such 
 treatment as you have described ?" 
 
 " Surely not ! I was outrageous at first. I beat old 
 Ben Grimes until every bone in his body was sore. This 
 brought on punishment, and then I was closely watched. 
 I was sent away to East Tennessee and drafted into a cav- 
 alry regiment. By degrees I began to like my associates. 
 I found that most of them were fellow-victims. Then 
 there was attraction in the constant excitement ; the li- 
 cense which is always allowed to the cavalry soldier in the 
 Confederacy, had its charms. From being only endurable, 
 it became pleasant, and I remained from choice where I had 
 been placed by force. I would have deserted any hour of 
 the first two months and joined the Yankees. I have had 
 hundreds of chances since, but I did not go nor think of 
 going. I don't know how it may be hereafter, for I am 
 likely to have a long time for reflection, and I have never 
 
 * The main facts here stated are literally true. Hundreds of just 
 such cases may be easily gathered up. Nay more, every county in 
 the South has its list of victims to the conscription, and there is 
 not one in which cases more infamous than this may not be found. 
 
 8* 
 
86 TOBIAS AVILSON. 
 
 yet knowed reflection to do the Confederate cause any- 
 good." 
 
 "You are right in that, at least," said Rogers; "but tell 
 me, did your family suffer, as you expected, for the want of 
 your assistance?" 
 
 "No ! But that was no fault of the Confederacy or its 
 officers. They did nothing to avert the suffering which 
 dad and I looked for in the family. But I came back from 
 East Tennessee comparatively rich. I had my pockets full 
 of Confederate money. I had over two hundred dollars in 
 State bank notes, and nearly fifty dollars in gold. I gave 
 it all to dad, except about a hundred dollars in Con-fed. 
 But I didnH tell him how I got it. I told him to use the 
 Con-fed money in hiring help, but to save the State money 
 and the gold, and never spend it under any circumstances. 
 I said I wanted the gold for a wedding gift for my youngest 
 sister, Lilly, and the State money to educate the boys when- 
 ever a time came in this country that a school could be 
 opened. When I came back from Gen. Bragg's raid into 
 Kentucky, I brought a hundred and eighty-two and a 
 half dollars in gold, five hundred dollars in greenbacks, 
 fifty dollars in Kentucky, and seventy-five dollars in Ten- 
 nessee bank notes. Besides five thousand dollars in Con- 
 fed, which I gave to dad, and had more than enough to do 
 me besides. I told him to keep it all safe for various uses 
 which I pretended I wanted to put it to hereafter, except 
 the Con-fed, which he could use as he pleased. But, in 
 truth, I only wanted to be certain that he and the wimen folks 
 and little ones had a good 'nest egg,' if I should happen to 
 get knocked in the head, or meet with some such acci- 
 dent as this of to-night. It was more money than he had 
 ever seed, and I had some trouble to make him believe that 
 I came by it honestly. But he did give in, and put away 
 the funds for safe keeping, and pocketed the Con-fed, when, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 87 
 
 if he had known the truth, he would have burned it before 
 my face, and driven me from his doors.'' 
 
 "What is the truth, pray ? That is, if you have no ob- 
 jection to telling me. I suppose I know, but I had rather 
 hear it from your own lips." 
 
 "I should have objected yesterday. But a man feels 
 very different with a broken leg and a bullet through his 
 shoulder to what he does when in strong health, and 
 mounted on a splendid horse. I feel sorter as if it would 
 be a relief to me to tell. I got every dollar of that money, 
 and a good deal more which I now have, and a lot which 
 is quilted in my saddle, by stealing and robbing. Stealing 
 money when I could, and when I couldn't find money, 
 taking watches, horses, mules, and everything else that 
 would sell. I sold one horse I stole in Kentucky for two 
 thousand dollars, one-half in Con-fed and the other half in 
 State money." 
 
 "You seem to have made your conscription profitable in 
 the money line at least." 
 
 "Yes ! but I lost character, honor, humanity itself. I'm 
 a d — n — d brute ! Leastways I would be, if I did not sort 
 of reconcile the thing to my conscience by thinking that the 
 old man and the old woman would have been in the poor- 
 house, and the children, God knows where, but for my rob- 
 beries !" 
 
 "That is something to human view, but not much, I am 
 afraid, in the eye of Heaven. But tell me, did your com- 
 rades generally prosper as you did ?" 
 
 "^0, sir-ee ! They did as much robbing it may be, some 
 of them more ; for the cavalry generally gits all that is 
 going in that way; but they gambled, loaned money to 
 needy acquaintances in the infantry, and wasted it on worth- 
 less women whenever they had a chance. I saved all. I 
 had one object before me, and I kept it always in mind. I 
 
88 TOBIAS WILSOX. 
 
 was determined that if I went to the devil headforemost, 
 my brotliers and sisters should not be compelled to follow 
 after me by hunger. They are safe now, and that's a com- 
 fort anyhow !" 
 
 "Mr. Miller," said Rogers, "your story is an interesting 
 one, and I must hear more of it another time. But there 
 is a more pressing matter about which I should first like to 
 have some information. Be good enough to tell us what 
 brought you here, and why you sought to murder people 
 who had never harmed you, and were too poor to excite 
 your cupidity ? Did you have accomplices or instigators ?" 
 
 " Xo ; none but the dead. We entered this valley by 
 accident. I found there was plenty of eatables for man 
 and horse. I thought, too, that it might some day prove 
 a place of safety if we should be hard pressed by Yankee 
 cavalry, and I made up my mind that it should be my 
 halting-place when I was in this neighborhood. I never 
 meant that another thing, not so much as a pewter spoon, 
 should be taken from the family, except just what we and 
 our horses might eat. It is true that Tom Simmons threat- 
 ened more than once to capture the old man's gray horse, 
 but I didn't mean to let him. I did not oppose him right 
 out, for it wasn't necessary to quarrel with him about a 
 thing he might never have a chance to try. But I just 
 made up my mind that, if he ever put a halter on that 
 horse's head, I'd take it off; and he'd been in my com- 
 pany too long to make any fuss about my proceedins, when 
 he knowed I was in earnest. I could see plain enough that 
 it was to my interest to make a friend of the old fellow 
 what lives here, and I meant to do it if I could fix it up any 
 way at all." 
 
 " He does not live here now," interrupted Wilson, in a 
 voice hoarse with emotion; "he is dead." 
 
 "Dead V exclaimed Miller, with real feeling, trying to 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 89 
 
 turn over on his straw mattress. " Dead ! and that, I sup- 
 pose, is some of my work. That's another account added 
 to the list I've got to settle hereafter !" 
 
 " You 4id not hurt him. He was murdered the day be- 
 fore." 
 
 " Thank God for that ! Xot for his being murdered, but 
 that I did not do it. Two days ago I should only have 
 thought of cursing myself and Jenkins for the idiotic folly 
 of taking a corpse for a sleeping man ; but some of my old 
 feelings are coming back on me, and I'm not sure I'm sorry 
 it happened as it has." 
 
 "I have strong hopes," said Rogers, "that it will turn 
 out to be much the best thing that could have happened to 
 you. But go on with your story. You shall hear Ms 
 before long." 
 
 Miller took another and a larger drink of the brandy, 
 for he had lost much blood, and was very weak. He then 
 resumed. 
 
 "I wanted to make a friend of Mr. Johnson because I 
 intended to stay about home as close as possible, as long 
 as any of our boys were in the neighborhood ; for I knowed 
 they were none too good to rob 7???/dad, if they could do it 
 without my finding them out. 1 wanted to watch them at 
 any rate, and as it was certain the Yankee cavalry would 
 soon be swarming over the country, I judged it best to have 
 a good hiding-place away from home. Well, we was gone 
 some weeks, and in the mean time somebody warned the old 
 man against us. When we came back we found the house 
 locked up, and him, and another feller that was with him, 
 gave us to understand that if we got any dinner here we'd 
 have to fight for it. I began a palaver with him, intending, 
 after making a show to satisfy the boys, to retreat and come 
 back some other time when he was in a better humor. I've 
 thought since that if I'd had the sense of a cat I'd have 
 
90 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 gone off at once. But I didn't have time to study it over 
 then. The first thing I knowed, Simmons blazed away at 
 somebody who was in this here room, and then his cussed 
 horse-stealing habits made him try to mount the gray and 
 gallop off. He hadn't got twenty yards before a bullet 
 overtook him. He had rid his last time on horseback." 
 
 "It was I who fired that shot," said Wilson. 
 
 A shade darkened the brow of Miller, but it was only of 
 moment:ary duration. When it had passed away, he con- 
 tinued. 
 
 "You fired it! and I owe you too this hole in my shoul- 
 der, and Bob Jenkins there, the worse hole in his head. 
 There was a time when it would not have been prudent to 
 tell me this; but I hope that is over. But I can't tell," he 
 added, shaking his head sadly; "I don't know rightly how 
 strong a hold the Devil has got upon me yi7." 
 
 After another sip of the brandy, he continued his narra- 
 tive. 
 
 " We made terms with the garrison, and carried Tom 
 Simmons to the thicket just outside of the gap. We would 
 have buried him there, but we had no tools, so we waited 
 until dark, and took him to the house of a sure friend. 
 We dug a hole for him behind the stable, and there he is 
 now. 
 
 " I had no chance for friendship with Mr. Johnson after 
 that day's work. But I still wanted a hiding-place to re- 
 treat to in case of need, and I determined to have it. I 
 concocted a story of his murdering Simmons which I thought 
 might drive him from the neighborhood, but it didn't. I 
 tried on several other schemes. They failed to frighten 
 him off, if he ever heard of them, which is doubtful, and 
 then I came here to settle the matter myself, after the usual 
 fashion of Gen. Wheeler's cavalry, or partisan rangers, as 
 Jeff. Davis calls them. You know the rest." . 
 
TOBIAS AVILS ON. 91 
 
 The exhausted man took another sip of brandy, and then 
 lay perfectly still and motionless. The candles paled be- 
 fore the broad light of day. The two young men rose 
 and left the house to perform the necessary duty of feeding 
 their horses. When they returned with the materials for 
 an early breakfast, as a preparation for the labors of the 
 day, Sergeant Miller was sleeping as soundly as a tired in- 
 fant, with its dimpled cheeks pillowed on its mother's 
 breast. 
 
CHAPTER YI. 
 
 That morning a small but sincere party of mourners 
 might have been seen struggling up the steep mountain 
 path which led to the dwelling of the late Robert Johnson. 
 It consisted of Mrs. Wilson, Mr. Rogers, and his daughter 
 Sophy, the surgeon, Dr. Griffin, and the minister, Parson 
 King. The surgeon and the minister rode a little in ad- 
 vance, and occasionally exchanged a word or two in low 
 and solemn tones. The remainder of the party followed 
 in silence and in tears. When they first came in sight of 
 "the cabins," a violent sob burst from Mrs. Wilson, which 
 was echoed by her fair young companion, but no exclama- 
 tion, no word, was uttered by either. 
 
 The young men had passed the morning in making a rude 
 coffin of planks, in which they placed the body of Mr. 
 Johnson, leaving it, however, uncovered. In the little 
 garden they dug a grave, and made all the necessary prep- 
 arations for his burial. The same sad offices were then 
 performed for Bob Jenkins, except that his coffin was 
 nailed up at once, and his grave was dug some distance off. 
 These tasks had not long been finished when they saw the 
 party of mourners descending the mountain side. Lock- 
 ing up the kitchen door, in which the wounded prisoner 
 was lying by the coffin of his dead comrade, the two friends 
 walked out to the bars which gave admittance to the yard. 
 Mrs. Wilson and Sophy Rogers were gently lifted from 
 their horses, and led in silence to the chamber of the dead, 
 where they instantly threw themselves upon their knees by 
 (92) 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 93 
 
 the side of the coffin, and gave vent to a flood of tears. 
 Thomas Rogers, in the mean time, touched his father's arm, 
 and leading him outside of the house, related briefly the 
 night's adventures. Mr. Rogers, Sr., was amazed. He had 
 regarded it as a certain thing, and had so spoken of it to 
 several of his acquaintances, that Robert Johnson had been 
 murdered by the soldiers who had twice called at his house 
 for no good purpose, and were at last only driven off by 
 the slaughter of one of their number. It was now plain 
 that they were innocent of his death in fact, however guilty 
 in intention. Who then could have done the bloody deed ? 
 He started as if stung by an adder, when his son, in answer 
 to his look of eager inquiry, said in a stern whisper; 
 
 "Parson Williams, Josh Wilkins, and Jim Biles are the 
 murderers." 
 
 "Impossible!" he exclaimed. "Impossible! I do not 
 love either one of the three, but they are not so wicked as 
 that." 
 
 "So I thought," answered his son, "and so I said; but 
 we have proofs that, before an honest judge and jury, 
 would hang a saint. We will talk over all that, however, 
 another time. The matter which presses most is, how are 
 we to get the 'women folks' away from here without let- 
 ting them know that there are two dead bodies instead of 
 one under that roof, and another who may be, for all I 
 know, in a fair way to join them. Wait a moment until 
 I call Tobe ; we will then walk off a short distance together 
 and consult." 
 
 Tobias Wilson was soon brought from the house, and 
 the three men, moving out of hearing, seated themselves 
 on a ledge of rocks to confer with each other as to the 
 best course to be pursued under the difficult circumstances 
 in which they were placed. 
 
 9 
 
94 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 " Thomas and I thought, Mr. Rogers," said Wilson, " that 
 after grandfather was buried, we would get mother and 
 Miss Sophy to their horses at once, without returning to 
 the house, that you and Parson King could ride on with 
 them, while we kept Dr. Griffin with us upon some pretext 
 or other, and when they were gone, he could examine the 
 wounded man, while Thomas and 1 buried the dead one 
 down in that hollow where the grave will not attract atten- 
 tion." 
 
 Mr. Rogers listened attentively to his young friend, and 
 thought deeply before he replied. At length he said: 
 
 "It won't do, boys ! It won't do ! Your mother, Tobias, 
 will never leave here without going through the house. 
 She said this morning that she had some arrangements to 
 make, after the funeral, for your comfort, and even spoke 
 of remaining here all night. I can see nothing for it but 
 to go and tell those here present all that has occurred, and 
 I am not sure but that it is the best policy. It will serve 
 to distract your mother's mind somewhat, from thinking of 
 her father, and thus lessen her grief. It will relieve her 
 too from a part of the anxiety she would feel on your ac- 
 count, if you remained here to-night without giving her 
 a good reason for it. You must tell her, and the best way 
 is to make no secret of it. Go into the house and tell her 
 at once in the presence of our friends." 
 
 It was apparent from Thomas's countenance that he co- 
 incided with his father. Wilson was staggered. He felt 
 that the advice was good, but he had an unconquerable re- 
 pugnance to telling, in the presence of her he loved, a story 
 of violence and blood in which he had himself so larsre a 
 share. 
 
 . " I — I would rather not," he stammered ; " won't you, Mr. 
 Rogers, be so good as to tell it for me ?" 
 
 "No, silly boy. I do not know the facts. Thomas has 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 95 
 
 only given me an imperfect outline. Why should you hesi- 
 late? You have done nothing to be ashamed of." 
 
 "I don't think I could get through with it, sir. I — " 
 
 " Never mind," interrupted Thomas Rogers ; " come on to 
 the house, I will tell it myself." 
 
 When they returned they found Mrs. Wilson still in tears, 
 but much calmer. The minister of religion had been re- 
 minding her of the sinfulness of unmeasured grief, and the 
 ingratitude of thus reproaching the Almighty for what He 
 permitted to be done. "The Lord gave, and the Lord has 
 taken away. Blessed be the name of the Lord." The words 
 found an echo in her heart, and the sorrow which, without 
 religion, would have maddened her, became only a gentle 
 chastening in the presence of that heaven-born ejaculation. 
 If grief was not banished from her bosom, it was softened 
 and subdued, and there was no longer danger of any violent 
 outbreak. Thomas Rogers broke the silence which fol- 
 lowed their entrance, in a low but distinctly audible voice : 
 
 " I am afraid, doctor, that in mourning for the dead, To- 
 bias and I have forgotten the duties of humanity. There 
 is a wounded man in the next room who much needs your 
 help." 
 
 '*A wounded man!^^ exclaimed the doctor. And all eyes 
 were turned upon the speaker as if to read in his counte- 
 nance the meaning of his strange words. 
 
 "Yes I A badly wounded man." 
 
 He then went over rapidly, but distinctly and clearly, the 
 events of the preceding night, omitting only the subject of 
 the conversation between Wilson and himself, and their 
 suspicions of the persons who really murdered the old man 
 now lying in his coffin before them. When the story ended, 
 the doctor, followed by the gentlemen present, walked into 
 the kitchen to minister to the hurts of Sersreant Miller, 
 while Mrs. Wilson and Sophy went into the garden to gather 
 
96 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 some of tlie few flowers blooming there to decorate the 
 grave of her parent. They had not plucked more than a 
 dozen, when Mrs. Wilson clasped her hand on her heart, 
 and exclaimed : 
 
 "I must — I must — I must tell some one, or ray heart will 
 break. Sophy, my love, come here. Did you notice To- 
 bias when your brother said, that although he at first sus- 
 pected these bad men of murdering my father, he was now 
 satisfied the deed was done by some one nearer home, and 
 he hoped they would soon be overtaken by a retribution 
 swifter than the law." 
 
 "Xo, dear madam, I think I was too much frightened, 
 thinking of the danger they had escaped, to notice any- 
 thing." 
 
 ''I did, Sophy. I watched him closely ; and the glance of 
 bis eye brought a horrid fear upon me. He spoke some 
 words yesterday which disturbed me greatly; but to-day he 
 looked as if the fiend already had possession of him. Spare 
 me, oh Lord ! in mercy spare me this last and deadly 
 blow!" 
 
 " What do you mean, Mrs. Wilson ?" asked the trem- 
 bling and now thoroughly frightened girl. " What cause is 
 there for this new anxiety ? In mercy's name, what do you 
 fear ?" 
 
 ^'Revenge, my child. That black and deadly sin which 
 has sent so many souls to perdition, and is yet so sweet that 
 the best of earth's children are never safe from the danger 
 of its indulgence." 
 
 "Revenge! I do not think I know exactly what you 
 mean." 
 
 " I mean that Tobias Wilson has forgotten the teachings 
 of him who is now gone, and is contemplating a bloody 
 and fearful vengeance upon those who murdered his grand- 
 father." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 97 
 
 Trembling like an aspen, and turning as white as the 
 lily before the sun has kissed the dew from its leaves, the 
 young girl caught her companion's arm and almost shrieked : 
 
 " Oh ! Mrs. Wilson, do not say so. Do not believe that 
 one so gentle and good can dream of throwing away his 
 soul for the gratification of a fierce and wicked passion. 
 It cannot — cannot be." 
 
 "Alas! I cannot be deceived. If the Evil One is not 
 DOW rioting in his bosom, I do not know the face of my own 
 child." 
 
 "Then save him, madam. Oh ! save him from this horrid 
 fate." 
 
 "I shall try, Sophy, for it is my duty. I shall weary 
 Heaven with prayers, — but I have no hope. Father and 
 son both gone 1 The one will soon be in the grave ; the 
 other — worse. Oh! God, strengthen me to say, 'Thy will, 
 not mine, be done.'" 
 
 "I icill save him/^^ exclaimed Sophy Rogers, with sud- 
 den vehemence, while a rosy tinge of heavenly beauty spread 
 over her cheeks, and her eyes brightened with a gleam of 
 light as holy and as pure as that of the star which shed its 
 radiance o'er the cradle of the infant Redeemer. The 
 shadows of the mountain rested upon the spot where she 
 stood; she had lifted the straw bonnet from her head, and 
 the spirit of the summer wind, as it swept through her dark 
 chestnut curls, uttered a mournful sigh because it could not 
 linger there forever. Hers was a shape and form upon 
 w4iich Xature had lavished all its choicest gifts, and then 
 the angel, the archangel, and the cherubim had come, one 
 after another, to touch it with their heavenly hands, adding 
 a line of beauty here, a glow of softness there, and spread- 
 ing everywhere in every lineament, and in -every limb, a 
 mingled grace and sweetness, of which no poet had ever 
 dreamed, and to which no painter's aspirations had ever 
 
 9* 
 
98 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 been lifted up. But it was not the mere perfection of form 
 and of feature which extorted the wondering admiration of 
 the beholder. It was not even that higher loveliness of 
 expression which springs from the union of intellect with 
 the exact and perfect chiseling of the statuary. It was 
 something more lofty and more holy — more sublime, and 
 yet more gentle and sweet. It icas Religion. That 
 splendid creature ; that being of unapproached and unap- 
 proachable loveliness had contemplated the Godhead so 
 often, and with such deep fervor, that a portion of its glories 
 had descended and settled upon her. 
 
 "/ will save him/" repeated the young and sinless en- 
 thusiast: "no matter what it costs, I will save him." 
 
 " Thank you, dear Sophy, for your good-will ; but if he 
 will not hearken to the voice of the mother who bore him, 
 there is little chance of his listening to yours, sweet and 
 musical as it is." 
 
 " Let me try at any rate, madam. Do let me try !" 
 
 "Let you try! yes, surely; and my prayers and thanks 
 shall go with your efforts. That boy is very dear to me." 
 
 " And to me too," answered Sophy with a blushing cheek, 
 but a frank unembarrassed tone. 
 
 Mrs. Wilson wondered, but said nothing. They walked 
 back to the house in silence. The dressing of the wounded 
 man's hurts was completed, and Mr. Rogers, Sr., suggested 
 that it was time to fasten down the coffin-lid, preparatory 
 to depositing the body of Robert Johnson in its last resting- 
 place. 
 
 Tobias Wilson addressed Dr. Griffin: 
 
 " I sent for you, doctor, for the purpose of getting you to 
 examine the wounds which killed my grandfather. Since 
 then we have collected a mass of testimony which makes it 
 superfluous. Still' as you are here, I think the examination 
 may as well be made." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 99 
 
 " It will be more satisfactory, I think," replied the doctor ; 
 "if it proves nothing you do not know, it may prove some- 
 thing to others." 
 
 The body was removed from the coffin, and the ladies left 
 the room ; kindly going in to say some words of sympathy 
 to Miller, and inquire whether anything could be done to 
 make his situation more comfortable. 
 
 The two wounds inflicted on the corpse by Miller and 
 Jenkins w^ere not examined by Dr. Griffin. The other two 
 were of unequal size, one very large, larger than would 
 have been made by a musket bullet; it had been discharged 
 from a smooth-bore gun. Dr. Griffin thought it was a shot- 
 gun, as he knew of no other fire-arm which would carry 
 such a ball. Tobias Wilson and Thomas Rogers exchanged 
 glances of intelligence, but said nothing. The doctor's 
 task was ended. The body was replaced in the coffin, the 
 lid was nailed down, and all were ready to move on to the 
 grave, when Sophy Rogers, with a burning cheek, but a 
 firm and steady step, and an eye beaming with conscious 
 rectitude, walked over to Tobias Wilson, and, taking him 
 by the hand, led him to her father. 
 
 "Father," she said in a voice so little tremulous that no 
 one noticed it but her brother ; " father, before we leave this 
 room I have a secret to tell you and a favor to ask." 
 
 "A secret, my daughter ! I thought I knew all of yours 
 long ago." 
 
 "You did, indeed, with this one exception. It is the 
 first I ever had from you ; I hope it will be the last. A 
 little more than two years ago this young man told me that 
 he loved me, and asked me to promise that I would some 
 day be his wife. I was only a little girl then, and he no- 
 thing more than a boy. It was folly for us to think of 
 marrying then, and I would not bind myself by a promise 
 which I might some day have good cause to break. But 
 
100 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 he had won my little heart, and before we~parted he made 
 me confess as much. He did not gain much by that, 
 though, for I was ashamed of it as soon as the word was 
 out of my mouth. I hid my face with both ray hands and 
 began to cry. He tried to soothe me, but I could not stop 
 crying for some time, as foolish as I knew it to be. When 
 my tears at last ceased to flow, I made him promise that 
 he would never speak to me again of love or marriage until 
 he was twenty-one years of age. Last spring, the very 
 day he was twenty-one, he rode over to tell me of it, and 
 to offer me again his hand in marriage. He little thought 
 that I knew his age that day as well as he did, and had 
 looked forward to its coming as often and thought of it as 
 anxiously as he had. It ended by my promising to become 
 his wife in twelve months, if you and Mrs. Wilson consented. 
 There was no telling what might happen in these terrible 
 times during those twelve months, and we concluded that 
 it would be better to keep our engagement a secret. Still, 
 to have no confidant at all, wore a clandestine aspect which 
 I did not like. I suggested, and Tobias readily agreed, 
 that we should tell my brother, which we accordingly did. 
 Until this hour I do not think any one else knew or sus- 
 pected our engagement. That, father, is my secret. Do 
 you forgive me for not trusting you with it before, and will 
 you accept my chosen husband as a son ?" 
 
 During this frank confession, the face of Tobias Wilson 
 underwent as many changes as there are colors in the rain- 
 bow. At first it was suffused by a deep flush, which spread 
 over the whole body, even to the tips of his fingers, and im- 
 parted to it a burning glow which made him feel as if a 
 raging fever had seized him. That faded away, and an 
 ashy paleness took its' place. He shivered and trembled as 
 if suddenly exposed to the fierce blasts of a Lapland win- 
 ter. His head swam, a film came over his eyes, and all 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 101 
 
 thiugs about him were mingled and jumbled together be- 
 yond his power to separate them. Yet through all, in 
 every change and mood, the fever flush, the ague chill, and 
 the dull suspension of sight and sense which made objects 
 indivisible and indistinct, and left him powerless to realize 
 where he was, how he came there, and what strange part 
 he was playing, — through all, pervading his whole being, 
 there was spread a vivid consciousness of unutterable bliss. 
 The clasp of her soft hand thrilled every nerve with ecstasy. 
 He could not catch her words, he did not try; but he felt, 
 felt to the inmost core of his heart, that it was her voice, 
 and he knew instinctively that the sweet music of its tones, 
 upon which he could have hung entranced forever, was 
 breathing a confession of love for him. Oh ! what' is 
 there in this world of ours that he wht? has once loved 
 would not exchange for one moment of a rapture like this ! 
 And she, too, what is there about the holiest shrine in 
 heaven more sweet than the gentle love which found its 
 trembling utterance from her lips ? And would it always 
 be thus ? Would no sin darken, no change come to steal 
 away the brightness from the golden letters with w^hich the 
 angels recorded the touching and simple tale of a love till 
 now unspoken, and whose intensity, even now, she never 
 dreamed of attempting to paint? If those questions had 
 been suggested to her, the heart would have instantly re- 
 sponded, though her lips refused to shape the response into 
 words. She could not change, for her love was the essence 
 of her existence, and inseparably blended with her religion. 
 Sin could not darken it, for the first breath of sin would blast 
 that lovely form and sink it to the grave, as surely and as 
 speedily as the summer rose would wither and die in the icy 
 grasp of winter. To Mm there would come a change, a 
 change sent by the God of nature in mercy, not in anger ; for 
 no human frame could long endure the wild rapture now 
 
102 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 throbbing in his veins. Other changes too might come ; 
 for man's love is a riddle we may not always read, and 
 man's heart is but too apt to become stained in the rude, 
 and sometimes degrading trials through which it must pass. 
 But we are dealing with the present, and his love was pure 
 now, pure as it was fervent. 
 
 "Ah! would that we were sure 
 
 Of hearts so warmly pure, 
 In all the winter weather that this lesser life must know; 
 
 That when shines the sun of love 
 
 From a warmer realm above, 
 In its light we may dissolve like the spirit of the snow." 
 
 When Sophy Rogers had concluded her brief "confes- 
 sion," and, turning on her father the warm light of her eyes, 
 asked in her sweetest tones, "Will you accept my chosen 
 husband as a son?" that father caught her in his arms, 
 folded her to his bosom, and impressed a tender kiss upon 
 her forehead. 
 
 "Gladly, my child," he answered, "most gladly. I do 
 not think I could have had the heart to thwart vour wishes 
 even if you had chosen unworthily. But my judgment 
 approves your choice, and Tobias has long bad a warm 
 place in my affections." 
 
 " Thank you, my kind, good father. But I knew it 
 would be so. For worlds I would not have formed an en- 
 gagement which I believed you would disapprove." 
 
 Then, turning to Mrs. Wilson, she said : 
 
 "And you, dear madam, will you accept me as a daugh- 
 ter? Will you love me, and guide, and instruct me, so 
 that I may become, at some distant day, almost as good 
 and as saintly as you are?" 
 
 There was a brilliant flash of joy and gladness in the 
 tearful eyes of the bereaved woman. She clasped the 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 103 
 
 lovely girl to her throbbing heart, and kissed her again and 
 again, before she murmured, or rather sobbed — but it was 
 the sob of happiness : 
 
 "You are better than I am now, darling ; better than all 
 of us." 
 
 Then, clasping her again to her bosom, she continued : 
 
 "Let me hold you here, dearest child, here against my 
 heart. Its beatings will tell you how happy, how very 
 happy, you have made me." 
 
 With one arm still encircling the waist of her future 
 daughter-in-law, she called her son. 
 
 " Come hither, Tobias. You must share a mother's em- 
 brace and accept a mother's kiss." 
 
 Drawing them to her, she imprinted kiss after kiss on the 
 lips of each by turns, and only released them when Mr. 
 Rogers advanced, and said : 
 
 "You must accept my congratulations, also, Tobias, 
 upon having won the love of the sweetest maiden in Ala- 
 bama I" 
 
 ''In the world /^^ said Wilson, grasping the extended 
 hand, and giving it a strong and grateful pressure. 
 
 "Well, I am old enough and foolish enough to agree 
 with you." 
 
 Sophy was standing by her lover's side, when her father 
 relinquished his hand, and laying her own gently on his 
 arm, she looked up at him tenderly, while a blush suffused 
 her cheek, so deep that it spread a roseate hue over neck 
 and shoulders and bosom. He could see, too, that the 
 long lashes drooping over her eyes were moist with sup- 
 pressed tears, and his own flowed freely in sympathy with 
 hers. The severest trial she had imposed upon herself was 
 now to come. She trembled, and with difficulty kept back 
 the tear-drops which were struggling to escape from their 
 crystal fountain. But strong in her guileless love, strong 
 
10-i TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 ill her convictions of duty, and stronger still in the firm 
 belief that a human soul was that day intrusted to her 
 keeping, and would be lost if she exhibited signs of weak- 
 ness or wavering, she shook off her painful emotions, and 
 said, almost gayly : 
 
 "Confess, Toby, that you would give your right hand to 
 kiss me now." 
 
 "I would give my life, Sophy, if you asked it." 
 
 "Well, I do not think I should like a husband with one 
 arm, and I know I would not like a dead one ; so you may 
 kiss me without sacrificing the one or the other, if you will 
 promise to be a good boy and mind all I say to you. Do 
 you promise ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes; anything, everything ;" and, without waiting 
 for further permission, he eagerly pressed his fevered lips 
 to hers, and for the first time drank in the nectar that was 
 treasured there. In the delirium of his joy, he kissed her 
 again and again before she could release herself from his 
 embrace. At length she put her hand before her mouth, 
 and said : 
 
 " Stop, sir, stop. I gave you a kiss, but you have 
 taken three. You have broken faith, Mr. Toby, and shall 
 pay for it. It will be a long time before you get another 
 chance to serve me in this way." 
 
 While the scenes I have attempted feebly to describe 
 were being enacted, there was but one pair of dry eyes in 
 the room, and those were the eyes of Thomas Rogers, Jr. 
 Xot that there was anything displeasing to him in the 
 frank confession of his sister's love, or in the exclamations 
 of satisfaction, or the cordial exchange of greetings which 
 followed it. But he knew there was something more to 
 come, and he dreaded it. He was satisfied that his sister 
 would never have been induced to act the painful part she 
 was going through, without some high object, and under 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 105 
 
 the influence of some strong and powerful motive. He had 
 studied her character more thoroughly, and understood 
 her better than his father or Mrs. Wilson ; and as for 
 Tobias, he was so much absorbed by his overpowering 
 love, that he could see nothing but what she told him to 
 see. Thomas Rogers knew that his sister had said nothing 
 which she did not feel ; that she had not used one expression, 
 or performed one act which did not spring from the heart, 
 and yet he knew that she was acting a part. Not that she 
 was deceiving any one, or meant to do so. She was only 
 telling them, or allowing them to see, the plain, unvarnished 
 truth. She had not exaggerated, she had curtailed rather ; 
 she had suppressed the strong expressions of her love, 
 which he could see had more than once trembled on her 
 lips. He would not have been surprised to learn that she 
 had told it in secret to her father and Mrs. Wilson. But 
 why tell it in the presence of others ? He knew her timid, 
 sensitive modesty, and he actually shuddered for what he 
 felt she must have suffered, when making up her mind in 
 accordance with some settled plan, some dictate of duty, 
 to offer her lips to be kissed by Tobias Wilson before so 
 many witnesses. What, he thought, could she be after? 
 That she was discharging what she regarded as a high and 
 imperative duty, there could be no doubt. What was it? 
 She knew nothing of the consultations between Tobias and 
 himself. He did not question her ability to extract that, 
 or anything else from her lover, if an opportunity had 
 offered. But there had been no such opportunity ; they 
 had not exchanged a dozen words with each other during 
 the day, and Tobias was evidently taken completely by 
 surprise, though he was too happy to show perplexity, or, 
 indeed, to think of it at all. These and kindred thoughts 
 were running through the mind of Thomas Rogers all the 
 time the coffin was being transported to the grave and 
 
 10 
 
106 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 lowered into it. But there and then thev were superseded 
 by a new perplexity. Just as the minister was about to 
 begin the funeral rites, Sophy Rogers broke the solemn 
 silence which sealed the lips of all present. 
 
 " Father," she said, "and you, mother," addressing Mrs. 
 Wilson by that endearing appellative, "you have been 
 very kind to me to-day, in giving your sanction to my 
 union with the man who won my affections long ago, and 
 whom I love with a fervor I have not ventured to express 
 to you, or to him. Standing in the relation we do to one 
 another, is there anything inconsistent with maidenly 
 modesty, in asking the privilege of kneeling by his side, 
 while the prayers of the minister are ascending to Heaven 
 for the soul of our murdered parent?" 
 
 All were surprised, and Mrs. Wilson hesitated to 
 answer ; but Mr. Rogers, whose kindly instincts prompted 
 him to gratify his daughter in everything, and who more- 
 over firmly believed that it was absolutely impossible for 
 her to cherish a thought or a wish which was not strictly 
 and religiously right and proper, at once answered the 
 unlooked-for question. 
 
 "There can surely be no objection if you wish it, my 
 daughter. You are betrothed to him with mine and his 
 mother's free and glad consent. It will be a great comfort 
 to him, poor fellow, to have you by his side in this hour of 
 distress. If you were his wife, it would be your duty to 
 take your place there, and I am not sure that it is not your 
 duty as it is. What say you, Parson King?" 
 
 "I say that no one has a right to hinder her. That it 
 will be a goodly and a holy sight, to see these pious chil- 
 dren kneeling in humble prayer by the grave of their de- 
 parted parent, and one which will be blessed of God, and 
 sanctioned by all right-thinking Christians." 
 
 "And you, mother?" pleaded Sophy, turning her eyes, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 107 
 
 from which the tears now flowed unrestrained, full upon 
 Mrs. Wilson. 
 
 "Why, I think that what you wish, and your father and 
 God's minister so decidedly approve, needs no sanction of 
 mine. Nevertheless, dear daughter, you have it. It will 
 do him great good, I am sure, to mingle his prayers with 
 one so sinless as thou art." 
 
 "Come then, Tobias," she said, taking his arm and 
 leading him close by the side of the minister; "here is our 
 place." 
 
 A hymn was sung; a few appropriate and feeling words 
 were spoken, and then the little congregation knelt in 
 prayer. When it was concluded, they rose to their feet, 
 and Tobias Wilson would have risen with the rest, but 
 Sophy's arm rested on his shoulder, and her head was 
 pressed upon it. Slowly she raised her face, luminous 
 with a glory borrowed from the throne of the Eternal. 
 
 "Promise me, Tobias, before we rise from this sacred 
 spot, by all your hopes of salvation hereafter, that you will 
 not seek to avenge the murder of the good man lying here, 
 by any means but those which the law allows." 
 
 For a moment Tobias Wilson was petrified. Then 
 every nerve in his manly and well-knit though slender frame 
 quivered as if torn by pincers. He clasped both hands 
 over his face to hide its fearful workino^s. The strons: 
 man became a helpless child. Low, heart-rending sobs 
 swelled his bosom and burst in agony from his lips. Sophy 
 read, in the fierce tempest which shook him within and 
 without, the whole horrid truth, — the demon was there in 
 all his might and power. She now comprehended, for the 
 first time, the full extent of his dreadful danger. She had 
 anticipated a struggle. She had not flattered herself with 
 the hope of an easy triumph ; but this was something more 
 terrible than she had calculated to encounter, and she felt 
 
108 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 a momentary sinking of the heart as she watched the fury 
 of the struggling passions which assailed and overmastered 
 both mind and body. She uttered a fervent prayer to the 
 Almighty for aid, and her momentary weakness disappeared. 
 The angels rested from their avocations in heaven, and 
 looked down with approving smiles upon the brave, true- 
 hearted girl, who alone and unaided was battling with the 
 prince of evil and his attendant fiends. She raised her 
 arm from the shoulder whereon it rested, and threw it lov- 
 ingly around his neck. 
 
 "Promise me, my own love," she murmured, in a voice 
 sweeter than the melodies of heaven. " You would prom- 
 ise me, I am sure you would, if you only knew how happy 
 it would make your betrothed wife." 
 
 He was still silent, but there was an enchantment in the 
 clasp of that lovely arm around his neck, and a strange, 
 soft music in the words, "your betrothed wife," which pen- 
 etrated to his inmost soul, and left the citadel of his heart 
 at her mercy. The violence of his sobs abated, and the 
 strong frame was no longer shaken by uncontrollable pas- 
 sion. With her disengaged hand, she removed one of his 
 from his face, and held it in her soft and loving clasp. 
 
 "You are ill, my love, and it makes my heart ache to 
 see you sufi'er so. Drive away that wicked spirit, whose 
 feasts are of blood, and peace and happiness will return. 
 For your own sake, for your mother's, for mine, promise 
 that you will not do it." 
 
 He was now completely vanquished, and the baffled fiend 
 that had rioted in his bosom fled away forever. 
 
 "For your sake, dearest,'''' he whispered, so low that the 
 words were inaudible to any ear but hers, '^for your sake, 
 I will promise anything." 
 
 She clasped her arm more tightly about his neck, and 
 her little fingers closed upon his with fervent gratitude, 
 
TOBIAS WIL SOX. 109 
 
 X 
 
 mingled with triumphant gladness. Her rosy lips were 
 brought very, very close to his ear, and she breathed, 
 rather than spoke : 
 
 "You are the conqueror at last, my own love ; but you 
 must keep my secret for a few days, until the recollection 
 of this trial ceases to be painful. Now, make the promise 
 you have made to me so that your mother can hear it dis- 
 tinctly, and you may yourself name the day which makes 
 me your wife." 
 
 There was alight touch upon his cheek, as if it had been 
 gently brushed by the leaves of a flower; but the blood 
 which tingled through his veins, and danced in joy to his 
 heart, was stirred by something softer than the rose's leaf, 
 and sweeter than the honey of Hybla, or the dew that 
 descended upon the mountains of Zion, 
 
 His eyes were now sparkling with rays as brilliant as 
 those which glitter in the pearly drops upon a grassy lawn 
 when the rain cloud has passed away, and the bright sun 
 comes to gladden creation with his presence. 
 
 "And you will not make me wait that dreary year, to 
 which you had doomed me?" 
 
 "Not an hour beyond the time that you yourself shall 
 name. I am yours, now and for evermore." 
 
 "/am, indeed, the conquer or, ^^ was the joyful response. 
 Then in a louder voice, clear, distinct, and firm, he said : 
 
 "I call Heaven to witness that, although I believe my 
 grandfather to have been foully murdered by those whom 
 the law will not touch, I dismiss all thoughts of personal 
 revenge, and here freely and solemnly promise,' over the 
 dead body of one parent, and in the presence \)f another, 
 that I will not seek to harm them for this cause, or for any 
 other cause, except in just defense of myself or others; 
 leaving their punishment to the law, and to Him who has 
 declared 'Vengeance is mine.'" 
 
 10* 
 
110 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 "Thank God!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilson, leaning heavily 
 for support upon Mr. Rogers. 
 
 "Thank God!" repeated Sophy, burying her face in her 
 hands, where she was still kneeling by the side of her 
 lover. 
 
 "Let us pray," said the minister; and, kneeling on the 
 bare ground, a prayer of mingled thankfulness and suppli- 
 cation went up to the throne of the Most High, as fervent 
 as any which ever ascended from the scaffold or the cross, 
 on which the early Christian welcomed the sentence which 
 sealed his martyrdom for his faith. 
 
 The trial was over. The victory was won; but the vic- 
 tor sank exhausted by the almost superhuman exertions 
 she had been required to make. As long as there was a 
 doubt, while anything remained to be accomplished, she 
 had borne up with more than the fortitude of a martyr; but 
 when it was over, when the danger had passed away, and 
 her lover stood by her side freed from the temptation to 
 sin, her strength failed her, she could not move or speak, 
 but huDg in helpless weakness upon the arm of her father, 
 only saved fi*om falling by the strong support it afforded. 
 Mrs. Wilson approached her in much agitation, saying as 
 she did so : 
 
 "Xobly, my child, nobly have you redeemed your prom- 
 ise to save him; and as sure as there is a just and merciful 
 God in heaven, you will reap a rich reward." 
 
 "Thank you, mother," she replied with difficulty. "But 
 do not speak of it now. 1 am so weary." 
 
 The lovely head was bowed upon her bosom. The gen- 
 tle form drooped lower and lower. "Hold me, Toby 
 dear," she murmured, and then her senses fled. She had 
 fainted. 
 
 They bore her to the house, and laid her gently on a 
 bed. The proper restoratives were applied, and as soon 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. Ill 
 
 as she opened her eyes, the surgeon promptly dismissed all 
 the party from the room except Mrs. Wilson. In half 
 an hour he came out himself, and said cheerfully to the 
 anxious group who were awaiting his report with torturing 
 impatience : 
 
 "All is well. A deep sleep has fallen upon her, and in 
 a few hours she will be as strong as usual. But," he con- 
 tinued, "she cannot bear the fatigue of crossing the mount- 
 ain to-day. She must remain here until to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Rogers was not surprised at this, for he had ex- 
 pected as much, and was too much gratified to learn that 
 nothing worse was to be anticipated from the relaxation of 
 the high tension to which her nerves had been strung, to 
 fret at this trifling annovance. 
 
 Mr. Rogers was a widower, and for several years the 
 care of the household had devolved on his daughter. Of 
 late she had been assisted by Mrs. Wilson, a circumstance 
 which afforded Mr. Rogers no small gratification, as it not 
 only enabled his daughter to devote a part of each day to 
 the cultivation of her intellect, (of which he was even more 
 proud than of her unequaled beauty,) but secured to her, 
 An the person of her friend, an instructress far superior to 
 any whose services could be engaged in that section of the 
 country. In addition to a strong and masculine intellect, 
 Mrs. Wilson possessed many feminine accomplishments. 
 Her husband, in his lifetime, was proud of her attainments 
 and fond of showing her off to his friends and even to 
 strangers. 
 
 He had been reared in the lap of plenty, and surrounded 
 his young wife with books, music, paintings, implements of 
 art with which she herself made experiments, .with every- 
 thing in short that a taste like hers, at once refined and 
 intellectual, could desire or suggest. His own habits were 
 extravagant, and the consequence was that pecuniary em- 
 
112 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 barrassment soon followed. He knew nothing of business, 
 and resorted to all the shifts that such men usually grasp 
 at, and which usually end in ruin. He committed the 
 folly, also, of concealing his real situation from his wife, 
 and she went on squandering suras upon intellectual and 
 social enjoyments, which, judiciously husbanded, would 
 have relieved him of many embarrassments ; while he was 
 beset by duns from day to day. At length a time arrived 
 when concealment was no longer possible, and she waked 
 from a dream of wealth to find herself but little better 
 than a pauper. Instead of indulging in reproaches or re- 
 grets, she wrote at once to her father, soliciting his pres- 
 ence and assistance. One glance into the affairs of his 
 son-in-law satisfied Mr. Johnson that he was hopelessly 
 insolvent. That son-in-law had never had the courage to 
 go over his own accounts. He had attempted it several 
 times, but each time became discouraged and gave it up. 
 Mr. Johnson took hold of the business with the resolution 
 of a man determined to know the worst. The accounts 
 were audited, those which were fair and honest were 
 marked for settlement, and those which were exorbitant or 
 dishonest, rejected. Everything was then disposed of at 
 public sale, except a portion of the household furniture, 
 books, music, implements for drawing and painting, and 
 certain articles of virtu which Mr. Wilson had collected 
 for his wife. The money thus obtained was promptly ap- 
 plied to the payment of the most necessitous creditors, and 
 Mr. Johnson removed his dausrhter and son-in law to his 
 own house, in an adjoining State. In a few months after- 
 ward Tobias Wilson was born; but the gladness which 
 this event would otherwise have caused, was overshadowed 
 by apprehensions for his father. Mr. Wilson had never 
 recovered from the stunning effects of his misfortune. His 
 wife had at once accommodated herself to their changed 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 113 
 
 circumstances. But he lost all energy, and gave himself 
 up to despair. From being the gayest and most light- 
 hearted of human beings, he became pensive, gloomy, dis- 
 contented and querulous. His wife alone had power to 
 chase the gloom from his brow, and the peevishness from 
 his heart. Whenever he was out of her presence he be- 
 came disagreeable, if not absolutely rude to every one 
 about him. Mr. Johnson had tried in vain to correct this 
 unmanly fault. Finally he concluded that the best treat- 
 ment would be to let him alone, in the hope that in a year 
 or two the grief which afflicted him would wear itself out, 
 and he might yet become a useful member of society. The 
 good effects of this judicious treatment had just begun to 
 manifest themselves, when a new cause for anxiety arose. 
 His health began to fail, and the physicians pronounced 
 his disease consumption. In six months after the birth of 
 his son, John Tobias Wilson was in his grave. His wife 
 had loved him dearly, and her grief for his loss was deep 
 and sincere. But her father allowed her little time for its 
 indulgence. With the prompt decision of his character, 
 he sold out his own property, never very large, paid off the 
 remainder of the debts of his son-in-law, and settled himself 
 upon a smaller property, where he still had all the comforts 
 and most of the luxuries of life. The education of Tobias 
 Wilson may almost be said to have begun in his cradle. 
 He had no teachers but his grandfather, but he was a com- 
 petent and indefatigable one. And as the boy grew in 
 years, his mother and his grandfather congratulated them- 
 selves upon the high promise of future usefulness which at 
 an early age began to manifest itself in his conduct and 
 deportment. Years went by, and each returning season 
 saw that little family contented and happy. About this 
 time a new and virulent disease broke out in the neighbor- 
 hood. It was called the "black tongue." They had read 
 
114 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 of its ravages in other places and were greatly alarmed, 
 especially on account of the boy, who now constituted the 
 sole link between them and posterity; but they were so 
 situated that they could not fly, and probably would not 
 have done so if they could ; Mr. Johnson saying he had 
 often observed that persons fleeing from the pestilence, 
 after they had once breathed its malaria, were more liable 
 to be stricken down than those who remained. His family 
 was among the last that were visited. But when it did 
 come, it made amends for the delay by added malignity. 
 He was himself "taken down," and hovered long on the 
 confines of life and death. He recovered to find that all 
 the most valuable of his servants had been carried off, and 
 almost the whole of his year's crop was lost for the want 
 of hands to cultivate it. One year's experiment satisfied 
 him that he could not recover his losses, or continue to 
 live in the style to which he was accustomed, if he remained 
 where he was ; and he determined to make a journey to the 
 Southwest, in quest of a new home. When he returned, 
 he announced to his daughter that he had purchased a 
 secluded farm in the mountains of Xorth Alabama. With- 
 out a word of objection she made her arrangements to ac- 
 company him. The few servants who remained were 
 emancipated, and a piece of ground reserved for their 
 support. Everything else was sold, except the bedclothes 
 and such household articles as they could carry with them. 
 The property which Mrs. Wilson had reserved from her 
 husband's estate was carefully packed up and left in the 
 custody of a merchant in the neighboring town. 
 
 "You have no daughter, Maria," he remarked to Mrs. 
 Wilson, "but these things will make a handsome and use- 
 ful present to your son's wife, when he is fortunate enough 
 to get one. To you they will be henceforth useless, as we 
 are not likelv to have a house fit to contain them, nor is it 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 115 
 
 probable that you will have the leisure to amuse yourself 
 with them." 
 
 It was thus that Robert Johnson became a resident of 
 the little valley where he at last met his death at the hands 
 of three blood-thirsty assassins. 
 
 In the double character of assistant and instructress to 
 his favorite child, during the short time she had been under 
 his roof, Mrs. Wilson had become very dear to Mr. Rogers, 
 and as he thought indispensable to his family. He looked 
 to her for advice and assistance in all things that concerned 
 his family affairs. When the inability of his daughter t© 
 return home that day was announced to him, he was de- 
 lighted to know that she would be in the care and company 
 of Mrs. Wilson, and made arrangements for his own return 
 without a thought of uneasiness. It was decided that 
 Parson King should accompany him, — the two young 
 men remaining to finish the day's work of burying the 
 dead, and the doctor to watch over his sweet patient, and 
 to note the symptoms that might develop themselves dur- 
 ing the night in the wounded guerrilla. 
 
 As Mr. Rogers and his companion ascended the steep 
 and rugged sides of the mountain, the body of Jenkins 
 was borne by the strong arms of Thomas Rogers and 
 Tobias Wilson to the gravethey haddug for its reception. 
 But few words were spoken until their work was done. 
 Then Thomas Rogers, leaning on his spade, and plunging 
 at once, without any prefatory remark, into the middle of 
 the subject which occupied the thoughts of both, addressed 
 his companion with evident sympathy and condolence. 
 
 " You had a fearful trial, Tobe, and I pitied .you from 
 my soul. I pitied you the more because I knew how it 
 would end, and I thought what a terrible thing it was to 
 suffer so much, and yet have to 'give in ' at last. But you 
 battled manfully, far better than I thought you could I 
 
116 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 thought she would not be three seconds in getting your 
 promise, whereas you held out so firmly, that even I began 
 to doubt whether she would get it at all. You didn't win, 
 for that was impossible, but you made a glorious fight. I 
 felt proud of you, Tobe, even while crying like a baby over 
 what you suffered. I held up till then, but I couldn't stand 
 it any longer." 
 
 " I thank you, Thomas, sincerely thank you. But, really, 
 I do not believe there is a man in America over whom his 
 friends have less cause to weep than mine have." 
 . "That maybe so now; but it wasn't so an hour ago, 
 when you were shivering and trembling and groaning and 
 sobbing as if somebody had taken a mallet and mashed 
 yo^r heart as flat as a pancake. Good God ! man, I never 
 saw such suffering before, and I hope I may never see it 
 again ; and I could see plainly enough that she wasn't much 
 better off than you were, as hard as she tried to hide it I" 
 
 "I trust in God she may have suffered no more!" said 
 Wilson, a sudden and dreadful apprehension seizing him ; 
 "it would kilt me if anything serious happened to her from 
 this day's work !" 
 
 "No fear of that. Sophy is not a thing of gossamer 
 threads. She is as strong and healthy as she is brave and 
 high-hearted. The worst is over. All she needs now is 
 a good sleep and a little petting by your mother, which she 
 is sure to get. And you seem to have recovered wonder- 
 fully quick from your troubles. What was it she whis- 
 pered to you that made you stop crying and sobbing so 
 suddenly?" 
 
 "Ask her ; or, if you can afford to wait patiently for a 
 day or two, I think she will tell you herself in that time." 
 
 "No, she won't; for I have no idea of giving her a 
 chance. After witnessing the ordeal through which you 
 were compelled to pass, I have not the slightest inclination 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 117 
 
 to subject myself to such a trial. She is my sister, and 
 cannot be my wife ; she cannot therefore torture me as she 
 did you. But I love her enough to make it very hard to 
 say 710 when she tells me to say 'yes.' Enough to enable 
 her to wring the blood from my heart-strings if she should 
 take it into her head to make the experiment. I have seen 
 enough this day to be certain that she will do so if she 
 gets a hint of what I am about to do, No, no, Tobe, you 
 don't catch me putting myself in her way until all is over." 
 
 " Thomas," said Wilson, very seriously, "we have known 
 and loved each other for more than ten years, and that is a 
 lifetime to people as young as we are. In looking back 
 upon the past, your friendship is the one single ray which 
 illumined my solitary boyhood " 
 
 "You forget Sophy's love," interrupted his companion. 
 
 "Xo, I don't. Nor my mother's, nor my grandfather's, 
 nor your father's. But that is not what I mean. I do not 
 mean to say that I have been without love or sympathy, or 
 that I have been unhappy, or even felt my lot a sad one, or 
 my situation irksome. I mean that of young persons of 
 my own age and sex, you are the only friend I ever had. 
 That friendship is the one cherished memory of my boyhood 
 and youth, and it has made you very dear to me. Before 
 long I shall have the right to call you brother as well as 
 friend. Sophy told me to-day that I might myself name 
 the day, and even the hour, for our wedding." 
 
 "Did she ?" again interrupted Rogers; " then she took a 
 most unfair advantage of you, and your promise to her 
 isn't worth a straw. It was bribery and corruption of the 
 rankest kind. That temptation would have lured an angel 
 from the skies. She didn't give you a fair chance, or for 
 that matter, any chance at all, and I hold that you are not 
 bound by the promise you made her. You were not a free 
 
 11 
 
118 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 agent, no more than if you had been under the influence 
 of mesmerism." 
 
 Wilson could not help smiling, as he had often done be- 
 fore, at the enthusiasm of his friend's admiration for his 
 sister, and the frank and guileless manner in which he al- 
 lowed that admiration to appear on all occasions when her 
 name was mentioned. But his thoughts were too serious 
 to admit of the presence of more than a transitory gleam 
 of melancholy humor and pleasantry. 
 
 "I did not promise her alone," said Wilson; "I prom- 
 ised the dead, my mother, and ray God. I cannot break 
 that promise, nor do I wish to do so. A few hours have 
 wrought in me a great change. Your sister is my guardian 
 angel. She has saved me from myself. Xot only the de- 
 mon of revenge, but all other demons, fled away at her 
 bidding, I trust never to return. Oh, Thomas ! if you love 
 me, if you love her, if you care for your own salvation, tell 
 her what you propose to do, and at least listen to what she 
 has to say." 
 
 Thomas Rogers was afi'ected by this appeal more than 
 he chose to acknowledge. He had made up his mind, and, 
 in his own opinion, he had made it up rightly. From that 
 opinion he knew his sister and his father would both dis- 
 sent. He had no wish to argue the point with them. He 
 was satisfied that they could not change his purpose but 
 they could make it very painful for him to adhere to it. 
 By extinguishing, at once and forever, all hope in the mind 
 of Tobias Wilson, he knew that he would secure the si- 
 lence of his future brother-in-law, and thus prevent any 
 imprudent communication or hint from him which would 
 lead his relatives to suspect the dark and deadly deed he 
 meditated, and the plan of which he had already nearly 
 matured. With an affectation of lightness, he replied: 
 
 "I claim the credit of being a prophet, Toby. I told 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 119 
 
 you that you would use the very language you have now 
 employed. I told you that whenever you spoke to Sophy 
 on this subject you would come to regard the object you 
 had most at heart as irredeemably wicked, and that you 
 would call her your guardian angel, for preserving you 
 from doing the very thing you most wished to do. I knew 
 too, though I did not say it, that you would give her credit 
 for being able to control me as she has done you. But it 
 will not do, my friend. If there was another girl in this 
 world just like her, who was not so nearly related to me, I 
 might surrender as you did, — I am sure I should ; but that 
 is not the case, and any discussion between us would only 
 give pain to both, without altering, in the least, my fixed 
 resolution. I beg, therefore, that you will not intimate, in 
 any manner whatever, anything you may know or suspect 
 of my part in any little tragedy which may be enacted in 
 this neighborhood. You will also please to consider this 
 prohibition as extending to my father. I shall conceal 
 what I intend to do from them, both before and after it 
 is done. If they find it out in spite of me, I must take the 
 chances of being able to justify the deed." 
 
 Tobias Wilson did not reply. He knew it would be use- 
 less. His eyes were apparently fixed upon the fresh clods 
 of the newly closed grave before him. But in reality he 
 saw nothing. He was running over in his mind the 
 chances of his friend's success or failure. Then he shud- 
 deringly admitted the disagreeable conviction, that whether 
 he succeeded or failed, he was preparing a bounteous crop 
 of grief for his relatives, and of unutterable woe for him- 
 self. 
 
 Thomas Rogers, too, was lost in thought. He was, how- 
 ever, the first to recover himself. 
 
 "Your promise, Toby, honestly construed, prevents you 
 from assisting me, or any one else, in the accomplishment 
 
120 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 of the object which yesterday you had so much at heart. 
 I would not have you depart from its spirit or its letter by 
 one hair's breadth, and I am certain you would not if I 
 were base enough to ask you. Keep it in its widest sense. 
 Keep it for Sophy's sake ; for it would break her heart to 
 suspect you of being capable of a meanness. But your 
 promise does not bind you to refuse me your assistance if 
 I should get into trouble." 
 
 ^'Certainly not. Nor does it bind me not to defend you 
 if at any time, no matter from what cause, you should need 
 the presence of a friend at your side. Count on me in 
 every such emergency, — you shall not be disappointed !" 
 
 "I thought so, and I thank you. There is one thing 
 more which I must say before this conversation ends. I 
 would not have you to think that I am governed in this 
 matter by a mere spirit of revenge. Mr. Johnson was my 
 father's friend and mine. He had always been more kind 
 to me than any one I ever knew, except my own father. It 
 is my sister's fault, or her good fortune, whichever you 
 please, which prevents his only male descendant from ad- 
 ministering justice upon his murderers. The task is thus, 
 in some sort, rightfully devolved on me, and I have no dis- 
 position to let his blood cry out from the ground in vain. 
 That much is true. It is also true that I am a Union man, 
 as decided and uncompromising as any other within the 
 limits of this broad Republic, at the North or at the South, 
 and being so, I have no disposition to permit a good man to 
 be shot down upon his own premises for no other sin than 
 that of loving his whole country better than a section. So 
 far as these two facts may be supposed to prompt me to 
 revenge, I plead guilty. Yet these alone would not be suf- 
 ficient to induce me to undertake what I have sjvorn to ac- 
 complish or perish. I am persuaded that a great and 
 pressing danger threatens my father and you and me, and 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 121 
 
 the few other Union men in this immediate neighborhood, 
 from the same source. 
 
 " The ice is now broken. The first murder has been com- 
 mitted. If the perpetrators are allowed to escape un- 
 harmed for a few weeks, they will be emboldened to repeat 
 the tragedy. Other actors, too, will appear upon the stage. 
 Arson will follow murder, and it will soon become impos- 
 sible for any Union man to live in these mountains unless 
 he turns traitor and becomes a cut-throat himself. The 
 best and surest defense often consists in striking the first 
 blow ; and I propose to shape my action in accordance with 
 that policy. And now that you understand me fully, let 
 us drop the subject for 'good and all.' Whatever you see, 
 whatever you hear, whatever you suspect, say nothing. 
 Keep my secret. I have seen to-day how you could hold 
 out when your heart was breaking and your frame quiver- 
 ing as if shattered by a thunder-bolt, and, as my sister can- 
 not make you any more promises of marriage, I shall feel 
 tolerably safe if you will only give me your word not to 
 betrav me." 
 
 The pledge was given and accepted, and the two friends 
 returned to the house, where they found Dr. Griffin sitting 
 by the side of the wounded soldier. He said that Sophy 
 had awakened from her sleep much refreshed, and he did 
 not think it probable she would again require his services. 
 His report of Sergeant Miller's case was not so favorable. 
 Fever had supervened, and he had been at times delirious. 
 Amputation might become necessary, though he hoped not. 
 He could tell better in the morning. He added that it 
 would be necessary for some one to sit up with him during 
 the coming night, and, as the young men had not slept at 
 all the preceding one, and had labored hard during the day 
 he proposed to take that duty upon himself. It still wanted 
 something like an hour to sunset, and he calculated that he 
 
 11* 
 
122 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 could get enough sleep by the usual bedtime to enable 
 him to get through with the night's vigil without difficulty. 
 Throwing himself upon the bed, he charged Tobias Wilson 
 not to wake him for supper, but to wait until nine o'clock, 
 adding a strict injunction that his cofifee, in the mean time, 
 should be kept well heated. 
 
 By the time the various little things requiring attention 
 about the farm was looked after, the sun went down. 
 Cheerful fires were lighted. Mrs. Wilson undertook to 
 prepare a little tea and toast for Sophy Rogers and herself; 
 and Tobias, who was no mean cook, employed himself in 
 getting a more substantial supper for his masculine guests. 
 At the appointed hour the doctor was roused from his 
 "nap," and drank his coffee with a high degree of satisfac- 
 tion. His patient had slept heavily, but it was that dull, 
 leaden sleep which brings no refreshment. The doctor pro- 
 nounced him worse, but after administering a dose of med- 
 icine he sent the young men to their beds, saying that he 
 would call them daring the night if he needed assistance. 
 
 What visions thronged about the pillow of Tobias Wil- 
 son that night, when for the first time the woman to whose 
 keeping he had surrendered his very soul slumbered beneath 
 his roof-tree ! Did the spirit of evil flap his somber wings 
 above his head, and take a malignant pleasure in calling up 
 phantom shapes to torture the helpless sleeper, and darken 
 the love, whose birth-place was a purer orb than this ? Or 
 did the good genii, who had leaned in breathless anxiety 
 from the battlements of heaven to watch the stern and 
 bitter contest of that young and inexperienced heart with 
 the powers of darkness, did ihej gather around his couch 
 to color his dreams with anticipated happiness, and sweeten 
 his slumbers with a foretaste of the raptures Jie had so 
 nobly earned ? Alone and unaided, save by the prayers of 
 one gentle and tender girl, he had won that mightiest of 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 123 
 
 victories — a victory over himself. A strong human heart, 
 strong in its original sinfulness, and rendered doubly strong 
 by the natural promptings of filial affection, and the mis- 
 taken conception of filial duty, had been vanquished in fair 
 fight by a mere youth, whose only stay and support was the 
 good seed sown in early life, and the hallowing presence of 
 her upon-whom all the wealth of his affections had been 
 lavished, and who divided with his God the worship of his 
 soul. Was it sin thus to place an earthly idol on an altar 
 dedicated to the Most High, and mingle veneration of the 
 Creator with adoration of the creature"^ Oh! no. Re- 
 ligion itself is born of love ! Implicit obedience to the 
 law was too hard an ordeal for human nature to pass 
 through, and therefore a merciful Redeemer substituted 
 love for himself and the Father, instead of obedience, as a 
 condition of salvation. No matter what may be the crime 
 which bars the soul from Paradise, that love is an all-suf- 
 ficing atonement. Then why should not its virtues be in- 
 creased rather than diminished, when it encircles alike in 
 its warm embrace the brilliancy of the Godhead and the 
 gentle and tender glories which He himself has imparted 
 to the purest and the loveliest of his creations ? Yet why 
 should we trouble ourselves with questions whose solution 
 belongs not to us? Why speculate upon what we can 
 never know with certainty until the Supreme Ruler of the 
 universe has taken his seat upon the judgment throne, and 
 the great book is opened, and the law expounded for eter- 
 nity ? Let us rest contented with the knowledge which is 
 not forbidden, and be assured at all times that it is not in 
 the field of reason but in the instincts of the heart that we 
 must look for a guide to pilot us safely over the dim and 
 shadowy pathway which leads to the unknown Here- 
 after ! 
 
 To his own heart Tobias Wilson put no questions. He 
 
124 T B I A S W I L S X. 
 
 had no doubts to solve, and was troubled with no vain 
 imaginings. Almost as soon as his head touched the pillow, 
 he slumbered soundly. The day's fatigue, added to the loss 
 of sleep the preceding night, acted as a powerful opiate, 
 and for hours his slumbers were undisturbed and dreamless. 
 His first consciousness was that of a rosy light, which 
 seemed to fall in mingled glory and beauty around him. 
 Slowly, but clearly and distinctly, two forms were shaped 
 upon the outer border of the luminous atmosphere in which 
 he seemed to be submerged. It was his mother and Sophy 
 Rogers who stood by his bedside, looking down upon him 
 with unutterable love and joy. That vision faded away, 
 and he saw himself standing in the middle of a small room, 
 with a veiled figure by his side. She wore no wedding 
 garments but the long veil which covered her head and 
 fell in wavy folds over her neck and shoulders. But before 
 him, with an open book in his hand, stood a minister whom 
 he recognized right well, and around him were all those he 
 loved best on earth, while the background was filled up by 
 a group of soldiers leaning on their muskets, and apparently 
 completely absorbed by what was going on before them. 
 This also faded away. He was once more in his own se- 
 cluded home: Sophy Rogers was there arranging his 
 scanty household furniture, but her face was grave and se- 
 rious; and his mother went from one room to the other, 
 with an anxious and troubled look. A shadow was upon 
 his own heart, a vague feeling of impending woe, and this 
 was increased as he saw a horseman coming up the narrow 
 valley at headlong speed. What more his dream might 
 have revealed we cannot tell, for at that moment he was 
 rudely shaken by Dr. GrifBn. 
 
 "Get up I" shouted the doctor; "it is broad daylight. 
 Get up and attend to your business. My patient is doing 
 much better than I expected, and I shall sleep until break- 
 fast." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 125 
 
 The two young men rose and left the house. By the 
 time they returned, the female inmates were also dressed. 
 Meeting them in the passage, Sophy greeted her brother 
 with a sisterly kiss ; but though she only extended her hand 
 to her affianced lover, there was a soft light in her eyes 
 and a rosy tinge on her cheeks which told more eloquently 
 than words how dear he was to that guileless heart, and 
 how gladly she would welcome the hour which bestowed 
 upon her the holy name of wife. 
 
 Breakfast was over. It was decided that Tobias Wilson 
 should accompany the doctor and the ladies to the other 
 side of the mountain, while Thomas Rogers remained to 
 watch over the wounded soldier. 
 
 As soon as they were gone, Rogers took a seat by the 
 bedside, and held a long and earnest conversation with the 
 patient. The two guns carried by Jenkins and the Ser- 
 geant, and which were dropped by them on the night of 
 their discomfiture, had been brought into the house, and, 
 together with their revolvers and accoutrements, thrown 
 carelessly in a corner of the room. During the conversa- 
 tion, Rogers rose and brought one of them to the bed. It 
 was a Spencer rifle. He had never seen one of them be- 
 fore; but its merits, and the manner of using it, were soon 
 explained. There were some fifty cartridges already made, 
 but this did not satisfy him, and he inquired somewhat 
 anxiously for the moulds. 
 
 "In my haversack," was the reply. ''We picked up 
 these guns upon the battle-field of Perryville. We got 
 some four or five moulds with them, and a large amount of 
 cartridges. I kept a pair of moulds and Simmons kept an- 
 other, though we thought we had ammunition enough to 
 last us for a year. Simmons's is at the house where we 
 buried him, and also his gun and a wallet of cartridges. 
 Mine is in my haversack there, for I always carried it with 
 
126 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 me. As soon as I am able to ride, I will get Simmons's gun 
 and moulds and cartridges from the place where they are 
 hid." 
 
 "It will be better to do so on many accounts," replied 
 Rogers. "Though with one pair of moulds lean make 
 cartridges enough to last a company for the war." 
 
 The gun was replaced, and Rogers again seated himself 
 by Sergeant Miller. It was evident that a good under- 
 standing had grown up between them, and Rogers soon 
 learned all he wished to know of the habits of Capt. 
 Joshua Wilkins, Confederate States Conscript Bureau. 
 Although he was one of the conscript guard, Miller knew 
 Tery little of Parson Williams or Jim Biles. He had seen 
 Parson Williams once at Wilkins's house, and might have 
 seen Biles, but he did not know him, and could not say 
 they had ever met. He communicated to Rogers the fur- 
 ther information that Wilkins was making arrangements to 
 move on the south side of the river, and had given orders 
 for all of his guard, who were scattered over the country 
 in pursuit of recruits for Jeff. Davis's army and plunder 
 for themselves, to report at his house in ten days' time. 
 
 "Ah!" muttered Rogers. "Then I have no time to 
 lose!" 
 
 Addressing the wounded man, he said, slowly and em- 
 phatically, watching at the same time with keen interest 
 the expression of his countenance : 
 
 "You tell me. Sergeant Miller, that your father is a 
 strong Union man, and that you yourself were dragged 
 frojp an honest and respectable home, and forced to become 
 a robber, in order to save those you loved from poverty and 
 want. You surely cannot feel any great attachment to the 
 usurping government which has brought you to this." 
 
 "Attached to the Confederacy ! Good God ! what have 
 I to thank it for ? I've fouglit for it as I've seen thousands 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 127 
 
 of others do, not because I wanted to, but because I was in 
 the ranks, and didn't like to be whipped. Many and many 
 is the time I would have run away rather than fire a gun, 
 but I was afraid they would say I ran from cowardice ; and 
 then there was the plundering privileges to reconcile me to 
 the service. But still, I never loved it, and I hate a con- 
 script officer as I do the horns of the Devil !" 
 
 " Will you keep of this mind, sergeant, when your wounds 
 are healed ?" 
 
 "To be sure I shall ! I wish to God I had never seen a 
 Confederate flag. I should have been poor, but contented 
 and honest. I would not have been afraid to look my 
 father in the face, for fear he would see signs of thieving 
 there. If I ever willingly look on it again, it will be when 
 I am standing face to face with those who are carrying it, 
 with a good rifle in my hands and a Bowie knife in my 
 belt!" 
 
 "If such are your feelings, I think we shall be good 
 friends hereafter, and it may be, have work to do together. 
 When you are able to ride, I will tell you more. By-the- 
 way, your horse only ran a short distance after you fell. 
 We found him the next morning in the field : your saddle 
 and everything about him was uninjured. He is now in 
 the stable." 
 
 "And my saddle, where is it ?" 
 
 "Hanging up in the passage. You told us there was 
 money quilted in it, and we brought it to the house. 
 
 "There is something more than money. Please bring it 
 here, and put it under my head. It has been my pillow 
 many a night, and I shall rest easier upon it than upon 
 these feathers." 
 
 Tobias Wilson rode slowly enough until they reached 
 the place of separation, for he was by the side of her who 
 was the world to him, and listening to that voice in which 
 
128 TOBIAS WILSOX. 
 
 all the music of earth was gathered. But no word was 
 spoken of that which was nearest to the hearts of both. 
 She seemed to dread any allusion to the events of the past 
 day, and kept so close to his mother and Dr. Griffin that 
 he could find no opportunity for alluding to them. When 
 they reached the bench of the mountain which had been 
 designated as the place of separation, she held out her hand 
 to him, and said with an effort at gayety : 
 
 " Good-by, Toby. Do not come to see me to-morrow. 
 I shall not be strong enough to talk to you. And besides, 
 I wish to have a long, long chat with our mother." 
 
 Our mother! There was a balm in those two words 
 which almost healed the wound her first sentence had in- 
 flicted. He seized her hand in his, pressed it twice to his 
 lips, murmured " Good-by," and without a word to his 
 mother or Dr. Griffin, wheeled his horse and rode madly 
 up the steep mountain side. 
 
CHAPTER yil. 
 
 Tobias Wilson returned to his own dwelling in some 
 perplexity as to what disposition should be made of his 
 prisoner. He could not be removed in his present condi- 
 tion, nor was it certain that any of his secession friends 
 would take him in, provide for his wants, and secure pro- 
 per medical attendance. Yet Tobias felt a repugnance to 
 sheltering in his house one whom he believed to be a law- 
 less bandit, as unprincipled as he was dangerous. He 
 thought of riding down to Paint Rock Station, and report- 
 ing the facts to the U. S. officer who was superintending 
 the erection of a bridge over the river of that name. 
 When he mentioned the subject to his friend, he was 
 surprised to hear him declare warmly, that Sergeant Miller 
 was not half so bad as Tobias thought him. That he had 
 been forced against his will into bad company, and though 
 he had certainly been contaminated by the examples about 
 him, he was, nevertheless, honest and true at heart, and 
 there were strong reasons to believe that if he ever re- 
 covered, he would yet serve the Union faithfully and effi- 
 'ciently. Tobias had no doubt of Sergeant Miller's ability 
 to render excellent service to the good cause, but he did 
 doubt his willingness to abandon the rebel cause. He 
 thought that with returning health, his evil propensities 
 would also return. He waS satisfied that the only safe 
 course was to surrender him to the United States troops, 
 and thus place him in a situation where he could not, at 
 
 12 (129) 
 
130 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 least until regularly exchanged, again associate himself 
 with the lawless bands under Wlieeler's command. Thomas 
 Rogers assented to the propriety of reporting the facts to 
 the nearest Union commander, but vehemently protested 
 against the bad opinion his friend entertained and ex- 
 pressed of the sergeant. In conclusion, he said : 
 
 " He will turn out all right, and you'll see it. To-mor- 
 row I will ride down myself and make a report to Colonel 
 
 . You can stay at home and get some of the grass 
 
 out of your crop. It has been neglected enough of late to 
 need it. I will be back to-morrow evening, and will stay 
 with you a week or so to help you. Father does not need 
 me at home, and I have no particular desire to have his 
 eyes, and those of your mother and Sophy, all three watch- 
 ing my movements or reading my thoughts in this tell-tale 
 face." 
 
 In accordance with this suggestion, Thomas Kogers the 
 
 next day paid a visit to the quarters of Colonel . 
 
 Tobias noticed, but without making any remark, or indeed 
 entertaining any suspicion of the cause at the time, that 
 his friend had put on the accoutrements of Jenkins, and 
 carried one of the Spencer rifles, instead of his own. That 
 evening Thomas Rogers returned, as he had promised ; 
 bringing with him a paper which exempted Sergeant James 
 Miller from arrest or capture ; and another, reciting that 
 Thomas Rogers, Jr., was a loyal citizen of the United 
 States; engaged in its service; and as such entitled to the 
 protection and assistance of Union soldiers whenever it was' 
 demanded. Tobias thought he was uneasy about some- 
 thing. His manner was hurried ; and once or twice he 
 stopped in the middle of a sentence, as if his mind was oc- 
 cupied by more engrossing thoughts. These things did 
 not pass unobserved ; but as he was sure full confidence 
 would be reposed in him at last, he did not attempt to ex- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 131 
 
 tract it by questions, which he was convinced would now 
 be disagreeable. 
 
 Placing an opiate by the side of Miller, where he could 
 easily reach it if needed during the night, and bidding him 
 call them if he required assistance, the young men retired 
 early to rest. In a few days they had gone through much 
 that was calculated to weary the mind and exhaust the 
 body; but there is a vitality in youth and health, a recu- 
 perative power, which we never realize until years have 
 come to shake the system with its enervating grasp, and 
 make us wonder why it is we cannot bear up under fatigues 
 from which in earlier life we would have deemed it un- 
 manly to shrink. The wearing away of the mind is slower. 
 It will bear up under harder tasks and a more prolonged 
 exertion. But both mind and body will give out at last, 
 and each succeeding tax upon their powers lessens the 
 ability to recover their original tone and strength. Tobias 
 Wilson and Thomas Rogers were upon the very threshold 
 of life. Fatigue and exertion only brought to them a 
 sweeter sleep when the day was gone, and night spread its 
 mantle over the earth. There was no restless tossing on 
 the bed, no turning of the pillow heated by a fevered cheek. 
 Still and calm and stirless they lay clasped in the arms of 
 Morpheus, unconscious of the toils and cares of life, its 
 griefs, its promises, or its hopes. There were many things 
 which weighed upon the thoughts of both, — alike in ab- 
 sorbing interest, though widely differing in character, — yet 
 both were wrapped in a deep and moveless slumber, until 
 the shrill voice of the barn-yard chanticleer proclaimed the 
 coming of the day king, with his fears and anxieties, his 
 joys and his duties in his train. 
 
 Sergeant Miller had also slept soundly and well. The 
 fever had left him, his appetite had returned; and when 
 Tobias Wilson set out on his tacitly promised visit to his 
 
132 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 mother and his affianced wife, he was able to carry to Dr. 
 Griffin the assurance that his patient was in a much better 
 state than could have been expected, and promised soon to 
 be able to dispense with his visits. 
 
 "We must not jump to conclusions too hastily," replied 
 the doctor. "To-morrow there may be a change for the 
 worse. I will come over in the evening, and remain all 
 night. Make your preparations accordingly ; and be good 
 enough to remember that I have an excellent appetite, and 
 that I am fond of being made comfortable generally, which, 
 by-the-way, I am never sure of when there is no woman to 
 overlook things about the house." 
 
 Tobias was warmly greeted by his mother and Mr. 
 Rogers. By Sophy he was welcomed with a smile so win- 
 ning that he felt himself repaid a hundredfold for the brief 
 banishment she had imposed upon him. Mr. Rogers did 
 not remain long in the house; and Mrs. Wilson, who had 
 not forgotten her own days of youth and love, conveniently 
 remembered something she had promised to look after in 
 the garden, and, taking down her sun-bonnet from the place 
 where it was hanging, walked out, and left them alone. 
 One hour before, Tobias AVilson would have given a world 
 for the blessed privilege of pouring out the deep flood of 
 his feelings, unchecked by other eyes or ears, before her who 
 was 
 
 "The ocean to the river of his thoughts." 
 
 But that opportunity came so soon, it was so unexpected, 
 and it seemed so strange that it should thus have offered 
 itself without maneuvering or effort on his part, that he 
 was completely overpowered. Then his embarrassment was 
 increased by the very consciousness of its existence, until it 
 deepened into a feeling very nearly akin to fear. His tongue 
 clove to the roof of his mouth. He could not have spoken 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 133 
 
 a word if his life had depended upon it. Ashamed of his 
 weakness, and dreading that she might discover it, he made 
 a desperate effort — drew his chair nearer, and took her unre- 
 sisting hand in his. Sophy had not once looked toward 
 him since Mrs. Wilson left the room ; she did not now raise 
 her eyes from the silk apron on which they seemed to rest, 
 but she knew what was going on in his bosom, and felt so 
 much for the embarrassment from which he was suffering 
 that she tried herself to break the painful yet blissfal si- 
 lence. The effort was in v.ain ; the syllables failed to shape 
 themselves into words, and died away in inarticulate mur- 
 murs upon her lips. That, however, was enough to break 
 the spell which tied her lover's tongue. Trie deep love that 
 had become the essence of his life, and whose free expres- 
 sion had been so long restrained by the injunctions of his 
 mistress, now found a voice, and with the rich eloquence 
 which always flows from lips sincerely earnest, he painted 
 the first buddings of that tender passion which glided 
 gently, with timid loveliness, into his heart, and made it a 
 resting-place forever. He described how it grew and flour- 
 ished amid doubts, and fears, and anxieties, with now and 
 then a ray of gladness, when a soft word or a tender look 
 excited hopes that he did not love in vain. Then came the 
 stormy struggle which followed the conviction that his love 
 must be spoken, or the torturing suspense of the heart would 
 sting the brain to madness. He told with what humble self- 
 distrust his confession had been made; meekly, and with 
 unfeigned lowliness of mind, he acknowledged how daring 
 were his aspirations, and confessed how poor and mean he 
 felt while kneeling before a shrine at which the winged 
 cherubim might have joyed to worship. In a firmer tone, 
 but still with a voice in which timidity was mingled with 
 exultation, he proclaimed how he had been lifted from earth 
 and translated to the seventh heaven, when the secret of 
 
 12* 
 
134 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 her heart was wrung from her lips, and with tears and 
 blushes she confessed that his love was returned, and his 
 presumptuous dream was a crowned reality. Again his 
 voice changed, and his speech became hesitating and tremu- 
 lous, as, with guileless unreserve, he told how his heart had 
 yearned for one soft pressure from the lips which had just 
 made him the happiest of created things. And yet he dared 
 not ask a privilege which seemed to him too great for mortal 
 enjoyment. 
 
 "I have read somewhere," he added, "though I do not 
 believe it, that every cloud has a silver lining; that, no 
 matter how black and thunderous it may appear, there is 
 always a ray of light to relieve it of a portion of its gloom, 
 and satisfy the beholder that all is not darkness within. 
 The reverse of the picture is more likely to be true. We 
 see more frequently the tear follow the smile, than the 
 smile succeeding to the tear. The silver lining of the cloud 
 is not always visible, and sorrow often visits us without an 
 antidote for the poison it infuses into the heart. On the 
 other hand, joy never makes its appearance unless accom- 
 panied by some dark shadow to sadden the sunshine it can- 
 not altogether destroy. Even so was it with the rosy beams 
 which fell around me in showers of radiance when those 
 lips confessed that I had won the priceless treasure of your 
 love. In that blessed hour, at the very moment when the 
 feelings which were swelling in my bosom would not have 
 been exchanged for the raptures of heaven, suddenly and 
 unexpectedly came the shadow and the night. I was loved. 
 I knew it ; I saw it ; I felt it. I was loved, and of that 
 consciousness I could not be deprived until the soul, as well 
 as the body, had undergone the sentence of annihilation. 
 But with that consciousness came the bitter injunction that 
 I should cease to worship, or, at least, that I should wor- 
 ship in silence and afar ofif, when ray soul was yearning to 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 135 
 
 pour forth its burning tale at the feet of the object of its 
 idolatry." 
 
 Sophy Rogers had listened to her lover's rhapsody with 
 an interest whose intense delight was akin to pain. It was 
 a delight too pure for gratified vanity, too sacred for the 
 presence of a selfish thought. Occasionally she raised 
 her eyes to his; for a moment they would meet his gaze, 
 into which was thrown a pathos and a pleading eloquence 
 that words cannot describe ; then they would sink again, 
 while a warmer flush tinged her cheek, and her little hand 
 could just be felt to tremble in the strong grasp that held 
 it. At other times the long silken lashes would droop un- 
 til they were closed as if in slumber. In every change of 
 feature he could read her thoughts as plainly as if they had 
 been written upon a scroll illuminated from above. She 
 believed all, hoped all, trusted all. He saw it, and his soul 
 was drunk with happiness. If love like hers could be re- 
 paid with answering love, oh 1 how lavishly was the price 
 thrown at her feet ! In his opinion the incarnation of the 
 poet's dream would have been cold and lifeless when placed 
 by the side of a beauty which was all his own. Imagina- 
 tion was powerless to draw a picture which would rival the 
 reality. Even the words, whose strong spirit of devotion 
 had impressed them on his memory, now seemed tame and 
 lifeless, as he inwardly repeated the lines : 
 
 "Her soul's a spotless pearl — 
 And wlien she throws her shining hair 
 Back from her brow of light, 
 There's nothing, nothing half so fair. 
 So clearly, purely white. 
 And then her breath, the warm south wind, 
 Long nestling in the rose, 
 May somewhat image to your mind, 
 Its sweetness as it flows. 
 
133 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 The nectar of that sinless lip — ■ 
 The incense of that breath, 
 E'en were it poison I could sip, 
 And joy in drinking death." 
 
 There was a brief silence when he ceased to speak, the 
 silence of unalloyed happiness. It was broken by her : 
 
 "And did you believe, dear Toby, that injunction cost me 
 no pain ? Oh ! it was a bitter, bitter trial, but it was a duty ; 
 and if our duties were always pleasant, there would be small 
 merit in their performance." 
 
 " You were right, dearest, and I was very wrong to mur- 
 mur. Pardon the error, for it sprung from love for you ; 
 a love too blind and headstrong to heed the voice of 
 reason." 
 
 "N'ot so, Toby, That is not the love I have hugged to 
 my heart of hearts with a fervor equal to your own. My 
 love is based on reason. From that fountain comes the 
 invigorating draught which gives to it a deathless ex- 
 istence." 
 
 "I am rebuked, justly rebuked," he replied ; "and yet if 
 I had consulted reason I should never have sought to win 
 your love. There is so wide a gulf between us. You are 
 so pure and sinless ; standing upon a pinnacle so high above 
 me, that if I had stopped to reason I should have turned 
 coward, and lost all." 
 
 " You will spoil me, Toby, if you flatter so. If such 
 thoughts come into your mind, keep them to yourself. I 
 fear they are already too sweet, and, coming from your lips, 
 I am too willing to listen to them. If I hear them much 
 oftener, they may breed other thoughts which are surely 
 sinful." 
 
 Thus the innocent girl, with gentle modesty, sought to 
 turn the conversation from herself, and, leading the way to 
 other themes, endeavored to direct her lover from compli- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 137 
 
 ments which she deemed extravagant, and language which 
 made her little heart beat quicker with pleasure, even while 
 she feared it would foster the sins of pride and self-right- 
 eousness. 
 
 But his thoughts were too full of that one subject; the 
 temptation to dwell upon the story of his love, after the 
 long prohibition which had sealed his lips, was too great to 
 be overcome by a reproof so mild ; and several times in the 
 few minutes which succeeded, the fault was repeated, and 
 each time the rebuke which followed was less positive and 
 decided. There was still one subject upon which they had 
 not touched. It had doubtless occurred to the minds of 
 both more than once during their conversation. To her it 
 was prohibited by maidenly reserve, and he shrank from it 
 with that inconsistent timidity which so often, in every-day 
 life, makes us hesitate to speak the wish that is nearest to 
 our hearts, and dread the utterance of a request we would 
 not fail to prefer for all the rubies of earth. It was not 
 without a strong mental effort that Tobias Wilson at last 
 abruptly "broke the ice;" 
 
 "You promised, Sophy, to become my wife whenever I 
 should ask it, and that blessed promise- has been to me a joy 
 no tongue can express. I give up my right to name the 
 day, and wait to hear it from your lips. If you love me, 
 dearest, as I love you, let the time be brief." 
 
 "I will not pretend," she replied, "that I did not expect 
 this proposal to-day. I expected you to make it the first 
 opportunity you had of doing so, and in truth I should 
 have felt hurt if you had thought so little of my promise 
 as not to have recalled it. I have therefore thought it 
 over, with all its consequences, as calmly as I could ; and in 
 spite of my earnest wish to think otherwise, I cannot help 
 feeling that our marriage now would be imprudent. Will 
 you not agree," she continued, laying her hand upon his 
 
138 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 arm ^and looking up with a pleading look into his face, 
 where she could plainly see that a cloud was gathering, 
 "will you not consent to postpone it until happier times 
 shall come to bless this distracted and divided land ?" 
 
 "IS'o ! — no ! — a thousand times no. You surely do not 
 mean to break the pledge you freely gave !" 
 
 Her eyes fell, and a shade of sadness settled on her face. 
 Her tone was reproachful, but her voice ^rm and steady, as 
 she replied : 
 
 "Did you ever know me, Tobias Wilson, to break a 
 promise once given, or to seek to evade it by indirection? 
 What have you ever seen in me to justify the cruel suspi- 
 cion you have just allowed yourself to express ? I did 
 make that promise freely, as you have said, and it shall be 
 redeemed this hour if you demand it." 
 
 Humbled and abased he threw himself at her feet. 
 
 "Pardon me ! Pardon me ! if I have said anvthino: to 
 wound you. I would not bring a shadow upon that brow 
 for all the stars that glitter in the dome of heaven. Xor 
 am I base enough to forget that your promise was given to 
 save my soul from perdition, and that it would be ihe act 
 of a wicked and ungrateful coward to hold you to it. You 
 are absolved from it fully and entirely. Decide this matter 
 according to the dictates of your own heart. I do not 
 even ask you to remember the impatience of mine." 
 
 "jS"ot so, Toby. I will not take advantage of your 
 generosity. My father and your mother shall decide for 
 us." 
 
 She extended her hand as she spoke ; he clasped it in his, 
 raised it to his lips, and, still holding it, led her into the 
 garden where Mrs. Wilson was seemingly engaged in "put- 
 ting to rights" plants and shrubs that an indifferent specta- 
 tor would have supposed required no attention. 
 
 The object of their coming was soon explained. Mrs. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 139 
 
 Wilson called them her dear, good children, blessed them 
 fervently, and promised to decide with an eye single to 
 their happiness. But she would give no opinion until the 
 return of Mr. Rogers, who was not looked for until night- 
 fall. It was arranged that Tobias should remain to dinner 
 and then return home. In a few days he was told that he 
 might ride over and hear the decision. Sophy noticed the 
 dissatisfied expression of his countenance when his mother 
 repeated the words, in a few days. He had calculated 
 upon an answer the next day at furthest. Bat he said no- 
 thing, and Sophy's faint smile was the only commentary 
 upon his evident impatience. 
 
 The mid-day meal was nearly concluded when Mr. 
 Rogers rode up to his gate. His daughter met him at the 
 door. 
 
 ''Welcome, father! But we did not expect you so 
 soon I" 
 
 "Xo; nor did I expect to return before night. But 
 the gentleman I went to see had been summoned on a cor- 
 oner's jury, and I only remained long enough to hear the 
 
 news." 
 
 "A coroner's jury !" repeated Mrs. Wilson. "Who is 
 dead ?" 
 
 "Joshua Wilkins, the conscript officer for this district, 
 was shot in the road yesterday within a mile of his house. 
 He was a bad man, engaged in a bad cause, a relentless 
 executor of a merciless law, and few will mourn his death, 
 though many will pity his family," 
 
 "Who shot him, and what was it for?" asked Mrs. Wil- 
 son and Sophy, speaking eagerly and at once. 
 
 "As to what it was for, he has given cause enough to 
 many a father in this county to take away his life. Who 
 did shoot him is a mystery. No traces were discovered of 
 his slayer. It is said, however, that the ball that killed 
 
140 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 him must have come from a soldier's gun, as no rifle in this 
 country would inflict such a wound." 
 
 A flood of light flashed upon Tobias Wilson. He re- 
 membered that, on the day before, Thomas Rogers, when 
 
 starting to visit Colonel , had carried a Spencer rifle. 
 
 He knew that by making a circuit of something more than 
 two miles, he could have passed not far from the house of 
 Wilkins. He recollected that the horse had the appear- 
 ance of having been ridden hard on its return, and that 
 Thomas himself seemed hurried and disturbed, and the 
 conviction was forced upon him that that deed of blood lay 
 at the door of his friend. He was now very anxious to 
 return home, and only awaited the conclusion of Mr. Ro- 
 gers's meal to do so. He sought an opportunity to whis- 
 per to Sophy: "I shall be back the day after to-morrow. 
 Don't let them keep me in suspense any longer than that." 
 Then mounting his horse, he rode as rapidly as the ground . 
 would permit to his own house. 
 
 He found Thomas Rogers sitting by the side of Sergeant 
 Miller, in whom he appeared to take an interest for which 
 Tobias Wilson could not account. 
 
 ''Welcome home, Toby. I have worked a little in your 
 crop to-day, though not a great deal. In truth, it does 
 not need work as much as I thought when I told father I 
 would remain here for awhile and help you." 
 
 Tobias returned his greeting, thanked him for what he 
 had done, and added that the greater part of the crop 
 would need no further work. The little that remained 
 he could easily get through without assistance. 
 
 "But I must have an excuse for remaining here," an- 
 swered Rogers, "and that is the best one I can find. So I 
 shall even go out into the field and plow a few furrows oc- 
 casionally, in order that I may say with truth that I am 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 141 
 
 helping you. Did you gather any news while you were 
 gone ?" 
 
 "Yesl I heard that Joshua Wilkins had been shot by 
 some unknown person, and they were to-day holding a 
 coroner's inquest over the body." 
 
 "A coroner's inquest! I thought that thing had been 
 'played out' in this latitude." Then he added bitterly, 
 " Oh ! I forgot that he was a conscript officer. If it had 
 been you or me, they would have buried us like a dog, 
 without troubling themselves to inquire who did the deed. 
 It is a blessed thing to be a loyal citizen of the great and 
 glorious Confederacy. What say you, sergeant." 
 
 "I can't say as I think so, sir: — unless it's a feller who's 
 bound to go to hell any way. If he's young enough for a 
 soldier, there's no telling what temptations to wickedness 
 will be thrown in his way. If he's too old for that, they 
 are certain to make him a hater and reviler and persecutor 
 of his neighbor who don't happen to think exactly as he 
 does. Now, there's Capt. Wilkins, who is said to have once 
 been a good neighbor and a clever man, and yet he's brought 
 tears enough into helpless eyes in the last two years to 
 make a good sized-creek." 
 
 "He will never cause any more to flow," said Wilson, 
 rising. "God forgive him the evil he has done." 
 
 The two friends went out to attend to the usual duties 
 about the farm. When they returned, an ample supply of 
 fuel was provided for the night's consumption, and a cheer- 
 ful fire was soon blazing in both rooms of the cabin. Draw- 
 ing his friend into the apartment where their conversation 
 could not be overheard by Miller, Tobias entered upon the 
 subject which, during the whole evening, had occupied the 
 first place in his thoughts. 
 
 "I do not want your confidence, Thomas. Indeed, if 
 what I suspect is true, I can serve you much better by re- 
 
 
142 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 maining in ignorance of what you may have to tell. I can 
 see dangers thickening around you, and it is of that I wish 
 to speak. I am no soldier, but it is plain enough to me 
 that in a few weeks the Union troops will be withdrawn 
 from this vicinity to fight battles at Chattanooga. When 
 that is done, you cannot doubt that there will be a rigid 
 examination into the facts and circumstances connected 
 with Joshua Wilkins's death. If you are once suspected, 
 your fate is sealed ; for they will require little proof to jus- 
 tify, in their opinion, the most rigorous measures against 
 one who is known to entertain such decided Union senti- 
 ments. Have you thought of this, and adopted any plan 
 for future security ?" 
 
 "I have thought of it, certainly; but I have adopted no 
 plan. First, because a great deal depends on circumstances 
 hereafter to happen ; and secondly, there is no need to be 
 in a hurry. If the Union troops remain in this neighbor- 
 hood for two weeks, and Colonel gave it as his 
 
 opinion that they would be here four weeks at least, I 
 shall have time enough." 
 
 There was a pause of several minutes. At length Rogers 
 asked : 
 
 '' Did you not tell me that your grandfather, just before 
 his death, contemplated raising a company of Union men 
 for mutual defense, and that you had together sought and 
 found a safe place for the concealment of arms and ammu- 
 nition?" 
 
 ''I did. I will show it to you to-morrow." 
 
 "It must be early, then. I must ride a good distance 
 to-morrow. When are you and Sophy to be married?" 
 
 "I do- not know. Your father and my mother are to 
 settle it. I go over the day after to-morrow to receive my 
 answer." 
 
 "I hope there will be no delay. When you are married, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 143 
 
 you can take my place at home, and I will remain here to 
 
 look after your affairs, until the dawning of a better day 
 
 enables us to live in peace and security." 
 
 Whatever Wilson may have thought of this arrangement, 
 
 he made no remark upon it. Reverting to the previous 
 
 declaration of Rogers, that he had a long distance to ride 
 
 on the next day, he inquired what it meant. 
 "I am sioincr to Joshua Wilkins's funeral." 
 "You !"' exclaimed Wilson in astonishment. "Are you 
 
 mad ? It is the worst secession nest in America. A band 
 
 of conscript guards or guerrillas will no doubt be there. 
 
 The best you can expect is to be conscripted, and taken 
 
 off south of the Tennessee River." 
 
 "I shall not go alone. It is not yet eight o'clock. In 
 
 an hour from this time the few citizens on the road to Col- 
 onel *s quarters will be asleep. By hard riding I can 
 
 go there and return by one o'clock or before. I will ar- 
 range with him to send a company of cavalry to capture 
 the funeral party, and I will cross the mountain by Jim 
 Biles's house in time to have a hand in the skirmish, if there 
 should be one. Parson Williams will be there, for there is 
 no other Baptist minister living near enough to preach the 
 funeral sermon. Jim Biles will also certainly be there. 
 We may catch them both, and if we do, the proofs-we can 
 brins: against them will not be treated as lightly by a Fed- 
 era! officer as by a Confederate jury." 
 
 Within the hour designated, Thomas Rogers was in the 
 saddle, riding away from his friend's house; and Tobias 
 Wilson went to bed with a lighter heart than he had ex- 
 pected would that night beat in his bosom. He thought 
 he saw a fair prospect that the murderers of his grandfather 
 would-speedily be brought to justice, and his friend would 
 thus be saved from imbruing his hands in more blood than 
 he was persuaded already stained them. The feeling of 
 
144 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 satisfaction which was diffused through his mind, had its 
 effect upon the body also, and he sank into a deep and 
 moveless sleep, which lasted until the return of Kogers, long 
 after midni2:ht. 
 
 Thomas Rogers exhibited no evidence of fatigue from 
 his night's ride. He was quickly undressed, and merely re- 
 marking that everything had been arranged to his satis- 
 faction, threw himself upon the bed and slept until day- 
 break. • 
 
 The reader may as well be told at once that he had not 
 dealt quite candidly with his friend. He had told him no- 
 thing that was not literally true, — he only concealed the 
 fact that he was resolved Parson Williams should never be 
 taken alive while he was by, with a rifle in his hand. He 
 cared very little how Biles met his death, so he did meet 
 it; but the parson he regarded as his own especial prop- 
 erty, and could not bring himself to look upon his punifeh- 
 ment by any one else with complacency. He saw no ne- 
 cessity for communicating this fact to Wilson, and allowed 
 him to indulge whatever speculations he pleased without 
 attempting to undeceive him. 
 
CHAPTER yill. 
 
 The young men whom we left sleeping at the end of the 
 last chapter were astir with the first light of the morning. 
 A few minutes only were devoted to the business of dress- 
 ing themselves for the day. As soon as it was over, Ro- 
 gers proposed that they should at once pay a visit to the 
 place Mr. Johnson had selected for the concealment of arms 
 and ammunition. Tobias led the way to the cave from 
 which flowed the spring that formed the "branch" running 
 by the house, and making its way out at the southern ex- 
 tremity of the valley. The mouth of the cave was a kind 
 of low arch, formed of rugged stones, whose sharp edges 
 jutted out from either side, and made deep seams in the 
 roof. The cavity was nearly as high at the entrance as a 
 man's head, but the whole width of the bottom was covered 
 with water, and Rogers looked in vain for any mode of in- 
 gress. Upon the right-hand side there was a pile of loose 
 stones. When these were removed, Rogers observed a 
 narrow ledge of rock, some feet above the water, barely 
 wide enough for the passage of one human body at a time. 
 
 "Follow me," said Wilson, stepping upon the ledge. 
 "And look out that you don't break your head against the 
 rocks above us, and take care of your footsteps, for this 
 passage is by no means as smooth as a turnpike road." 
 
 In a few yards the cave widened considerably, and the 
 roof was much higher. The rocky ledge gradually dipped 
 down until it was lost in the more level surface of the bot- 
 
 13* (U5) 
 
146 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 torn of the cavern. The side along which they were groping 
 their way, stumbling as they did so over huge stones, or slip- 
 ping on their slimy surface, was of solid rock, indented here 
 and there with vast crevices. Counting until he reached the 
 fourth one of these crevices, Tobias Wilson stepped into 
 it, and turning a sharp angle to the right, in a few steps 
 they found themselves in a large and dry room. The ma- 
 terials for striking a light had been placed there by Mr. 
 Johnson. These were found, and two candles lighted. 
 Crossing to the opposite side they found an ascending en- 
 trance to another compartment, so low that they had to 
 crawl on their hands and knees. The passage, however, 
 was short, and they soon came to the inner side. This room 
 was smaller than the one they had just left, but with a lof- 
 tier ceiling. High up, apparently many hundred feet above 
 their heads, they could see streaks of light, which no doubt 
 came through crevices of the mountain. It was also evi- 
 dent that it must be tolerably well ventilated from some 
 quarter, perhaps from similar crevices in the sides to those 
 in the roof. The air was light and dry, and the candles 
 slightly flickered as from the breath of a gentle breeze. 
 Rogers observed the traces of a fire, and a quantity of 
 wood piled on one side. 
 
 "My grandfather and I," said Wilson, "built that fire 
 to see if the smoke would make its way out at any place 
 which would betray the presence of human beings in here. 
 We kept it burning for two days, but could not detect the 
 escape of smoke anywhere. It must have gone straight 
 up, and made its way out so slowly and in such small quan- 
 tities, as not to be distinguishable from the vapor rising 
 from the valley and setting on the mountain." 
 
 Rolling a large stone to one side, an aperture was visi- 
 ble, and bidding Rogers look in, be said : ^ 
 
 "There you will find a place where you can stow away 
 
TOBIAS ^VILSON. ^ l^T 
 
 thousands of muskets and as many pounds of powder and 
 lead as you please, witli little danger of discovery." 
 
 It was indeed a hiding-place not likely to be detected 
 by any human scrutiny, and Thomas Rogers expressed 
 himself decidedly to that effect. On his way back he 
 made a careful survey of the room they had first entered, 
 and taking the light with him in order to have a better 
 view than that afforded by the glimmer from the mouth of 
 the cave, he examined the crevices in the wall, noted their 
 peculiar shape, and counted the number. His examination 
 also extended to the great boulders over which they had 
 stumbled in their entrance. Emerging once more into 
 daylight, he said : 
 
 "I could find my way in and out now if I were blind- 
 folded. Thank you, Toby. You have done me many a 
 kindness; but this may prove the most valuable of all. 
 Now let us go to the stable. My horse must be well rubbed 
 and fed; he has a hard day's work before him." 
 
 "You had better take mine. Yours must have suffered 
 from last night's ride." 
 
 " I did not ride him. I rode Miller's, and, by Jove, it 
 has been a long time since I mounted such an animal I" 
 
 "From his own account, he had an excellent chance to 
 pick a good one," answered Wilson dryly. 
 
 " Come, Toby, you must get over that prejudice. I owe 
 Miller more than you dream of. He has given me inform- 
 ation which I hope will enable me to clear these mount- 
 ains of the robbers who infest them, and furnished me a 
 clew to the doings of many a sneaking devil who now 
 passes for a quiet and orderly citizen." 
 
 They entered the stable-yard as he spoke, and the sub- 
 ject was dropped for the present. Tobias went about his 
 work directly after breakfast, and Rogers, seating himself 
 by the side of Miller, had another long conference with the 
 
148 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 wounded man. When that was ended, he mounted his 
 horse, and rode through the field to the point at which 
 Kobert Johnson had been murdered, taking, as before, the 
 rifle and accoutrements of Jenkins. As he rode near the 
 place where Wilson was at work, he waved his hand and 
 shouted : 
 
 "Look out for me bv sundown." 
 
 Up the steep mountain path he urged his steed, until he 
 came within a mile of Biles's house. Here he made a cir- 
 cuit, to avoid being seen at the house, and again " struck" 
 the path far beyond the residence of that worthy. Look- 
 ing at his watch, he found that it was just eleven o'clock. 
 
 "I shall have time enough," he thought ; "they will 
 hardly begin the funeral ceremonies before twelve o'clock, 
 and my horse will walk the distance before that time. 
 Come, Robin," he said, addressing the horse, and reining 
 him down to a slower pace, "we'll take it leisurely now. 
 It is probable you will need your wind before long." 
 
 Riding slowly down the mountain in the direction of 
 Wilkins's house, he had not made more than half the dis- 
 tance, when he heard a horse's feet thundering up the stony 
 path. Riding a little to one side and hitching his horse 
 among some bushes, he returned to the path upon which 
 the approaching horseman must soon make his appearance. 
 
 "Halt!" he shouted in a voice of thunder, when the 
 fugitive had turned a corner of rock, and was within fifty 
 yards of the place where he was standing. The horseman 
 tried to rein up, but the speed at which he was going 
 brought him within twenty feet of his challenger before 
 he succeeded. 
 
 "What's your hurry this morning, Mr. Biles?" asked 
 Rogers, while a baleful fire flashed from his eyes which 
 boded no good to the wretch before him. 
 
 "The soldiers are after me." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 149 
 
 "Indeed! and where may you have been to meet with 
 the soldiers V 
 
 "To Joshua Wilkins's funeral. We got a hint that a 
 company of Yankees had left the camp before daylight this 
 morning, and Parson Williams hurried on the funeral for 
 fear we might be interrupted. The grave was hardly cov- 
 ered, when news came that the enemy were in less than 
 
 three hundred yards. Captain 's rangers were formed 
 
 behind the houses to stop the Yankees until the others got 
 safely away." 
 
 "And what became of Parson Williams?" 
 
 " He went up the valley with a friend, and I reckon he 's 
 safe " 
 
 "God grant it!" muttered Rogers. Then in a louder 
 tone went on with his questions. 
 
 "He is such a friend of yours, I should have thought he 
 would have taken the direction of your house. When did 
 he last sleep under your roof?" 
 
 This was a home thrust, and Biles turned deadly pale as 
 he answered : 
 
 "I don't know exactly. It's been a good while." 
 
 "I think not. I think I met him coming from your 
 house the day after Robert Johnson was murdered." 
 
 The terror which now shook the frame of the guilty 
 criminal was pitiful to behold. He could not tell to what 
 these questions pointed, but the tone and manner of the 
 questioner were calculated to make him fear the worst. 
 In public and in presence of his rebel friends, he would 
 have braved it out manfully ; but he was alone, alone with 
 the memory of his crime and its avenger; and he cowered 
 with an abject fear that awakened the deepest scorn of his 
 enemy. 
 
 "I know all, Jim Biles," he continued. "You have no- 
 thing to tell me. I know where and when you plotted that 
 
150 TOBIAS WILSOX. 
 
 damnable murder. I know that Josh Wilkins and Ben 
 "Williams came to your house to carry it out ; that Wil- 
 liams remained with you the night after it was done, and 
 no doubt had family prayers, and thanked God that there 
 was a Union man the less in this county. Oh ! I can read 
 it all. And now, sir, your time has come. Two days ago 
 I sent Josh Wilkins to his long account. You will join 
 him to-day. Parson Williams will soon follow. It would 
 be a pity to separate such Iambs of God for any length of 
 time in the world to come." 
 
 " Spare me !" shrieked the craven-hearted villain. " For 
 mercy's sake, spare me ! I did not kill him; Parson Wil- 
 liams and Wilkins shot him. Indeed, indeed, I did not 
 fire." 
 
 "I know you didn't; but it was because two bullets 
 were enough to finish the work. If another had been 
 needed, you were there to give it. You helped to drag 
 him from his field, and it may have been your hand which 
 felled him with that murderous club. Waste no time in 
 prayers to me. I give you three minutes to utter one to 
 your God. At the end of that time I shall fire." 
 
 The dastard, who had not hesitated to imbrue his hands 
 in the blood of an old and peaceful man, for a mere differ- 
 ence of political opinion, now rolled down upon the mane 
 of his horse in brutish terror, — sobbing, groaning, and 
 vehemently protesting his innocence of any part in the last 
 scene of the murder. 
 
 " Coward and dog, as well as murderer !'' thundered 
 Rogers with bitter contempt; "you have a gun, — use it." 
 
 "It aint loaded," groaned Biles. "I fired at the Yan- 
 kees, and didn't have time to load." 
 
 "So much the worse for you. Two minutes of your 
 time is gone." 
 
 Like lightning the idea flashed upon Biles that if he 
 
TOBIAS WILS ox. 151 
 
 could get back to the soldiers, his life at least would be 
 saved. Gathering strength and resolution from this hope, 
 he suddenly straightened himself in the saddle, wheeled his 
 horse, and striking the spurs deep into his flanks, fled down 
 the mountain at a pace dangerous alike to man and beast. 
 Desperate as this attempt may seem, there was a fair 
 chance for its success, unless the horse should stumble, and 
 break its own or the rider's neck. The danger from this 
 source was lessened in the present instance by the fact that 
 Biles was riding a young horse which had been reared on 
 the mountain, who had again and again traversed all its 
 stony paths, and was as familiar with, and as much at 
 home among them, as the Arab steed with the parched 
 plains of the desert. Quick as had been his movements, 
 they were not too quick for the keen eye that watched him. 
 The goaded steed had made but little headway, when the 
 rifle of Thomas Rogers rose to his shoulder. One mo- 
 ment he held it there, as firmly and steadily as if man and 
 rifle were carved from the solid rock. Then a volume of 
 smoke and flame belched from its muzzle, and a ringing re- 
 port reverberated among the mountain crags. To all ap- 
 pearance Biles held his seat firmly. A few bounds of the 
 horse carried him around the projecting crag before alluded 
 to. Running rapidly to a point where he knew he could 
 obtain another shot, and reloading his gun as he ran, Ro- 
 gers muttered, "I couldn't have missed him. It is impos- 
 sible!" 
 
 At the point for which he aimed he saw the horse, which, 
 owing to the bends in the path, was still not more than a 
 hundred yards from him, madly rushing down the mountain. 
 The saddle was empty ; the steed was riderless. " I thought 
 so!" was the inward commentary of Rogers. "There 
 would have been no excuse for missing a wild pigeon at 
 that distance." 
 
152 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 Leaning over the crag lie saw the body of Biles, still 
 alive, lying in the pathway. Scrambling down the cliff, he 
 was soon standing by the prostrate form. It was evident 
 that Jim Biles's lease of life was very near its end, but the 
 ball had entered too low to cause immediate death. It 
 might be several days before the spirit took its flight. With 
 good care and nursing he would probably last a week. 
 Thomas Roge'rs was much perplexed when he became sat- 
 isfied of this fact. "If I leave him here," he thought, 
 " and any of his friends should come this way, as is by no 
 means unlikely, in their hasty flight from the Union cavalry, 
 they will soon revive him enough to enable him to tell how 
 he came by his death, and also who it was who cut short 
 the career of that devil incarnate, Joshua Wilkins. If 
 they do not find him, he will be torn to pieces by the wolves 
 before morning, and thus perish as miserably as he deserves. 
 If the fool hadn't tried to run, I do not believe I should 
 have had the heart to shoot him. I reckon the fates had 
 fixed it their own way, for he rushed upon his doom just 
 when I was thinking of tying him and taking him down to 
 Colonel , to dispose of as he thought best." 
 
 There was a momentary pause in his musings. He 
 looked keenly down the mountain side, then placed his ear 
 to the ground and listened attentively. 
 
 "It is nothing," he continued. "A sound from below 
 will reach me long before any danger can approach. This 
 wound troubles me ; he will certainly revive before death ; 
 even now he is more stunned by his fall than paralyzed by 
 the effects of my shot. It is hard to finish a man in this 
 fix ; and yet if I do not, I put my own life and that of my 
 friends in fearful jeopardy. Well, as Parson Williams 
 would say, *I have put my hand to the plow and must not 
 turn back.' I cannot leave him here alive. If Parson 
 Williams was out of the way, I wouldn't care much how 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 153 
 
 soon the whole story was told. I could then go off with 
 the Union army, and, if necessary, enlist in a cavalry com- 
 pany. But I will not leave here while there is a breath in 
 his infernal carcass. Nor must I allow him a chance to be 
 warned of his danger. The short and the long of it is, 
 that I must put an end to Jim Biles. It's a bitter pill, but 
 it has to be swallowed. Besides, when I undertook this 
 job I had no right to expect smooth sailing all the time. 
 I might have known that there would be things to be gone 
 through as disagreeable as they were dangerous." So 
 saying, he walked off eight or ten feet and raised his rifle 
 to his shoulder, cocking it as he did so. In an instant he 
 let it sink slowly down. 
 
 "No, that won't do. There is no prudence in making 
 an unnecessary noise among these rocks, solitary as they 
 seem. Nor will it do to use ray knife. I shall be sure to 
 get some of his poisonous blood upon me, and have to 
 make up some lame tale to hoodwink Toby. This cliff 
 will answer the purpose better." 
 
 Dragging the body to the brink of a precipice of more 
 than fifty feet in height, he hurled it down, and walking 
 away without casting one look at the mangled form, he 
 mounted his horse and set out on his return. Giving his 
 steed a loose rein, and allowing him to proceed at what 
 gait he pleased, he continued the self-colloquy which was 
 habitual to him. ' 
 
 "Things have not worked precisely to suit me to-day, 
 though I have no great cause to grumble. If I had only 
 got to Wilkins's in time to have sent a bullet after Parson 
 Williams, I should have felt better. The scoundrel will 
 smell a mouse now and keep close. It is true that a shadow 
 of suspicion cannot attach to me, or to any one in partic- 
 ular. But the sudden and unexplained death of his two 
 accomplices will blanch that hardened heart of his, and 
 
 14 
 
154 TOBIAS WILSOX. 
 
 his conscience will whisper that it has grown out of the 
 murder in which he had so large a part. He will not show 
 himself in a hurry, I'm thinking, if he can help it. I will 
 have to change my tactics. It is certain that his ugly phiz 
 won't be seen on this side of the mountain while there is a 
 Union soldier in the neighborhood. I must wait and 
 watch. May be Toby will bring some news to-morrow 
 that will help me to a conclusion. Xow, Robin," he con- 
 tinued, tightening the rein and touching his steed with the 
 spur, " make tracks for home. Faster, sir, faster, my pet. 
 There is work to be done when we get there, before the 
 sun goes down." 
 
 Riding through the field, along the turning row, close to 
 where his friend was at work, he called out : " Come, Toby, 
 you have worked enough to-day. It is time to turn out. 
 Come on to the house." 
 
 "You forget that I will lose a day to-morrow. I must 
 stick to it to-day until the sun goes down." 
 
 "Never mind that! I will work for you to-morrow. 
 Come on." 
 
 He did not wait for a reply, hardly pausing an instant 
 before continuing on his way to the house. Arriving 
 there he quickly stabled his horse ; then, entering the room 
 where Sergeant Miller was lying, he took down the rifle 
 and accoutrements belonging to the wounded man, except 
 the revolver, and immediately went out again, merely re- 
 marking to the sergeant, " I'll tell you what I have done 
 when I come back." From the house he went directly to 
 the cave, carrying the two Spencer rifles, ammunition, etc. 
 with him. There was no hesitation in his movements; 
 everything had been reflected upon and decided. The 
 arms were safely hiJlden in the place pointed out by Wilson 
 that morning ; and with a satisfied expression upon his face, 
 he emerged from the cave. He paused a minute by the pile 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 155 
 
 of loose stones near the entrance, as if hesitating whether 
 to replace them. His decision was soon made. 
 
 "It isn't worth while. No one will ever suspect where 
 that ledge leads. It looks as if a coon hadn't passed over 
 it in a century ; I rather think it is safest to leave it ex- 
 posed. If anybody should get to tumbling these rocks 
 about and find that the ledge was hidden by them, he might 
 take it into his head to make further explorations. I don't 
 think he would make any discoveries if he did, but there is 
 no telling. Toby says he found it by accident, and he is 
 sure no human being but Mr. Johnson ever knew it was 
 there, until he showed it to me this morning. It is best to 
 leave the stones where they are. I'll just throw a few of 
 them into the spring, in little piles, to give them an appear- 
 ance of having been put there as stepping stones to get to 
 deeper water, and, by-the-way, I will hollow out a place to 
 help on the deception." 
 
 Even while speaking he had begun his work. "When it 
 was completed to his satisfaction, he returned to the house 
 and informed Miller that he had hidden the guns, etc., be- 
 cause he thought it possible the cabins might be searched, 
 and if they were, the guns would surely be carried off. He 
 gave no reason for his suspicion that a search might be in- 
 stituted, and Miller asked for none — only saying: 
 
 "Wouldn't it be better to hide your rifles, and the re- 
 volvers too ?" 
 
 "No ; for everybody in this section knows that we have 
 rifles, and never go from home without them. If they were 
 missing it would create suspicion ; they would hunt for them, 
 and might find something more valuable, though I don't 
 think that is probable — hardly possible. As for the revolvers, 
 I have hidden one in my bosom," he said, opening his vest, 
 and showing the weapon belted around him, underneath 
 his outer garments; "and I want you to hide the other 
 
156 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 under your pillow. It is a great convenience, in such times 
 as these we live in, to have a friend like this always in 
 reach." 
 
 " You were born for a partisan leader, sir. I wonder you 
 never took to the trade." 
 
 "Well, I suppose it was partly because there was no such 
 organization on my side of politics ; partly because I had 
 no wish to shed blood in this contest if I could help it, for 
 I could never be certain how much of that same blood flowed 
 in my mother's veins. As long as it was a free thing to 
 fight or let it alone, as we pleased, I let it alone. But I am 
 tired of dodging and hiding from conscript officers. If I 
 must fight, I shall fight on my own side, and the chances 
 are that I shall he a partisan leader before long. Would 
 you like a commission under me as lieutenant?" 
 
 " Would I like it ? AVill a duck swim ? or does a bear 
 love honey ? Give me the commission and you shan't want 
 men." 
 
 "Get well then as soon as you can, and you shall have 
 it. I hear Toby coming in from the field, and I must go 
 now to help him feed the stock, and so on. The doctor too 
 will be here directly. We will be alone to-morrow, and can 
 havca long talk." 
 
 After a long and careful examination of his patient, the 
 doctor expressed himself as delighted with his condition. 
 He said that after the expiration of four days his symptoms 
 were as favorable as those of many men would have been 
 in four weeks. Fever gone, tongue clean, appetite good, 
 pulse steady; nothing more was needed but to lie still, 
 keep the leg easy, and let the bone go through the process 
 of knitting. Youth, health, strength, and a remarkably 
 good constitution had done a great deal, and the doctor 
 modestly intimated that he might have done something him- 
 self toward bringing about the happy result ; but after giv- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 157 
 
 ing due weight to all these, the recuperative powers which 
 had manifested themselves were wonderful. It was one of 
 those extraordinary cases which medical science is at a loss 
 to account for. The doctor, however, did not devote any 
 long period of time to indulgence in the reflections and 
 speculations to which the promising condition of his pa- 
 tient gave rise. Turning abruptly to Tobias Wilson, he 
 •inquired: , 
 
 "Xow, Toby, my boy, what do you intend to give me for 
 supper? If your mother was here the question would be 
 superfluous, but I don't know anything about your taste, or 
 what attention you have paid to the provision of needful 
 nourishment for the human body. What's your bill of fare 
 to- night ?" 
 
 "Well, my dear sir, I happen to know your taste, if you 
 do not know mine, and, as you were kind enough to give 
 me notice of your coming, I have made provision accord- 
 ingly. I fear, however, that there will be no variety at 
 breakfast; you must make out then with very nearly the 
 same bill I oSer you to-night. You shall have biscuit, hoe- 
 cake, corn-batter cakes, coS"ee, milk, ham and eggs, dried 
 venison, and chicken either broiled or fried, as you please. 
 And, as you know everybody in these mountains is a cook, 
 and I claim to be tolerably well skilled in that department 
 of housekeeping, I hope to give vou a meal of which you 
 will have no cause to complain to my mother, when next 
 you meet her." 
 
 "Your bill of fare is excellent, my boy; but I dissent tofo 
 ccelo from the proposition that everybody in these mountains 
 is a cook : they think so, but it's not the fact. They have 
 a barbarous and unhealthy way of cooking their bread over 
 a blazing fire, and sending it to the table with the outside 
 scorched brown and the inside little more than half done. 
 They throw on the meats in the same way ; keep them there 
 
 14* 
 
158 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 until all the juices are burned out, and call that cooking. 
 Now, I have a weakness for good biscuit and fried chicken, 
 and, if you have no objection, I will take that much of your 
 culinary labors off your hands." 
 
 Wilson smiled ; not at all surprised at the good doctor's 
 speech, for this was notoriously his pet hobby. He had 
 often heard it laughingly asserted, that the doctor fre- 
 quently remained at the house of a patient to dinner, or- 
 other meal, as much for the purpose of lecturing the good 
 wife upon cookery, as from any actual necessity for his at- 
 tendance on the sick. As he was an excellent physician, 
 a warm friend, a kind-hearted, generous, and benevolent 
 man, this particular idiosyncrasy was not only tolerated, 
 but had grown to be a kind of pleasure to his acquaintances 
 and friends. It was therefore with a pleased and good- 
 humored expression of countenance that Tobias answered: 
 
 "Certainly, sir. The dough is already made, and the 
 chicken cut into pieces. Had you not better let me cook 
 them, under your direction, of course ?" 
 
 "Perhaps it would be better. My profession requires 
 good eyes, and stooping over a hot fire is not the way to 
 preserve them. Bring the dough ; the biscuit require the 
 longest time to get thoroughly done, and should be the first 
 thing put on the fire." 
 
 The dough was brought; the doctor examined the mass, 
 and directed it to be more thoroughly beaten. 
 
 "You can't make good biscuit without giving them a 
 good beating. Remember that, Toby; it will be worth 
 something to your wife, when you get one, which won't be 
 long, I suppose, from what I witnessed the other day." 
 
 Tobias Wilson blushed deeply, and commenced beating 
 the mass of dough with an energy which satisfied the doc- 
 tor himself. His love was, in his eyes, a sacred thing, and 
 he was not pleased by any seemingly careless allusion to it, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 159 
 
 even when coming from so old and so good a friend as Dr. 
 Griffin. Besides, Sergeant Miller was in the room, and 
 though the allusion was too vague to afford him any clew to 
 the real facts, Tobias had a nervous dread of the chance 
 exposure of what was to him the ''holj of holies," to the 
 cold gaze, or, it might be, impertinent criticism of a 
 stranger. He would, if he could, have confined all knowl- 
 edge of it to his own bosom and to hers, until the very 
 moment when they stood together before the altar, and the 
 minister of God was there, to clasp the nuptial band and 
 pronounce the nuptial benediction. He was a very miser 
 in his love; and, like the miser, could gaze with passion- 
 ate fondness upon his treasure in secret, and shudder to 
 think that another eye could see, another hand could 
 touch it. 
 
 The doctor, absorbed in the business before him, neither 
 saw nor suspected the feelings he had unconsciously 
 awakened in the bosom of his young friend. Thomas 
 Rogers suspected that he was beating the dough to rags 
 in pure mischief, and indulged a hearty laugh, when the 
 doctor exclaimed : 
 
 " There, Toby ! there, you foolish boy ! if you strike another 
 lick I'll turn you off as my assistant. Now," he continued, 
 as Tobias ceased to pommel the harmless dough, "make 
 it up into biscuits, and put them in the oven ; then bring 
 me the frying-pan." 
 
 The frying-pan and the plate of chicken were handed to 
 him; a dish of dry flour, a plate of butter, a bowl of sweet 
 cream, and some hog's lard were also placed on a bench 
 where he could reach them. 
 
 "Take away the lard," he almost shrieked. "Apiece 
 as big as a pea would ruin the flavor of this delicate bird. 
 Bring me some water instead, and you may go on with the 
 preparation of the other things. I will attend to the 
 
160 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 chicken myself. You see, Thomas, frying a young chicken 
 exactly as it should be done, is one of the most difficult 
 things in the whole system of cookery." 
 
 "Why," replied Rogers, "I always thought it was one 
 of the simplest and easiest." 
 
 "That is a proof, young man, of lamentable ignorance 
 on your part of the most useful because the most healthful 
 of the arts. Xow observe me, and after the bird is cooked 
 I shall expect you to give me your honest opinion. In the 
 first place, you see I fill this frying-pan half full of water. 
 Be pleased to hold it on the fire until it boils well. 
 The next thing is to see that it is salted exactly right. 
 Most people think that makes no difference, as you can 
 salt it when it comes on the table. That's a great mistake, 
 Tommy; it must be cooked with the right quantity in it." 
 
 After satisfying himself upon this important point, he 
 continued : 
 
 "When the water boils well in the frying-pan, you put 
 in a lump of butter not quite as large as a hen egg, — let 
 that melt thoroughly; then cover each piece of chicken 
 thickly with dry flour, and put it into the pan. Put the 
 pan back on the fire, and let it remain until the chicken is 
 half done. Take it off, turn the pieces of chicken over, 
 pour in a cupful of cream and let it stay until it is done, 
 and you have a dish as delicious as any that was ever 
 served up on the table of the Queen of England."* 
 
 To judge from the repeated assaults upon the viands be- 
 fore them, the supper was altogether to the taste of the 
 
 ^ The author once heard this dissertation upon the proper method 
 of frying a young chicken, almost verbatim as it is here given. The 
 place, too, was very near the spot v^^here the principal scenes of 
 this story are laid. He confesses, however, that he has never taken 
 interest enough in the science of good eating, to make an actual 
 experiment of its virtues. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 161 
 
 parties whom it concerned; not excepting the wounded 
 sergeant, than whom none seemed to enjoy his share with 
 a keener relish. 
 
 Some time after the conclusion of the meal, Thomas 
 Rogers announced his purpose to sleep in the room with 
 Miller. He also said that he wished to send a note to his 
 father, and, as Tobias and Dr. Griffin would probably 
 make an early start in the morning, he would write it that 
 night. 
 
 The next morning when Tobias Wilson was about to set 
 out to hear the final decision of those to whom the question 
 of his immediate marriage had been referred, a letter was 
 placed in his hand by his friend, directed to Thomas Ro- 
 gers, Sr., with an injunction to place it in his hands imme- 
 diately on arriving at his house. 
 
 "Tell him," added Rogers, "that I wish him to read this 
 before giving you your answer. I do not know why, but I 
 have a presentiment that they will try to put you off. 
 Don't listen to anything until he has read this letter ; and 
 if he still wishes to delay your marriage, don't let him do 
 it. Stand up stoutly, and if you will whisper a word to 
 Sophy, she'll help you. He can't refuse her anything." 
 
 Wilson did not feel quite confident of getting any help 
 from Sophy ; but he rode away fully resolved to follow his 
 friend's advice, and, in case of need, to make an earnest 
 appeal to his elected bride. He was certain of a powerful 
 ally in her own heart, and did not allow himself to be much 
 alarmed by anticipations of the probable triumph of mere 
 notions of expediency, over the pleadings of his love, aided 
 by the suggestions of her own. He lost no time in deliver- 
 ing his letter to Mr. Rogers, and then quietly slipped 
 away to whisper something to Sophy which made her cheek 
 burn, but which, from the satisfied expression on his own 
 countenance, had clearly elicited no unfavorable response. 
 
162 TOBIAS TVILSON. 
 
 Mr, Rogers read the letter, and walking apart with Mrs. 
 Wilson, handed it to her. It ran as follows : 
 
 My dear Father: — 
 
 Tobias tells me that it has been left to his mother and 
 yonrself to j5x the period of his marriage with mj sister. 
 After the public avowal of their love, at the funeral of Mr. 
 Johnson, it seems to me that propriety requires that there 
 should be no delay. But that is a matter of which you are 
 a better judge than I am. What I wish to say is, that I 
 have it much at heart that the wedding should take place 
 as early as possible. I have sure information that the 
 Union troops will be withdrawn from this county in a few 
 weeks. I shall probably be compelled to go with them, 
 and you will need some one to take my place at home. 
 Give Toby that right. As the husband of your daughter, 
 his proper place, in seasons of trouble and peril, will be by 
 your side. Such times will soon be upon us, and it will be 
 a source of comfort to me, in my absence, to know that a 
 strong hand, a quick eye, and a fearless heart will be here 
 to watch with you over Sophy and the little ones. 
 
 Even if I do not go off with the Union soldiers, I can- 
 not stay at your house. It would be certain to bring more 
 or less trouble upon you ; and if Gen. Rosecrans should be 
 repulsed at Chattanooga, the fact that you had given shel- 
 ter to an avowed traitor to the South, will be used by the 
 authorities as an excuse for oppressing you, and will justify 
 in the eyes of each petty guerrilla chief, any outrage he may 
 choose to commit. 
 
 I learn from the wounded man you saw at Toby's house, 
 that you are already marked; but I have good reasons for 
 believing that you will find friends where you least expect 
 them. Still they might happen to be out of the way, and 
 I shall feel easier from knowing that Toby is with you. Let 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 163 
 
 the wedding take place in a week at farthest. I will 
 come over then and let you know where and how you can 
 communicate with me in future. 
 
 When Mrs. Wilson had read this letter, Mr. Rogers 
 asked gravely: 
 
 "What say you, madam? Shall we change our de- 
 cision?" 
 
 "He is deeply in earnest," answered Mrs. Wilson, "and 
 I think I can discover that he has more reasons for his re- 
 quest than he has chosen to give. The delay of a month, 
 which we had proposed, was merely to enable your daugh- 
 ter to make suitable preparations. There was no real ne- 
 cessity for it. Perhaps the best way will be to read her 
 brother's letter to her, and tell her that although we had 
 decided to postpone the marriage, we are not now inclined 
 to interfere. That she must fix the day herself." 
 
 This proposition having been assented to, they handed 
 the letter to the lovers, and briefly stated the conclusion to 
 which they had come. Sophy Rogers read it twice, and 
 then asked : 
 
 "Do you know what is in this letter, Toby ?" 
 
 "No. He did not seal it; but he did not tell me to read 
 it. Perhaps he never thought of it." 
 
 She handed it to him in silence ; walked to the window, 
 and leaned her head against it in deep thought. She was 
 recalled by her father's voice, inquiring : 
 
 "Well, my daughter, what do you say?" 
 
 She did not answer, but turning at once and approach- 
 ing her lover, she placed her lovely hand in his, and whis- 
 pered : 
 
 "It is yours now, Toby; but tell them yourself when 
 you wish to claim it at the marriage altar." 
 
 Standing in that presence, he could indulge no outward 
 
164 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 manifestation of the rapture which glowed within ; but 
 there was in every feature a visible manifestation that the 
 words which fell softly upon his ear, and sunk into his 
 heart, were more precious and more durable than if written 
 with a diamond pen upon tablets of gold. 
 
 "Shall I say Sunday next?" he inquired in a voice as 
 low as her own. 
 
 "Any day," she answered, burying her face in his 
 bosom. 
 
 And so it was settled that on the following Sunday 
 Tobias Wilson should become the happy husband of the 
 loveliest woman whose footsteps had ever pressed the soil 
 of Alabama, or, as he believed, the surface of the earth. 
 
 Greetings and congratulations were exchanged among 
 members of that little circle, and then the letter of Thomas 
 Rogers was again referred to. " There is something be- 
 hind." "He means more than he say^." "What can it 
 be?" were exclamations of all present hut one. That 
 one understood it full well, and even amid the happiness 
 which settled like a glory around his soul, there was a sad 
 presentiment of approaching evil. He shuddered as he 
 reflected that however he had since endeavored to dissuade 
 his bold, manly, and true-hearted friend, from the under- 
 taking in which he had already made one bloody step, — he 
 knew nothing of the death of Biles, — it was nevertheless 
 his suggestion that had first pointed it out to that strong 
 mind and stubborn will. It had gone so far, that reveal- 
 ment would only bring added grief to those he loved, and 
 he was forced to content himself with the firm resolution to 
 share all the consequences that might follow 
 
 When about taking his leave that evening, Wilson was 
 informed by his mother that his presence would be dis- 
 pensed with until Sunday. They had a great deal to do, 
 she said, in the three days which intervened, and did not 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 165 
 
 wish to be disturbed iu their occupations. He pleaded for 
 one visit, just one, but in vain. She was inexorable. Ar- 
 riving at home, he grasped the hand of his friend, and ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 "Give me joy, my dear fellow. Your letter acted like a 
 charm. They were about to put me oif a month, as if times 
 were likely to be more peaceful then than now. But when 
 they read your letter, it was agreed that the wedding might 
 take place next Sunday." 
 
 ''Next Sunday!" repeated. Rogers, musingly. "Next 
 Sunday, and this is Wednesday night ! It is sooner than I 
 expected. I thought they would give you a week of pur- 
 gatory at least. You are a happy man, Toby. I need 
 not offer you my congratulations. You know how much I 
 wish you joy, and how willingly I give up my sister to one 
 who I am certain would rather break his own neck, than 
 the least of the promises he makes to her before the mar- 
 riage altar." 
 
 Throughout the remainder of that afternoon and evening 
 Thomas Rogers was thoughtful and reserved. When 
 alone, his old habit of thinking aloud asserted its predom- 
 inance. "They have not yet heard of Biles's death over 
 the mountain, or Toby would have said something about 
 it. It may be several days yet, before his body is discov- 
 ered. If it was not for his wife's missing him, and getting 
 up a search, he might never be found in that lonely place. 
 When he is found, the immediate conclusion will be, that 
 he was killed by the Union soldiers, by whom the funeral 
 was broken up, and no investigation will follow. It is 
 safe to say that matter is ended. Parsoji Williams's turn 
 comes next. The worst and the most dangerous of the 
 three. But how am I to get at him ? I thought I would 
 get it fixed somehow when I went over to Toby's wed- 
 ding ; but Sunday is a bad day to catch him alone. Never 
 
 15 
 
166 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 mind, 'where there is a will, there is a way,' and I don't 
 think another week will go over his head, before I make a 
 hole in his cursed hide. He must be put out of the way 
 before I leave here, or I may come back to find my father 
 in his grave, and his house a heap of ashes." 
 
 The next day and the next, this musing mood continued. 
 He went early to work in the field, and seemed glad of any 
 occupation which precluded lengthened conversations with 
 his friend. Saturday there was a change. His resolution 
 had been taken, and the sunshine had returned. He spoke 
 with high good humor of the morrow's transformation of 
 his friend into the staid and sober head of a family. Al- 
 together he seemed quite as well pleased as Wilson himself 
 at the nearness of the bridal hour, and exhibited through- 
 out the day even more than his usual exuberance of spirits. 
 
 It was Saturday night. The last of his bachelor days 
 had passed away, and Tobias Wilson early sought his 
 couch. When he had retired to his room, Thomas Ro- 
 gers moved his seat nearer to the bed of Miller, and asked: 
 
 "Are you well enough to get along one night without 
 me?" 
 
 "Oh! yes; if you have anything particular to keep you 
 away. Put some victuals and a bucket of water on the 
 bench here by me, and I shall do well enough." 
 
 "I don't like to leave you alone, but I must stay away 
 from you to-morrow night. Perhaps Dr. Griffin may come. 
 Send him a message by Toby that you are very anxious to 
 see him." 
 
 "Won't you see him and can't you tell him?" 
 
 " I shall see him, and I can tell him. But I want Toby 
 to carry the message from you. I shall have something to 
 say to him myself, after Toby has told him you want him." 
 
 "But, sir, Mr. AVilson knows that I am doing as well as 
 I can do, and if he tells the doctor that, he will not come." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 16T 
 
 "That might be, sure enough! Well, then, get worse 
 to-night; have the nightmare; wake up with a terrible 
 pain in your shoulder, and your leg feeling as if it would 
 drop off. Toby will take it all for Gospel, and report it to 
 Dr. Griffin just as you tell him. A child could cheat him 
 out of his eyes now. Do you understand me?" 
 
 " Certainly, sir I I see it all plain. I told you that you 
 wur born for a partisan leader, and the more I sees of 
 you the more I'm satisfied I was right." 
 
 And the two men, whose acquaintance had begun by a 
 mutual attempt at destruction, but who, in a few days, had 
 become fast friends, closed their eyes in sleep, side by side, 
 with their several parts already committed for the play of 
 the morning. 
 
 The bright rays of the sun had already tinged with their 
 golden light the loftiest of the mountain peaks, when the 
 two friends, Tobias Wilson and Thomas Kogers, set out 
 for the home which one of them did not expect to visit for 
 many a long and weary day. The knowledge of what he 
 had done, and of what he meant to do, was confined to his 
 own bosom, and dark as were his thoughts and his future 
 purposes, no trace of doubt or gloom could be noted on 
 his brow. 
 
 It had been arranged that the ceremony should take 
 
 place at noon, on the day of August, 1863, at the 
 
 house of Mr. Rogers. A few friends of the family only 
 had been invited. In truth, there were but few in that vi- 
 cinity who could have been induced to show themselves at 
 the house of a known Union man and supporter of the 
 Government against the unholy rebellion which then deso- 
 lated the land, and watered it with the tears of bereaved 
 mothers and sorrowing sisters. The soldier who came only 
 for the purpose of sustaining the majesty of the law, and 
 maintaining unimpaired the rich heritage bequeathed by our 
 
168 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 ancestors, was denounced as a brutal invader ; and the citi- 
 zen who asked for no higher privilege than that of remain- 
 ing at home, and withholding himself from active participa- 
 tion in the unnatural conflict, in which nearly every drop of 
 blood that stained the ground was drawn by a brother's hand 
 from a brother's veins, was shunned by his former friends 
 and branded as a coward, or a traitor to the land of his 
 nativity. The foundations of the social system had been 
 broken up. Father and son met upon the public highway 
 as strangers. No prayer ascended to heaven from a sis- 
 ter's lips for a brother whose judgment led him to espouse 
 a cause she had tutored herself to hate. Even the yearn- 
 ings of a mother's love sickened and died in the deadly 
 malaria of rebellion, and the poor boy who could not un- 
 derstand why he should not love his whole country instead 
 of contracting his affections within narrow and imaginary 
 lines, went away to the discharge of his duty without her 
 blessing, and felt thankful when her lips refused to utter 
 the curse the demon had suggested to her heart. Love, 
 friendship, natural affection, kindness, toleration, and char- 
 ity, all died in that baleful atmosphere, and he who refused 
 to become a traitor had only the alternative of becoming an 
 outcast, — shunned like the leper of old, or hunted down 
 with the bitter and remorseless venom which is always the 
 characteristic of wrong in morals, in politics, and in reli- 
 gion. Mr. Rogers, and every member of his family, were 
 firmly and 'faithfully attached to the Union. To him it 
 made no difference whether a man's eyes had first opened 
 to the light of day in Massachusetts or in South Carolina. 
 Neither the one nor the other, by itself, was his country, 
 and both were alike parts of that great Republic to which 
 alone he acknowledged his allegiance was due. Entertain- 
 ing such opinions, and expressing them without reserve,the 
 circle of his associates in that latitude was soon contracted 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 169 
 
 within very narrow limits. Most of these had assembled 
 on the present occasion to witness the marriage of his 
 daughter. But not a single secessionist could be brought to 
 honor the house of a " Southern Tory," by breaking bread 
 beneath its roof. Mr. Rogers noted the fact with a smile 
 of contempt. His son noted it with an angry frown which 
 not long afterward brought forth bitter fruit. Oh ! how 
 prone are we to forget in the vanity of present power that 
 the persecuted victim may in time be transformed into a 
 judge, and the stern sentence of our own guilt be pro- 
 nounced by lips to whose humble pleadings we have scorned 
 to listen ! 
 
 A table had been placed in the middle of the passage, 
 upon the rich covering of which lay a single volume con- 
 taining the marriage ceremony according to the forms pre- 
 scribed by the Methodist Episcopal Church. The minis- 
 ter was preparing to take his place by this unpretending 
 altar when the bugle notes of a cavalry troop rose full and 
 clear upon the air. When these had died away, the steady 
 tramp of horses in a leisurely walk succeeded, and then a 
 small body of cavalry, commanded by a captain and one 
 lieutenant, came up the road which ran along in front of 
 Mr. Rogers's house. It was a body of Union troops, re- 
 turning from a scouting expedition. The officers were 
 known to Thomas Rogers, and he went out to greet and 
 invite them to halt and witness the marriage of his sister. 
 The invitation was cordially given, and cheerfully accepted. 
 A guard was placed over the horses. The officers entered 
 the house, and the soldiers gathered about the entrance to 
 the passage where they would have a full view of the par- 
 ties to a ceremony which is always interesting, and doubly 
 so in seasons of trial and of dano:er. 
 
 Sophy Rogers was dressed in pure white, unadorned save 
 by a single rose-bud fastened to the bosom of her dress. A 
 
 1.5* 
 
170 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 long, ricli veil was thrown over her head, and hung loosely 
 about her shoulders, but it was drawn partially away from 
 her face, so as to hide but little of the loveliness which 
 glowed and sparkled there. There was joy in her counte- 
 nance, subdued indeed by the'consciousness of the high re- 
 sponsibility she was about to assume, but still a joy which 
 she did not attempt to conceal. When the minister had 
 propounded the usual questions to the husband, and turned 
 to her with the solemn inquiries which it was requisite for 
 her to answer, she raised her eyes, beaming with unutter- 
 able love and trust and confidence, to the face of her lover, 
 already half husband, and gave the affirmative response in 
 a voice which was low indeed, but clear, distinct, and sweet 
 as the choral song that gladdened the union of our first pa- 
 rents in the Garden of Eden. Up to this moment, from the 
 time she emerged from her own room to the passage in 
 which the ceremony was performed, her face had drooped 
 toward her bosom ; and though partially prepared by the 
 extraordinary symmetry of her form, and the grace of 
 
 every movement, Captain was absolutely startled by 
 
 the vision of beauty that burst upon him. When the cer- 
 emony ended, he claimed an introduction to the bride. 
 Bowing with perfect courtesy, though with undisguised 
 admiration, he addressed her in words to which his voice 
 and manner imparted a touch of sadness. 
 
 "The good wishes and the congratulations of a stranger 
 must be indifi'erentto you, and I am sure that you will par- 
 don me for reserving mine until I have the pleasure of 
 shaking your husband by the hand." 
 
 "You are mistaken, sir! The good wishes of a soMier 
 who wears the uniform of my country, and is daily exposing 
 his life in its defense, can never be indifferent to me." 
 
 "Indeed!" he replied, slowly and musingly ; "is it indeed 
 so? Lady, our cause is blessed !" 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 171 
 
 Then seeing her turn toward her husband as if to intro- 
 duce him, he added frankly, at the same time extending his 
 hand, "I do not need an introduction to Mr. Wilson, and 
 
 I trust the name of Captain , of the Cavalry, is 
 
 not altogether unknown to him." 
 
 Tobias Wilson grasped the extended hand, and expressed 
 his high gratification at making the personal acquaintance 
 of an ofiBcer whose uniform kindness and gentlemanly bear- 
 ing had wrung reluctant praises even from secession lips. 
 
 On such occasions, conversation with the principal per- 
 sonages is necessarily limited, and though the present com- 
 pany held aloof, and seemed disposed to allow the soldier 
 all the time he wished, he had too much good taste to avail 
 himself of the privilege which was thus tacitly accorded to 
 him. "Before I go," he remarked, "you must allow me to 
 introduce my lieutenant;" and, beckoning the young officer 
 to his side, presented him in form. Allowing only a brief 
 space of time for their mutual salutations, he said: "We 
 
 must ride, Mr. . It will be late before we reach 
 
 the camp." Turning to the young bride, he continued: 
 " We have now only to beg a slice of the wedding-cake, 
 cut with your own fair hands, and we will place it beneath 
 our heads in the rude tent which is the soldier's only home, 
 in the fond hope that there is some foundation for an old 
 superstition, and that our dreams may recall a loveliness 
 akin to that which has enchanted us to-day." 
 
 When the ofiBcers took their departure, Sophy and her 
 brother walked with them to the entrance, where the soldiers 
 were still clustered exchanging remarks and making occa- 
 sional inquiries of the male guests who attended the bridal. 
 She had suffered the veil to fall entirely from her head, and 
 stood before the war-worn veterans in all the radiant beauty 
 with which an Eastern fancy clothed the houris of Mahomet. 
 Instantly lifting their caps and waving them in the air, they 
 
172 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 greeted her with cheers as loud and as enthusiastic as ever 
 rung over a battle-field, where freedom had won a victory 
 over anarchy. 
 
 " That is right, my men," cried the captain, raising his 
 own cap upon the point of his sword ; " and if a time should 
 ever come when she needs a soldier's help, every heart 
 among us will pour out its last drop in her defense. Xow, 
 one cheer for the bridegroom ; one more and a rousing one 
 for the bride, and then we will say farewell." 
 
 The cheers were given with hearty good-will, and the 
 troop rode away, with the lieutenant at their head ; the 
 captain remaining for some time in earnest conference with 
 Thomas Rogers. 
 
 The dinner which followed, though rich and abundant, 
 was as simple and unostentatious as the wedding that pre- 
 ceded it. Yet there was joy in the hearts of all those who 
 that day seated themselves around Mr. Rogers's hospitable 
 board. Yea, of all ; not excepting that one whose thoughts 
 might have been presumed to partake of the character of 
 the fierce and bloody deeds in which he had lately been an 
 actor, and of those that were yet to come. His vow had 
 been fulfilled in part, but only in part. There was still 
 something to be done. The time had not come for reflec- 
 tion to sting the mind with doubt, and give a darker name 
 to acts that now wore the semblance of duty, and appeared 
 to spring from the dictates of self-defense. On that bright 
 day no shadow darkened his heart; perhaps he was the 
 most jubilant of the party. To his mind there was no 
 cause for gloom or apprehension. He loved his sister 
 dearly, and was warmly attached to the man who had now 
 the right to call her wife ! They were happy in each 
 other's love, and he rejoiced that it was so. Besides, he 
 believed that the event which had been that day consum- 
 mated, would facilitate the execution of the schemes that 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 173 
 
 had found a lodgment in his brain. He saw no reason, 
 therefore, why he should not enjoy himself to the full ; and 
 he did enjoy himself, although fully resolved that when he 
 left that festal scene, it should be to visit one where Death 
 was " master of the revels !" 
 
 About the middle of the afternoon Dr. Griffin announced 
 to Mr. Rogers, with evident chagrin, that it was necessary, 
 from the reports of Tobias Wilson and Thomas Rogers, 
 that he should pass the night with the wounded sergeant. 
 A half hour later, Thomas suddenly recollected that it would 
 be unkind to leave the doctor alone with his patient, and 
 he too rode away. Gradually the company dispersed, until 
 only a few young persons remained, besides the usual mem- 
 bers of the family. How the remainder of that afternoon 
 and evening and night wore away, the reader must im- 
 agine. Upon those first hours of sacred wedded love we 
 dare not intrude. Those who have passed through them 
 will understand the burning intensity of that enjoyment 
 which condenses into moments the raptures of a lifetime ; 
 and those who have not, must live on in ignorance, until 
 experience reveals what language is powerless to portray. 
 
 It was near the hour of noon on the next day when Dr. 
 Griffin returned. He seemed perplexed and uneasy, and 
 even forgot to give Mrs. Wilson instructions as to the 
 proper mode of preparing the viands he had come to share. 
 He was crusty and uncommunicative, and finally picked up 
 a book, and, stretching himself on a wooden bench in the 
 passage, was soon seemingly absorbed in its contents. Not 
 long afterward a neighbor, who had been absent for some 
 days, came to pay his respects and offer his congratulations 
 to the newly-married pair. Several others had called during 
 the morning, and as all who did so had been invited to re- 
 main and partake of the family dinner, and as most of them 
 had accepted the invitation, these, added to the young peo- 
 
174 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 pie of both sexes who were present at the wedding, and 
 had not returned home with their parents on the previous 
 day, made up a very respectable auditory for a newsmon- 
 ger, of which fraternity Mr. Jones — the new-comer — was 
 a zealous member. Some of the company were seated on 
 the steps of the passage entrance ; some were lolling on 
 the benches ; while others had paired off to indulge those 
 little flirtations of which weddings are so apt to be sug- 
 gestive. Seating himself in a chair, Mr. Jones addressed 
 Mrs. Wilson, Sr., in a voice loud enough to be heard by the 
 whole party : 
 
 " Have you heard the dreadful news this morning, 
 madam ?" 
 
 "What news?" "What is dreadful?" "Do tell us 
 quick !" were some of the questions and exclamations which 
 sounded in the gratified ears of Mr. Jones. Mrs. Wilson 
 calmly answered : 
 
 "It cannot be anything very dreadful, or some of us 
 must have heard it. Some of our friends would have called 
 to tell us." 
 
 "Oh! yes, it is, dear madam," exclaimed a bright-eyed, 
 laughing girl, who had not yet seen seventeen summers. 
 "It's horrid ! I heard it yesterday." 
 
 "You heard it !" exclaimed Jones nervously, fearful that 
 some one had been before him in communicating a terrible 
 story. "But you couldn't have heard it all, for some of it 
 didn't happen until this morning. What did you hear, 
 Miss Ella ?" 
 
 The young girl, who had not one particle of faith in Mr. 
 Jones's story, and who had seized on this occasion as a 
 good opportunity to pay a little debt of spite she owed him, 
 answered : 
 
 "I do not know whether my news is the same as yours, 
 Mr. Jones ; but mine is so horrid that I'm sure you will never 
 be able to match it. Can he, Mrs. Wilson ?" 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 175 
 
 " Really, Ella, you cannot expect me to answer that ques- 
 tion until I know what your news is." 
 
 " Well, then, I heard yesterday that Mr. Jones had told 
 his friend, Mrs. Austin, as a great secret, who told it again, 
 as a secret, to every one within ten miles of her house, that 
 I had promised to marry his nephew, Joe Sykes — a long- 
 legged, bandy-shanked, blear-eyed, spider-bodied toad as 
 he is ! Now is that not more dreadful than any news he can 
 tell?" 
 
 Mrs. Rogers smiled gravely at this sally, and the young 
 people laughed heartily at a description they all knew was 
 not greatly over-drawn. All of which only served to increase 
 and intensify Mr. Jones's anger. 
 
 "You are likely to do a great deal worse, Miss Ella 
 Whitlock, than get my nephew for a husband. He has 
 already got a captain's commission in the Confederate 
 army, and is able to protect those he loves, and punish 
 such as take advantage of his absence to turn him into 
 ridicule !" 
 
 The young girl, notwithstanding the bitterness of her 
 words, had heretofore spoken without an apparent trace of 
 anger. At this unmanly threat, her eyes flashed fire, and 
 her dimpled cheek grew scarlet. 
 
 " Punish a helpless girl ! That would be just like him I 
 The uncle is only a slanderer; but the blood grows warmer 
 in its descent, and the nephew rises to the dignity of mak- 
 ing war upon women ! I do not doubt that he has courage 
 enough for that, although he did, in company with his pop- 
 injay general, Joe Wheeler, drown his horse in jumping 
 from the Shelbyville bridge, and lose his hat and his sword 
 in the water, in his terrified flight from the Union cavalry. 
 I wonder if that is any part of the crown of glory he 
 told me he was going to win, and bring back to lay at my 
 feet I" 
 
176 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 " Stop, Ella," said Mrs. Wilson, who thought it time this 
 scene should end. "Such language is unbecoming." 
 
 "I couldn't help it," cried the maiden, bursting into 
 tears. "I did not mean to say all I have said. But it's 
 true, and I will say it to Joe Sykes if he wishes to hear 
 it." 
 
 If Thomas Rogers had been there, Mr. Jones's bones 
 would have been in considerable peril, and Captain Joseph 
 Sykes would have had an item charged in his account which 
 might prove troublesome when the day of settlement came ; 
 for Rogers loved that bright-eyed and impetuous girl more 
 than he cared as yet to confess to his own heart, and it was 
 altogether possible that he might conclude that every tear 
 drawn from her eyes called for as many crimson drops from 
 the veins of the offender. There were those present also 
 whose tempers had been sorely tried ; but Mr. Jones was an 
 old man, and they reflected that he was a guest, albeit not 
 a very welcome one, in the house of a friend. Ella Whit- 
 lock walked into an adjoining room when she had done 
 speaking, and Mrs. Wilson, anxious to remove any feeling 
 of unpleasantness at such a time, urged Mr. Jones to go on 
 with his news. He needed no further encouragement, and 
 his hearers were treated to a dark story, for which they were 
 little prepared. 
 
 He told how, in passing the house of Parson Williams 
 that morning, he observed a number of persons so great as 
 to excite his curiosity; that he stopped to inquire what it 
 meant, when he was told that on Saturday a party who 
 were in search of Jim Biles, found his dead body at the 
 foot of a precipice; that it was so dreadfully mangled by 
 falling from the precipice and by the teeth of some wild 
 animal, thevdid not at first discover that he had been shot 
 — the ball entering his back and coming out in front, after 
 passing through the lower bowels; that the conscript sur- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 177 
 
 geon who examined the wound declared it had been in- 
 flicted by the same kind of gun as that which killed Joshua 
 Wilkins ; that Parson Williams had been so much affected 
 by the death of his friend that he was unable to go through 
 with the usual services of the church on Sunday ; that after 
 a restless night he went out this morning, according to his 
 custom, to feed his hogs ; that the hog pen was not more 
 than three hundred yards from the house ; that not return- 
 ing to breakfast, the family became uneasy and instituted a 
 search. They found him lying on the ground, near the hog- 
 pen, stone dead ; his loaded gun resting against a tree not 
 far off; and, strange to say, the wound through which his 
 life-blood had ebbed, was of the same character as those 
 that had sent his friends upon the dread journey, which leads 
 from earth to — where we know not. 
 
 All of the company had listened in profound silence to 
 this fearful narrative. Sophy turned pale, and clung trem- 
 blingly to the arm of her husband, while he was visibly 
 agitated; a cloud gathered on the brow of Mr. Rogers; 
 Mrs. Wilson wept ; and Ella, who had returned to the pas- 
 sage as soon as the traces of tears were removed from her 
 cheeks, wrung her hands, and bitterly reproached herself. 
 
 "To think, " she murmured, "just to think that I should 
 have made so light of this dreadful business, and interrupted 
 its narrative by my foolish resentment of Joe Sykes's pre- 
 tended engagement to me, and still more foolish anger when 
 rebuked ! If the Lord will forgive me, I will not again be 
 so wicked. Mr. Jones, I beg your pardon ; come, let us be 
 friends." 
 
 He took her ottered hand, but it was after the surly man- 
 ner of a half-appeased bear. 
 
 Mr. Rogers cut short the scene, and, at the same time, 
 changed the conversation by announcing, almost sternly, 
 that dinner was waiting. At this announcement, they re- 
 
178 TOBIAS WIL BON. 
 
 paired to the dining-room, and no further allusion was 
 made to the sad occurrences that had been related by Mr. 
 Jones. But a feeling of sadness and gloom had settled on 
 entertainers and guests alike ; and soon after the meal was 
 concluded, there was a general breaking up of the party. 
 There were no light adieus, in which gayety predominated 
 over the acheless regret of parting for a short time from 
 the friends whose happiness they had assembled to witness, 
 and of whose hospitality they had liberally partaken. The 
 collision of a wedding and a funeral is always painful ; but 
 there was a deeper shadow than this upon the hearts of 
 the party — ^just now so gay — who were hurrying to their 
 respective homes. There was an unaccountable sensation 
 of mingled awe and apprehension. They had been taught 
 the forceful lesson, that "in the midst of life we are in 
 death," in a manner so rude that the nerves gave way, and 
 the mind was unstrung by the shock. Their interest in 
 the young and loving couple was tinged with sadness, and 
 they went on their way, hoping that no evil might come, 
 yet dreading its approach to themselves, or to those who 
 had dedicated their lives to each other, and who, in the 
 eyes of God, were henceforth one and indivisible. The 
 laws of man might undertake to absolve tHem from the 
 promises they had made to each other, but a higher and a 
 holier law proclaimed that death alone had power to 
 release them. For weal or for woe, in joy or in sorrow, 
 in sickness or in health, they were joined together, and 
 the sentence of perjury must follow in the footsteps of a 
 broken faith, if one of those promises should be violated 
 either with or without the sanction of human law. 
 
 When the last of the guests had departed, the young 
 wife leaned upon her husband's arm ; there was a shade 
 upon her brow, and her eyes of heavenly blue were robbed 
 of a portion of their lustei', but the love that filled her soul, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 179 
 
 and gave life to the pulses of her heart, bid defiance to 
 trouble and anxiety. 
 
 "This is a sad beginning of our wedded life," she mur- 
 mured, laying her hand upon her breast, "but I will not let 
 the dark omen hide a single ray of the happiness which is 
 glowing here." 
 
 " The heart, sweet wife, makes its own omens. All others 
 are worse than worthless. And in our hearts I know that 
 all is gladness." 
 
 He folded her in his arms as he spoke, and pressed a long, 
 long kiss upon her lips. When at last that clinging sa- 
 lute had ended, the light returned to her eyes, and with 
 firm unwavering faith and trustfulness, she repeated the 
 words : 
 
 "God's will be done. I trust in Htm !" 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 When Thomas Rogers left his father's house, on the 
 afternoon of his sister's wedding, it was with the avowed 
 purpose of returning to that of Tobias Wilson, whither 
 Dr. Griffin had preceded him. 
 
 " You had better ride fast," said his father, when they 
 shook hands at parting. "You are late, and scrambling 
 down that mountain after nightfall is not the safest thing 
 in the world for man or horse." 
 
 "I have time enough," he replied, patting his spirited 
 horse on the neck. "Robin has a knack of reducing these 
 mountain miles to short measure, and he has never tripped 
 since you gave him to me." 
 
 The words had scarcely passed his lips when he gave 
 his steed the reins, and rode off at a gallop. At a distance 
 of less than a mile he dismounted, laid down the rails of a 
 worm-fence, and led his horse inside. There was here 
 a thick undergrowth of bushes, and a few yards off a large 
 poplar-tree had been blown down by some previous storm. 
 From the hollow of this tree he drew forth the Spencer 
 rifle, revolver, Bowie knife, and other accoutrements he 
 had hidden there that morning on his way to the wedding. 
 To Wilson, who was present when they were hidden, he 
 had merely observed, that if he carried these formidable 
 weapons to his father's house, it would excite remark 
 among the guests, and it was therefore better to leave 
 them where he could get them on his return. The knife 
 and pistol were now belted around his person. The bul- 
 
 17 (181) 
 
182 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 let pouch, in which there was a supply of cartridges, done 
 up in papers containing seven rounds each, (the full charge 
 for a Spencer rifle,) was thrown over his shoulder, and 
 then, remounting his horse, he turned his head directly 
 through the field of waving corn. 
 
 From this point it was about four miles to the house of 
 Parson Williams. In order to reach it, it was necessary 
 to pass through a gap in the mountain, some three-quarters 
 of a mile in extent, on one side of which a perpendicular 
 wall of rock rose up to the height of three or four hundred 
 feet, on the other there was a like precipice, of even greater 
 height, but not so regular. Here and there a jutting crag 
 overhung the road which ran along its base. There were, 
 too, occasional clefts, large enough to hide a man and 
 horse, from more than one of which issued limpid springs 
 that emptied themselves into the stream which ran through 
 and spread itself over nearly half the width of the gap. 
 There was no other outlet to the valley in which Parson 
 Williams lived, without making a circuit of twenty miles 
 or more. At this point Thomas Rogers calculated that 
 there was danger of meeting people whom he had no mind 
 to take into his confidence, or supply with grounds of sus- 
 picion hereafter. Before reaching it, he turned aside into 
 one of the numerous hollows of the mountain, tied his 
 horse securely to the limb of a tree, and stretched himself 
 upon the ground, where he could overlook the road, with- 
 out being seen himself, prepared to wait until night gave 
 assurance that no traveler or passer-by would be stirring 
 on that dark and lonely road. He saw several persons 
 riding along from the direction of Parson Williams's house, 
 and, recognizing them as members of the Baptist church, 
 he concluded they had been in attendance at one of the 
 Parson's "preachings." Just after sundown he heard a 
 clear, shrill whistle, piping the favorite negro melody. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 183 
 
 *' Possum up de gura stump, 
 Raccoon in de hollow," 
 
 and looking over the rock, which served him as a screen, 
 he saw a stalwart negro, the property of Parson Williams, 
 leisurely making his way homeward. The negro was well 
 known to Rogers, and he instantly called out : 
 
 "Here, Isham. Come this way." 
 
 "Who dar ?" answered the negro, looking up, and then 
 satisfied by the first glance, hasty as it was, he continued : 
 "Ohl Massa Rogers. Yes, sa." 
 
 When he reached the rock which had served Rogers as 
 a hiding-place, he was told to seat himself behind it; and 
 the following colloquy ensued: 
 
 "How is your master, Isham ?" 
 
 "Poorly, sa. Mighty poorly! He took on a heap 
 when Cappin Wilkins was killed, and said one of the 
 Lord's wessels wur smashed into shivers; and he got a 
 big skeer when he went over to preach the funeral. He 
 said that onct he was sartin sure he wur in the hands of 
 the Philis^^zes, but the Lord delivered him. But yistev- 
 day, when he heerd how Massa Biles was found dead, with 
 a bullet hole spang through him, he was av/ful troubled ; 
 and this mornin' it wur gin out that he was too low in 
 sperit to preach to-day." 
 
 "Too low in spirit to preach to-day! Why, I saw 
 some of the congregation coming away, not an hour ago." 
 
 " Yes, sa. I met 'em. But thar warnt no preachment. 
 They stayed may be to keep him company, or may be to 
 git a little of his old peach and honey." 
 
 "Like enough," responded Rogers, musingly. Then 
 changing his tone, and looking the negro steadily in the 
 face, he said : 
 
 "Isham, if all the reports we hear in our neighborhood 
 be true, you have no cause to love your master much." 
 
184 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 *' What you hear, sa ?" asked the negro quickly, wincing 
 under the keen gaze that was bent upon him. "You hear 
 Isham gwine to run off wid de Yankees ?" 
 
 "No, I did not hear that, and I should not have told it 
 if I had. So you need not be afraid to tell me anything. 
 What I did hear was that Parson Williams treated his 
 servants badly; that although he gave them good clothes 
 and a sufficiency of food, he whipped them unmercifully for 
 the least fault, and made even the women and children work 
 before day, and after dark, in the worst weather. I there- 
 fore concluded that you do not love him much." 
 
 "Massa Rogers, is you in yearnest, or is you foolin' dis 
 nigger?" 
 
 " I was never more in earnest in my life, Isham. It 
 would do me no good to fool you, or to betray you, and 
 thus cause your punishment. You are not more than 
 three or four years older than I am, and we have been 
 raised here together. Did you ever know me to tell any- 
 thing on anybody that would hurt them ; especially on a 
 negro who has no friends to take up for him ?" 
 
 A light shone upon the countenance of the negro, which 
 betokened not merely assent, but implicit trust and con- 
 fidence also. 
 
 "No, Massa Rogers, you never did; and you was al- 
 ways good to us black folks, and never cussed us, nor 
 kicked us, nor cuffed us about, and so I'll tell you. Massa 
 treats us all worser than you knows of." 
 
 "Then you don't love him much?" 
 
 " I couldn't, if I tried. But I never tried." 
 
 "And you have been thinking of going off with the 
 Union soldiers, when they leave this neighborhood ?" 
 
 " Yes, sa ! I'se done made up my mind !" 
 
 " Well, they will take you if you ask them ; but I do not 
 think they want you now, unless you will go as a soldier. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 185 
 
 And you need not go on account of Parson Williams's 
 treatment. If you answer my questions truly, I do not 
 think he will trouble you after to-morrow." 
 
 It was some time before the negro comprehended the 
 exact meaning of the white man ; and when he did, he ex- 
 hibited much more of dissent and alarm than Rogers had 
 anticipated. Whatever may be said to the contrary, the 
 negro is very far from being cruel or blood-thirsty by na- 
 ture. The first saturnalia of that freedom which is now 
 dawning upon him may give rise to the exhibition of some 
 such traits — it would be wonderful if it did not — but they 
 are very far from being characteristic of the race. In all 
 the trials and temptations to which they have been sub- 
 jected, in all the daily and hourly opportunities which have 
 been presented to them of imbruing their hands in the 
 blood of their masters, with comparatively little risk of de- 
 tection, they have gone on in the performance of their 
 allotted tasks, from generation to generation, with a meek- 
 ness and docility, a degree of kindly regard for their owners, 
 an absolute horror of violence, and a patient submission to 
 treatment, which was, in many cases, the reverse of hu- 
 mane, that has never been approached by any other tribe 
 or variety of the human species. Revenge and destrnc- 
 tiveness are foreign to the head and the heart of the black 
 man, at least as he exhibits himself on the North American 
 continent. There is not a planter at the South, v^^hose 
 entire crop has not been every year at the mercy of his 
 slaves, from the time it was gathered until transported to 
 market. There is not a dwelling that might not have 
 been wrapped in flames almost any night of the year, nor a 
 single town or city which could have been regarded as 
 secure, if the negro had willed its destruction ; and all this 
 might have been accomplished at so little risk, that detec- 
 tion would not have followed one time in a hundred. But 
 
 It* 
 
186 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 SO far from evincing a disposition to engage in acts of such 
 a character, the owner must have been a brutal one indeed 
 who did not find his slaves the most faithful sentinels over 
 his property and his life. Many and many a time I have 
 seen them weep as bitterly at the funeral of a master, or 
 some member of his family, as if their own nearest relative 
 was about being consigned to the grave; and the affection 
 with which they regarded and treated the white children 
 of the family could scarcely be distinguished from the love 
 they bore to their own offspring. 
 
 These facts were neither unknown to nor underestimated 
 by Thomas Rogers. But he trusted a great deal to the 
 new and strange aspirings for freedom that the rebellion 
 had kindled in the mind of the slave. He trusted some- 
 what to the good-will that he believed the negro entertained 
 for himself, personally, and something more to the want of 
 that feeling toward his mastic. As"^ master, Parson 
 Williams outwardly met all the requirements of the be- 
 nignant laws of Alabama. He clothed them well; he fed 
 them plenteously ; he could bid defiance to grand juries 
 and States attorneys, — yet there were many things the law 
 could not reach, w^hich were well calculated to turn the 
 milk of human kindness into gall and bitterness. Parson 
 Vrilliams was a hard man — hard to the members of his 
 w^hite family — much harder to his servants ; and Rogers 
 had repeatedly heard him so spoken of: he therefore judged 
 that there might be some spark of resentment burning in 
 the breast of the negro man Isham, which would prompt 
 him to become a willing accomplice, at any rate so far as 
 communicating the information he desired to obtain, and 
 which, indeed, was all the assistance he sought or would 
 have accepted from the negro. • 
 
 The first reply of Isham was so decided a negative that 
 Rogers began to fear he had made a serious miscalcula- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 187 
 
 tion, and the idea crossed bis mind that the negro might 
 betray him. This suspicion was, however, soon dismissed, 
 and he went on : 
 
 "I do not want your help, Isham. I would not let you 
 help me if you wished. There shall be no finger in that 
 pie but my own. All I want you to do is to answer my 
 questions truly." 
 
 "But, Massa Rogers, if I tells you how to kill him, 
 won't dat be as bad as if I helped you to knock him in de 
 head ? Oh, sa ! let him alone 1 God Amighty will tend 
 to him by'm-by." 
 
 ''God Almighty works by human means, Isham; and 
 who shall say that I am not his agent in cutting short the 
 career of that dark and dangerous man? He must die to- 
 morrow, Isham. You will not betray me !" 
 
 " Neber, sa, neber ! They shall whip all the skin off my 
 back before dey gits a word from me. But you see, sa, if 
 I helps you, I can't neber go coon hunting, or possum 
 hunting no more." 
 
 " Why, Isham ? I cannot see why that should keep you 
 from hunting as usual. 
 
 "Kase, I'd see his ghost in ebery hollow, and in ebery 
 bush on the mountain." 
 
 " I do not want your help, I tell you. I do not want 
 you to see him die, or to know anything about it, except 
 that I have sworn to kill him ; and when you hear that he 
 is dead, be careful not to say or do anything to make peo- 
 ple suspect me, until I give you permission to tell all you 
 know. Now tell me what time he gets up in the morning. 
 Does he go to the field himself, or what does he do before 
 breakfast ?" 
 
 " He gits up ebery mornin' before day. Den be calls 
 us black ones, and sends us out to work. Den be goes 
 back to de house, and takes bis mornin' dram, and as 
 
188 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 soon as day comes he goes out to de hog-pen and feeds de 
 hogs." 
 
 ** Where is the hog-pen ?" 
 
 " Jis back ob de hoss lot, on de creek." 
 
 " Oh, yes ! I know. I have passed it many a time. It 
 is not a pen at all, only a feeding-place in the woods." 
 
 " Jis so, sa. We calls it a pen, kase we always makes a 
 pen dere in fattening time." 
 
 Rogers asked the negro a great many other questions, 
 but he paid no further attention to his answers. He had 
 obtained all the information he wanted, and only continued 
 his questioning for the purpose of diverting the thoughts 
 of the negro from the one important point. At length he 
 rose and said : 
 
 "It is getting dark, Isham, and as I reckon your master 
 does not allow you to be out at night, you had better be 
 going. Remember, you must never tell any one that you 
 have seen me here this evening." 
 
 The negro, after promising faithfully to keep the secret, 
 wended his way homeward. As soon as his stalwart form 
 was lost in the gathering shades of night, Rogers rose, and 
 at once proceeded to a cornfield some two or three hun- 
 dred yards off. Returning from thence with his arms full of 
 the growing cornstalks, blades, etc., he removed the saddle 
 from his horse, relieved his mouth from the bit, and tying 
 the reins about his neck so as to enable him to feed at his 
 ease, he walked off a few steps, and taking a seat on the 
 ground, proceeded to relieve his own hunger with a cold 
 "snack" that he had provided and brought in his pocket. 
 The meal ended, he made a pillow of his saddle, and, 
 stretching his limbs upon his mother earth, was soon in a 
 profound sleep. An hour before daybreak he was picking 
 his way through the deep and narrow defile heretofore de- 
 scribed, and known in that region as "Hell's Passway." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 189 
 
 Parson Benjamin Williams passed his last night upon 
 earth in a state of restless uneasiness and of nervous irri- 
 tability very unusual to him. Several times during the 
 night he thought of sending for a physician, but was de- 
 terred by the consciousness that his nervous derangement 
 arose from the sudden and mysterious death of the two 
 accomplices who had recently aided him in the commission 
 of a dark and terrible crime. It is true there was nothing 
 to connect their deaths with the murder that had pre- 
 ceded them, and in which he and they had participated. 
 There was no one, within his knowledge, likely to feel any 
 interest in the life or death of Robert Johnson, except his 
 daughter and his grandson, and Parson Williams had sat- 
 isfied himself that the grandson could not have been the 
 slayer of either Wilkins or Biles. 
 
 But there is always a tendency to suspicion in the mind 
 of the perpetrator of a great crime. He is sure to think 
 that any unusual occurrence has some connection with the 
 deed that is ever present to him, and in this way guilt not 
 unfrequently betrays itself to punishment. Often the very 
 steps it takes to secure immunity leads to detection. It 
 can never rest satisfied with what has been done for the 
 safety of the culprit, but is always fancying that something 
 more is requisite, and thus insures suspicion, and suspicion 
 generally leads to conviction. Parson Williams had not 
 yet fully reached this troublesome and dangerous frame of 
 mind, perhaps he might never have done so, because in any 
 event he was satisfied that no Confederate court and jury- 
 would doom him to punishment. He was disturbed by ap- 
 prehensions for which he could not account satisfactorily to 
 himself. It was not the fear of punishment, or the con- 
 demnation of his neighbors ; still, there was a vague, inde- 
 finable something in his bosom that he interpreted as a 
 premonition that the avenger of blood was on his track. 
 
190 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 It might be, it probably was true, so he reasoned, that Wil- 
 kins and Biles had been accidentally met by Union soldiers, 
 and killed, either in resisting or in flying from them. But 
 still it wore to him the appearance of a judgment, and he 
 could not divest himself of a presentiment that it fore- 
 shadowed his own doom. He was thoroughly versed in 
 the Old Testament writings, and deeply imbued with the 
 gloomy superstitions and stern and bloody fanaticisms to 
 which those writings are so well calculated to give birth, 
 when dissevered from the gentler teachings of the New. 
 And under their influence he regarded the death of his ac- 
 complices as a warning to himself. This conviction settling 
 on his mind shook his sturdy frame wiih all the power of 
 physical disease. It is but justice to him to say that this 
 weakness was but temporary. Harsh, unfeeling, and cruel 
 to others as he undoubtedly was, he was always ready to 
 bear in his own person the penalties that might follow his 
 acts. Before morning came, he had, in a great measure, 
 shaken off the nervous depression that overcame him. The 
 conviction that the thread of his life was running short 
 was as strong as ever, but he braced himself to meet the 
 end, whatever it might be, and sternly drove each coward 
 thought from his bosom. 
 
 At the usual hour he called his slaves, and sent them to 
 the field. As soon as the morning light enabled him to 
 distinguish objects clearly, he took his gun in one hand 
 and an empty basket in the other, and went out, according 
 to his custom, to feed the hogs. Climbing over the rail- 
 fence, he deposited his gun against a tree, filled his basket 
 from a crib near by, which had been built for the purpose, 
 and, taking it on his shoulder, walked along, scattering the 
 corn, as he went, among the grunting and squealing swine. 
 When the basket was emptied, he let it fall from his shoul- 
 der, still grasping it in his hand, and looked about him 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 191 
 
 with satisfaction upon the well-fed and thriving porkers. 
 There was no danger of want in his family for the coming 
 year, and he noted the fact with the self-satisfied air of a 
 man who feels that he is altogether comfortable in his cir- 
 cumstances. Suddenly an armed man stepped from behind 
 a large tree within twenty feet of him, and a stern voice 
 greeted him with the words : 
 
 "How are you this morning, Parson Williams?" 
 
 The individual thus addressed started as if an adder had 
 stung him. A deadly pallor spread over his face, and the 
 basket dropped from his nerveless hand. Kecovering him- 
 self by a great effort, and observing who it was that stood 
 before him, he answered surlily : 
 
 "Is that you, Thomas Rogers? and what are you doing 
 here ? I guess you haven't been sleeping with my negroes, 
 and as there is no place else you could have slept in this 
 neighborhood, I should like to know how you came here 
 at this hour in the morning?" 
 
 "I hope to be able to explain it to your satisfaction be- 
 fore we part, parson." 
 
 "Hardly, I think, Mr. Thomas. I heard that you were 
 in league with your country's enemies, and this wandering 
 about all night, nobody knows where, or on what errand, 
 looks mighty like it." 
 
 "Ah, parson !" replied Rogers, with a bitter sneer, "I 
 was afraid you had heard something of the sort about me, 
 or rather about my father, and I have come to relieve your 
 mind upon the subject. Bat first tell me who killed Robert 
 Johnson in cold blood, when he was peacefully at work in 
 his own field, without dreaming of harm to a human being ?" 
 
 Parson Williams was poorly prepared to meet this search- 
 ing query. Resolute as he was, he trembled in every limb. 
 He tried to answer firmly, but his voice would not be con- 
 trolled, and his pitiless enemy marked its tremulous tones 
 
192^ TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 with a degree of satisfaction little less than that with which 
 the savage hails the shriek of his victim at the stake. 
 
 "What do I know of Robert Johnson, and what is he to 
 you that you should come here at this hour to ask me about 
 him ? What fool's notion have you got in your head 
 now ?" 
 
 "A spirit whispered to me in my sleep," responded Ro- 
 gers, "that Captain Wilkins, James Biles, and Parson 
 Williams killed an old man, who was very dear to me, 
 because he would not turn traitor to his country, and the 
 same spirit warned me that the blood-hounds were on my 
 father's track. Josh Wilkins died — and owned nothing. 
 Jim Biles died — and confessed all before he went. It is 
 your turn now !" Then changing his tone to one expres- 
 sive of scorn and hate combined, he continued: 
 
 " Fool ! Did you suppose such a deed of blood could be 
 allowed to go unavenged ? From the hour that Tobias 
 Wilson and I met you at the foot of the mountain, I have 
 been upon your track. Your last hour has come." 
 
 Parson Williams, as before stated, was no coward. The 
 immediate presence of physical danger acted as a restora- 
 tive, and he sprang for his gun with an agility no one 
 would have expected him to exhibit. But at no period 
 of his life could he have been accounted a match, under 
 equal circumstances, for the quick eye and steady hand 
 that were now opposed to him. He was still several steps 
 distant from his weapon when a puff of light-blue smoke 
 was belched forth from the muzzle of Rogers's rifle, a 
 sharp report followed, the frightened swine scattered 
 through the woods, and the Baptist minister fell forward 
 on his face a lifeless corpse. 
 
 "He's done for," muttered Rogers. "No human being 
 ever lived ten minutes who fell in that way." 
 
 Then, turning back into the woods, he went off at a rapid 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 193 
 
 pace to the spot where his horse was fastened. In a short 
 time afterward he was dashing through "Hell's Passway" 
 at a rate of speed that no one probably had ever attempted 
 before. Once beyond it he turned abruptly from the road, 
 leaped a cornfield fence, made his way through it to the 
 mountain side, and never slackened the reins until he had 
 gained the narrow path which led to Tobias Wilson's 
 house. 
 
 The sun was not yet "an hour high'-* when he rode 
 down the mountain, stabled and fed his horse, and entered 
 the room where Dr. Griffin was preparing his own breakfast. 
 
 The doctor's first greeting was by no means a cordial one. 
 
 "A pretty trick you have played me. Master Thomas!" 
 he said. "And if I live I'll pay you back in the same coin. 
 To send a man of my age across that wretched mountain ; 
 to leave him to feed his own horse and cook his own supper : 
 and then to sleep here alone, or the same thing as alone, 
 in a place where murder has been quite too common of 
 late to make a visit to it agreeable, even in the daytime, 
 may be a very pleasant joke to you, but it's something I 
 shall not forget, or forgive either." 
 
 "Why, doctor, I'm sure I thought your patient would 
 be the better for some one's presence during the night." 
 
 * A common country expression, which means an hour after sun- 
 rise or an hour before sunset. It is used indiflFerently, and under- 
 stood according to the time of day, as referring to the morning or 
 the evening. Thus the expression "the sun is an hour high" (or 
 two, or three) means, in the morning, that it is an hour after sun- 
 rise, and in the evening, that it is an hour before sundown, or sun- 
 set. This explanation will be deemed superfluous by most American 
 readers, but a Frenchman, editing an American paper, amused him- 
 self, and possibly edified his readers, in the course of a criticism 
 on a former work, by a learned dissertation upon the meaning of 
 the words. 
 
 18 
 
194 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 " To be sure. There's no doubt about that. But did 
 you think be needed medical attendance ? You knew well 
 enough that he had no more need of a doctor than you 
 had, and you sent me here in order that you might stay 
 and romp with the girls." 
 
 "No, doctor," answered Rogers gravely. "There at 
 least you wrong me. I will tell you all after breakfast. 
 In the mean time allow me to relieve you of this drudgery. 
 I will perform the part of cook." 
 
 "Not a bit of it," was the decided response. "You 
 have vexed me enough without spoiling my breakfast in ad- 
 dition. But you may go and saddle my horse, for 1 shall 
 leave this place as soon as I can get off comfortably." 
 
 Rogers obeyed, for the permission, he knew, was meant 
 to be understood as an inj unction. The horse was sad- 
 dled and brought to the door by the time the good doctor 
 announced that breakfast was ready. The meal was eaten 
 by one party in silence. By the other amid many growl- 
 ings at the trick, as he thought it, which had been played 
 upon him, intermingled with expressions of satisfaction at 
 the success of his own cooking. When their appetites 
 were appeased, the doctor deliberately threw his medical 
 saddle-bags (an indispensable , article to a country practi- 
 tioner) over his left arm, and bidding good-by to his 
 patient, walked to the door, saying, as he did so : 
 
 "I have no ' good-hjs^ for you, Master Thomas, until 
 you are well paid for this scurvy business." 
 
 Rogers walked out with him, and, taking the bridle in 
 his own hand, led the horse to "the bars." Here he halted, 
 and said, so seriously as to command the attention of his 
 companion, and completely drive away his affected "fit of 
 the pouts :" 
 
 "You will hear strange and startling news on the other 
 side of the mountain, doctor." 
 
TOBIAS WILSOX. 195 
 
 " What news ?" was the eager response. " Nothing has 
 happened, I hope, to any of our friends?" 
 
 "Parson Williams is dead." 
 
 " Parson Williams dead 1" exclaimed the doctor, trying 
 to manifest a feeling of interest in the news, which was be- 
 lied by the long-drawn breath of relief that followed the 
 exclamation. "Parson Williams dead! Well, he was no 
 patient of mine, and you need not have startled me by 
 leaving me to infer that it was some member of your 
 father's family, or some other one of our friends. I'm 
 sorry he's gone, though he hated me as he did a rattlesnake. 
 What was the matter with him ? Apoplexy, I suppose ; I 
 always thought he had a tendency to apoplexy." 
 
 " It was not apoplexy that cut short his wicked and 
 dangerous career. It was a rifle bullet. I shot him dead 
 this morning before sunrise, within three hundred yards of 
 his own house." 
 
 " You shot him ! You turned murderer ! Oh ! Thomas 
 Kogers I I would not have believed it if fifty men had 
 sworn positively to your guilt. And for what have you 
 made a confidant of me ? Why should you darken all my 
 future life by making me the repository of this fearful 
 secret? Surely, surely I have 'deserved better than this 
 of your father's son." 
 
 " I have made you my confidant, doctor, because I could 
 not help it. I have told you my secret only to keep you 
 from betraying me." 
 
 "Me betray you 1 Me betray your father's son I Boy, 
 you are cruel, more than cruel." 
 
 " I did not mean that you would betray me knowingly. 
 You have misunderstood me, doctor, entirely. Listen. 
 Every one who was at my sister's wedding yesterday be- 
 lieves that I slept last night in this house. They know 
 that I left my father's with the avowed purpose of keeping 
 
196 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 you company. If you had not been apprised of the facts, 
 you might have let it leak out that I did not return until 
 this morning. Then suspicion of some sort would have 
 arisen against me, and the end of it would have been that 
 a mass of circumstances identifying me as the slayer of 
 Parson Williams would have been brought to light. Now 
 that you are aware of what I have done, you will be on 
 your guard, and say nothing that will direct suspicion to 
 me." 
 
 "But what motive could you have had, Thomas, for 
 killing Parson Williams? He was a bad man, but he was 
 nothing to you. Why did you shoot him ?" 
 
 Thomas Rogers, after a moment's thought, went over, 
 in answer, the whole story of Robert Johnson's murder ; 
 he recited all the damning evidences he had collected of 
 Parson Williams's participation in that bloody deed, in- 
 cluding the confession of Biles. He added, that although 
 he had fully made up his mind to kill him for this cause 
 alone, he believed his heart would have failed him and 
 Williams would have escaped his vengeance but for a rev- 
 elation made by the wounded sergeant, to the effect that 
 Williams was at the head of a conspiracy among the se- 
 cessionists, who were to be aided by strolling bands of 
 Wheeler's cavalry, to rob and murder all the known 
 Unionists in that part of the country as soon as the Union 
 troops were withdrawn, as every one knew they must be, 
 to assist in the capture of Chattanooga. "From that 
 hour," he went on sternly, "his doom was sealed, for of 
 course I knew that my father would be one of the first 
 victims, and, unless I am grievously mistaken, there was a 
 bloody cross over your door also, my dear doctor." 
 
 "Like enough, Thomas, — it is like enough; but still I 
 would rather have braved it, than to have had your hands 
 so deeply dyed in blood." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 197 
 
 "And I had rather not. Each one to his own taste, 
 doctor. What I wish now particularly is, that what I 
 have don-e shall be faithfully kept from the knowledge of 
 my sister Sophy and Ella Whitlock. Now that it is over, 
 I am ready to avow it, and to justify it to the rest of the 
 world ; but those gentle girls must not be wounded through 
 me as long as it can be avoided. It will grieve them both 
 deeply when they learn the whole truth, as they must do 
 in the course of time. I know that well enough. As yet 
 no one knows anything but yourself. Toby and Miller 
 may suspect, but they would suffer their right arms to be 
 severed from their bodies before they would reveal a word 
 of their suspicions. To hide it from Sophy and Ella, it 
 must be hidden from all ; and, to do that, you must be 
 careful to let no word escape you which would lead to a 
 suspicion that I passed the night elsewhere than in this 
 house." 
 
 "I shall take good care of that, I promise you. I know 
 too well what anguish it will bring to your father, not to 
 use every precaution to keep that knowledge far away 
 from him as long as it can be done. It will be a terrible 
 blow to him." 
 
 "I know my father well, and in that quarter I fear 
 nothing. He would not have done the deed himself for 
 any earthly reward, but he knows how well these villains 
 deserved the doom they have met, and he will soon forgive 
 me for playing the part of executioner in times when, and 
 in a land where violated law has no public vindicator. I 
 am only distressed on account of the view my sister and 
 Ella may take of it, if they should learn the fact before I 
 have a chance to explain everything." 
 
 "Your sister will unquestionably be stricken with deep 
 grief, but you may dismiss your fears as to Ella. I was at 
 her mother's when she heard the news of Captain Wilkins's 
 
 18* 
 
198 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 death, and, instead of tears, her eyes flashed with a fire, 
 which looked to me as if her only regret was that her own 
 hand had not inflicted his death-wound." 
 
 "And who had more ample cause to wish him in the 
 grave?" exclaimed Rogers fiercely. "He dragged her 
 two brothers from their home, and sent them to the fatal 
 field of Murfreesborough. Their bones are now bleaching 
 on its rocky surface, and a widowed woman and an orphan 
 girl are left without a rightful protector in a desolate home. 
 I did not forget this, even when my eye was glancing along 
 the barrel of my rifle ; and she would not have been human 
 if she had forgotten it when she heard that justice had 
 overtaken the monster. But still, doctor, you grievously 
 misunderstand that gentle and loving girl, if you imagine 
 it will not pain her greatly to learn that a friend of her 
 mother's, who had no legal warrant for the deed, has rid 
 the earth of the presence of that villain, to say nothing of 
 his remorseless associates. A 'day will come, if I live, 
 when I must tell her myself Until then, keep my secret. 
 If I am killed, or come to my end by other means, let it be 
 buried with me." 
 
 Dr. GriflQn assured him that he need be under no appre- 
 hensions of any premature disclosure, bade him good-by 
 warmly, though sadly, and rode slowly on his way, ab- 
 sorbed in deep and anxious thought. For the first time 
 in his life he had a dark secret to keep. That secret was 
 a most unwelcome guest in his bosom; and all the more 
 so, because he could not divest himself of an uneasy con- 
 viction that, in concealing the deed (or rather the deeds) 
 to which his young friend had confessed, he became, in 
 some sort, jmrticeps criminis. 
 
 In this mood he returned, according to promise, to the 
 house of Mr. Rogers, where, as we have seen, his conduct 
 betrayed the troubled nature of his thoughts. To his great 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 199 
 
 joy, he escaped from the dinner-party without a question 
 having been propounded to him that required prevarica- 
 tion. When it was over, he went home, to commune at 
 leisure with himself as to the best line of conduct to be 
 pursued, in order to avert suspicion from the son of his 
 old and valued friend. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 With a sad and troubled expression of countenance 
 Thomas Rogers gazed after the good doctor as he rode 
 up the mountain side, and dark and bitter were the reflec- 
 tions which came, like ravens, to build their nests in his 
 bosom. He had entered upon a career which it was now 
 beyond his power to shape or to control. No matter 
 where it led — through thorns and brambles — through 
 blood and tears — in sunshine and in shade — in victory 
 and defeat — he must go on, and on, and on — trampling, 
 with an iron heel, upon the associations, the tender affec- 
 tions, the very memories of his childhood and boyhood, 
 and sternly snapping asunder those links of friendship that 
 brightened the dawn of his manhood. He had put his 
 hand to a plow that glued it there with the power of a 
 hundred magnets, and there it must remain until death 
 severed the connection, or victory, complete and decisive, 
 over the mightiest rebellion ever recorded in history, pro- 
 claimed that his work was done. He had consecrated 
 himself to a great cause by deeds we dare not commend, 
 and yet may well hesitate to brand as crimes. It is only 
 in a very limited number of cases that the motives of human 
 action can be penetrated by the eyes of human wisdom, 
 and, therefore, we make no allowance for those motives in 
 our judgment of bad deeds, because we cannot tell whether 
 the assigned one is the true one. Judged by this standard, 
 Thomas Rogers had sinned deeply. But who will dare 
 aver that an all-wise Creator will regulate his sentence 
 (200) 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 201 
 
 according to the crude opinions made up by the feeble and 
 flickering lamp of human reason ? Let us then drop the 
 curtain on a scene where there is so much of doubt and 
 uncertainty — so little to guide us aright. This at least is 
 certain, that, whether he acted as a vengeful manslayer or 
 as the executor of public justice — whether his deeds sprung 
 from an earnest patriotism, and were justifiable on the prin- 
 ciple of self-defense — or whether they came reeking from 
 the dark and turbid pool of demoniac passion, the effect 
 was to so intensify his hatred of treason, and all the fiend- 
 like brood it never fails to hatch, that he gave himself up, 
 body and mind, heart and soul, to the task of driving it, 
 with fire and sword, from the land its sirocco breath had 
 blasted. The gibbet and the cord — the torch and the 
 leaden bullet — the bayonet and the cannon-shot, — these 
 were to be henceforth his instruments, because he believed 
 that to these he and all he loved would be given up, if God 
 in his anger should arm the traitor with power to indulge 
 his remorseless instincts. How far he was wrong in this 
 conviction will probably never be known. Not often has 
 this orb of ours witnessed the triumph of a cause so wicked. 
 There is a Providence above us whose purposes we cannot 
 comprehend, and sometimes, to our limited view, the aveng- 
 ing blow is withheld, and the criminal runs his course un- 
 punished. And so it may be with those who wickedly 
 snapped asunder the cords that bound this Union together 
 — roused into guilty action all the worst passions of the 
 human heart — sent desolation into one section, and mourn- 
 ing and tears into both, — and all upon the hellish pretext 
 that, at some distant and uncertain day in the future, the 
 right of one man to hold his fellow-man in bondage might 
 be denied by the General Government. It may be that in 
 the plan of Omnipotence even this may be allowed to take 
 its place upon the pages of history, and be transmitted to 
 
202 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 posterity as a glorious triumph, instead of a baffled crime. 
 But, although we may not question whatever decree is ren- 
 dered, it is allowable for us to hope, and trust, and believe 
 that the same page which records "the deep damnation" 
 of this rebellion shall also transmit to future ages the story 
 of its utter failure, and of the fearful and dread retribu- 
 tion which overtook its instigators. 
 
 Thomas Rogers was not of a nature to indulge long in 
 gloomy reflections. He was a man of action ; prompt, 
 decided, and energetic, whatever he had to do was done 
 without hesitation or delay. He had agreed with Miller 
 upon a plan of raising a company of mounted men, and 
 tendering their services to Gen. Rosecrans. As Miller 
 expected to enlist a large portion of the company from his 
 old comrades in Wheeler's cavalry, their proceedings were 
 necessarily delayed on account of his wounds. While 
 Rogers was occupied with the mission of vengeance he had 
 undertaken, this delay was a matter of no importance ; but 
 that was over now, and with his accustomed restlessness he 
 began to calculate how long it would be before Miller would 
 be able to mount his horse. The time which must elapse 
 before this was possible, under the most favorable circum- 
 stances, seemed to his impatient spirit an age, and he re- 
 solved to set about the work himself. In order to do this 
 it was necessary to get some one to remain with Miller 
 during his own absence, and pay some little attention to 
 the place. With these half-formed projects in his head he 
 re-entered the house, after Dr. Griffin's departure, to hold 
 a consultation with Miller. When his views had been com- 
 municated to the sergeant they were received with a prompt 
 and cheerful assent. 
 
 "I can do something, myself," continued the soldier, 
 " while I'm laid up here in limbo. I'll write a few lines to 
 some of the boys, which you can show 'em, and if they 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 203 
 
 don't stick to you, and do what you tell 'em, I'm badly 
 fooled." 
 
 So far everything was satisfactory to Eogers. The dif- 
 ficulty^ which he saw the least chance of getting over, was 
 where to find a man willing to come and stay with Miller, 
 who was, at the same time, entirely trustworthy, who could 
 be fully relied on not to betray any of the secrets which 
 must come to his knowledge, to the injury of the principal 
 parties. Upon stating this difficulty to Miller, he was 
 greatly relieved by a reply, which the author takes the lib- 
 erty of giving in his own language, rather than the patois 
 of the mountains. 
 
 " There is no difficulty about that. It will only cost you 
 a ride of ten or eleven miles. I know a man who will 
 come, and he is the man of all others I had rather have 
 about me. His name is John Franklin, and he lives on 
 Hurricane Creek. From what he told me I do not think 
 that John had any particular politics before the war. He 
 was a Democrat, and was therefore put down as a seces- 
 sionist, but the probability is that he never would have 
 been dragged into the commission of treason if he had not 
 fallen in love with Sarah Austin, whose father was a rabid 
 fire-eater. Unlike most of that brood, when war came in 
 earnest, Mr. Austin shouldered his musket, and went forth 
 like a man to fight for the principles he professed. John 
 Franklin, from love for his daughter, followed her father's 
 example. After much hard service, Mr. Austin was killed 
 and John desperately wounded, at Perryville. John lin- 
 gered for a long time in the hospital, and when he was able 
 to travel, came home en furlough. The next day he went 
 over to see Sarah and tell her all he knew of the last hours 
 of her father's life. But he was too late by several weeks. 
 A Confederate captain, who had been in the battle, and 
 who had come home for the purpose of recruiting his com- 
 
204 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 pany, heard Mr. Austin's story in the neighborhood, and, 
 calling at the widow's house, became acquainted with Sarah. 
 His visits were repeated many times, and by some means 
 he completely won the foolish girl's heart. I do not know 
 how, for he is both ugly and awkward. Perhaps it was 
 because he had fought on the same field where her father 
 fell. He pretended to know all about Mr. Austin, told of 
 the dangers and hardships they had encountered together, 
 said he was by him when he was shot down, and had raised 
 his head, and poured some brandy in his mouth. John 
 Franklin is ready to swear that he never spoke to Mr. 
 Austin in his life, and did not know him when he saw him ; 
 but the girl believed his story, and either on that account, 
 or on account of the gold lace that bedizzened his coat, 
 gave him her love. He took advantage of this, promised 
 to marry her — ruined her, and left her. It was a long time 
 before John found out this. He saw plainly at his first 
 visit that Sarah took no pleasure in his society, so he kept 
 away, and the captain had the field to himself. Little by 
 little John heard enough to make him guess the worst. 
 By that time the captain was gone, or John says he would 
 have murdered him, or made him keep his word and marry 
 the silly girl. At first he wrote to her whenever an op- 
 portunity oflfered, but suddenly his letters stopped. She 
 still hopes for his return, and believes him honest. And 
 as she does not suspect that her shame is known to any 
 one but her mother, she bears up very well. It will not 
 advance me in your good opinion to tell how I came to 
 know it, but as I have already confessed to worse things 
 than that, it is not worth while to keep the secret. I came 
 to this country soon after the battle of Murfreesborough, 
 and stopped one night at Mrs. Austin's house. I did not 
 know any of the family, but during the evening both the 
 old lady and the young one asked me a great many ques- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 205 
 
 tions. They soon learned that I had served with Mr. Aus- 
 tin ; that I was in the battle in which he was killed, and 
 that I was still serving in the same regiment with Sarah's 
 lover, (though I did not then know he was her lover,) and 
 that I was going back to the regiment in a day or two. 
 
 " The next morning, when I was about to start, Sarah 
 followed me to the door, and handed me a letter which 
 she begged I would put into the captain's own hand. She 
 was shivering, and I thought I could see signs of tears on 
 her cheeks ; but it was very cold, and that would account 
 for the shivering, while I might have been mistaken about 
 the tears. I promised everything she asked, and rode away. 
 I am not in the habit of carrying written papers about me 
 in these times without knowing exactly what is in them. 
 Accordingly, as soon as I was out of sight, I opened and 
 read the letter. Its contents were sufficient to determine 
 me to pay my old friend, John Franklin, a visit. That 
 night I put up at his house, and before bedtime he was a 
 wiser man than he had been for two years or more. When 
 I asked him for another envelope to replace the one I had 
 broken open, he begged me not to deliver the letter, but to 
 leave it with him, which I did. From that day he aban- 
 doned the idea of returning to the Confederate army. 
 His furlough has long since run out, and when the Union 
 troops leave here he will be compelled to take to the 
 woods or be shot as a deserter. Such a hiding-place as 
 this will be a 'God-send' to him, and I know he can be 
 trusted fully and entirely. If you have no objection I will 
 write to him to come at once." 
 
 ''The sooner the better," answered Rogers. "But tell 
 me the name of this redoubtable captain." 
 
 " Captain Joseph Sykes." 
 
 "Joe Sykes 1" exclaimed Rogers, in astonishment; "oh, 
 what a double-dyed, infernal villain he must be I" 
 
 19 
 
206 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 "Do you know him, sir?" 
 
 "Do I know him ? Yes, I do know him, and he knows 
 me too ; but he shall know me better before long, unless 
 my right hand proves false to its owner." 
 
 "Well, sir, I've nothin' to say agin that, excepting that 
 John Franklin's got a preference right to send a bullet 
 through his carcass, and as that's the only comfort left him, 
 I hope you won't take it from him." 
 
 "True," answered Rogers, "he has the better right. 
 We will settle it somehow between us." 
 
 He mused awhile, then, returning to the subject-matter 
 of their conversation, he said : 
 
 "You may as well write the letter now, sergeant. I 
 shall not go until to-morrow, as there are some things here 
 that must be attended to. You can write while I am out; 
 I will not be gone long." 
 
 Propping the wounded man in a sitting posture, placing 
 pen, ink, and paper within reach of his hand, and arrang- 
 ing a piece of plank so as to answer the purposes of a 
 writing table, he left the room to look after the many little 
 things about the farm which he thought required his atten- 
 tion. On his return, the following characteristic note was 
 put into his hands : 
 
 " Jackson County, Alaba^ia. 
 
 " Dear Jack — I'm badly hurted, and you must come and 
 see me at onst. I can't write the perticklers, but the man 
 who carries these few lines can tell 'em to you. 
 
 " Your friend til deth, 
 
 "JAMES MILLER. 
 
 " Posscrip. Bring all your things, at aulivense'^ bring 
 your gun and all your ammynishon. 
 
 " N. B. Keep dark, and tear this letter up. Don't tell 
 nobody I'm hurted, or whar I am." 
 
 * All events. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 207 
 
 When Rogers had with some difficulty deciphered the 
 contents of the foregoing epistle, he inquired : 
 
 " Where does your friend live ?" 
 
 We spare the reader the minute description of the 
 locality, and of the by-ways leading to it, that followed. 
 Rogers listened patiently, and without interrupting him, 
 to the end, although it was much more prolix than was at 
 all necessary for his information, he having a tolerably ac- 
 curate knowledge of the country, and of the roads and 
 paths by which it was traversed. 
 
 " I shall find him easily," he replied. '' Indeed, I think 
 I know the house. Did you write any other letters ?" 
 
 "Xo, sir. At first I thought I would. But I wanted 
 to see John first, and git him to tell me how the land 
 lay. I warn't much afeerd of making any mistake, but it 
 is best to be sure. And, besides, I don't know whar some 
 of the boys are, and couldn't tell you how to find 'em 
 without your runnin' the risk of bein' shot by some on'em. 
 When John Franklin comes it'll be smooth and quick 
 work." 
 
 This view of the case was well and soundly reasoned, 
 and Thomas Rogers was satisfied that prudence required 
 them to await the coming of their new ally before attempt- 
 ing anything further. 
 
 Before the first light of the sun had gilded the tops of 
 the mountains on the following morning, Rogers was on 
 his way" to the home of the man for whom a common de- 
 sire of revenge upon the same individual already inclined 
 him to cherish feelings of more than usual regard. From 
 one who carried in his bosom the memory of such a wrong 
 there was little fear of betrayal, and his fidelity was further 
 secured by the peril in which he stood. In addition to 
 this, the manner in which he had kept the secret of the 
 guilty girl who had deserted him for a worthless scoundrel 
 
208 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 was an honorable guarantee of genuine manliness of char- 
 acter. 
 
 As he anticipated, he found no difficulty in raaking his 
 way directly to the cabin of the soldier, who was now also a 
 deserter. But he was not allowed to enter the door with- 
 out some stern questioning as to the objects of his visit. 
 The letter of Sergeant Miller proved to be entirely satis- 
 factory, and as soon as Franklin had run his eyes over the 
 lines he cordially invited his visitor to enter, at the same 
 time inquiring his name. Rogers had ridden hard, and it 
 was yet long before the breakfast hour of cities when he 
 reached his place of destination. The poor cannot afford 
 to indulge in "morning naps," and tre generally beginning 
 to think of their dinners by the time the rich and luxuriant 
 have coaxed back the appetite stolen away by the night's 
 indulgences. The breakfast things in the cabin of John 
 Franklin had been removed more than an hour before, but 
 that individual, knowing the distance his guest had traveled, 
 jumped to the conclusion that he must be hungry, and 
 calling his mother, with ready hospitality he said : * 
 
 " Mother, git Mr. Rogers some breakfast, please mam, 
 while I feed his horse." 
 
 Rogers protested against giving the old lady so much 
 trouble, said he had eaten "a bite" before leaving home, 
 and denied that he felt hungry in the least degree. Frank- 
 lin insisted upon his taking a cup of coffee, (an uncommon 
 luxury in that region,) and his mother joined him, declar- 
 ing it was "not the least mite of trouble." It was impos- 
 sible to decline their offers without rudeness, and, indeed, 
 his early ride had sharpened his appetite, and the cup of 
 coffee was no light temptation in itself. For nearly an 
 hour the time passed pleasantly enough, considering that 
 there were so many subjects of conversation upon which 
 neither cared to touch; neither knowicg exactly how far 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 209 
 
 it might be pleasing, or the reverse, to the other. At 
 length Mrs. Franklin left the room, and the two men en- 
 tered upon the same serious business that had brought 
 them together. Rogers did not think it necessary to com- 
 municate to his companion anything further than the fact 
 that Miller had been badly wounded in a skirmish, that he 
 had been taken to the house of Tobias Wilson, and was 
 now doing remarkably well. 
 
 ''The sergeant," he added, "is much troubled on ac- 
 count of the danger of capture to which he is subjected in 
 his present helpless state. I must often leave him alone, 
 and at such times it would be very consoling to have a 
 true and faithful friend to watch by his side. He earnestly 
 begs that you will go back with me to-day. He says that 
 he has matters of life and death to talk to you about, and 
 among other things he told me that there is a plan on foot 
 to catch you ; to have you carried South, and shot as a 
 deserter." 
 
 Franklin manifested no surprise at this announcement. 
 
 "I thought as much,*' he replied; "and when I saw you 
 riding up this morning I half suspected that you had come 
 on that business, and (meaning no offense) I thought you 
 was a great fool to come on such an errand by yourself. 
 But that's neither here nor there. I've been looking out 
 for something of the kind, and my 'saddle wallet' has been 
 packed for more than a week. I'm glad you've come, or I 
 might have stayed a leetle too late. I'll go with you right 
 away. When a thing is settled, the sooner it's done the 
 better; and so if yQu've no 'objection we'll saddle up our 
 horses and ride. Are you ready to go ?" 
 
 "Certainly," replied Rogers, who was delighted with 
 the promptness of his new acquaintance. "I foresee that 
 we are destined to become fast friends. I love men who 
 
 19* 
 
210 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 are ready to act as soon as they decide. Your 'slow 
 coaches' won't do for me," 
 
 In a yery short time the two men were riding toward 
 the house of Tobias Wilson. Franklin bade adieu to his 
 mother alone ; he did not take time to visit the field where 
 the younger members of the family were at work, but left 
 his adieus for them with his mother. 
 
 As they rode on, Rogers explained to his companion, as 
 far as he deemed it prudent to do so, the future plans and 
 purposes of himself and Miller, so that by the time they 
 reached the little valley, Franklin was possessed of all that 
 was essential for him to know. His meeting with Miller 
 was warm and cordial, but it was exhibited rather in the 
 firm grasp of their hands and the glow upon their counte- 
 nances than in spoken words. Such men rarely give utter- 
 ance to any strong expressions of friendship for each other. 
 A few words sufficed to convey to Miller the knowledge 
 that Franklin was already informed of their plans, and was 
 resolved to remain and share their fortunes with them. 
 After this the three entered into an earnest consultation, 
 which lasted throughout the afternoon and deep into the 
 night. The subject of that consultation may be easily 
 guessed by the reader. Its results will be developed in 
 the following pages. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Three weeks passed away — three busy weeks to the 
 tenants of that lonely glen. They had succeeded in secur- 
 ing arms and ammunition from the commander of the U. S. 
 troops in that vicinity. These arms were carefully hidden 
 by Rogers himself, in the cave described in the first series. 
 For that purpose, he had selected times when Franklin 
 was away upon other duties, not choosing as yet to intrust 
 that important secret to any one, even of his own followers. 
 When Franklin returned, and missed the arms, Rogers 
 merely remarked that he had hidden them in the mount- 
 ains, which explanation was always deemed altogether 
 sufficient. 
 
 The muster-roll of the company now showed nearly one 
 hundred recruits. A large part of these were old friends 
 and companions of Miller and Franklin, and were both 
 well armed and well mounted. The remainder were young 
 men recruited in the neighborhood, who were for the most 
 part possessed of excellent horses, but were without effect- 
 ive arms. These were to be supplied by Thomas Rogers, 
 from his store in the cave, and the next Saturday had been 
 appointed as the day for their assembling in the glen to 
 receive them. In these preparations Rogers had acted 
 with great precaution, never allowing more than eight or 
 ten of his men to assemble at one time at the house of 
 Tobias Wilson, and these were always brought in by the 
 two lonely pathways which led into the valley over the 
 
 (211) 
 
212 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 mountains. No one but his associates suspected the busi- 
 ness in which he was engaged, much less how near he had 
 brought it to completion. The following Saturday (three 
 days off) would see him at the head of at least one hun- 
 dred young, strong, daring, well-armed men, ready to en- 
 gage in any enterprise which promised to be of advantage 
 to the cause of the Union. 
 
 While he is waiting for the day of rendezvous to arrive, 
 let us take a brief view of matters on the other side of the 
 mountain. The TJDion cavalry had been withdrawn from 
 all the posts east of Stevenson, and united under the com- 
 mand of General Stanley, who was preparing to cross the 
 Tennessee River and make a demonstration along the line 
 of Eastern Alabama and Western Georgia, chiefly to create 
 a diversion in favor of the infantry, who had before them 
 the hard task of fighting their way into Chattanooga. Im- 
 mediately after their departure, little squads of scattered 
 Confederates had begun to appear in the neighborhood ; 
 but they had committed no depredations, and the inhabit- 
 ants felt but little alarm from their presence. On the night 
 after the day to which our story has reached, a larger band 
 than any which had yet been seen together surrounded the 
 house of Thomas Rogers, Senior, and demanded admit- 
 tance. This was refused ; and, as had been foreseen by 
 the inmates, the captain immediately ordered the doors to 
 be burst open. Mr. Rogers had no hope of keeping them 
 out, and his only object was to gain time for the escape of 
 Tobias Wilson, whose seizure, with a view to conscription, 
 he suspected was the main object of the marauders. Act- 
 ing under the same impression, Tobias Wilson hastily 
 dressed, and threw himself from the window of his room ; 
 but this was an outlet they had not neglected to guard, 
 and his foot had scarcely touched the ground when a heavy 
 blow upon his shoulder and another upon his head felled 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 213 
 
 him, stunned and senseless, to the earth. Before he could 
 recover, he was fast bound and secured. In the mean time 
 the doors had been battered down, and the soldiers rushed 
 in, the captain immediately and loudly ordering lights to 
 be procured. When this was done, the fact of Tobias Wil- 
 son's capture was communicated to him, and his prisoner 
 was led into his presence. After one glance, he said, 
 
 roughly : 
 
 ''We have no time for explanation now. There ought 
 to be another bird in this nest. Four or five of you search 
 the house, and let the rest search the stables and out- 
 houses." 
 
 "If you mean my son," said Mr. Rogers, "he is far away 
 
 from here, and safe." 
 
 "We will take your word for it," replied the captain, 
 "when we can do no better; but we will first try whether 
 he cannot be unearthed somewhere about these premises." 
 
 "Search as much as you please," said Mr. Rogers; "but 
 I assure you it will be in vain." 
 
 During this scene, the two women had behaved with ad- 
 mirable courage and fortitude. They stood, half-dressed, 
 in a corner of the room, with their arms about each other, 
 scorning alike to plead or to give vent to cries and lament- 
 ations, which would probably only excite the merriment of 
 the brutal men who had so rudely broken their slumbers. 
 Once only, when Tobias Wilson was first brought into the 
 room, a violent shudder shook the frame of his young wife, 
 and large tear-drops rolled slowly down her cheeks ; but 
 there was no outcry, no begging for mercy, no attempt to 
 soften the hard and pitiless hearts of his captors. She 
 ' looked at her husband steadily for a moment or more, and 
 to her heart his returning gaze carried hope, and forbade 
 her to despair. 
 
 The search was concluded, and no vestige of their in- 
 
214 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 tended victim could be found. Captain Joseph Sykes — 
 for it was he — now addressed a series of questions to Mr. 
 Rogers, the answers to which were anything but satisfac- 
 tory. While engaged in this occupation, and too busy to 
 notice anything himself, one of the soldiers, who was sta- 
 tioned near the back door, suddenly exclaimed, " The barn 
 is on fire !" 
 
 The eyes of all were instantly turned in that direction, 
 and, sure enough, bright flames were issuing from every 
 crevice of the building. To do Captain Sykes justice, he 
 had contemplated no such result as this, and he imme- 
 diately rushed into the yard, all of his soldiers following 
 him, except the guard over the prisoner. It was apparent 
 that it had been accidentally fired by a spark falling from 
 the torch of some of those who had been in search of 
 Thomas Rogers. The first glance proved that it would 
 be useless to attempt to save the barn or any portion of 
 its contents. Fortunately, the out-houses, which contained 
 the horses and other descriptions of stock, were some dis- 
 tance off, and to these Captain Sykes promptly turned the 
 attention of his soldiers. By great exertion, the animals 
 were released before the fire had extended to the buildings 
 where they were confined. The flames had now burst from 
 the roof of the barn, and showers of sparks, sent up from 
 the light material burning within, were falling everywhere 
 about them ; while no water was to be procured, save what 
 was to be obtained from a well, from which it had to be 
 drawn by a single bucket. The weather had been exceed- 
 ingly dry, and a fresh breeze was then blowing. To save 
 anything, under such circumstances and with such means, 
 was clearly impossible, and the soldiers hastily returned to 
 the dwelling of Mr. Rogers. There they found him on the 
 top of the house, assisted by one of their band, endeavoring 
 to extinguish the blazing sparks, which were thickly falling 
 upon it. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 215 
 
 f 
 
 "That's right," shouted Captain Sykes, "do what you 
 can to keep it under for awhile. It will certainly catch 
 directly ; but you may do something toward giving us 
 time to remove the furniture. Come, my men," he added, 
 turning to the soldiers, "rush in and save all you can from 
 the effects of your d — d carelessness." 
 
 A'll the furniture contained in the house was soon re- 
 moved to a place of safety; but, as Captain Sykes had 
 predicted, the house itself was in flames. 
 
 Tobias Wilson had looked at everything which had been 
 going on before him with both surprise and curiosity. To 
 him Captain Sykes now appeared in a more amiable light 
 than he had ever done before, and he almost forgave him 
 the fact that it was through him that he was himself a 
 prisoner, bound, bruised, bleeding, and destined, he well 
 knew, for the slavish life of a conscript soldier. His re- 
 flections upon the apparent inconsistencies w^hich that night 
 had exhibited in the redoubtable captain's character were 
 cut short by the harsh voice of the captain himself. Ad- 
 dressing his soldiers, he shouted : " Mount, men, and away 
 with your prisoner. This light can be seen for five miles 
 around, and there are neighbors enough within less than a 
 mile to render all the assistance that is now needful or pos- 
 sible. We have a long ride before us, and no time to lose." 
 
 When these words fell upon her ears, Sophy, for the 
 first time, approached her husband, and, taking his manacled 
 hands in hers, pressed a warm kiss upon his lips ; he re- 
 turned it with interest, and, as he did so, whispered the 
 single word "hope." From the bright flash w^hich came 
 into her eyes, he saw that he was understood. Then, rais- 
 ing his voice, he said aloud : "Father, mother, wife, good- 
 by until we meet again." 
 
 There was an emphasis upon the words ''until ice meet 
 again^^ which was unnoticed by the soldiers, but which con- 
 
216 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 veyed a world of meaning to those for whom it was in- 
 tended. Each one felt sure that he had already devised a 
 means of escape, and that their separation would not be 
 for long. 
 
 Captain Sykes treated his prisoner with no unnecessary 
 harshness. Once in his power, it was his policy to con- 
 ciliate, not to exasperate him. The service to whic*h he 
 was destined was suflSciently odious of itself without making 
 it more so by abuse beforehand, thus furnishing an addi- 
 tional motive for attempts at escape before he was forced 
 into the ranks of the Confederate army, or for desertion 
 afterward. Still he neglected no precaution to insure the 
 safe delivery of his captive. Beyond the outer fence, where 
 the horses of his party had been left under a guard, he re- 
 moved the light rope which had confined Wilson's hands, 
 and substituted a pair of iron handcuffs. He was then 
 mounted on one of the led horses of the troop, and placed 
 near the middle of the command with positive injunctions 
 to those around him to Shoot him the very instant that he 
 exhibited any symptom of an intention to escape. The 
 whole party then moved off in a southwesterly direction 
 through deep woods, tangled undergrowth, and over paths 
 which were everywhere of the roughest description. 
 
 If there had been light enough for Captain Sykes to 
 have seen the face of his prisoner when he substituted the 
 handcuffs for the hempen cord, he would have seen some- 
 thing there to make him hesitate. The fact was, that the 
 hands of Tobias Wilson were so small in comparison with 
 the size of his arm, that he could easily withdraw them 
 from any handcuff that would clasp over his wrist. It was 
 a knowledge of this that brought a smile of gladness to his 
 lips when he felt the cold iron encircle his wrist. He had 
 not ridden far before he cautiously made an experiment to 
 ascertain whether his hands could be withdrawn as easily 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 217 
 
 as he supposed. Having satisfied himself upon this point, 
 he felt perfectly certain that the morning would not dawn 
 upon him a prisoner, and that he had only to watch and 
 wait for a fair chance to escape. 
 
 One other matter is necessary to be explained in this 
 place. Ever since the first threats which had been uttered 
 against his grandfather, he had habitually worn about his 
 person a long two-edged knife, but not liking the usual 
 manner of belting it around the waist where it could be 
 seen by every one, he adopted the expedient of having a 
 narrow pocket quilted far back in the breast of his coat. 
 In this way it had escaped the search of his captors ; in- 
 deed, they made no actual search ; one of them had put 
 his hands about his waist to ascertain whether he carried 
 pistols, and finding none, no further examination was 
 prosecuted. 
 
 The night had been gradually growing cloudy, and now 
 a thick pall was spread between the stars and the earth. 
 The troop, however, had advanced steadily on its way, as 
 if guided by some one who knew every inch of the ground 
 by night as well as by day. At length they entered a 
 heavier growth of timber than any through which they had 
 yet passed : here it was so dark that a man could not see 
 his own hand within two inches of his eyes. Tobias Wil- 
 son heard one of the soldiers near him mutter, " This is 
 Paint Rock bottom ; we shall have a good road when we 
 have crossed the river." 
 
 "Now," thought Tobias Wilson, "is my time." He knew 
 that the only way of crossing the river anywhere near that 
 point was by swimming, and he felt certain that in swim- 
 ming such a stream, in the darkness of such a night, so 
 much confusion must ensue as would make his own escape 
 of easy accomplishment. The foremost horsemen were not 
 long in reaching the banks of the stream. It was danger- 
 
 20 
 
218 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 ous for more than two to enter it abreast, and when the 
 two first had entered, it was necessary for the next two to 
 wait till they had swam some distance, for fear of the horses 
 striking each other in the darkness. In this way the troop 
 entered the river, Tobias Wilson still being near the center 
 of the command, so that by the time it was his turn to at- 
 tempt the dangerous passage, the foremost swimmers were 
 already upon the opposite bank cheering their comrades 
 who were still in the water. As they descended the bank, 
 the guard who rode by Wilson's side took hold of his 
 bridle-rein, saying, as he did so : " Hold fast to the pommel 
 of your saddle, — I will guide your horse." 
 
 At the same instant, favored by the darkness, Wilson 
 slipped his hands from the handcuffs, and, unobserved, 
 drew the long knife from his breast-pocket. This was 
 firmly clasped in his left hand, while in his right he grasped 
 the heavy irons which he had patiently worn for the last 
 four hours. They had swam but a few paces, when the 
 keen blade was buried deep in the side of his guide, who, 
 instantly tumbled from his horse into the river, almost 
 without a groan. The horse snorted furiously, and, swim- 
 ming wildly down the stream, created no little confusion 
 among the troop, who could not see or understand what 
 was going on. At the same time, Wilson, rising in his 
 stirrups, hurled the handcuffs, with all the force of his mus- 
 cular arm, in the direction of the troopers who were before 
 him. They struck some one, for he heard first a dull sound, 
 and then a noise, such as would have been made by a body 
 falling into the water. The confusion also seemed greatly 
 to increase, and there was a mingled uproar of questions, 
 shouts, and curses. Promptly availing himself of this con- 
 fusion, Wilson rolled from his horse into the water, and, 
 putting his feet against the animal, pushed himself far up 
 the stream, at right angles toward the southern bank of the 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 219 
 
 river, upon which the foremost of the troop had drawn up. 
 Striking boldly out in the darkness, he landed safely under 
 a high bank, and, grasping some of the many roots which 
 had made their way into the water, he listened for several 
 minutes to the remarks of the troopers, who were a little 
 below, and fearfully near him. Some proposed immediate 
 pursuit of the fugitive ; others insisted that he must be 
 drowned ; while others, again, were indulging in conject- 
 ures as to the fate of their two comrades ; the general opin- 
 ion appearing to be that they had leaped into the water 
 to recapture the prisoner, when they became aware of his 
 escape. By this time the whole company had crossed the 
 river, and he heard the voice of Captain Sykes saying that 
 he would go no farther that night, and ordering the men 
 to build fires at once. 
 
 Tobias Wilson now felt the necessity of immediate ac- 
 tion. The light of so many fires would certainly be cast 
 up the river to the spot where he was concealed, and ex- 
 pose him to imminent danger of recapture, or death from 
 the carbines of the soldiers. Half swimming, half pulling 
 himself along by the roots and projections of the branches, 
 he slowly ascended the stream until he reached a point 
 where he could easily crawl on shore ; then, following the 
 river, and keeping close to it to avoid losing his way, he 
 moved as rapidly from the dangerous locality as the dark- 
 ness and the tangled vines and undergrowth would permit. 
 He knew that there was a grist and saw mill somewhere 
 above him, whose proprietor was a strong friend of the 
 Union, and that the mill was, attended at night by two of 
 his negroes, who were not likely to betray him, or give any 
 information that could be useful to a Confederate soldier. 
 But he had no idea how far he was from the mill, or what 
 dangers he would have to encounter before arriving there. 
 He knew enough of the country, however, to be sure that, 
 
220 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 whatever those dangers might be, they would be greatly 
 lessened by keeping close to the bank of the river; and he 
 determined to pursue this course, notwithstanding the diffi- 
 culty of making his way over a pathless "bottom," (in win- 
 ter, a swamp,) which was obstructed by immense vines of 
 bamboo, grape, and muscadine, and occasional thickets of 
 cane and running greenbrier, with its long, sharp, venom- 
 ous thorns. He reflected, too, that it must be near the 
 dawn of day, and that it would soon be light enough to 
 enable him, in a great measure, to avoid these annoyances. 
 When the first bright streaks of the coming day made their 
 appearance in the east, he calculated that he was safe from 
 Captain Sykes's pursuit; and, sitting down upon a log, re- 
 solved to wait until a stronger light enabled him to ascer- 
 tain where he was. In the mean time he employed himself 
 pulling out, as well as he could, the long thorns which had 
 imbedded themselves in various parts of his body, and from 
 which he was literally bleeding at every pore. Waiting 
 until the sun's rays began to steal over the tops of the 
 mountains, he looked about him in vain for some familiar 
 object. Still he knew that his course must be up the 
 stream. He was aware that, by keeping close to it, the 
 distance he had to travel would be trebled or quadrupled ; 
 but there was safety in that lonely bottom, while the open 
 country was filled with enemies ; and so, patiently and hope- 
 fully, he kept on his pathless and toilsome journey. He 
 was young, strong, accustomed to encounter fatigue and 
 difficulty, and pursued his way with unabated speed, where 
 another less strong and determined would have sunk to the 
 ground exhausted and overcome. An hour brought him 
 within sight of an open clearing on his left, and a little far- 
 ther on he crossed a country road leading to a shallow ford 
 in the river. Yet there was nothing that he recognized. 
 He examined the ford, and was satisfied that he had never 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 221 
 
 crossed it, or seen it before. The river bottom on the south 
 side now began to narrow considerably, and he could see 
 indications of settlements stretching far to the northward. 
 On the east bank, the lofty mountains loomed up nearer 
 and nearer, but all were strange to him, and he began to 
 think that Captain Sykes's company had ridden much 
 faster the previous night than he had believed at the time, 
 and had carried him much farther down the river than he 
 had supposed — though the fact was, that he did not make 
 due allowances for the slowness of his own progress, and 
 the increased distance he had gone over by following the 
 windings of the stream. In another hour he saw, with 
 delight, a mountain of peculiar shape, that he recognized 
 instantly, and which he knew was within about a mile of the 
 mill he was seeking, and some ten miles from the late resi- 
 dence of his grandfather. Encouraged by finding himself 
 at last in a country of which he had some knowledge, he 
 ventured occasionally to leave the river bank and make 
 "short-cuts," which greatly accelerated his progress. 
 About eleven o'clock he arrived at the mill ; but, to his 
 great disappointment, he discovered around it such a num- 
 ber of ox wagons and horses, as proved that it was crowded 
 with customers. He could not tell whether they were white 
 men or negroes, friends or enemies, and, not daring to ap- 
 proach it while in this state of uncertainty, he resolved to 
 cross the river and skirt the base of the mountains until he 
 reached the entrance to his own little glen. Following 
 the worm fence, behind which he had been hidden while 
 making his observations, he went straight to the nearest 
 point on the river, intending to swim over. There he 
 came unexpectedly upon a negro man who was sitting 
 upon the bank, underneath a large sycamore-tree, whiling 
 away his time while waiting for his load of corn to be 
 ground, catching the spotted trout and large black perch 
 
 20* 
 
222 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 with which Paint Rock abounds. He was completely hid- 
 den by the tree, and Wilson was within a few feet of him 
 before the presence of either was discovered by the other. 
 This was an opportune meeting that Wilson had not hoped 
 for, and he was not a little pleased at it, for the pangs of 
 hunger began now to be sensibly felt, and, as the negroes 
 were almost uniformly the friends of Union citizens, he did 
 not doubt that he would be able to procure, through his 
 means, the food he so much needed. He therefore ad- 
 dressed the negro unhesitatingly with a pleasant "good 
 morning." 
 
 "Mornin', massa," replied the negro. And observing 
 Tobias's torn clothes, and the clotted blood upon his face 
 and hands, he continued: "You looks tired and hurt, 
 massa; anyting you want?" Meaning, is there anything 
 you are in need of, and wish to have. 
 
 " Not much," was the reply. " This blood comes from 
 brier scratches. But I am very hungry. Can't you go to 
 the mill and ask Mr. Moore to give you something for a 
 friend of his ?" 
 
 "Why you no go?" asked the negro, suspiciously. 
 
 "Because," was the reply, "I don't know who I should 
 meet there ; and as I have just escaped from the rebel 
 cavalry, I might find men at the mill who would attempt 
 to retake me. You see I am in no condition to resist." 
 
 The negro looked at him intently, and then said, 
 eagerly : 
 
 "You would be cotch, sir, sartain, sure. Dare's four or 
 five ob dem secesh at de mill wid guns, and they'd kill you, 
 or take you quick enough ef you's for the Yankees. You 
 jist take my fishin' pole, and Jake '11 git what you want. 
 Don't you go dar." 
 
 So saying, the negro handed his pole to Wilson, and 
 turned toward the mill. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 223 
 
 " Tell Mr. Moore," said Wilson, as he walked away, 
 *' that my name is Tobias Wilson. He knows me, and will 
 gladly help me." 
 
 "Nebber mind dat," responded the negro, "I got plenty 
 in my wagon, and maybe I can't speak to Mr. Moore wid- 
 out dem secesh hearin' me, and den de debil'd be to play 
 all 'round." 
 
 Another, and apparently knotty question seemed to 
 perplex him, for he stood with his hat in one hand, slowly 
 scratching his head with the other, as if trying to work 
 out some difficult problem; at last he said, almost in a 
 whisper : 
 
 "Don't stir, sir, if I stays a little longer than you think 
 I ought to, excepen you hear me singin', or makin' some 
 kind of a fuss ; den you drop my pole on de bank and swim . 
 for dat thicket on todder side quick as you kin afore dey 
 sees you." 
 
 After this caution he seemed to think nothing more was 
 necessary and went on to the mill, walking slowly and 
 leisurely, and whistling with apparent unconcern. He had 
 been gone not much over a half hour before he returned, 
 carrying a basket on his arm, well filled with provisions. 
 
 "I seed Mr. Moore, sir, and he slipped some chicken, 
 and biscuit, and a bottle of milk in my basket. I'se got 
 plenty ob bacon, and corn bread, and cabbage, and taters ; 
 and here it is. Eat as much as you wants." He placed 
 the basket before Wilson, who lost no time in beginning to 
 empty it of its contents. In one of the pauses of mastica- 
 tion, he asked if Mr. Moore had sent him any message. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the negro; "he say you must git 
 away from here right off — dat you must keep up de river 
 on todder side. He say dar's a cunnoo 'bout a mile 'bove 
 here whar dare is tree sycamores togedder on de bank, — 
 dat you must take it, and paddle up de river two or tree 
 
224 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 miles, when de danger will be ober — den turn de cunnoo 
 loose, and it will float down to de mill." 
 
 Wilson perceived at a glance the kindness as well as the 
 soundness of this advice ; it not only guarded him against 
 any probable danger, but saved him the fatigue of walking, 
 from which Mr. Moore had rightly judged he must be 
 already suflfering. As soon, therefore, as his meal was 
 concluded, he shook the negro warmly by the hand, and 
 offered him a five dollar note, which the black refused 
 to take, saying, " Xebber mind, sir, you can help me 
 some ob dese times, and den well be eben. I don't want 
 no pay for helping a man who is fightin' for Presdent 
 Linkura." 
 
 Wilson, however, dropped the note in his basket, and, 
 reinvigorated by rest and a hearty meal, plunged into the 
 river and swam swiftly to the opposite side. 
 
 That evening, as Rogers and Miller, who was now able to 
 hobble about on crutches, were sitting in the porch of To- 
 bias-Wilson's house, they saw coming up the road toward 
 them a ragged, and, apparently, very tired man. Even 
 Thomas Rogers for some time failed to recognize in the 
 wayfarer any resemblance to his friend. He had ap- 
 proached to within a few steps of the door, when Rogers 
 suddenly sprang from his chair, and grasping him by the 
 hand, exclaimed : 
 
 " Good God ! Toby, what is the matter ?" 
 
 "Enough," was the reply, "and bad enough. But first 
 let me wash off this blood, and get on some decent clothes, 
 and I will tell you all." 
 
 Rogers could scarcely restrain his impatience while this 
 was being done ; and, as soon as Wilson came back to the 
 porch, cleanly dressed, and with the blood and dirt washed 
 from his person, his friend eagerly asked, without waiting 
 for him to be seated : 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 225 
 
 "Where have you been, Toby, and what on earth is the 
 matter ?" 
 
 Wilson took a seat by his side, and clearly but concisely 
 related the violent manner of his own arrest — the search 
 for Rogers — the fire resulting from it, and the destruction 
 of every house on the premises of Mr. Rogers, Sr.; the 
 conduct of the soldiery, and finally his own escape, the 
 manner of it, and the sufferings he had undergone in ac- 
 complishing it. 
 
 The thunder-cloud that had gathered on the brow of 
 Rogers at the beginning of the story slightly cleared away 
 when he heard that one trooper was certainly killed, and 
 another probably drowned in the river. Still there was a 
 lurid fire in his eyes, which, from early boyhood, had be- 
 tokened that passions of the darkest and deadliest char- 
 acter had been awakened in his bosom. At the conclusion 
 of the narrative, he said : " Captain Joe Sykes is running 
 up an account with me which he will be apt to find more 
 pleasant in the making than in the settlement." 
 
 I^othing more was said until supper time, when many 
 questions, embracing all the particulars, were asked and 
 answered. Then Rogers said : 
 
 " You are badly in need of rest, Toby, and must go to 
 bed. I will ride over to Dr. Griffin's to-night, and see 
 them all, (for I know they are there,) and then we can tell 
 better what is to be done." 
 
 "I will go with you," said Wilson. "You can furnish 
 me a horse, I suppose ?" 
 
 "Miller can certainly lend you a horse," was the answer; 
 "but you do not leave this house to-night, if I can help it. 
 You can do me no good, and you are in no condition to 
 cross that mountain. After a good night's rest, you will 
 be able to do all that may be required of you." 
 
 Remonstrances were in vain. Rogers was determined. 
 
226 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 and Wilson himself, feeling the truth of much that his 
 brother-in-law said, was finally compelled to acquiesce. 
 
 In less than an hour that daring and adventurous man 
 was ascending the rugged sides of the mountaio. Upon 
 arriving at Dr. GriflBn's, he found every one buried in pro- 
 found repose. Cautiously awaking the colored cook, he 
 asked her whether she could rouse his father without dis- 
 turbing the remainder of the family. 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the reply ; "his room is in de end dis 
 way. You can wake him yourself by jus' tapping the 
 winder. He's mighty easy to wake." 
 
 " It is better for you to do it," he said, "to prevent the 
 possibility of an alarm. Tell him his son is here, and 
 will come in as soon as he strikes a light." 
 
 In a few minutes more, father and son were locked in 
 each other's embrace. After the first warm greetings were 
 over, Thomas said : " Xow, father, get back to your bed 
 and I will take a seat by its side. You have nothing to 
 tell me, for I know all that has happened; but I have 
 some good news for you. Toby has escaped, and is now 
 at his own house. Poor fellow ! he wanted to come with 
 me, but he was so much bruised and worn and tired that 
 I would not allow it." 
 
 "Thank God!" exclaimed Mr. Rogers; "I must let 
 his mother and his wife know the good tidings. Wait 
 here until I come back." 
 
 " Not yet," replied his son. "Don't wake them yet. I 
 want to see them very much ; but first I must have a long 
 talk with you. Have you formed any plans for the fu- 
 ture ?" 
 
 "No, we have all been too busy to-day to think of any- 
 thing but the present. But for Dr. Griffin's kindness, I 
 know not what we should have done. As it is, we are 
 very comfortable. He has a large house and no family, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 227 
 
 and, with the aid of our own furniture, there is nothing 
 left for us to wish, though we cannot help feeling that it 
 is not home." 
 
 " If I live," said his son, " he shall be repaid a hundred- 
 fold. But now to other matters. You cannot stay here. 
 I have raised a company of Union soldiers, who will have 
 their final meeting at Toby's house the day after to-mor- 
 row. After that I shall not stay in this neighborhood any 
 longer than is necessary to hunt up Captain Sykes's gang. 
 I hope to leave but few of them alive ; but some will escape, 
 of course. If there is but one, he will try to revenge on 
 you the blows received from me. You have bad neigh- 
 bors enough who will urge him on, and help him too, if 
 needful." 
 
 We omit the details of the long conversation that fol- 
 lowed. It was finally agreed that the best thing would be 
 for Mr. Rogers to sell his stock and his growing crop for 
 the highest price he could get, and remove with his family 
 to Ohio, where he had a number of relatives. It was sug- 
 gested by Mr. Rogers that he could there rent a small 
 farm containing land enough for himself and Tobias Wil- 
 son to cultivate, and that all he needed would be money 
 enough from the sale of his property to take them there 
 and support them until something could be made by their 
 own labor. 
 
 At the mention of Tobias Wilson's name, his son shook 
 his head negatively. 
 
 "I am afraid that you must leave Toby out of your cal- 
 culations. He will not go*; at least not now, or for some 
 time to come." 
 
 "Did he say so?" asked Mr. Rogers. 
 
 "No," was the answer, "for w^e never thought of this 
 plan ; but I know him better than I know myself, and, 
 weak and exhausted as he was, I could read in his eyes a 
 
228 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 fixed and settled purpose, from which no human being can 
 turn him." 
 
 "I think," said Mr. Rogers, "that Sophy may be able 
 to persuade him to go with us." 
 
 "Not she," was the prompt reply. "She conquered 
 once ; but you saw what a terrible struggle it cost them 
 both. The next triumph will be his." 
 
 "Well," said the old man, "it may be so; but let us 
 hope to the contrary. It will grieve both Sophy and his 
 mother deeply to part with him. When he comes to think 
 of this he may yield ; at all events, we must try to take 
 him." 
 
 "There is no harm in that," replied his son; "but I 
 know how it will end. Now, father, will you contrive to 
 let Mrs. Wilson and Sophy know that I am here ? I can- 
 not linger long, and I wish, at least, to shake them by the 
 hand — though I cannot do much more — before I go. Day- 
 light must not find me on this side of the mountain, and it 
 is now past two o'clock in the morning." 
 
 The ladies were soon awakened and brought into Mr. 
 Rogers's room. Shaking Mrs. Wilson warmly by the 
 hand and imprinting a kiss upon his sister's cheek, Thomas 
 Rogers communicated to them the glad tidings of Tobias 
 Wilson's escape, and that he was now safely in his own 
 house, though considerably bruised and greatly exhausted 
 by what he had undergone. 
 
 "He will be here to-morrow night," he continued, "by 
 eleven o'clock; and now I must ride. Give my warmest 
 thanks to Dr. Griffin. I will not disturb him to-night ; 
 but I beg you to say to him that he shall never have cause 
 to regret what he has done, and that I will see him to- 
 morrow night and thank him in person. He need not sit 
 up ; I will wake him." 
 
 Thomas Rogers was mistaken in supposing that he was 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 229 
 
 to get away so easily. Each of the ladies had very many 
 questions to ask him, and it was fully a half hour before 
 the door closed upon him, even after he had twice bid- 
 den them good-by. With rapid strides he moved to 
 where his horse was fastened, fearing that he was too late 
 to escape observation, and, mounting him in equal haste, 
 sped upon his homeward journey more like a guilty fugi- 
 tive than one who had a right to travel whither he listed. 
 
 On his return he communicated to Wilson the result of 
 his conversation with his father. When he had concluded, 
 Wilson replied : 
 
 " I like the plan well enough ; but there is one diffi- 
 culty which you seem to have overlooked. Where are 
 they to get the money which will be needful ?" 
 
 " From the sale of my father's crops and stock ; they 
 will surely bring enough for that." 
 
 " Yes, in Confederate scrip, which they can pass while 
 on this side of the Tennessee line, but nowhere farther 
 north." 
 
 "True," said Rogers, dejectedly; "I did not think of 
 that. We must devise some other plan." 
 
 Sergeant Miller had been an attentive listener to this 
 conversation ; and when he noticed the dissatisfied ex- 
 pression which settled upon the features of Rogers at the 
 apparently insurmountable objection suggested by Wilson, 
 he said quietly : 
 
 "You need not change your plans on that account, cap- 
 tain, for I have more than double the amount of money 
 they will need, and I had much rather lend it to your 
 father than to be at the trouble of taking care of it. I 
 won't have any use for it until the war is over." 
 
 Rogers's face instantly brightened ; but a half frown 
 gathered on the brow of Wilson, who had not forgotten 
 
 21 
 
230 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 the manner in which the money was obtained, and whose 
 dislike of the sergeant was by no means removed. It was 
 true that the rightful owner could never recover his prop- 
 erty, nor even be identified ; but still if it had been left to 
 him he would have rejected the proffered loan. He had 
 no time, however, to interpose an objection before his 
 friend replied, with so much satisfaction that he knew it 
 would be useless to oppose him : 
 
 "Thank you, sergeant; you have relieved me from a 
 great embarrassment. My father shall give you a deed 
 of trust on his land so that your debt will always be 
 secure." 
 
 " I want no security, sir," was the answer. "After what 
 you have done for me, you have a right to all I've got and 
 more besides. I wish it was ten times as much." 
 
 "But, sergeant," replied Kogers, "I cannot take pay in 
 that way, and my father will not accept the money unless 
 he is allowed to give ample security for its repayment." 
 
 "As you please, sir," he said; "have it your own way." 
 
 " Well, then, that is settled. Now, Toby," he continued, 
 "I must go to bed, for I mean to ride with you to-night, 
 and will need all the sleep I can get beforehand." 
 
 Left alone with the sergeant, Tobias Wilson entered into 
 a conversation with him, which left a far better impression 
 upon his mind than anything he had yet heard or seen of 
 that individual. By nightfall they might almost be said 
 to have become friends. Such changes are not unfrequent 
 in every-day life, and especially in revolutionary times, 
 where so many opportunities present themselves of assist- 
 ing or injuring each other. As they rode up the mount- 
 ain that night on their way to Dr. Griffin's house, Wilson 
 frankly confessed the change in his feelings. 
 
 "I told you so," answered Rogers, "and I tell you now 
 that the more you see of him the better you will like him." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 231 
 
 "I hope so," was the reply, "and I begin to believe so. 
 We will soon be comrades in arms, and it shall not be my 
 fault if we are not also friends." 
 
 It was the first time Wilson had made any allusion to 
 his future purposes. Rogers noticed it, but made no com- 
 ment. It was a simple confirmation of what he had pre- 
 dicted to his father the previous night. Their toilsome 
 journey was now continued in silence. At Dr. Griffin's 
 they found the doctor himself and all the white members 
 of the family up and waiting for them. We will not at- 
 tempt to describe the joyous meeting between Tobias Wil- 
 son, his mother, and his wife. Thomas Rogers turned 
 away from the fond scene, and, taking his father a little to 
 one side, placed in his hands a package of notes. 
 
 "Here are enough greenbacks," he said, "to support you 
 for two years if necessary. You need not sell anything at a 
 sacrifice, but leave all with Dr. Griffin, to be disposed of to 
 the best advantage. For this money you have only to 
 give a deed of trust upon your land to James Miller, from 
 whom I borrowed it. You can have the deed written, 
 and send it to me by Dr. Griffin when he comes over the 
 day after to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Rogers accepted the money, and interrupting the 
 conversation between the other members of the party, he 
 informed them of the resolution he had taken. No par- 
 ticular objection was made by any of the party, and Mr. 
 Rogers, turning to Wilson, said, in a tone of inquiry : 
 
 "You go with us, Tobias, of course?" 
 
 "No, sir," was the prompt reply. "I shall stay with 
 Thomas. From this time forth my life is devoted to my 
 country. I am sure you would not have me skulk from 
 the field when others are fighting for all I hold dear." 
 
 Mr. Rogers had been partially prepared for this by his 
 son, but it was a complete surprise to Dr. Griffin and the 
 
232 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 ladies, and Wilson was at once assailed by appeals to his 
 affection, and all the feminine arguments usually employed 
 on such occasions ; to these were added some suggestions 
 of a graver character from Mr. Rogers and Dr. Griffin. 
 
 The replies of Wilson were very brief, but determined 
 and decided. His wife approached him, and, putting her 
 arms around his neck, softly whispered : 
 
 "You will not leave me, Toby?" 
 
 ''I must," was the reply. "I have been inactive too 
 long already. I needed some such lesson as Captain Sykes 
 has given me to rouse me to a sense of duty to my country. 
 It will wring my heart to part from you, sweet wife, but 
 your own judgment must tell you that I ought to go." 
 
 Similar answers were made to all the entreaties which 
 were addressed to him. These were many and tearful ; and 
 were only terminated by Thomas Rogers, who remarked 
 abruptly : 
 
 " Come, Toby, we must ride. We have little more than 
 time to reach the mountain by daybreak." Then, taking 
 his sister by the hand, he said kindly : " It is vain to urge 
 him, Sophy, and your parting will be painful enough to 
 him without your making it more so by idle tears and vain 
 entreaties. Do not annoy him with them. Let him re- 
 main (for remain he will) without inflicting upon him need- 
 less torture. Now go and tell him good-by until you are 
 ready to leave this country. We will come over then and 
 guard you safely to Stevenson. You ought to remember 
 that he is the best judge in this matter." 
 
 Thomas Rofrers then shook hands with the remainder 
 of the party, and bade them good night. The brave girl, 
 appreciating the soundness of the advice she had received, 
 folded her husband in a loving embrace, bade him act as 
 his own judgment dictated, and only asked him to reflect 
 well before his final decision was made. That decision 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 233 
 
 was already made, bat he did not tell her so. He only 
 drew her to his breast, and, imprinting kiss after kiss upon 
 her lips and cheeks, murmured, "God bless you, my dear 
 wife." Then, bidding adieu to his mother and friends, he 
 left the room with tears in his manly eyes, and followed 
 his friend to where their horses were tied. 
 
 " You did not tell me, Toby, but I knew that you had 
 made up your mind to become a soldier. I think you are 
 right, but if I had thought otherwise I should not have 
 said a word to dissuade you, for I could see plainly enough 
 in your face how vain and idle it would be to attempt to 
 change your purpose. You need not join my troop yet. 
 You can remain with us as a volunteer until you see how 
 you like us. If you prefer it, you can then join some other 
 company." 
 
 Tobias Wilson briefly assented to thi» arrangement, re- 
 marking, however, that it was a useless precaution, as he 
 was satisfied that he should prefer to remain with his 
 brother-in-law. When they arrived at home they found 
 Sergeant Miller busily engaged in sewing up the padding 
 of his saddle which he had ripped open to extract the 
 money that he had loaned to Mr. Rogers. 
 
 "There is a good deal more here," he said, "and I am 
 glad to find some one I can trust with a knowledge of it. 
 If anything happens to me it will then be safe, and you 
 will know what to do with it." 
 
 Both assured him that if they survived him it should be 
 safely delivered to his father. Then, leaving him to his 
 work, they proceeded to the cave to bring out the arms 
 and ammunition which were to be that day distributed to 
 such members of his company as were unprovided with 
 them. 
 
 About eleven o'clock the recruits began to come in by 
 
 21* 
 
234 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 twos and threes, some of them completely armed, while others 
 were without any offensive weapon. Each one was dressed 
 in the clothes usually worn by him, and, altogether, they 
 presented more the appearance of men who had gathered 
 together for the purpose of taking part in one of the ordi- 
 nary barbecues and shooting-matches of the Southwest, 
 than of a military association. After allowing what he 
 deemed sufficient time for all to arrive, Rogers called the 
 roll, and, ascertaining that all were present who had prom- 
 ised to be there, he organized a kind of public meeting, in 
 which it was resolved that they would that day elect only 
 a captain and first-lieutenant, leaving the other ofifices to 
 be filled after they had served together awhile, and could 
 better appreciate each other's capacity. The vote for 
 captain was unanimous for Thomas Rogers, and nearly so 
 for Miller as lieutenant. The arms were then distributed, 
 and a rude camp, without tents, formed in the little valley, 
 permission being given to all those whose preparations 
 were not completed to return to their homes and remain 
 for two days. Provisions had been prepared for their 
 temporary sojourn in the valley, the greater part, indeed, 
 being the free gift of those recruits who lived in the neigh- 
 borhood, or of their immediate friends and relations. A 
 temporary commissary was appointed, who proceeded, 
 after a fashion, to distribute rations and forage among the 
 troopers. The experience of Lieutenant Miller was now 
 of great advantage to Thomas Rogers. Hobbling to the 
 camp upon his crutches, he gave, in person, many neces- 
 sary directions to the new recruits, and calling the old 
 soldiers about him, he instructed them to communicate all 
 necessary knowledge, and to aid in every way their inex- 
 perienced associates. 
 
 " We didn't know much ourselves, boys," he said, " when 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 235 
 
 we first began, and sufi'ered enough for the want of some 
 one to tell us. I want to make soldiers of these boys as 
 soon as possible, and you must help me all you can." 
 These orders were cheerfully assented to, and perhaps there 
 never was a company, composed of such heterogeneous 
 materials, who laid down at night upon the bare earth in 
 better humor with themselves, their comrades, and their 
 officers, than those who composed the command of Captain 
 Thomas Rogers. 
 
 On the next day, when Dr. Griffin came over upon pre- 
 tense of seeing his patient, but really to confer with Tho- 
 mas Rogers, he was surprised to find the little valley nearly 
 filled with armed men, a large portion of whom were 
 drilling in squads upon every available piece of ground, 
 including the land from which the wheat and oats had been 
 cut. His surprise was not much diminished when informed 
 of the cause which had brought these men together. How- 
 ever, he saw that it was beyond remedy, even if he had de- 
 sired to remedy it, which he probably did not. Waving, 
 therefore, any comment upon the scene before his eyes, he 
 called Thomas Rogers and Tobias Wilson into the house, 
 gave them the deed of trust for Miller, and informed them 
 that Mr. Rogers had decided to start upon his journey 
 northward on the following Wednesday morning. 
 
 " That is as it should be," answered Rogers. " I like 
 quick work. Tell him that Toby and I will be there by 
 breakfast time, with fifty picked men, to see them safe into 
 the Union lines." 
 
 With this message, and many a loving one from Tobias 
 Wilson, the doctor returned ; while Rogers again sought 
 the drill-ground, and placed himself in charge of the sol- 
 dier whom Miller had selected as his instructor. He had 
 somewhere obtained an old copy of cavalry tactics, which 
 
236 , TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 he studied attentively, but he was not ashamed at the same 
 time to be practically taught by one of his own troopers. 
 He had taken up his abode among the men, took his meals 
 with them, and slept on the ground, as they did, thus 
 proving to them, at the very beginning, that he was not 
 disposed to ask them to undergo anything which he was 
 not willing to share. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 On the evening succeeding the events related in the last 
 chapter, in a lonely spot not far from the western border of 
 Jackson County, Alabama, a young girl, and an officer in 
 the uniform of the Confederate army, might -have been 
 seen in earnest conference. About a quarter of a mile off 
 there was a dwelling-house, which was, doubtless, the girl's 
 .residence. To the right of them there was a thick growth 
 of trees and bushes, extending down a slight declivity to a 
 considerable creek. Through the wood there was a narrow 
 path which led to a spring, whose living waters gushed 
 from a rocky bluff and emptied themselves into the creek 
 below. To their left was a little cornfield, of some ten or 
 fifteen acres, and along its side ran a neighborhood road, 
 which, however, was so little used that the solitude of the 
 place was seldom broken by the presence of man. The 
 girl was seated on a projecting rail of the fence ; by lean- 
 ing his arm on another above her head, the young officer 
 was enabled to bend over her as he spoke, and intently 
 watch her changing features. She did not seem to be alto- 
 gether pleased, and was apparently uncertain whether or 
 not to believe the words he had spoken. Still, she Ustened, 
 and did not contradict him. At length she said : 
 
 "I am not satisfied, and will not be till you consent to 
 see my mother. Why can't you come to the house as you 
 once did? Indeed, you must come!'' Then, suddenly 
 bending her head toward the ground and listening intently, 
 
 ( 237 ) 
 
238 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 she added quickly : " Yon must leave bere at once ; J hear 
 a horse's foot coming up the ridge." 
 
 "I hear nothing," said the oflBcer, after a moment's lis- 
 tening. "You must be mistaken." 
 
 "But I do, and I am not mistaken," she replied. "I 
 have listened at this spot for the sound of your horse's 
 feet, in other days, too often to be deceived. You must 
 away at once." 
 
 "Well, then," replied the officer, "give me a parting kiss 
 and I will be off, since you think it dangerous to stay." 
 
 She submitted to his embraces, but did not return them ; 
 and when he had mounted his horse, which had been tied 
 a short distance in the wood, she again composedly seated 
 herself on the projecting rail of the fence. But a few 
 minutes passed when an armed man rode up to where she 
 was sitting, and greeted her with what he intended to be a 
 careless "good evening." She returned it coldly enough, 
 and then asked : 
 
 "Which way are you going, Mr. Franklin ?" 
 
 "That is a question, Miss Sarah," he replied, "which it 
 is not prudent to answer in times like these unless we hap- 
 pen to know what maybe the particular object of the ques- 
 tioner." 
 
 " Well, then," she said pettishly, "keep it to yourself." 
 
 " That's exactly what I intend to do," he said; "but I 
 wish I had found you in a better humor." 
 
 " I don't know why it should make any difference to you, 
 Mr. Franklin, whether I am in a good or a bad humor. 
 I told you before that we never could be anything to each 
 other." 
 
 "Still," he replied, "there is no reason why we should 
 be enemies because we cannot be lovers." 
 
 The restless eye of the soldier had been in the mean 
 time roving over every object about them. He had ob- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 239 
 
 served the print of a man's foot in the dust of the road ; 
 he looked down the unfrequented pathway, bnt could see 
 no trace of man or horse in that direction. He therefore 
 concluded that whoever had made the track he had seen, 
 had gone toward the spring ; and having no idea that he 
 could extract any information from the girl, he bade her 
 good-by, and turned his horse's head in that direction. 
 Passing near the place where the officer's horse had been 
 fastened, he did not fail to notice the trampled ground and 
 other marks the animal had left. 
 
 " Humph !" he muttered. " I have broke in on a private 
 meeting, and that's what made her so crusty; but she 
 needn't have been, for he has been here long enough, I 
 should say, from these signs, to satisfy any girl who is at 
 all reasonable." 
 
 Pursuing his way toward the spring, he perceived that 
 the horseman had not stopped to taste its crystal waters, 
 but had ridden directly across the creek. Franklin having 
 last heard of Captain Sykes on the Guntersville road, and 
 wishing to learn if he had changed his course, crossed the 
 creek without hesitation, and followed the tracks of the 
 horse, along a pathway leading through an open space, 
 which had once been a cultivated field, but was now 
 "turned out to rest." At right angles to the path there 
 was an immense "bottom," densely covered with forest 
 trees. Along its outer edge there ran the neighborhood 
 road, from which Franklin had diverged, and which, mak- 
 ing a large circuit for the purpose of obtaining a better 
 crossing-place over the creek, around Mrs. Austin's in- 
 closure, again resumed its original course when the obstruc- 
 tion of the creek was passed. By crossing at the deeper 
 and more difficult ford near the spring, a considerable 
 angle was cut off, and Franklin supposed that the horse- 
 man he was pursuing had taken this route on that account. 
 
240 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 When be neared the wood we have mentioned, he perceived 
 that the horseman had ridden straight across the road and 
 entered the forest. Dismounting to look for the tracks he 
 had been following, he observed the indentations of many 
 other horses' feet, that had been apparently going and 
 coming in that direction for several days past. 
 
 "Ah !" he muttered. " It needs no book to tell the mean- 
 ing of this. It's Captain Joe Sykes's band, and they're 
 lurking about Mulford's, in the hollow of the mountain be- 
 yond the swamp. It was him that I ran away from that 
 nice little meeting over yonder. But this is no place for 
 me. He might be coming back this way with more men 
 than I care to meet. It would do me a power of good to 
 git him off by himself, but I ain't ready for a general scrim- 
 mage with his whole company." 
 
 Turning his horse again toward the spring, he put him 
 to a much faster pace than he had yet been traveling. 
 Upon reaching the creek, he did not cross it, but directed 
 his course up the stream, inwardly saying; 
 
 "That girl's watching me; and she said enough just 
 now to show me that she would like to see me knocked in 
 the head, or bored through with a half a dozen bullets, or 
 chopped into mince-meat, or put out of the way in any other 
 fashion. If Captain Sykes comes back to-night, she'll tell 
 him all she sees ; but I am a little too old to be caught 
 that way. Captain Sykes and me will have a meeting be- 
 fore long, but I shan't let him choose the time and place 
 and the seconds." 
 
 Hiding steadily up the creek for more than half a mile 
 through the open field, where he was plainly visible to any 
 one on the look-out, be entered tbe wood beyond it in a 
 southeasterly direction ; but, as soon as he was satisfied 
 that he was completely hidden by the trees, he turned his 
 horse's bead due north, crossed the creek at a rough and 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 241 
 
 rocky place, where there was no ford, changed his course 
 to the northwest, and rode rapidly through an open wood 
 some four or five miles. He was familiar with every foot 
 of the country, and, carefully avoiding all houses and set- 
 tlements, frequently changing his course for this purpose, 
 he arrived before sunset at a little spring, close by a field 
 of oats, which had been recently cut and was standing in 
 shocks in the field. Appropriating one of these shocks 
 without scruple, and relieving his horse's mouth from the 
 bit, he shook the provender down before him ; then seating 
 himself by the spring, he drew some cold provisions from 
 his haversack, and leisurely proceeded to satisfy his hunger. 
 When his own meal was finished, he leaned back upon his 
 elbows, and watched his horse's feeding with real interest. 
 
 " Take your time, old boy," he said, as if the animal un- 
 derstood him; "you've got a good hour to go on, for I 
 shan't budge from here until after dark. It mightn't be 
 wholesome." 
 
 It was past twelve o'clock at night, when a sentry before 
 Kogers's encampment sharply challenged a horseman who 
 was approaching his post. John Franklin — for it was he 
 — did not have the countersign, and was consequently de- 
 tained until the officer of the guard came to conduct him 
 within the lines. Inquiring whether Captain Kogers was 
 asleep, he was informed that he was. 
 
 "I'll thank you, then, to wake him," answered Franklin, 
 "for I have news to tell him he will be glad to hear; and 
 in the mean time I'll be obliged to you if you'll let me know 
 where I can get something to feed my horse." Having 
 received that important information, he lost no time in 
 discharging what he regarded as the first duty of a cavalry- 
 man, viz., to attend to the wants of the animal he rode. 
 By that time, the striking of a light on another part of the 
 ground informed him that the captain was awake, and ready 
 
 22 
 
242 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 to receive him. Walking straight to the place, he saluted 
 his ofiBcer respectfully, and awaited his questioning with 
 the quiet, impassive air of an old and experienced scout. 
 
 "Sit down, Franklin,'' said the captain, throwing a few 
 additional pieces of split wood upon the fire ; "I am told 
 you have news for me." 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the answer of Franklin, as he seated him- 
 self upon the ground, in compliance with the invitation. 
 He then related to his captain, without further questioning, 
 all with which the reader is acquainted of his meeting with 
 Sarah Austin, and tracking the unseen horseman to the 
 deep forest swamp he had entered, — accompanying his 
 narrative with many shrewd observations, and giving an 
 account of other facts which his keen eye had not failed to 
 observe, and that would have been passed unnoticed by an 
 ordinary traveler, or, if noticed, would have been deemed 
 wholly unimportant. 
 
 " He went straight, sir, from the river, where Mr. Wilson 
 escaped, to Mulford's, with his gang. He's no notion of 
 leaving the county ; if he had, he'd have gone down Paint 
 Kock, and crossed the Tennessee at Fort Deposit. He's 
 got friends that way, and such as ain't his friends would 
 be afraid to cheep. But, instid of that, he's gone off to a 
 hidin'-place to the northwest — partly, I believe, because it 
 was convenient to that foolish girl, and partly because he's 
 got some divilment in his head that he ain't yet ready to 
 undertake. He'll stay where he is, I think, for a week to 
 come. There's plenty of forage in that neighborhood, and 
 plenty of folks willin' to give it to him ; and, besides, it's 
 nigh on to six miles from any public road ; so he thinks 
 he's in no danger of being disturbed." 
 
 Thomas Rogers pondered upon this information some 
 time before he replied : 
 
 "I think you are right, Franklin; but we must try and 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 243 
 
 get something more positive. You are too well known in 
 that neighborhood to risk yourself there more frequently 
 than is absolutely necessary; besides, I have another duty 
 for you, if you are not too much tired, in the morning. Is 
 there not some one of your old companions who is ac- 
 quainted with the country, and who is not so well known 
 personally as you are, whom I can send to follow up your 
 observations, and learn exactly where he is, and what he is 
 doing?" 
 
 " There's more than a half a dozen of them, sir," was the 
 reply. "The only trouble is to choose among them, one's 
 so near as good as the other." 
 
 " It is better to have two than one," said Rogers ; "and 
 more than two is unnecessary. I shall trust to you to 
 select them, and send them to me early in the morning. I 
 wish you also to choose a companion for yourself, to make 
 a scout along the Stevenson road." 
 
 "Yes, sir; it shall be done by sun up." 
 
 "And now, good night," said the captain. "You will 
 have no difficulty in finding a place to sleep here." 
 
 "I always sleep, sir, as near my horse as I can." Then, 
 rising and bowing to his captain with unfeigned respect, 
 he walked off, and unfastening a blanket from his saddle, 
 spread it upon the ground, and in two minutes was buried 
 in profound repose. 
 
 Early the next morning the scouts were dispatched upon 
 their- several errands, and the monotonous drill was re- 
 sumed. On Tuesday night, the two scouts sent to look 
 after Captain Sykes's business and whereabouts had not 
 returned; but the report of those who had been sent in 
 the direction of Stevenson was so favorable, that Rogers 
 determined to take with him only twenty men, instead of 
 fifty, as he had at first proposed. This reduction was 
 caused by his desire to conceal, as far as possible, the 
 
244 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 number of his men. As yet, it was not even suspected 
 that any organization of Union men existed in the county ; 
 but his appearance in the thickly settled neighborhood 
 where Dr. Griffin resided, at the head of an armed party, 
 would be sure to furnish occasion for much gossip and 
 many wild conjectures. Before nightfall the extraordinary 
 circumstance would be known far and near, and messengers 
 would certainly be dispatched to notify Captain Sykes, and 
 any other Confederate band which might be concealed in 
 the vicinity, waiting for the Union cavalry, then at Steven- 
 son, to cross the Tennessee Kiver : thus leaving the citi- 
 zens, as they supposed, entirely at their mercy, both in the 
 enforcement of the conscript law and the tyrannical im- 
 pressment, in the name of the Confederate government, of 
 whatever they saw fit to take. Thomas Rogers had so 
 quietly and so judiciously managed his recruiting opera- 
 tions, that no rumor had got abroad of the existence of a 
 Union force anywhere in the country, except that which was 
 now encamped at Stevenson. To keep up this delusion, and 
 to leave secession citizens and secession soldiers under the 
 impression that a time was near at hand when there would 
 be no one to restrain or punish any license in which they 
 saw fit to indulge, Thomas Rogers judged it best to take 
 with him a number of men so small as not to create alarm, 
 or induce a belief that they would remain behind when 
 General Stanley had taken up his march to assist in the 
 capture of Chattanooga, which, it was now apparent, would 
 soon be attacked by all the troops under General Rose- 
 crans's command. 
 
 The selection of the men had been left to Lieutenant 
 Miller, Captain Rogers not being yet sufficiently acquainted 
 with his troopers, their characters, and qualifications, to de- 
 cide upon the service for which they were best fitted. The 
 men selected were almost all of them old soldiers, who knew 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 245 
 
 the value of watchfulness and secrecy, and who had already 
 learned to respect their commander too much to dream of 
 the slightest disobedience to his orders. There are some 
 men who attract the regards of the soldier so suddenly and 
 strongly, that it seems like magic ; and Thomas Rogers 
 was one of these. They knew that he had never seen a 
 battle-field, but yet they felt instinctively, that when there, 
 under his command, they would not be exposed by rashness 
 to unnecessary danger, or, on the other hand, to disgrace 
 by timidity or unmanly hesitation. His bearing, when in 
 the saddle, was so firm and decided, and in the camp so 
 unostentatious, and yet so dignified, that it commanded 
 their utmost respect ; and his readiness to share every pri- 
 vation with them, won their love, and made him in a few 
 days almost the idol of the rough and hardy men around 
 him. To the restraints he imposed upon them, they sub- 
 mitted cheerfully and without a murmur, and notwithstand- 
 ing their previous habits, promised soon to become as 
 orderly as the best-drilled veterans of the army. 
 
 We will not tire the reader with a description of the 
 journey to Stevenson. It was, we suppose, in most respects 
 like other journeys of the same character, and under similar 
 circumstances. The parting, too, was just such as would 
 be anticipated between relations so near and so dear to 
 each other, when about to be separated for an indefinite 
 period of time. The most remarj^able part of it was the 
 gay and light-hearted mood which came upon Tobias 
 Wilson when the Nashville train had disappeared, bearing 
 away all that he loved best on earth. The change was 
 noticed by Thomas Rogers, who remarked : " You seem 
 delighted, Toby, to get rid of them." 
 
 "Not exactly that," answered Wilson; "but I am de- 
 lighted that they are beyond the reach of further insult or 
 
 22* 
 
246 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 injury. It is enough for a man to witness once in his life- 
 time the bitter and galling sight of a loved wife and dar- 
 ling mother driven out in the night-time from beneath the 
 roof that sheltered them, while the tears that gathered in 
 their eyes glittered like fiery drops in the light of the 
 flames that made them homeless. It is true, they were 
 spared the added pangs of insult; but these too might 
 come on the next occasion : and who can tell how long 
 that occasion would be deferred, or with what other cir- 
 cumstances of outrage it might be attended ?" 
 
 "There is more, Toby," replied his friend, seriously, 
 "though you know it not. That sight has warmed to life 
 the old serpent that you thought dead. Watch yourself 
 well, Toby, or the demon of revenge will again assert his 
 dominion over vour heart. You do not smile, as another 
 would do, at such advice from me ; nor need you, Toby, for 
 he who has felt the poison of the rattlesnake in his veins, 
 can best describe its horrors." 
 
 "I should be far," said Wilson, "from smiling at such 
 advice from any one I loved or respected ; but in truth, I 
 do not think I need it. I cherish no feeling of revenge 
 against Captain Sykes ; for if he did cause all that mis- 
 chief and annoyance, it was, in part, unintentional ; and 
 when he discovered what he had done, he acted like a man, 
 and not like a brute, as I expected he would do. I do not 
 forgive hira, but I would not harm him save in open 
 battle." 
 
 "How about your own wounds and bruises, Toby, and 
 his kind intention to transfer you from a peaceful and 
 happy home to the hell of a conscript's life ?" 
 
 "That," replied Wilson, "is a chance I had to take, in 
 common with others of my age, whenever I met with a 
 Confederate officer who supposed he had the power to 
 capture me. But, to tell the truth, if it had come alone, 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 247 
 
 unaccompanied by circumstances which showed him in a 
 better light than I expected, I am afraid that I should not 
 have considered anything short of Captain Sykes's life-blood 
 a sufficient atonement. But when I saw and heard him 
 ordering his soldiers to work, and working himself like a 
 slave to save your father's property, and observing besides 
 a most scrupulous deference toward the ladies, whose 
 slumbers he had so rudely broken, much of my resentment 
 vanished ; and I repeat, that he is safe from me unless he 
 crosses my path in battle." 
 
 "I will not argue against your decision, Toby, for in 
 truth I am half inclined to believe that you are right ; but 
 if Captain Sykes expects any such forbearance from me, he 
 is leaning on a broken reed." 
 
 The conversation here ended, and was not resumed for 
 months afterward — months crowded with terrible and 
 bloody events, in which both had borne a part that entitled 
 them to a place in history. 
 
 In accordance with the plan decided upon before leaving 
 his encampment, Captain Rogers remained a day in Steven- 
 son. His object was to discern any spies who might be 
 watching his movements, and to induce them to believe 
 that his purpose was to march southward with the main 
 cavalry force. On the following night he took up his line 
 of march, but not in the direction from which he had come. 
 On the contrary, he moved southwardly toward Bellefonte. 
 Proceeding on this route for some miles, he suddenly turned 
 to the right, and traveling as rapidly as the darkness would 
 permit, he arrived by daylight at a point in the mountains 
 only a few miles distant from the pathway which led them 
 over to the dwelling of Tobias Wilson. Here he dismissed 
 his command, instructing them to make their way singly to 
 the encampment, avoiding, as much as possible, the level 
 country, and shunning the few people who might be astir 
 
248 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 at this early hour. , In company with Tobias Wilson he 
 essayed to ascend the mountain from the point where they 
 then were. Intimately acquainted as both had been, from 
 childhood, with every pass and gorge, every cliff and pre- 
 cipice, they found the ascent a work of more toil and labor 
 than they had anticipated. Leading their horses, they 
 began to climb the steep mountain-side, sometimes rolling 
 away huge rocks, sometimes treading on the brink of a 
 dangerous precipice — now making a circuit — and again 
 leading them up rugged banks where it required all their 
 strength to support the animals in their upward struggles. 
 At length they reached the top of the mountain, which is 
 there an immense plain, running for many miles along the 
 ridge, covered with a rich and luxuriant grass, and afford- 
 ing excellent pasturage for the herds of cattle and other 
 animals which were driven up by the settlers in the valley 
 in early spring, and allowed to remain with but little atten- 
 tion until the green carpeting of the earth had been de- 
 stroyed by the frosts of autumn. Here they rested for some 
 time, for the double purpose of recruiting their own and 
 their horses' strength after the fatigue they had undergone. 
 Rogers, taking advantage of so favorable an opportunity, 
 communicated to Wilson not only the plans which he con- 
 sidered definitely settled, but all the visionary schemes 
 which had been floating through his brain for the last five 
 or six weeks. At some of these his friend only smiled, to 
 others he interposed a decided negative, and others again 
 were noted as worthy of future consideration. 
 
 "I expect, Toby," said Rogers, rising and throwing the 
 bridle-rein over his horse's head, "that you will have it all 
 your own way at last ; for although I believe you are a 
 more passionate and headstrong man than I am, you never 
 seem to let your passions get the better of your judgment, 
 and never allow your brain to be troubled by such wild 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 249 
 
 visions as are constantly running through mine. I had 
 rather trust to your opinion than mine at any time." 
 
 "You don't know," said his brother-in-law, "what is 
 passing in my brain. I may have as many unsubstantial 
 dreams as you have, without telling about them. As to 
 your future course, you ought not to be governed by my 
 advice, unless, after examination, you are satisfied that it is 
 sound. I shall be with you I hope for a long time, and 
 you need not make any important movement without re- 
 flection. My opinions will always be given to you frankly 
 
 and fully." 
 
 "I shall not fail to ask for them, Toby; and now let us 
 ride. I am both hungry and sleepy, and shall be rejoiced 
 when your cabins come in sight." 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 When Captain Rogers returned to his encampment, 
 hungry, as he really was, he could not restrain his impa- 
 tience to hear the report of the scouts he had sent to 
 gather news of Captain Sykes and his company; and, 
 accordingly, before sitting down to the meal that he and 
 Tobias Wilson were preparing, he dispatched a messenger 
 to the camp to summon them to his presence. Their re- 
 port was confirmatory of all that Franklin had suspected. 
 They had succeeded in getting on the mountain which over- 
 looked the place where the enemy had encamped near Mul- 
 ford's house, and had remained there a whole day watch- 
 ing their movements. They seemed to be abundantly sup- 
 plied with forage and provisions, but were industriously 
 engaged in collecting more ; small parties were constantly 
 coming in, bringing bags of corn, bacon, and Indian-meal, 
 bundles of fodder and oats. Besides this, there seemed to 
 be considerable activity among them. Little parties of 
 two and three together, whom they judged to be scouts, 
 rode away from the camp and did not return. At the 
 house of a Union man, whom they knew, and to which 
 they ventured at night, they learned that the provision and 
 forage, which they had seen carried into Mulford's, had 
 been forcibly taken from loyal citizens in the neighbor- 
 hood. He was himself hourly expecting a visit, and had 
 hidden away almost everything he could conceal. To the 
 remark of one of the scouts, that if Captain Sykes's for- 
 (250) 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 251 
 
 agers should pay him a visit that night, they would be 
 apt to get more bullets than provisions, he replied : 
 
 " They will not come at night, unless they come in a 
 body and mean to do more mischief than carrying off a 
 little forage." 
 
 A good deal of other information was extracted from 
 him, and then, having filled their haversacks with the re- 
 mains of the bounteous supper that had been provided for 
 them, they saddled their horses and set out on their return 
 to the camp. 
 
 This report had been made in the presence of Lieuten- 
 ant Miller and Tobias Wilson. When it was ended, Wil- 
 son asked how many men he had with him. 
 
 " We could not tell certainly," was the reply, " although 
 we counted them at least a half a dozen times. They were 
 coming and going through all the day, and it was impossi- 
 ble to say how many there were ; but there cannot be less 
 than seventy-five." 
 
 "He has been getting recruits," said Wilson, ''for he 
 did not have more than forty men when he crossed the 
 river." 
 
 " They may be conscripts," suggested Rogers. 
 
 " Both, may be," added Miller ; " he might pick up a 
 good many straggling soldiers about here any day; but 
 conscripts ain't so plenty, and it's safer to calculate that 
 he's got with him at least sixty-five or seventy men." 
 
 To this proposition both Rogers and Wilson assented. 
 The conference was then adjourned until after supper, and 
 Miller was requested to notify John Franklin to attend, as 
 Captain Rogers wished to avail himself of Franklin's in- 
 timate knowledge of the locality. 
 
 Before daylight the next morning, Thomas Rogers, with 
 eighty men, set out upon his first military expedition, the 
 object being to surprise and capture or cut to pieces the 
 
252 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 Confederate troops under Captain Sykes. During the 
 day's march, he had the good fortune to make prisoner 
 one of the enemy's scouts. The information obtained from 
 him was of considerable service ; but his capture was most 
 important, because it furiiished Captain Rogers with a 
 guide whose knowledge of the direction taken by the va- 
 rious foraging parties enabled him to avoid the places 
 where it was most likely they were carrying on their plun- 
 dering operations. At another time, Rogers would have 
 hunted up these parties with avidity ; but he dreaded to 
 encounter them now, lest some one might escape and carry 
 the news of his approach to the camp, thus rendering the 
 flight of the band almost certain. The prisoner was ac- 
 cordingly placed between two troopers at the head of the 
 column, with a distinct intimation that the first foraging 
 party they encountered would be the signal for his death. 
 Captain Rogers was not satisfied with this precaution 
 alone. Four picked men were sent forward in advance, 
 while others were thrown out from a quarter to a half 
 mile on either flank. He knew that he was traversing a 
 country where four out of every five men were his ene- 
 mies. He therefore avoided passing near any habitation 
 when there was any practicable way of getting round it 
 unobserved ; and when this could not be done, he did not 
 hesitate to resort to the expedient of reporting his com- 
 mand as rebel troops — a story which the motley appear- 
 ance of the men went far to confirm. 
 
 It was dusk as they slowly ascended a gap in the mount- 
 ains which led to Mulford's house. At this point Thomas 
 Rogers had expected to encounter a picket, or a guard of 
 some kind, to dispute the passage or give notice of the 
 approach of danger, and his advanced scouts had been in- 
 structed to move forward cautiously, and fall back in- 
 stantly if his expectations should prove correct; but no 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 253 
 
 sign of an enemy was to be met with — not a sentry had 
 been posted within this important pass, which afforded an 
 easy access to the rebel camp. It was evident that Cap- 
 tain Sykes's mind was entirely at ease, and that he had no 
 suspicion of danger. The scout who brought back these 
 tidings reported that his comrades had halted on the crest 
 of the ridge, where they had a full view from the light of 
 the camp-fires of the valley below. Moving on slowly and 
 cautiously until within a few yards of the summit, Cap- 
 tain Eogers ordered his troop to remain in their saddles 
 where they were until his return. Then dismounting from 
 his horse, and calling upon Wilson and Franklin to do the 
 same, they ascended the gap to the point from which his 
 scouts were still taking observations of the valley below. 
 The bright light of the camp-fires rendered every object' 
 distinctly visible, and the total absence of any apprehen- 
 sion of danger on the part of his enemies, allowed him full 
 leisure for a careful survey of the ground. The valley was 
 of considerable extent, the greater part of it being "fenced 
 in " and under cultivation by Mulford, who was a man of 
 ample means for that country. It was not exactly level, 
 but gradually sloped upward, in a triangular shape, from 
 the " bottom " at its base to Mulford's house, which was 
 situated near the apex of the triangle. By the light of 
 the fires there seemed to be but one mode of egress besides 
 the one occupied by the United States troops, though, in 
 point of fact, the mountain could be ascended by horse- 
 men who were acquainted with it at many points. Judg- 
 ing, however, only from what he saw, he concluded that if 
 they could be cut off from the dense forest which covered 
 the bottom land, the whole band must be captured or 
 killed, and his dispositions were made accordingly. Leav- 
 ing a small guard in the gap, he directed Franklin to dis- 
 
 23 
 
254 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 mount thirty men and if possible to gain a position on the 
 side of the mountain, within good rifle range of the enemy's 
 encampment. The hooting of an owl was to be the signal 
 that this was accomplished. The rebel horses were all un- 
 saddled, their arms stacked, some of the men were busily 
 engaged preparing supper, some of them playing cards by 
 the light of the fires, while others were lying on the ground 
 or lounging about the encampment, without an apparent 
 object. It had been arranged that Franklin, after giving 
 the signal that his covert was gained, should wait full five 
 minutes before pouring in his fire upon the unconscious 
 freebooters, in order that Rogers with his mounted men 
 might have time to descend the gap, and by hard riding 
 interpose between the enemy and the woods, so as com- 
 pletely to cut off their retreat. Wholly unprepared as 
 they were, Captain Rogers did not doubt that this move- 
 ment would be crowned with complete success. But there 
 was one important point which his inexperience caused 
 him to overlook. He had no sooner commenced the rocky 
 descent, after the concerted signal WAS given, than the 
 sound of his horses' feet reverberated through the valley 
 and attracted the attention of the hitherto confident and 
 careless troopers. Captain Sykes was himself the first to 
 hear the sound, or at least to understand its import. 
 Springing at once to his horse, he shouted to his men to 
 arm and mount. From some cause his own and the horse 
 of his orderly were already bridled and saddled. Perhaps 
 he had contemplated a night ride to a more pleasant enter- 
 tainment than that to which he was unexpectedly invited. 
 Be that as it may, he was almost instantly in the saddle, 
 riding along the front of his camp and shouting eagerly to 
 his men to mount and form. The first part of the order 
 needed no repetition ; the second part was unheeded, for 
 Franklin now poured in a deadly fire upon the frightened 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 255 
 
 and disordered mass, and tlien rushed on with loud shouts 
 to complete his work with the bayonet and revolver. He 
 had aimed at Captain Sykes, and in the brief interval be- 
 tween the firing and the order to charge, Tobias Wilson, 
 who was by Franklin's side, observed that officer to reel in 
 his saddle ; but he quickly recovered himself, and, grasping 
 the reins firmly, wheeled his horse, and shouting " Follow 
 me I" galloped off in a direction at right angles to the 
 woody bottom, toward a lane which ran between two culti- 
 vated fields to the mountain. 
 
 ''You have winged him," said Wilson, "but that is all. 
 Shall I finish the job ?" 
 
 "No ! for God's sake no I" answered Franklin, laying his 
 hand upon the half-raised gun. " If he escapes this time 
 I shall meet him again. There are enough of them in 
 yonder camp for you to shoot. Now come on, and leave 
 my man to me." 
 
 The troopers of Captain Sykes were accustomed to 
 rapid move^nents, and by the time the dismounted Union 
 men had cleared the space between them, the most of them 
 were riding rapidly across the valley in the direction taken 
 by their captain. To accomplish this, however, they had 
 been forced to abandon guns, blankets, everything except 
 their horses. A few of them, perhaps, who habitually car- 
 ried their knives and revolvers belted about their persons, 
 succeeded in saving these ; but in all other respects the 
 troopers of Captain Sykes were completely disarmed. 
 
 Thomas Rogers, in his anxiety to get in the rear of 
 the rebels, had galloped by without observing the lane 
 through which his enemy was escaping. In his eagerness 
 to attain the desired object, he never once looked back; 
 and when he had wheeled his men to intercept the fugi- 
 tives, he was mortified to find that they were already so 
 far away as to render pursuit, over a rough and unknown 
 
256 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 country, with his tired and jaded animals, little short of 
 madness. With a bitter curse he rode toward the en- 
 campment, which was now occupied by his own dismounted 
 troopers, who were busily engaged in collecting the spoils 
 which had been left by the flying enemy. Here he found 
 his temporary lieutenant seated upon the ground in no 
 better humor than himself. His first exclamation, after 
 rising and saluting his superior officer, was : 
 
 "Just think of it, captain, — I had a fair shot at him in 
 less than. a hundred yards, and, by God, I only barked him 
 enough to make him reel a little in the saddle !" 
 
 "And I," replied Rogers, "was foolish enough to gallop 
 by a plain road, and let him escape without losing a man. 
 What have you done here ? Have you captured anything 
 worth taking ?" 
 
 " I haven't looked ; but the boys say that there's five 
 killed dead and seven or eight more badly wounded. I 
 suspect that there's more of them with holes in their skins, 
 but they weren't hurt bad enough to keep them from riding 
 away. Howsever, we've got all their guns and plunder, 
 and Captain Sykes can do no more devilment in this 
 section for a long time to come.'' 
 
 It did not take Captain Kogers long to ascertain that 
 the report of Franklin fell short of the truth. In addi- 
 tion to the captures enumerated by him, there had been 
 taken five or six conscripts, who, at the first report of fire- 
 arms, had thrown themselves flat upon the ground to avoid 
 being hurt in the melee. Some twelve or fifteen horses 
 had also been secured ; so that the booty altogether was 
 very considerable, and the importance of the adventure 
 greatly enhanced by the release of the young men who 
 bad been so unfortunate as to fall into the grasp of Cap- 
 tain Sykes. When these results had been ascertained, 
 Rogers's next care was to have the wounded removed to 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 257 
 
 Mulford's house, wkere they could be better provided for 
 than in the camps. 
 
 "You will .have no objection, I suppose, Mr. Mulford," 
 said Rogers, " to take care of your own friends ? I will 
 supply you with blankets from the camp to make pallets 
 for them. Whatever else is necessary to be done, I must 
 leave to you. Permit me to add, that as I will ha#e busi- 
 ness with you in the morning I shall take the liberty of 
 placing a guard around this dwelling, and whoever at- 
 tempts to leave it will incur some risk of being shot. You 
 had better give notice of this to your household." 
 
 Mulford protested against the guard, saying that he 
 was a peaceable citizen, who was compelled to do what- 
 ever the Confederates wished, as he had no power to resist 
 them, and that it was a hard measure to punish him for what 
 he could not avoid. 
 
 " I understand all that," was the reply; " but I have no 
 time to discuss it now." 
 
 So saying, Rogers went about giving strict orders for 
 the posting of sentries and pickets, and for taking all the 
 other precautions against surprise, a neglect of which had 
 that night cost his enemy so dear. In the very outset of 
 his career he had been taught a lesson of vigilance that 
 he never forgot. He knew well enough that no danger 
 threatened him ; but he wished to accustom his men to 
 extreme watchfulness, and he thought this a good oppor- 
 tunity to impress upon them the useful lesson that there 
 was no excuse for a partisan troop who allows itself to be 
 surprised under any circumstances whatever. 
 
 Early in the morning he caused Mr. Mulford to be called 
 from his comfortable bed to a conference which that gen- 
 tleman would gladly have declined. By dint of close and 
 long-continued questioning, he extracted from him the fact 
 that all the bacon which had be^n taken by the marauders 
 
 23* 
 
258 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 was stored in his smoke-honse ; that the corn was in his 
 barn; the oats, fodder, etc. stacked in his barn-yard, ex- 
 cept, of course, the amount they had consumed during 
 their stay, which Mr. Mulford represented as very great. 
 
 "You will oblige me," said Rogers, " by bringing the 
 key of your smoke-house. I must look at its contents 
 myself.i^ 
 
 A brief examination of the smoke-house was followed by 
 a walk to the barn. On their return, Rogers calmly ad- 
 dressed his companion, who was swelling with suppressed . 
 anger at the loss he anticipated, though nothing had been, 
 as yet, said of the purposes of the examination. 
 
 " If a stranger should visit this place, Mr. Mulford," said 
 Rogers, "he would no doubt wonder for what purpose 
 you are hoarding so many of the necessaries of life when 
 the number of your family is no greater than it is." 
 
 " You know, sir," was the curt reply, " that these things 
 are not mine ; that I have barely enough provisions of my 
 own to support my family for the remainder of the year, if, 
 indeed, I have so much." 
 
 " No, I do not know it, Mr. Mulford. I find the plun- 
 der of a whole neighborhood so mingled with your prop- 
 erty that they cannot be separated, and I feel a strong 
 conviction that if Captain Sykes had been allowed to leave 
 here in peace, you would have become his heir. The 
 chances of war have been against you, and you must abide 
 the consequences. Every Union citizen who has been 
 robbed by that rascally gang shall be reimbursed to the 
 full, if it takes all that is here and your own property be- 
 sides. But I do not apprehend that even then your stock 
 would be so reduced as to prevent you from feeding the 
 first rebel soldiery who may come this way; you would 
 be sure to have enough for that." 
 
 " You forget, sir," was the reply, in a sullen tone, "that 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 259 
 
 mucli of the provisions and forage was consumed by the 
 troops during their stay, and there ought to be a reduction 
 of the amount demanded of me to that extent. You can 
 scarcely expect me to replace that." 
 
 '' I have not forgotten, sir, and I shall make no reduc- 
 tion. It would be curious justice, to excuse the robber 
 from making restitution, because he had consume^ or dis- 
 posed of his stolen property." 
 
 " But, sir, I did not take it. I did not bring a pound 
 of it here ; nor did any one belonging to my place." 
 
 " Certainly not ; I know that well enough. You would 
 not compromise yourself so far ; but you aided, abetted, 
 and encouraged the thieves, and you expected that when 
 they went away you would profit by it. It is useless to 
 argue the case, Mr. Mulford ; my mind is made up, and 
 some of my soldiers have already gone out to notify the 
 Union citizens to come and reclaim their property." 
 
 '* It did not all come from Union citizens, sir ; a great 
 deal of it was freely given by Captain Sykes's friends." 
 
 " So much the better for you, Mr. Mulford ; the defi- 
 ciency created by consumption will thus, in part, be made 
 up, and you will escape taxation to that amount, as I in- 
 tend to take nothing save that which has been forced from 
 my friends." 
 
 Thus ended the interview. Captain Rogers turned on 
 his heel and walked back to his encampment, leaving Mr. 
 Mulford to indulge such reflections as his situation sug- 
 gested. They were unpleasant enough, though in truth 
 he had no cause for sorrow, for many of the Union men 
 refused to come and claim their property for fear of greater 
 exactions hereafter, and in this way there was considerable 
 surplus after full restitution to those who came to receive 
 it. A part of this was consumed by Captain Rogers's 
 men ; but Captain* Sykes was a good forager, and there 
 
260 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 still remained enough to support Mr. Mulford's family for 
 more than three mouths, though he did not fail to make 
 it the occasion of complaints of heavy losses and of de- 
 manding compensation from the Confederates therefor. 
 
 Captain Rogers remained with his command at this point 
 for two days, for the purpose of carrying out his decree 
 of restoration. On the evening of the second day, John 
 Franklin and one of his comrades, returning from an expe- 
 dition upon which they had been sent, passed the house of 
 Mrs. Austin. Near the road and some distance from the 
 house, her daughter Sarah was seated on the trunk of 
 a fallen tree. She turned a little pale when Franklin 
 reined up his horse not far from where she was seated, 
 and saluted her as an old acquaintance. Nevertheless, she 
 said, firmly enough : 
 
 "And so, John Franklin, you are not only a deserter, 
 but have turned traitor also, and have taken up arms 
 against your country." 
 
 '*It is pretty well known," replied Franklin, carelessly, 
 "to every child in this neighborhood, that so far as the 
 rebel service is concerned, 'I cussed and quit' some time 
 ago ; but, instead of being a traitor, Miss Sarah, my no- 
 tion is that I have turned an honest man, and have enlisted 
 on the side I ought to have done at first, and should have 
 done but for you." 
 
 "But for me I" she exclaimed. "Dog ! what right have 
 you to connect my name with yours, or to impute your 
 acts to my influence ?" 
 
 "None now, thank God !" was the reply. 
 
 Then wheeling his horse to pursue his journey, he rode 
 a few paces, and, turning on his saddle, again addressed 
 her : 
 
 "I say, Miss Sarah, tell Captain Sykes, when you see 
 him, that he owes that bullet-hole in his skin to me, and 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 261 
 
 that the next time we meet, he'll be in debt to me for a 
 coffin. It ain't often that I miss drawing the life-blood at 
 a hundred yards distance." 
 
 The girl rose up, absolutely speechless with rage. When 
 the power of speech came back to her, he was too far off 
 to hear the words she shrieked after him : 
 
 "You'll be swinging to the limb of a tree before that 
 time comes, or I'm mistaken." 
 
 But, as she walked home, she was by no means certain 
 that her prediction would not prove false. She could not 
 help acknowledging to her own heart that John Franklin 
 was a dangerous enemy. He was shrewd, cautious, fear- 
 less, strong, active, and was, withal, one of the best shots 
 in the country. It is not pleasant, even to the bravest, to 
 know that such a man is daily and hourly seeking to take 
 away the life that God has given us ; and when her passion 
 had subsided, Sarah Austin shivered at the danger which 
 threatened the man she loved even while distrusting him. 
 She returned to the house and at once communicated the 
 tidings to him, for there he was then concealed, and her 
 real business near the road was to keep watch, and give 
 notice of any approaching danger. 
 
 How little did Franklin dream that his enemy was so 
 near him I It was the last place he would have expected 
 to find him ; for he thought that his known intimacy with 
 the family would have prevented him from seeking conceal- 
 ment where it was so likely that he would be looked for 
 if any search was made. Besides, Franklin did not know 
 how serious his wound was, and supposed it altogether 
 probable that he was on horseback retreating south. Cap- 
 tain Sykes's possible presence in that neighborhood did 
 not once cross his mind, and he rode away without a 
 thought of his finding a hiding-place beneath the roof that 
 he had such good reasons for believing he had dishonored. 
 
262 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 Yet it was even so. Captain Sykes's wound, though not 
 mortal, was a serious one, and he had not ridden far in his 
 flight before he discovered that he could not sit on his horse 
 much longer. The fugitives, finding that no pursuit was 
 attempted, recovered from their fright, and though still re- 
 treating rapidly, began to form in something like order. 
 A few only had fled up the mountain ; the remainder, with 
 Captain Sykes at their head, skirted its base until they 
 had passed the cultivated land, when they turned into the 
 wood, and pushed on directly for the country road hereto- 
 fore mentioned. At that point their captain declared his 
 inability to ride farther, and they at once resolved to carry 
 -him to the nearest house, (which happened to be Mrs. 
 Austin's,) and leave him there for the present. Accord- 
 ingly, a soldier mounted behind him to support him in the 
 saddle, while another took the rein for the purpose of lead- 
 ing his horse. In this way he was safely conducted to 
 Mrs. Austin's dwelling. The men remained no longer 
 than to see him placed comfortably in bed, and to receive 
 his commands to make their way singly, or in pairs, to 
 Guntersville on the south side of the Tennessee, where 
 they could obtain other arms in lieu of those they had lost. 
 On the third day Captain Rogers broke up his encamp- 
 ment, and returned to Tobias Wilson's house. Believing 
 that there was no danger now to be apprehended from 
 irregular Confederate bands, he determined to cross the 
 river and take part in the stirring scenes about to be en- 
 acted around Chattanooga, and in Northern Georgia and 
 East Tennessee. 
 
CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 It was near the last of August when General Rosecrans, 
 preceded by his cavalry, crossed the main body of his forces 
 to the south side of the Tennessee River. The direct road 
 to Chattanooga is a narrow passway, overhung by lofty 
 mountains on one side, and hemmed in by the river on the 
 other. There was not a mile of this road where a mere 
 handful of men could not have arrested the march of an 
 army. Even unopposed, it would have been difficult for 
 General Rosecrans to have transported his artillery and 
 baggage along the only route it was possible to travel — a 
 route which involved the crossing of the river twice after 
 leaving^Bridgeport, making three crossings in a distance 
 of less than thirty miles. Accordingly, the army was moved 
 southward down two valleys between the mountain ranges, 
 in the' direction of Rome and Dalton, Georgia. It would 
 be altogether foreign to the purpose of this story to em- 
 brace in it an account of the great historical events which 
 were about to transpire in that wild and rugged region, 
 and stamp it with the seal of immortality. They will be 
 referred to only so far as they affected the movements of 
 individuals whose adventures are herein recorded, and 
 whose subsequent career we propose to trace out. 
 
 Believing that the country was now almost entirely clear 
 of prowling bands of Wheeler's cavalry, and that his friends 
 were consequently safe from molestation, Thomas Rogers 
 crossed the river, and by rapid marches soon overtook the 
 
 (263) 
 
264 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 advancing Union army. Here the services of his troop 
 were immediately put into requisition. He was directed 
 to scour the country to the south and east, and report daily 
 all that he v^as enabled to learn of the strength, position, 
 and probable movements of the rebels. This was a duty 
 they were peculiarly fitted to discharge, and the order was 
 received by the men with a cheerful acquiescence, which 
 proved that it would not be negligently performed. Reared 
 among the mountains — accustomed from early boyhood to 
 clamber over them on foot and on horseback — they had 
 become familiar with the characteristics of the whole range, 
 and could tell in the darkest night, from an examination of 
 the strata of rock, what direction to journey, as certainly 
 as the sailor is able to direct the course of his vessel by the 
 north star. They were thus enabled to render essential 
 service to the Union army ; but they were themselves sub- 
 jected to harrowing sights of distress on the one hand, and 
 cruel barbarity on the other, for which they were not pre- 
 pared. 
 
 The inhabitants of these mountains, like those of the 
 entire range, from the western border of Yirginia to the 
 eastern line of Mississippi, were, by a large majority, of 
 strong Union sentiments. But many of the young men 
 had joined the Federal army, and many others had been 
 run down and caught by Confederate conscript officers, and 
 forced into that service. It thus often happened that upon 
 the battle-field brother was arrayed against brother, and 
 the father stood opposed to his little son, whom he had 
 left, when he took up arms for the Union, to cheer and as- 
 sist his mother during the absence of her husband. He 
 never dreamed that that tender youth would be forced, by 
 the merciless executors of a merciless law, from his mother's 
 knee to the companionship of a hardened soldiery, and 
 dragged to the battle-field, where a father's unconscious 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 265 
 
 bullet might terminate his young existence, or where his 
 own shot might send that father, bleeding, to his grave. 
 In this way, from voluntary enlistments on one side, and 
 forced conscriptions on the other, the log-cabins that had 
 dotted the mountain sides were untenanted, save by the 
 old and infirm, the women and their children. It might 
 have been supposed that the feebleness of age and the 
 helplessness of infancy, aided by the tears of mothers and of 
 daughters, would have protected these unfortunate beings 
 from further wrong ; but there were in Wheeler's cavalry 
 men not originally altogether bad, who had become hard- 
 ened by long indulgence and the absence of all military 
 restraint, until they had become callous to the sight of 
 misery and destitution, and to whose depraved minds arson 
 and murder were things to be boasted of around the camp- 
 fire, rather than crimes to people their slumbers with images 
 of horror. These men were performing the same duty for 
 General Bragg that Rogers had undertaken for General 
 Rosecrans, and it sometimes happened that small parties 
 would meet in the defiles of the mountains, when combats 
 ensued, in which the loyal men invariably gained the ad- 
 vantage ; thus illustrating a truth familiar to every military 
 commander, that a soldier turned robber can never after- 
 ward be trusted to do his duty manfully in a fair and open 
 encounter. But if they would not fight, they could and 
 did plunder and oppress. In their excursions, they would 
 stop at a house, however poor the inmates might be, de- 
 manding food for themselves and forage for their horses, 
 and would then proceed to help themselves to whatever 
 else they chanced to covet. In many instances they cut 
 from the looms the coarse cloth intended to cover the 
 ragged children. If there was a good blanket or a warm 
 coverlid on the bed, it was sure to be appropriated. What- 
 ever they could use themselves or sell to others, was un- 
 
 24 
 
266 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 scrupulously seized. To entreaties and remonstrances they 
 answered with jeers and laughter ; and if the poor people 
 sometimes forgot their helplessness, and indulged in the 
 natural language of indignation, the chances were that the 
 torch would be applied to their dwellings, and they would 
 be left alone with the burning ashes that marked the spot 
 they had once called home. Upon sights like these Thomas 
 Rogers and his men were almost daily compelled to look ; 
 while stories of even a darker dye were continually poured 
 into their ears. He felt his own heart growing harder, and 
 longed to be relieved from a service which was enlivened 
 by so little of the excitement of battle, and saddened by so 
 many spectacles of human misery. But there was no one 
 to take his place; and he continued to perform the dis- 
 tasteful duty until it was terminated by the battle of Chicka- 
 mauga. In the mean time, he had received message after 
 message from home, which filled his mind with gloom and 
 apprehension. He had supposed that comparative tran- 
 quillity would reign during his absence. The only troop 
 of Confederates, of whose existence he was aware, had been 
 rendered powerless for mischief; and, judging from his own 
 feelings, he had supposed that all the troops who had been 
 cut off, or who had straggled from the rebel army at Tulla- 
 homa, Hoover's Gap, and Shelbyville, would be flocking to 
 the south side of the river, to join General Bragg in the 
 great struggle upon which so much depended. 
 
 He was young and inexperienced, and had not yet 
 learned that marauders are not the men to seek the post of 
 honor and of danger. Originally they may have had some 
 faint notions of obtaining an honorable fame by fighting 
 for their country. They may have been deceived by ambi- 
 tious leaders, and taught to believe that they were called 
 upon by wrong and oppression to take up arms for the 
 protection of themselves and the security of the liberty of 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 267 
 
 their children. They may have believed, for no pains 
 hsid been spared to make them believe, that the South 
 had been invaded without cause, and unless they resisted 
 manfully, -they would become the serfs and bondsmen 
 of the North; but if such feelings ever had a place in 
 their bosoms, they had been long since superseded by a 
 love of rapine and an unscrupulous thirst for gain. 
 Finding themselves in an unprotected country, and one 
 which afforded an ample field for the exercise of their 
 devilish propensities, they had no idea of exchanging 
 it for one where armed men were to be met, and all the 
 dangers of the battle-field encountered. It was far more 
 pleasant to prey upon the weak and helpless than to face 
 on equal terms the strong and the manly. In their eyes, 
 laurels were a poor compensation for the substantial fruits 
 of a successful foray. The approach of an engagement 
 was no inducement to them to join their commands ; they 
 remained to feed like cormorants upon a country which was 
 defenseless, while their comrades were face to face with the 
 enemy. To the loyal men of Jackson County, theirs was 
 a terrible visitation, and they scTon became familiar with 
 horrors to which they had heretofore been comparative 
 strangers. Every day had its tale of robbery, every night 
 the heavens were lurid from the flames of burning houses. 
 These were occasionally interspersed with bloodier deeds, 
 until at last no man could lie down at night with any assu- 
 rance that his throat would not be cut before morning, and 
 his dwelling burned over the heads of his family. They 
 had ceased to regard their property as their own, and only 
 held it subject to the will of the first armed guerrilla whom 
 ill fortune directed to their doors. All this, and much more, 
 was communicated to Rogers, and bitter tears gathered in 
 his eyes as he listened to the recital ; but he knew it would 
 be useless to ask for permission to return at such a time. 
 
268 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 A mighty stake was then being played for, and individual 
 suffering, however pitiful, and however wide-spread, could 
 not be allowed to interfere with the combinations upon 
 v.'hich success depended. At length the battle of Chicka- 
 mauga was fought. The company of Thomas Rogers had 
 been dismounted, and, fighting on foot, had exhibited an 
 unflinching courage which won for them the highest dis- 
 tinction ; but they paid dearly for the honors they had ac- 
 quired : they were badly cut to pieces ; and when the shat- 
 tered army of Rosecrans gained the shelter of the works at 
 Chattanooga, a call of the roll revealed the fact to Captain 
 Rogers that nearly half of the original numbers of his 
 men were missing. What had become of them he knew 
 full well. They had not straggl^ed ; they were not prison- 
 ers : they were lying upon the bloody ground where they 
 had fought, either dead, or too badly wounded to crawl from 
 the fatal spot. He had succeeded in securing the greater 
 part of his horses, and this would enable him to mount 
 such recruits as might be willing to enlist under his banner. 
 
 The presence of horsemen in Chattanooga under the then 
 existing circumstances did not compensate for the increased 
 expense of maintaining them ; and Captain Rogers now 
 easily obtained permission to recross the river for the pur- 
 pose of filling up his diminished ranks. 
 
 It is necessary that we should now go back a little, in 
 order to give the reader a clear and intelligent idea of the 
 events about to be narrated. We left Captain Sykes lying 
 wounded in the house of Mrs. Austin. His life had never 
 been in danger, but he suffered greatly for the first few 
 days, and when the pain entirely disappeared it left him as 
 weak and helpless as a child. During the period of his 
 sufferings he was carefully attended by Mrs. Austin and her 
 daughter, one of whom never left him. No other mem- 
 ber of the household was allowed to enter the room except 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 269 
 
 on special occasions, the pretext being that he was too weak 
 to bear company or disturbance. When he began to recover, 
 Mrs. Austin seized the opportunity afforded her to urge the 
 fulfillment of his promise to marry her daughter. To the 
 mother's remonstrances were added the daughter's tears 
 and entreaties. These were too much for Captain Sykes 
 in his feeble condition, and he yielded a reluctant assent, 
 which never could have been wrung from him in hours of 
 health. Yet, like a villain as he was, eve'n when consenting 
 to restore the fair fame of which he had deprived her, his 
 depraved mind was busy with a scheme to render the pro- 
 posed atonement unavailing. Knowing that the law re- 
 quired that a license should be obtained from the probate 
 judge before the celebration of the marriage, he ignorantly 
 supposed that a failure to obtain a license would invalidate 
 that marriage. Accordingly, he suggested to Mrs. Austin 
 that no license to marry could then be obtained, as the 
 probate judge had gone to the south side of the river, 
 taking with him the records of his court to prevent them 
 from falling into the hands of the Federal troops. He 
 proposed that if she was unwilling to wait until a license 
 could be regularly obtained, she might send for a minister 
 of the Gospel to perform the ceremony, and he pledged 
 himself that the license should be taken out at a future 
 time, and thus all the requirements of the law would be 
 complied with. Mrs. Austin agreed to this proposition, 
 saying that she could not see how it was possible for any- 
 thing more to be done under existing circumstances. The 
 next day Sarah herself rode a distance of five miles and 
 brought back with her the clergyman selected to perform 
 the ceremony. When it was over, Mrs. Austin, leaving 
 her daughter in the room with the wounded man, called the 
 minister into an adjoining apartment, and requested him 
 to write a certificate that he had that day united Joseph 
 
 24* 
 
270 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 Sykes and Sarah Austin in the " holy bonds of matrimony." 
 To this she appended her own name as witness, and, care- 
 fully folding the paper, locked it in her drawer. 
 
 All went well with Captain Sykes and his bride for some- 
 thing more than a week. His health and strength were 
 rapidly returning, and he began to talk of rejoining his 
 men, who had been ordered to rendezvous at Guntersville. 
 This purpose had been delayed day after day by his wife, 
 who represented that he was not strong enough to undergo 
 the fatigue of a day's journey on horseback. A day for 
 his departure was at length finally fixed, to which she could 
 not well urge an objection. Finding that his resolution 
 was taken, his wife took down his uniform coat, which had 
 been hanging unnoticed in the room, and carried it out to 
 cleanse it from blood stains, and repair the damage done by 
 Franklin's bullet. Exercising a wife's privilege to examine 
 the pockets of her spouse, she found a handkerchief, a pair 
 of gloves, and a sealed letter. The letter was addressed 
 to Miss Ella Whitlock. Without a moment's hesitation 
 she broke the seal, and read as follows : 
 
 "Miss Ella: — 
 
 "I hope to be in your neighborhood in the course of two 
 weeks, when I shall certainly call on you, though you 
 would give me no encouragement when we parted. But 
 times have changed since then. I am a captain now, and 
 expect to be promoted the first chance there is. General 
 Wheeler has promised me that I should be, and I know 
 he will keep his word. Uncle Jones has also promised 
 me that he will give me his place on Mud Creek the day I 
 am married to you, and this, with what I have myself, will 
 make a start for a young couple, greater than any other 
 pair in the country ; and, as soon as I get my promotion, 
 I'll resign and stay at home with you. I hope you will 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 271 
 
 not fail to see the advantage of the offer I make, and that 
 we will meet as friends who expect to be something more 
 to each other. 
 
 " I know that at the beginning you were opposed to our 
 glorious cause, and that you were not disposed to be 
 friendly with our brave soldiers ; but you were too young 
 then to understand our rights, and how the 'Yankees' had 
 invaded our country, and killed our men, and stole our 
 property, and insulted our women without any cause under 
 the .sun. I hope and believe that as you have grown older, 
 your first notions have changed, especially as your two 
 brothers died fighting on the same side with me ; but we 
 can talk about this when I see you. So no more for the 
 present, but that I love you, and will love you till death. 
 "Your friend and faithful lover, 
 
 "Joseph Sykes, Captain C. S. A." 
 
 • When Sarah had read this delectable epistle, she let it 
 fall to the fioor, and sat for a moment as if petrified ; 
 quickly recovering, she took it up again, a faint hope 
 crossing her bosom that she might have misunderstood its 
 import. Eagerly she read it over again ; but this second 
 perusal brought no comfort : there was no mistaking the 
 meaning of the writer, however inelegantly it might be ex- 
 pressed. A deadly pallor spread over her features, and 
 she sank back into the chair, from which she had risen in 
 her excitement, like one overcome by physical exhaustion. 
 But at what frail straws will not a woman catch when the 
 faith of her lover is in question ! Suddenly a bright color 
 came into her cheeks, and there was a flash of joy in her 
 eyes, as she said, aloud : 
 
 " He has put it there to try me. He has not been out 
 of this house for three weeks, so he must have written it 
 here, and put it into that coat where he knew I'd find it." 
 
272 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 Again the letter was snatched from the floor to look for 
 the date. It had none — nor had it any inside address 
 showing the place from which it was written. So far this 
 was rather satisfactory than otherwise ; but as her eyes 
 rested upon the paper, the truth flashed upon her that it 
 was of a different quality, and a different size from any to 
 be found in her mother's house. She had herself unpacked 
 Captain Sykes's valise, and she knew that it contained no 
 writing materials of any kind. The paper, therefore, on 
 which the letter was written was not brought with him, 
 and, as there was none like it in the house, the letter must 
 have been penned before he came. She gave a near guess 
 at the truth when she concluded that he had placed it in 
 his pocket after it was written, to await an opportunity of 
 sending it to the lady to whom it was addressed. Her 
 first impulse was to rush in and tax him with his perfidy — 
 her next to show it to her mother, and at least listen to 
 her advice before acting upon her own impassioned judg- 
 ment. The letter was accordingly silently placed in Mrs. 
 Austin's hands by her daughter, who dared not utter a 
 word for fear of revealing the storm in her bosom. She 
 read it with a flush of anger and indignation, but said no- 
 thing until her daughter inquired : 
 
 "Well, mother, what shall I do?" 
 
 "Nothing as yet," was the reply. "Let me think it 
 over : I'll keep the letter and read it again when I am dis-- 
 engaged ; then I will give you my opinion. You know, 
 Sarah," she continued, "that we have long distrusted him, 
 and we ought not to be so much surprised if our suspicions 
 prove true." 
 
 ^^ If they prove true P^ answered Sarah, with marked 
 emphasis. "Mother, they are true — true beyond a doubt 
 or a hope. The evidence is too clear for even a trusting 
 and loving heart like mine to doubt his guilt." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 273 
 
 The bitter misery of disappointed love was gnawing at 
 her heart-strings; but she nerved herself to play the hypo- 
 crite for a time, and, suppressing all outward emotion, 
 proceeded to finish the hateful work of repairing the uni- 
 form of the man she was beginning to believe a scoundrel 
 of the blackest dye. 
 
 The only intercourse between the husband and the wife 
 during that day was at the dinner-table. Sarah affected 
 to be busy in assisting her mother with her household 
 duties, and toward evening she took one of the long 
 walks to which she had been accustomed in other days, 
 when her husband was her lover and she sought his pres- 
 ence with far different feelings from those that now rioted 
 in her bosom. Oh I how she cursed her own folly as she 
 recalled all that he had promised, and that she had believed I 
 But, like most human lessons, her reflections came too late. 
 
 After supper, Mrs. Austin complained of being unwell, 
 and retired early to her room. Her daughter followed, 
 saying briefly to the captain, that her mother required at- 
 tention, and she would remain with her during the night. 
 The next morning was the time fixed for his departure. 
 When ready to start upon his journey, he approached his 
 wife to bid her adieu. She stepped quickly back, at the 
 same time extending the letter he had written to Ella 
 Whitlock. Looking him steadily in the face, she said 
 slowly and deliberately, though unable to support herself 
 without clasping the back of a chair : 
 
 "I believe, Captain Sykes, that this letter is in your 
 handwriting." 
 
 He took it from her extended hand, and glanced at the 
 address. If Sarah had needed further proof of his guilt, 
 she would have found it now in the confusion that over- 
 whelmed him. His face turned red, and white, and livid 
 by turns. But he was blessed with a stock of impudent 
 
274 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 assurance which seldom falls to the lot of any one man, 
 and besides, he was satisfied in his own mind that his mar-, 
 riage was a nullity, and that he therefore held all the ad- 
 vantages of the game in his own hands. In his secret 
 heart he was not sorry to break off a connection that he 
 was beginning to regard as troublesome, and an open 
 quarrel, began by herself, afforded a pretext of which he 
 was not indisposed to avail himself. When therefore his 
 momentary confusion had passed away, he said, with as- 
 sumed sternness : 
 
 "By what right, madam, have you ventured to open a 
 sealed letter addressed to another ? You are aware that 
 the law makes it a criminal offense ?" 
 
 " The right of a wife to detect the falsehood and mean- 
 ness of her husband. The right of every one to expose a 
 villain. Is there any law against that ?" 
 
 "-4 wife, Miss Sarah !" he said, sneeringly. "You are 
 not yet a wife, unless some one else besides myself has the 
 happiness to be your husband. You will remember that 
 the ceremony between us was incomplete — a link was 
 missing, which it depends upon me to supply, and your 
 present conduct is not calculated to make me anxious to 
 do so." 
 
 "The ceremony was incomplete!" ejaculated Sarah. 
 " Oh ! You mean the want of a license, do you not ?" 
 
 "Assuredly I do ; and as it cannot be taken out without 
 my consent, it will be apt to remain in the office if it is to 
 bring such storms as this." 
 
 " Idiot I" she exclaimed. " Idiot as well as villain I And 
 so you thought to trick me with a false marriage ! I sus- 
 pected as much. I had learned to doubt you, sir, and did 
 not scruple to take advantage of your ignorance — the de- 
 ceiver has been deceived. I remembered to have heard 
 that in Alabama a license was not necessary to the validity 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 275 
 
 of a marriage, and when Lawyer stopped here, some 
 
 months ago, I contrived to get his opinion without his sus- 
 pecting what I was after. He said that a license was in- 
 deed provided for by law, but the marriage was not affected 
 by it. That the parties might be fined for failing to apply 
 for it, but that was all. That marriage was a civil con- 
 tract, and was valid for all legal purposes if the parties 
 only took each other by the hand and acknowledged, in 
 the presence of witnesses, that they were man and wife.* 
 And now, sir, we part forever. It was necessary to my 
 honor that I should be able to call you husband ; for that 
 reason alone I shall continue to bear your name, but the 
 same roof can never shelter us again.'* 
 
 Without another word or look she walked into an inner 
 room, followed by her mother, who had witnessed, without 
 uttering a syllable, the interview which had just terminated, 
 but which her advice had prevented from being much more 
 stormy and protracted. 
 
 Captain Sykes left the house and departed on his journey 
 in no pleasant mood. He was pondering upon the legal 
 doctrine which, to his amazement, had just been expounded 
 to him by bis wife. 
 
 "It can't be true," he muttered. /'What's the use of 
 requiring a license if a marriage is good without it ? I 
 don't believe a word of all that rigmarole she has been 
 trying to cram down my throat. It's nonsense." 
 
 But the idea would force itself upon him that she had 
 acted too independently, and extinguished too decidedly 
 any hope of future reconciliation or intercourse, not to be 
 herself convinced of the truth of what she had said ; and 
 his busy thoughts took another direction. 
 
 * Such is the law of Alabama. False marriages — marriages 
 gotten up to deceive either of the parties — are impossible in that 
 State, if the assent of both parties to the marriage can be proved. 
 
276 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 " If it is so, and I'll find out mighty soon, how is she to 
 prove her 'civil contract?' That preacher will swear any- 
 thing I tell him, and I can kill off her mother's evidence 
 by having them both indicted for a conspiracy to extort 
 money from me by pretending that I had married the girl." 
 
 Revolving this atrocious scheme in his mind, and be- 
 coming more and more convinced of its plausibility the 
 more he reflected upon it. Captain Sykes rode on with an 
 air of much more satisfaction than he had worn during the 
 earlier part of the day. Continuing his soliloquy, he said: 
 
 " If I can't make that preacher swear outright that he 
 never married us at all, I can at least keep him out of the 
 way, and that will do nearly as well, and will cost less 
 money." 
 
 The calculations of the redoubtable captain certainly 
 looked plausible enough, but, like all human calculations, 
 there was a chance for them to be based upon some little 
 error of fact, which, in the end, would cause the whole 
 edifice to topple over, to the great dismay and consterna- 
 tion of its builder. Captain Sykes did not know that the 
 possibility of the preacher's being cajoled, or bribed, or 
 frightened into a little false swearing or a timely abandon- 
 ment of the country, had occurred to Mrs. Austin, and that 
 she had, with commendable prudence, provided against 
 such a contingency by taking from him a written certificate 
 of the marriage on the spot, which completely foiled both 
 of the captain's contemplated moves. If he had known 
 that she was in possession of that bit of paper, it would 
 not have been long before her house w^ould have been sub- 
 jected to a rigid examination. But he did not know it or 
 suspect it, and in truth if he had known it, he would not 
 have profited by it ; for Mrs. Austin was fully aware that 
 he was capable of anything that was mean and villainous, 
 and in less than an hour after his departure, the precious 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 277 
 
 paper was removed from the house and securely hidden in 
 a place where discovery was next to impossible. 
 
 The captain had announced his purpose to rejoin his 
 men at Guntersville, but his horse's head was not turned 
 in that direction, nor did he have the least intention of 
 going there for the present. On the contrary, he rode 
 directly for his uncle's house. It was a hard day's journey, 
 but the captain wes well mounted and his horse well rested, 
 so that he arrived at his destination by nightfall. When 
 the evening meal was finished and the house clear of ser- 
 vants, he drew his chair close to his uncle, and in a low 
 voice related all that had happened to him within the past 
 three weeks, coloring, but not falsifying, the truth. That 
 worthy relative fully sympathized with his trials and his 
 sufferings, and highly approved of the abominable plan he 
 had formed to free himself from the difiiculties which his 
 marriage had brought upon him. He also informed him 
 that there were a number of scattered bands of Confederate 
 soldiers in the county, with some of which he was in con- 
 stant communication. He represented that by placing 
 himself at the head of these men, as his rank entitled him 
 to do, his nephew would soon be in command of a more 
 formidable body than that he had lost. Nothing could 
 have been more acceptable to his nephew than the policy 
 suggested by his uncle, and he went to bed that night re- 
 volving plans of vengeance, of whose fulfillment he already 
 felt secure. The very next day he contrived to open com- 
 munications with several different squads of the rebels, and 
 sent word to others of his desire to meet them. On their 
 part they were glad enough to shelter themselves under 
 the orders of an officer of his rank. It was a security 
 against any inquiry into their misdeeds, and saved them 
 from the probabilities of a trial for desertion if General 
 Bragg should retake Chattanooga, and capture or drive 
 
 25 
 
278 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 the army of General Rosecrans back to Nashville, and 
 from thence across the Ohio, an event at that time deemed 
 but too probable by many citizens besides secessionists 
 and their sympathizers. Captain Sykes found no diflBculty 
 therefore in collecting a troop formidable to that unpro- 
 tected country, and which would have been formidable to 
 any force which would be likely to be brought against him 
 if they had not been wholly demoralized by the unbridled 
 license to which they were accustomed. When this had 
 been arranged to his satisfaction, he called at the house of 
 Mrs. Whitlock. Ella was not at home ; the answer would 
 have been the same if she had been, but the captain did 
 not know that, or indeed suspect it. 
 
 He had found that his uniform was possessed of magical 
 qualities among such women as he had been allowed to visit, 
 and he confidently believed that its influence, whenever he 
 chose to call it into requisition, would be equally irresist- 
 ible with the whole sex. But notwithstandiog his igno- 
 rant and impudent confidence, he did not neglect to pre- 
 pare the way for a favorable reception when his next call 
 should be made, by making a parade of protecting the prop- 
 erty of Mrs. Whitlock, and publicly uttering hypocritical 
 lamentations over the damage done by the soldiers before 
 his arrival in the neighborhood. He declared that here- 
 after ngthing should be taken from the citizens but what 
 was absolutely necessary, and that even in such cases the 
 impressment — as he called it — should be strictly confined 
 to those who were known to be disloyal to the Confederacy 
 and possessed a surplus from which they could part with- 
 out danger of suffering. 
 
 In the mean time many loyal citizens, disheartened by the 
 battle of Chickamauga, and dreading the fall of Chatta- 
 nooga, were secretly disposing of their effects and pre- 
 paring to abandon their homes before a new swarm of 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 279 
 
 locusts should be turned loose upon them. Confederate 
 money being worthless in the land to which their hegira 
 must be directed, they resorted to a system of barter — ex- 
 changing their household goods, and such other articles as 
 they could not take with them, for bacon, corn, horses and 
 cattle, which were smuggled into Stevenson at night, and 
 readily sold for fair and even high prices to the Union 
 garrison at that place. Matters were in this condition 
 when Thomas Rogers arrived at Stevenson. The whole 
 story of the condition of the country, bad enough in itself, 
 with many an exaggeration arising from the fears of his 
 informers, was quickly reported to him by those who had 
 come in to dispose of their provisions, etc. Sending out 
 scouts to obtain more accurate and reliable information, he 
 remained at this point for several days to rest his horses 
 and obtain all the recruits he could from among the out- 
 raged citizens. 
 
 James Miller had accompanied his commander to the 
 south side of the river, but his wounds did not allow him to 
 take part in the rough service to which his company had 
 been ordered. He now declared himself fit for duty, and 
 assumed his place as first lieutenant of the troop. We 
 neglected to say that an election had been held for second 
 lieutenant previous to their joining the main army. The 
 choice fell upon Tobias Wilson, who promptly declined it, 
 declaring that he was only an unattached volunteer, who 
 might prefer to join some other company, and leave them 
 at any time. John Franklin was then elected by acclama- 
 tion, and had since discharged his duties so faithfully and 
 untiringly as to command the unbounded confidence of his 
 captain. Neither of the three officers were idle or neglect- 
 ful of any fair means to obtain volunteers ; and by the time ■ 
 Captain Rogers judged that his horses were sufficiently 
 rested, they had secured fifteen additional members to the 
 
280 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 company. In less than a week, Captain Rogers, with 
 sixty-five effective men, set out on an expedition to try 
 conclusions once more with his old enemy, who was known 
 to have collected a force nearly double his own. 
 
 Tobias Wilson had remained in Chattanooga, as a volun- 
 teer aid on the staff of a general ofiBcer, who had been par- 
 ticularly attracted by the desperate valor he had exhibited 
 at Chickamauga, and the skill and coolness with which he 
 had aided his brother-in-law in conducting his men from 
 that dreadful field when the battle was irretrievably lost. 
 While here he received a letter from his wife, advising him 
 of numerous others which had been mailed to him, but 
 which had never been received. She communicated to 
 him the not altogether unexpected intelligence of the mar- 
 riage of his mother to Mr. Rogers. She described the 
 home they had selected as beautiful in the extreme. They 
 were surrounded, she said, with every comfort that could 
 be desired ; and she declared that nothing was wanting to 
 their compfete happiness but his presence among them. 
 Then there was a whole page of those fond and endearing 
 expressions, which flow so gracefully and appropriately 
 from the pen of a young wife, who is separated for the first 
 time from the husband of her choice. He spread the open 
 letter upon the table, and leaned his bowed head upon it. 
 
 "I cannot go," he murmured. "Would to God that I 
 could. But I cannot go. I've many a battle yet to fight, 
 and many a danger yet to encounter, before that loved face 
 will shine upon me again. When that happy hour does 
 come, let me, God, be still worthy of all her love, and 
 trust, and confidence ! But yet I doubt myself — I tremble 
 lest the day should come when I shall be found seeking the 
 life of a foeman in other places than on the field of battle, 
 and from other motives than patriotism. I would not go 
 with Thomas, because I feared I should witness scenes that 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 281 
 
 would turn my blood to fire. I have seen enough of these 
 ah'eady. " 
 
 And so Tobias Wilson remained with the beleaguered 
 army of General Rosecrans, where his services indeed were 
 of far more value than they could have been as a private 
 soldier in his brother-in-law's company. The future had 
 in store for him scenes of suffering more dreadful than 
 those that he now shrank from gazing upon, as well as 
 individual trials and adventures which would tax all his 
 mental resources and all the physical powers he so abund- 
 antly possessed. But, as yet, these were hidden from his 
 knowledge, and in the active employments his position 
 imposed upon him, he found little time to indulge in vague 
 speculations upon the future. 
 
 The arrival of Captain Rogers at Stevenson was soon 
 widely known throughout the country. Citizens claiming 
 to be loyal, but who were in fact rebel spies, were daily 
 visitors at the post. In twenty-four hours Captain Sykes 
 received notice, not only of his coming, but of the exact 
 number and condition of his troops. His own scattered 
 squads were promptly called in, and his encampment re- 
 moved twenty miles to the westward. This step was not 
 dictated by fear. He firmly believed himself capable of 
 crushing his enemy whenever he moved beyond the support 
 of the infantry at Stevenson ; but forage was getting scarce 
 where he was, (except such as was in possession of his 
 friends,) and it would soon become necessary to send out 
 small parties to a considerable distance to obtain it. In 
 the immediate vicinity of an active and enterprising enemy 
 these parties would be in great danger of being cut off, and 
 his command thereby gradually so much weakened that he 
 would be compelled to fight on equal or nearly equal terms, 
 or' else adopt the humiliating alternative of retreating be- 
 yond the Tennessee River. He had another motive. He 
 
 25* 
 
282 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 calculated upon defeating Rogers's small force with ease ; 
 and he wished to draw him as far as possible from any 
 place of retreat, so as to make the rout of the Union sol- 
 diers more bloody and complete. The population in the 
 country through which he must advance was, for the most 
 part, hostile to Rogers ; and Captain Sykes did not doubt 
 that, if he could succeed in compelling his foe to a hasty 
 and disorderly retreat, many of his soldiers would be mur- 
 dered by rebel citizens, whom he knew to possess con- 
 cealed arms, which they would not hesitate to use when 
 they could so easily conceal a murder by charging it upon 
 the pursuing Confederates. In one thing only was Cap- 
 tain Sykes's information incomplete. He knew nothing of 
 the recruits that Rogers had obtained at Stevenson. These 
 men had come in at night, and during the daytime were 
 purposely so distributed as not to excite observation. Be- 
 fore entering the place, Captain Rogers had also dispatched 
 four of his most trusty men to watch the movements of 
 the enemy, and report to him night after night. Captain 
 Sykes's estimate of his (Rogers's) effective force, therefore, 
 was too small by nineteen men — a very considerable item 
 in a body of that size. When his encampment was removed 
 westward, Rogers was not quite ready to follow. His 
 horses were not sufficiently rested, and he still hoped to 
 obtain other recruits, at least for the temporary purpose 
 of destroying the guerrillas who had made such havoc in 
 the country. Xor was he mistaken. Ten others joined 
 him, with the understanding that they should be permitted 
 to return to their homes as soon as this desirable object 
 was accomplished. They were men past the middle age 
 of life, and unfit for protracted military service, but for 
 an expedition of this sort they were quite as effective as 
 younger men. Moreover, all of them had been robbed, 
 and some of them had their houses burned over their heads; 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 283 
 
 SO that to the demands of patriotism were added the fires 
 of revenge, and they were likely to prove dangerous adver- 
 saries in an encounter with their oppressors. 
 
 The place chosen by Captain Sykes for his encampment 
 was a wooded hill, surrounded by a level country, which 
 was inhabited almost entirely by bitter and violent seces- 
 sionists — men who would stickle at nothing to injure the 
 cause of the Union, and shrink from no means, however 
 base, that gave promise of destroying its defenders. Un- 
 like their fellows in the richer counties, they were always 
 ready to contribute whatever surplus they might have on 
 hand, and even more than they could spare, for the support 
 of the rebels. Captain Sykes was thus enabled to keep 
 his men together, and prepared to act at a moment's notice. 
 He was soon advised that Rogers was in motion, and readily 
 conjectured that a collision must take place. The accounts 
 he now received of the force he had to encounter, though 
 still leaving him a large numerical Majority, varied so much 
 from the reports brought to him from Stevenson, that he 
 could not believe them, — attributing the variance to the 
 exaggerated estimates of the inexperienced citizens he had 
 employed in the place of regular scouts. Still, he had 
 been taught a bitter lesson at Mulford's, and nothing that 
 prudence could suggest was neglected. The naturally 
 strong position he had taken was rendered still stronger 
 by hastily throwing up a breastwork of logs and dirt, 
 which was sufficient to render an attack upon it, by an 
 enemy without artillery, extremely hazardous. Thus pre- 
 pared, either to issue from his works if he found himself 
 sufficiently strong, or refuse to fight, unless it was with 
 fearful odds in his favor, he awaited the coming of an ad- 
 versary whose impetuosity of temper he well knew, and 
 whose reckless daring he thought would be sure to give 
 a cooler opponent material advantages. 
 
284 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 His secession friends were constantly on the alert, and 
 as constantly in communication with him; but notwith- 
 standing their watchful alertness, John Franklin, with two 
 of his troopers, had succeeded in making a thorough re- 
 connoissance of his encampment. It was only a few miles 
 from the residence of Franklin's mother; he knew every 
 foot of the ground, and was acquainted with the political 
 bias of every inhabitant. He had thus been enabled to 
 obtain a position from which, with the aid of a good field 
 glass, he could note every preparation that had been made, 
 and estimate with almost perfect accuracy the exact num- 
 ber of the rebels. He concluded that they must be at least 
 one hundred and twenty strong; and with this report he 
 returned, as he supposed, unobserved. But one eye had 
 seen him, and that one, as he was ignorant of what had 
 transpired during his absence, was the very last to which 
 he would have willingly shown himself. It had become 
 necessary for him to cboss the open field to the south of 
 Mrs. Austin's house. He had calculated upon riding the 
 greater part of the night and passing the place before 
 daybreak, but the darkness of the night and the roughness 
 of the road had so obstructed his journey that a broad 
 light streaked the east before he arrived at the border of 
 the timber which skirted the old field. Pausing in the 
 edge of the wood, he examined the house with his glass; 
 seeing no signs of life, and finding that the doors and rude 
 window-shutters were all closed, he concluded that the 
 family were still asleep, and that rapid riding would enable 
 him to cross the open space unobserved. But Sarah had 
 risen, and started to the spring for a pail of water, closing 
 the door behind her to prevent her mother from being 
 wakened at that early hour. On the way she heard the 
 tramp of horses? feet, and hiding herself behind the rocks 
 and bushes, carefully looked out to ascertain whether they 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 285 
 
 were friends-«r enemies. Kiding a little in advance of his 
 two comrades, she recognized the form of John Franklin. 
 His features could not be distinguished, but for her there 
 was no mistaking that figure, and she turned deadly pale 
 as the thought of their last interview came back upon her. 
 She remembered his very words ; the very tone and manner 
 in which they had been spoken ; and it seemed to her now 
 as if a funeral knell was ringing in her ears. She filled 
 her pail mechanically from the spring and returned to the 
 house. Her mother had not yet risen, and she set about 
 preparing the family breakfast, but her thoughts were upon 
 far other things. 
 
 What should she do? what ought she to do? what 
 could she do ? were questions continually recurring to 
 her mind, and to which she could find no satisfactory 
 answer. Up to this hour, she believed that she had ceased 
 to love Captain Sykes ; nay, more, she had persuaded 
 herself that she hated him. When called upon to sign her 
 name as Sarah Sykes, she almost invariably felt her lips 
 curl with scorn, and bitterly did she mourn the necessity 
 which compelled her to retain it. But love does not die 
 so easily, and was there still, in despite of her strong will, 
 in despite of her reason, and in despite of the unanswerable 
 proofs she had of his baseness, and her fears of the villainy 
 he might resort to in the future. She shuddered at the 
 danger that was hanging over him, and felt a partial return 
 of the old tenderness that once would have led her to 
 sacrifice her own life for his. Still, she could decide upon 
 nothing, and impatiently waited for the time when the 
 other members of the family would leave her alone with 
 her mother. When the opportunity at last came she found, 
 to her chagrin, that Mrs. Austin had little sympathy with 
 her feelings. To her, it seemed that the death of Captain 
 Sykes could bring to her daughter nothing but blessings. 
 
286 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 She had heartily approved of the harsh and decided terms 
 in which Sarah had informed him that all connection 
 between them, save the legal bond which she could not 
 sever without disgrace to herself, was at an end. She 
 could not bring herself to look upon him in any other 
 light than as a base, hypocritical, and dangerous man, 
 by whom any villainy would be practiced without scruple 
 if it promised to accomplish his ends, and upon whom any 
 solicitude for his safety shown by her daughter would be 
 wasted, even if he did not regard it as an evidence of an 
 infatuated love, which would in the end lead her to 
 acquiesce in all that he required. She feared, too, that he 
 might persuade, or, failing in that, provoke Sarah to say 
 or do something of which he could take advantage. It 
 was decidedly her opinion that John Franklin would do 
 the country in general, and her daughter in particular, an 
 especial favor by ridding the world of such a miscreant. 
 Sarah argued and pleaded in vain ; her mother was in- 
 flexible, and the unfortunate young woman was forced to 
 take counsel of her own heart alone. It was long past 
 mid-day before she was enabled to arrive at any conclusion, 
 and even then she was almost distracted by conflicting 
 emotions. Of herself she could do nothing to ward off 
 the danger from a husband whose life or death she believed 
 the day before to be a matter of indifference to her Tlie 
 only plan that appeared at all feasible was to give him 
 notice that his life was threatened, and thus supply him 
 with a motive to avoid any exposure of his person, save 
 that he would be compelled to make in the event of a fight 
 between his own and any body of Federal troops. 
 
 To do this it was necessary to go in person to his camp, 
 which was about seven miles distant. She had no one to 
 send, except her little brother, whom she was scarcely 
 willing to trust with such a message herself, and who, she 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. , 287 
 
 was afraid, her mother would not allow to be sent on any 
 errand to the camp of her husband. Proceeding, therefore, 
 to the stable, without a word to any one, she saddled a 
 horse, and, leaving the inclosure by the back way, rode off 
 at a smart pace on her errand of love, which she had 
 endeavored to persuade herself was only a duty that, as a 
 wife, she was bound to perform. Perhaps she was right, 
 but none save a loving woman would have thought so. 
 Upon nearing the camp she was of course halted by the 
 pickets, to whom she said that she was the wife of Captain 
 Sykes, and the bearer of a message upon which his life 
 might depend. The soldiers had heard a different story, 
 but even the mistress of their captain was, in their eyes, 
 entitled to a certain degree of respectful obedience, and 
 one of them promptly offered to conduct her to his quarters. 
 When the captain observed who his visitor was, he 
 imagined that she had come to seek a reconciliation, and 
 as it suited him well enough to be upon good terms with 
 her until his plans were matured, and he had more leisure 
 to attend to his private affairs, he approached her with 
 apparent cordiality, and proffered her his hand. She did 
 not seem to see it, and did not notice his greeting. There 
 were many soldiers lounging about, who could see the 
 actions but could not hear the words of the parties. Her 
 rejection of his offered hand could not fail to be observed 
 by them, and Captain Sykes's face was flushed with anger 
 as he asked : 
 
 " Have you only come here, 3Iiss Sarah, to insult me in 
 the presence of my men ?" 
 
 " I came here from no such feeling, but to warn you that 
 John Franklin is in this county, and to remind you that 
 your life is in great danger." 
 
 "Is that all?" was the sneering reply. '* If so, you 
 might have saved yourself the trouble of the ride you have 
 
288 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 taken. I knew two weeks ago that he was in the county, 
 claiming to be a lieutenant in the company of that arch- 
 traitor, Thomas Rogers. One-half of his associates are 
 deserters from our army, and, unless I am mistaken, we 
 shall have a good time before long in hanging the rascals, 
 Franklin included." 
 
 "But Franklin," she persisted, "is not only in the county; 
 he is now lurking around this very encampment." 
 
 "Impossible!" replied Sykes. "He is known to every 
 man in this neighborhood, and could not remain here three 
 hours without being detected and reported to me." 
 
 " But I saw him this morning with my own eyes riding in 
 this direction. You are the best judge how near he can 
 approach, and how far his rifle may prove dangerous. But 
 of this you may be certain, he is not far from you, and his 
 purpose is deadly." 
 
 "This news," answered the captain, musing, "is worth 
 something, if it proves no more than that my friends are 
 careless, and I thank you for it. I thank you the more 
 because we did not part good friends. I hope all that is 
 over, and that hereafter we shall meet on better terms. 
 Shall we not?" 
 
 "No, sir," she replied; "we can never meet even as 
 friends. At the time you were making vows of love to 
 me which you never felt, and promises of marriage you 
 never intended to keep, you were endeavoring to bribe 
 another to become your wife, and in the very room where 
 you gave me your hand at the altar, you had in your 
 pocket a written offer of that hand to one who, it seems, 
 had little inclination to accept it ; and then you tried to 
 deceive me by a base device, which was only not successful 
 because your knowledge of the law was not equal to the 
 vileness of your intentions. It was from no feeling of 
 kindness that I have given you this warning ; I have sim- 
 ply discharged my duty as your wife." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 289 
 
 "Wife !" he repeated with a sneer. "The day is far 
 distant when you will have the right to bear my name. It 
 will be better for you to dismiss that delusion from your 
 mind ; it will only bring trouble upon you." 
 
 She turned her horse's head homeward, (she had not dis- 
 mounted,) only muttering between her closed teeth the 
 single word "wretch !" 
 
 Two days later, Thomas Rogers had approached within 
 two miles of the Confederate encampment. He knew the 
 temper of his own men thoroughly, and would willingly 
 have risked them against greater odds than Captain Sykes 
 had at his disposal. The larger part of them had been 
 tried by greater dangers than were to be apprehended from 
 the plunderers he was seeking to encounter. Although 
 they outnumbered him in the proportion of three to two, 
 he calculated rightly that such men must soon give way 
 before the cool and steady courage of his own disciplined 
 troops — troops who had unflinchingly faced the withering 
 volleys and desperate charges of the Confederate veterans 
 at Chickamauga. He felt confident that the demoralized 
 robbers, who, notwithstanding their superiority in num- 
 bers, were now skulking behind breastworks too formidable 
 to be attacked by light troops without the aid of artillery, 
 would be swept away like chaff before the wind if they 
 could be brought face to face with his small but gallant 
 and devoted band. But how was this to be accomplished ? 
 If he drew up on the plain before them, they would not 
 leave the shelter of their works, and he would accomplish 
 nothing beyond exposing his own strength, of which he 
 was satisfied they were in some degree ignorant. He 
 could not starve them out, for they were far better supplied 
 than he was ; nor did he entertain a hope of being able 
 to surprise an unguarded point, either by day or by night. 
 He had taught Captain Sykes the value of vigilance, and 
 
 26 
 
290 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 the reports of his scouts convinced him that the lesson had 
 not been thrown away. There was no approach to the 
 encampment that was not vigilantly guarded, and even 
 while Rogers was yet at a distance he learned that the 
 men habitually slept on their arms immediately behind their 
 intrenchments. Their horses, too, were kept constantly 
 in readiness for any emergency. In this perplexity he re- 
 solved to reconnoitre the position himself, giving orders 
 to Miller to move the command to a more eligible point, 
 about a half mile nearer to the enemy. He found the 
 rebels more strongly posted than his scouts had reported, 
 and the idea of storming their works at night, which had 
 several times flitted through his mind, was at once aban- 
 doned. 
 
 That night, when all but the pickets and sentries were 
 buried in profound repose, three men were seated by a log- 
 fire, near the center of the Union encampment, in. earnest 
 consultation. They were Captain Rogers, Lieutenants 
 Miller and Franklin. At the moment, Captain Rogers 
 was speaking. It seemed to be in reply to something sug- 
 gested by one of his officers. 
 
 "I tell you, no 1 They will not come out. They are 
 frightened now, and more than half whipped ; if we could 
 only get at them. The question is, how are we to do 
 that ?" 
 
 "Do you think," answered Miller, thoughtfully, "that 
 he knows how many men we've got here ?" 
 
 "I cannot tell," replied the captain. "I know that he 
 was deceived as to our numbers when we left Stevenson, 
 but he may have learned better within the last two days. 
 We have been during that time surrounded by his spies, 
 and though no pains have been spared to keep them at a 
 distance, they may have been more successful than we think 
 in ascertaining our present strength." 
 
TOBIAS WILSOX. 291 
 
 "If I was only certain," was his lieutenant's reply, "on 
 that point, I think I could fix it." 
 
 " How ? Let me hear your plan." 
 
 "We could then show about that number while the rest 
 were placed in ambush in the woods. By making out as if 
 we meant to pass him, he would be sure to leave his camp, 
 thinking to crush us by a single charge. We could then 
 fall back, fighting, until we had drawn him into the am- 
 bush; and then, good-by to Captain Sykes and his guer- 
 rillas. If we can only get them out, not twenty will ever 
 
 escape." 
 
 "By the Lord !" exclaimed Rogers, "your plan is ad- 
 mirable I We will try it, anyhow ; if it fails to draw him 
 from his cover, we will be no worse off than we were. How 
 many men have we?" • 
 
 "Eighty-two, besides ourselves." 
 
 "And he has, you say, Franklin, not more than one hun- 
 dred and twenty-five ?" 
 
 "I should say," said Franklin, "in the neighborhood of 
 one hundred and twenty. I examined them for three hours, 
 horses, saddles, and men, and though I could not count 
 them, I'm a pretty good judge in such matters. I'll bet 
 my horse that it is not more than five men either way from 
 one hundred and twenty." 
 
 " That gives him," said Rogers, " about three to our two. 
 We've faced worse odds against better soldiers, and can 
 beat him easily in an open fight, without the help of the 
 ambush ; but that will save the lives of some of our men, 
 and make his discomfiture more complete. Have the men 
 quietly roused two hours before day. We must have every- 
 thing prepared before it is light. Tell the officer of the 
 guard, Franklin, to have us up betimes." 
 
 John Franklin went upon his errand, and the other two, 
 spreading their blankets, on which they had been seated, 
 
292 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 before the fire, stretched themselves upon them, and were 
 fast asleep, even before Franklin's return. 
 
 At the time designated, fhe three officers went among 
 the men, without noise of any kind, and, passing from the 
 smouldering ashes of one camp-fire to another, awakened 
 the men, and bade them prepare for an immediate march. 
 At the same time the pickets were being called in, no 
 lights were allowed, and the strictest silence was enjoined 
 upon all. A careful count was made to see if the whole 
 troop was present. They then moved off at a walk, 
 Rogers leading, with Miller by his side. At the place 
 which had been designated for the formation of the am- 
 bush, the troop was halted, and forty-four men were counted 
 off, who were to accompany Captain Rogers, while the re- 
 mainder were divided and posted in the wood, on either 
 side of the road, by Miller and Franklin. To save the 
 strength of their horses as much as possible, the men dis- 
 mounted, and for the most part seated themselves upon the 
 ground, waiting the appearance of daylight. Here, also, 
 each man was individually made acquainted with the plan 
 of the officers, thus rendering a mistake in its execution 
 almost impossible. 
 
 It was broad daylight when Rogers moved his little com- 
 mand of forty-four men from the shelter of the timber, in 
 full view of the rebel encampment. He was greeted by a 
 fire from a picket guard, which was not returned, but he 
 could see that the whole camp had been aroused, and active 
 operations of some kind were going on within. He had 
 left the timber more than a quarter of a mile nearer to the 
 enemy than the place where the ambush was posted, and, 
 as he moved leisurely over the open country and through 
 the cultivated fields, continued to keep his men in a posi- 
 tion where he could easily gain the timber without risking 
 the probability of his small band being ridden down by over- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 293 
 
 whelming numbers. At first, Captain Sykes hesitated to 
 pursue, but as the force before him pretty nearly corre- 
 sponded with the information he had received from Steven- 
 son, and, as he placed no confidence in the subsequent re- 
 ports he had received from citizens, whose inexperience or 
 whose fears he believed had led them astray, he rejoiced in 
 the opportunity of utterly destroying an enemy whom he 
 feared as much as he hated. He had calculated much upon 
 the assumed recklessness of his adversary, and the daring 
 movement of attempting to pass through the open country 
 with a handful of men, in full view of his own superior 
 numbers, had, therefore, excited no surprise. Hastily he 
 gave the order to "mount, and cut the rascals to pieces !" 
 
 With a wild yell, but disordered ranks, his men rushed 
 from behind the cover of their works. The captain was a 
 little staggered when he saw the troops he had expected 
 to ride down without an effort, at first halt, and then file 
 deliberately, and in perfect order, toward the shelter of the 
 woods they had left. At the distance of a hundred yards 
 they exchanged volleys, but with very difi'erent eflfect. The 
 rebels were in motion, and their bullets flew wildly and 
 harmlessly over the heads of their adversaries. The Fede- 
 rals were stationary, and some half a dozen empty saddles 
 attested the accuracy of their fire. Captain Rogers now 
 retreated more rapidly, pausing, however, occasionally to 
 greet his pursuers with a storm of leaden messengers. As 
 he neared the ambush he had planted, his pace quickened ; 
 his men seemed to be thrown into confusion ; they no longer 
 wheeled to fire upon their pursuers, but presented all the 
 appearance of a hopeless and disorderly flight. Elated by 
 what he now esteemed an assured victory, Captain Sykes 
 shouted : 
 
 " Forward, boys ! don't let one of them escape ! Dead or 
 alive, we must have them all 1" 
 
 26* 
 
294 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 Ou came the pursuers, while the pursued, notwithstand- 
 ing their apparent terror, made slower progress. Again 
 Captain Sykes shouted : 
 
 "Use your spurs, men, and they are ours 1 We are 
 gaining on them at every jump ! It will be our fault if we 
 don't bag every one !" 
 
 These were his last words on earth. He had approached 
 to within less than fifty yards of the concealed ambush, and 
 now a deadly fire was poured upon him, which made his 
 ranks reel like a drunken man. At the same time the dis- 
 order of the fugitives he was pursuing disappeared as if by 
 magic. 
 
 Wheeling promptly at the order of their commander, 
 they came thundering to the charge. Another volley was 
 poured in from either side of the road, and the astounded 
 rebels broke and fled in all directions. For two hours 
 they were pursued, and shot down without mercy. How 
 many escaped was never known. The victors did not take 
 the trouble to count the dead. The wounded, too, were 
 left where they fell. Captain Rogers having no means of 
 taking care of them, and being certain, moreover, that 
 their secession friends in the neighborhood would hunt 
 them up as soon as his back was turned. His own loss 
 was one killed, and five wounded. In returning from the 
 pursuit, John Franklin paused at the spot where Cap- 
 tain Sykes had fallen. Dismounting from his horse, he 
 examined the wound which sent him to his long ac- 
 count. 
 
 "He got it just where I meant to hit him," he said 
 aloud; though he was evidently not addressing the soldiers 
 who had reined up about him. "I thought he couldn't 
 escape a second time. 'Tis strange," he continued, "that 
 though I don't now care a straw for the girl, and haven't 
 for months, how keen I was to put a bullet in his carcass I 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 295 
 
 I don't think I could have died easy without knowing that 
 he had gone before me." 
 
 Taking one more look at the dead body, he remounted 
 his horse, and directed his steps to the late rebel encamp- 
 ment, where the various pursuing parties were assembled. 
 
 Perfectly satisfied that those who had escaped the pur- 
 suit and the battle would not stop in that vicinity, Tiiomas 
 Rogers returned to his father's old neighborhood. He had 
 enough to do there to keep him busy for some time, and it 
 was, moreover, the best point for enlisting men to fill up 
 his company to the full complement of one hundred. Riding 
 up to the dwelling of Mr. Jones, he informed him that he 
 had come to pay him a brief visit, and added that he 
 trusted it would prove no inconvenience. It was in vain 
 that Mr. Jones protested that he did not have provisions 
 enough to supply his own family. Rogers was skeptical. 
 
 "Your nephew, then," he replied, "has not been as kind 
 to you as to his other friends. It was his practice, I know, 
 to leave with them more than he consumed; and I am tol- 
 erably certain, Mr. Jones, that if we were rebel soldiers 
 instead of being what we are, you would find no difiiculty 
 in supplying us. At all events, I intend to camp at your 
 spring, and you can take your choice, either to send us 
 what we need, or allow me to send a squad of men t® get 
 it for us. Upon one point, however, I have no objection 
 to relieving your mind. I do not mean to subsist upon 
 you alone ; to-morrow I shall send out parties to make an 
 inspection of the barns and smoke-houses of the leading 
 secessionists, and, as they have thus far been untouched, I 
 do not doubt that I shall collect enough to subsist my men 
 while I remain here without drawing upon you for more 
 than you can conveniently spare." 
 
 Mr. Jones protested that he had nothing to spare — that 
 even to supply Captain Rogers for one day would subject 
 
296 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 bim to very great inconvenience, and insisted that there was 
 still enough time to send out and get what they needed 
 before sundown. 
 
 "My men and horses," replied Rogers, "are both tired, 
 and I shall send out no parties to-day. I know what your 
 resources are, Mr. Jones, and I know also what stores you 
 have collected at your plantation on Mud Creek. In an 
 hour from this time, if my men are not amply supplied 
 with provisions, I shall send them up to see what they can 
 find. In the mean time I shall take the liberty of posting 
 a sentry at the house, and another at the barn." 
 
 This threat was all-sufficient. In little more than half 
 the time designated, the soldiers were gladdened by the 
 sight of an abundance of forage and provisions, of which 
 both man and horse were much in need. 
 
 The next day Captain Rogers left the encampment in 
 charge of Lieutenant Miller, and, attended by a single 
 soldier, rode to the house of Mrs. Whitlock. He was 
 warmly welcomed by both mother and daughter, each of 
 whom had a hundred questions to ask. As most of these 
 had reference to himself or his adventures, they were 
 briefly answered ; but he dwelt with much satisfaction upon 
 the high reputation Tobias Wilson had already acquired 
 as a soldier among the hardy veterans of the "Army of the 
 Tennessee," and he predicted for him a brilliant and hon- 
 orable career. He also communicated the fact, which he 
 had learned by a letter from Wilson, of the marriage of his 
 father with Mrs. Wilson. In return he was told of many 
 neighborhood occurrences, and lastly of Captain Sykes's 
 visit to Ella at a time when she was fortunately absent. 
 She had received a letter from him a few days afterward, 
 in which he announced his purpose to call again, and 
 broadly hinted that the happiness of his life depended upon 
 the result of that interview. She told how she had trem- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 297 
 
 bled upon the receipt of that letter, and of her terror and 
 affright from day to day until something induced him un- 
 expectedly to go off without seeing her. 
 
 "It was my coming, I suppose," said Rogers, "that in- 
 duced him to leave, and probably kept him for days before- 
 hand in close companionship with his men. But you need 
 not trouble yourself about him now, Miss Ella — he has 
 gone where he will never disturb you again." 
 
 "Where?" she asked eagerly: "where has he gone? 
 I did not think he had spirit enough to return to the 
 army." 
 
 "He has gone to another world," was the reply. "He 
 was killed in battle three days ago, fighting well enough — 
 killed by one of my lieutenants, who was a former lover of 
 a girl whom Sykes had deceived and betrayed, even while 
 professing that his whole heart was devoted to you. So at 
 least I have heard." 
 
 "May God pardon him !" she murmured; "besides his 
 treason, he had many sins to answer for." 
 
 "Yes," he replied, "and without a redeeming virtue 
 that ever came under my observation. If Franklin had 
 not killed him, I should have done it myself." 
 
 "I am glad you did not," she said. " It must be a dark 
 thing to have human blood upon your hands." 
 
 There was a shadow on his brow, and his voice was low 
 and sad, as he replied : 
 
 "There is a good deal upon mine, Ella, and some of it, 
 when you hear the story, may shock you beyond forgive- 
 ness. And yet I came here to-day to tell it. Will you 
 walk with me? I do not wish to be interrupted." 
 
 "Yes; but you may keep your bloody stories to your- 
 self. I do not want to hear them." 
 
 " Nevertheless I must tell it, because upon that depends 
 another story which my heart is bursting to reveal." 
 
298 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 They walked in silence to the garden, and for some time 
 wandered over it, side by side, without a word being spoken 
 by either party. At length he said abruptly : 
 
 "You remember the murder of Mr. Johnson, Ella, do 
 you not?" 
 
 "How could I forget that horrible affair, or the other 
 horrors that followed it ? It seems like a dreadful dream, 
 but I cannot banish it I" 
 
 "Well, I must begin with that." 
 
 He then related how, in riding home with Tobias "Wilson 
 on the day after the murder of his grandfather, they had 
 met Parson Williams on the mountain side, and how they 
 had tracked him up, and what strong circumstances they 
 had collected of his participation in the murder. He fur- 
 ther informed her that after their return home they had re- 
 paired to the scene of the murder ; and he described, in clear 
 and explicit terms, all the damning evidences there exhibited 
 of the guilt of Parson Williams, Joshua Wilkins, and Jim 
 Biles. He went over the conversation which had taken 
 place that night between himself and Tobias Wilson, and 
 painted the scene which followed at the burial of Mr. John- 
 son, when Tobias was prevailed upon by Sophy to pledge 
 himself not to avenge the murder of his grandfather. He 
 also told her that Miller, in gratitude for the kindness he 
 had shown him, had revealed to him a plot, of which Parson 
 ■Williams was the head, and Wilkins and Biles were to be 
 instruments, to murder and burn out the Union men in the 
 county as soon as the United States troops should leave it. 
 
 "And then," he added sternly, "I made up my mind 
 that, before they did leave, these three miscreants should 
 no longer cumber the earth." 
 
 Ella Whitlock now began to have a perception of the 
 truth. She trembled violentlv, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, you did not kill them ?" 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 299 
 
 "I surely did, and would have avowed it at the time but 
 for the fear of giving pain to those I loved." 
 
 "Why then tell me now?" she said, bursting into tears. 
 "I did not wish to hear it." 
 
 ** Because I've something else to tell you, which it would 
 be dishonorable to utter while you were in ignorance of 
 this. I love you, Ella, as few men have ever loved — far 
 too deeply either to deceive you or to conceal from you 
 anything that might affect your future happiness. Even 
 your love would be valueless to me, if won under false 
 pretenses." 
 
 During this speech she had been crying bitterly. He 
 stood beside her in silence, offering no consolation; for he 
 knew not what to offer, and, besides, he judged rightly 
 that this outburst would prove a relief. At length she 
 looked up, and said : 
 
 "Say no more now, Mr. Rogers; I must have time to 
 think. And remember," she continued, "that, apart from 
 this dreadful tale, I have never thought of you as a lover. 
 I esteemed and valued you as a friend ; but, until this day, 
 you have never given me the right to do more. Wait six 
 months, and you shall have my answer." 
 
 "Be it so; I expected as much." 
 
 As they returned to the house, she looked up at him, 
 and inquired : 
 
 "Shall I tell my mother?" 
 
 "Assuredly. Indeed, I do not care if the whole world 
 should know it now, although it would have grieved me 
 much if you had heard it from any one but myself." 
 
CHAPTER XY. 
 
 Captain Rogers, having cleared the county of guerril- 
 las, was busily engaged in enlisting men for his company, 
 when a new swarm of bandits began to pour into the de- 
 fenseless region of North Alabama. While the army of 
 General Rosecrans was hemmed in Chattanooga, with 
 the Confederate lines extending from a point on the Ten- 
 nessee Riyer above that city to the base of Lookout 
 Mountain below, with the river strongly picketed to 
 Bridgeport, so as to cut off all supplies by railroad or 
 water, that officer was compelled to depend for a scanty 
 support obtained by wagoning over a dreadful road from 
 Bridgeport to Chattanooga, and a longer and almost equally 
 difficult road down Sequachie valley to the same point. The 
 troops were reduced to half rations, and even that much 
 was very irregularly furnished. In this condition of things, 
 General Rosecrans was superseded, and General Grant ap- 
 pointed to the command of the department, with General 
 Thomas commanding at Chattanooga. From Nashville 
 Grant telegraphed to Thomas to hold the place at all 
 hazards. The situation wdll be best understood by quot- 
 ing that gallant general's grim response: "I'll hold it 
 until we starve !" It was not cannon-balls or bullets that 
 he feared, but starvation. General Bragg was fully aware 
 of the straits to which the Federals were reduced, and, 
 hoping to compel a surrender or evacuation by one de- 
 cisive blow, he sent Wheeler, with ten thousand cavalry, 
 into Sequachie valley to cut off an immense supply train, 
 (300) 
 
TOBIAS WILSOX. 301 
 
 which was slowly making its way to the half-famished army 
 of the Tennessee. Crossing the river above Chattanooga, 
 and moving with great celerity, General Wheeler succeeded 
 in capturing seven hundred wagons, which were only guarded 
 by about one thousand men. The wagons, with their con- 
 tents, were burned, and the mules and horses shot upon the 
 ground. Some sutlers' wagons, which accompanied the 
 train, were also destroyed, after being robbed of all that 
 was valuable. From thence he proceeded to McMinnville, 
 which he easily captured, destroyed the public stores and 
 public property of every kind, and indiscriminately robbed 
 the citizens of money, watches, jewelry, clothing, all that 
 they could appropriate or take away. From thence he 
 marched to Shelbyville, ten miles from the railroad be- 
 tween Nashville and Stevenson, and which was guarded 
 by only two companies of Home Guards. This town was 
 little more than a trading post, from which the citizens of 
 the surrounding country obtained their supplies. There 
 was little public property, and that little of no great value. 
 All the stores and the goods they contained were the prop- 
 erty of private individuals. There were no fortifications, 
 and no troops to man them if there had been. The ma- 
 jority of the citizens were Union men, but they had not 
 taken up arms, nor in any way forfeited their claim to the 
 character of peaceful citizens. It had been a considerable 
 town before the war, and was still of importance as furnish- 
 ing supplies to the inhabitants of Southern Tennessee and 
 Northern Alabama. It was well stocked with goods, and 
 was therefore just the place for Wheeler. Galloping into 
 the town and securing the main streets, his men dismounted, 
 and then commenced a scene of indiscriminate plunder, 
 which has no parallel in the history of the war. Every 
 store was broken open — every dwelling entered and 
 searched. Not a dollar was left in the possession of any 
 
 27 
 
302 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 citizen upon which they could lay their hands; not an arti- 
 cle of value was spared. Bales of domestic, rolls of cloth, 
 bolts of calico, pieces of silk, ladies' shawls, shoes, every 
 article of merchandise were thrown into the streets; and 
 the robbers freely helped themselves to whatever they took 
 a fancy to, or could pack away upon their saddles or under 
 them. 
 
 While his men were engaged in this delightful occupa- 
 tion, General Wheeler received notice that about six thou- 
 sand United States cavalry, under Generals Crook and 
 Mitchell, were in rapid pursuit. Calling off all of his com- 
 mand whom it was possible to move, he retreated toward 
 Palaski, intending to recross the Tennessee River below 
 the mouth of Elk. At Farmington he was overtaken by 
 General Crook. Here a battle ensued, in which the rebels 
 were badly beaten, but from some mistake in the execution 
 of an order he was enabled to effect his escape with the 
 shattered remnants of his army. General Crook pressed 
 hotly in pursuit, but the enemy possessed an advantage 
 which rendered all his efforts unavailing. Going in ad- 
 vance they pressed all the fresh horses on the route, leav- 
 ing their own tired and broken-down animals behind. In 
 this way he managed to reach the river and cross over the 
 remnant of his command a few hours before General Crook 
 arrived in sight. But his raid had cost him dear. He 
 had left Chattanooga with ten thousand men and ten or 
 twelve pieces of light artillery ; he regained the southern 
 bank of the riv^r with about four thousand men and half 
 of his artillery. Besides his losses in battle, at least a 
 thousand of his men — who had gorged themselves with 
 plunder at Shelbyville — immediately deserted, and went 
 southward to secure their ill-gotten gains. At Farming- 
 ton another large number, finding themselves cut off from 
 the main body, scattered and fled southward. Along the 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 303 
 
 whole line of his retreat squads of two, and three, and four, 
 and five would fall behind, and as soon as they were out of 
 sight would strike off in the same direction. 
 
 In this way every county in North Alabama was filled 
 with lawless desperadoes. No man's property was secure 
 two miles from an inhabited town. Many of them, indeed, 
 had taken up their abode in the towns and villages; but 
 these were of the better sort, and their behavior was gen- 
 erally unexceptionable. Among those who preferred a 
 residence in the country, both on account of safety and for 
 the better facilities it afi"orded for stealing and transporting 
 their plunder to a market, were to be found the sons of men 
 who were worth from one to four or five hundred thousand 
 dollars. They had enjoyed every facility for obtaining the 
 best educations, and had moved in the highest circles of 
 society; but the demoralizing influence of such associates 
 as were to be found under the standard of a general 
 (Major-General Joseph Wheeler) who owed his rapid pro- 
 motion alone to the favor of his kinsman, (Adjutant-Gen- 
 eral Cooper,) and who was about as well fitted to discharge 
 the responsible duties of his high office as a well-trained 
 mastiff would have been,* was too much, both for whatever 
 
 ■5^ "Wheeler was but twenty-two years of age when he was first 
 appointed colonel of an Alabama regiment of infantry, because he 
 was, as the Secretary of War (L. P. Walker) himself said, ''a favor- 
 ite of General Cooper, and there vjas then no other place to give him." 
 He was therefore transferred from Florida, made a citizen of Ala- 
 bama and colonel of Alabama troops by the fiat of the War De- 
 partment. Without exhibiting any military capacity, or giving 
 evidence even of that personal courage so common in this country, 
 he was in a very short time promoted to brigadier and then to 
 major-general, and assigned to the chief command of the cavalry 
 of the rebel Army of Tennessee — a position made vacant by the 
 merited death of Van Dorn, at the hands of an outraged husband, 
 of whose generous hospitality he had taken a low, vile, mean, and 
 
804 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 natural honesty they might have had, and the advantages 
 of education and early association with which they had 
 been blessed. From gentlemen they had been converted 
 into thieves and murderers of the most inexcusable kind. 
 Although they did not feel strong enough to attempt any 
 outras:es that would be likelv to excite resistance in the 
 towns, they did not hesitate to ride into them ; and, when 
 under the influence of whisky, they boasted of what they 
 had done, and loudly proclaimed their intention to rob, 
 burn, and otherwise lay waste the plantations of well- 
 known citizens — a threat which was by no means an empty 
 one, and whose execution generally exceeded in atrocity 
 their avowed intentions.* 
 
 When Wheeler had placed the river between himself 
 and his pursuers, he found himself in one of the richest 
 valleys of the South, the inhabitants of which were for the 
 most part secessionists,, and, naturally enough, supposed 
 
 despicable advantage, and whose sadly mistaken kindness he had 
 repaid by dishonoring his wife. Wheeler signalized his promotion 
 by an attempt to surprise and retake Fort Donelson, and was dis- 
 gracefully repulsed by a handful of raw troops posted in some log- 
 cabins, protected by no works of defense, and supported only by 
 a single line of rifle-pits. The place, if taken, could not have been 
 held by the rebels a week; and the effort to surprise it must have 
 been induced by the hope of pillage — an object which Greneral 
 Wheeler's subsequent career affords reason to believe that he re- 
 gards as the highest aim and purpose of war. After this, General 
 Forrest, who had protested against, but was reluctantly forced to 
 participate in the useless, and, in the end, disgraceful movement, 
 refused to serve under him, saying boldly that it was "bad enough 
 to be commanded by an inexperienced boy, but to be ordered 
 about by a boy and a fool combined, is more than I can stand." 
 
 ^ The author was one of those threatened, and in a few weeks 
 he was robbed of thirty-five mules, four horses, and every hog, 
 sheep, and goat, with every hoof of cattle, besides corn, provisions, 
 etc. to an unknown amount, from one plantation. 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 805 
 
 that they would be exempted from any unnecessary exac- 
 tions. But they were not long in ascertaining that this 
 was a wide mistake. Every man in that delectable body 
 of misnamed soldiers was his own quartermaster and com- 
 missary ; and during the time they remained, for the pre- 
 tended purpose of recruiting their horses, that delightful 
 region was converted into a melancholy waste. The corn, 
 just then fully ripe and ready for housing, was pulled in 
 the fields, and fed to their horses on the ground. In this 
 way more was wasted than consumed. Hogs were shot 
 down at will, and particular portions cut off and carried to 
 the camp, the larger part being left to rot on the ground ; 
 cattle were destroyed in the same manner ; horses were 
 stolen under the convenient name of impressment ; for 
 miles and miles not a fence was left standing, the dry rails 
 being more convenient for firewood, besides saving the 
 labor of cutting down and splitting up trees. 
 
 ''But this," said one of the sufferers, "is not of so much 
 consequence now, because they have left neither hogs nor 
 cattle in the country to injure what little remains in the 
 field."* 
 
 From the Courtland valley they went eastward toward 
 Rome, Georgia, leaving, however, about a regiment be- 
 hind, ostensibly to guard the ferries on the river; but, what- 
 ever the generaVs purpose was, the men thus left behind 
 had a different view of their duties. Instead of confining 
 
 * It may be said that the Union army committed similar depre- 
 dations. Let the assertion be granted. The Union army were in 
 the country of their enemies, and had a right, according to the laws 
 of war, to draw their subsistence from hostile inhabitants. From 
 known friends they took nothing they did not pay for or give cash 
 vouchers. Wheeler's troops were in their own country and among 
 their own friends. Who ever heard of United States soldiers forci- 
 bly seizing or pressing the property of citizens in any loyal State? 
 
 27* 
 
306 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 themselves to guarding the crossings of the river, they took 
 advantage of the opportunity afforded them to increase 
 their own private gains. It was their habit for parties to 
 cross over late in the afternoon, and "capture" a lot of 
 horses, mules, or some other valuable thing, and recross 
 early the next morning with whatever they had succeeded 
 in obtaining. In this way they avoided the danger of hav- 
 ing their proceedings interfered with by the small body of 
 United States cavalry then stationed at Brownsborough, 
 on the Memphis and Charleston Railroad. Immense 
 amounts of property were thus transported into Dixie, the 
 profits therefrom going of course into the pockets of the 
 captors. On one occasion, a citizen, who had lost three 
 fine mules, followed them to the rebel camp. He suc- 
 ceeded in identifying the robber, and went with him to 
 the quarters of the colonel. That worthy being, in his own 
 phraseology, "a leetle under the influence of liquor," — in 
 plain English, very drunk, — first demanded, in a tone that 
 he meant to be both dignified and stern, whether the claim- 
 ant was not a d — d old Union traitor; and being answered 
 that he was born in South Carolina, and had lived for 
 nearly forty years in Alabama, and was besides too old to 
 take any active part in the war, he had supposed that if 
 he remained quietly at home, paying to the Confederacy 
 all the taxes, and submitting to all the exactions made 
 upon him, honestly and without a murmur, no more would 
 be required ; and that he did not think the epithet of traitor 
 ought, under the circumstances, to be applied to him. 
 
 "Oh, yes; you paid what you couldn't help ! There is 
 not much merit in that." 
 
 "I have fully obeyed the law, and am entitled to its 
 protection." 
 
 "D — n the law! We make the law ourselves wherever 
 we go; and there's nothing in our law making it the duty 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 307 
 
 of an officer to hunt up mules for fellows like you. If you 
 was a good patriot, you'd never have said a word about 
 'em, because there'll be plenty of Yankees down this way 
 before long, and if I was to send 'em back to you, them 
 rascals would be sure to git 'em. We are fightin' for your 
 liberties — and we've come all the way from Kentucky* to 
 protect your property and your lives." 
 
 The outraged applicant heartily wished that he had 
 stayed at home to protect his own property and defend 
 the liberties of his own neighbors ; but he dared not 
 whisper such a wish in the drunken presence of the brute 
 to whose sense of justice he had been foolish enough to 
 make an appeal. Finding there was no hope of redress 
 from the colonel, but being very unwilling to lose his 
 mules, as he was a poor man, to whom such a loss was 
 a serious grievance, he determined to apply to the quar- 
 termaster, or at least to the man who held the commission 
 and nominally discharged the duties of that office. The 
 quartermaster was more polite than his superior, and 
 seemed to think that it was bad enough to take away a 
 man's property without adding insult to the wrong ; but 
 it was clear that he had no idea of assisting the owner to 
 
 regain what he had lost. Was Mr. , he inquired, 
 
 certain that the animals were brought to this encampment ? 
 Yes, he had followed them to the ferry on yesterday, and 
 had tracked them this morning to the camp j besides, 
 here was one of the men who took them. 
 
 " Did you take them, sir ?" he inquired of the man, 
 with great apparent sternness. 
 
 * Wheeler's cavalry was composed of men from almost all the 
 Southwestern States, and one of the worst regiments among them 
 was from Kentucky. These double traitors — traitors to their State 
 and to their government — were for months stationed on the south 
 bank of the Tennessee, and deeply did the citizens have cause to 
 rue their presence. 
 
308 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 " No, sir, and there ain't been no mules brought into 
 this camp to-day^ nuther. " 
 
 This was true, for they had been hidden out on the side 
 of the mountain, and one of his comrades was at that very 
 moment standing guard over them. For the conveni- 
 ence of the quartermaster, it was understood that no ani- 
 mals were to be brought in during the daytime, but were 
 hid out for a time and slipped in at night. At this denial 
 of the soldier, which he seemed uncommonly willing to 
 accept, the quartermaster said : 
 
 " What can I do, Mr. ? You hear what he says. 
 
 Of course, you cannot expect me to neglect important 
 duties to hunt up your property. If you will find your 
 mules and show them to me, I will not only give them up, 
 but punish the men severely who took them ; that is all 
 you could reasonably expect of me." 
 
 That certainly was all that Mr. would have ex- 
 pected if he had believed one word that had been said to 
 him ; but he did not, and he turned away with a convic- 
 tion that the actual robber was not the only guilty party 
 to the transaction. He could tolerate the drunken im- 
 pertinence of the colonel better than the smooth hypocrisy 
 of his subordinate. When leaving the encampment, the 
 soldier followed him a short distance beyond the lines, 
 and then said abruptly : 
 
 " What did you value them mules at, Mr. ?" 
 
 " They cost me one hundred and fifty dollars each be- 
 fore the war, and they are worth double that now when 
 good work animals are so hard to get." 
 
 "Well," said the soldier, "1 don't wish to be hard on 
 you, and if you'll give me three hundred and fifty dollars 
 I'll bring 'em back to you in the course of a week. You 
 see there's three of us, and that'll make a hundred dollars 
 a piece, and I must have fifty for the trouble of bringing 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 309 
 
 'em back. I'm sure you couldn't expect anything more 
 reasonable than that." 
 
 It was, indeed, more reasonable than Mr. had ex- 
 pected, and, much as he disliked the idea of buying back 
 his own property from the thieves who had taken it, he 
 assented to the proposition, and agreed to pay the three 
 hundred and fifty dollars whenever the mules were deliv- 
 ered to him. He was not simple enough to believe that 
 this seeming generosity was without a motive, and he con- 
 cluded that it was the purpose of the thief to get his. three 
 hundred and fifty dollars, and then steal the mules again 
 at an early daythereafter ; but he kept his suspicions to 
 himself, inwardly resolving to guard effectually against 
 such a contingency. After the bargain was concluded, 
 the soldier walked on by the side of his horse for some 
 distance, unreservedly telling of various similar transac- 
 tions in which he had been engaged. Observing that 
 
 he always spoke of dividing his profits by three, Mr. 
 
 asked, with seeming unconcern : 
 
 " Who is your third partner? There was but one man 
 with you when you took the mules." 
 
 " Captain Williams, the quartermaster ; and, though 
 he never takes nothin' himself, because it would go to 
 the government then, yet he's worth both of us, for he 
 hides everything when we couldn't do it ; and when the 
 colonel gits in one of his tantrums and sets up for honest, 
 which he ain't no mor'n the rest of us, the captain makes 
 a great search and reports to him that there ain't nothin' 
 been taken, and that we all's been slandered." 
 
 "I thought as much!" was the inward ejaculation of 
 
 Mr. ; and, saying that "he didn't have more than 
 
 time to get home by dark," he bade his communicative 
 companion good-by, and rode away at an increased pace, 
 having gained considerable insight into the rapid manner 
 
310 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 in which fortunes were accumulated by Confederate quar- 
 termasters. 
 
 The country through which General Wheeler had to 
 pass on his journey to Rome was poor and extremely 
 mountainous. The inhabitants had nothing of which to 
 be robbed, except live stock, which they could easily hide 
 in the mountains away from their houses and far from any 
 traveled road. They were, however, almost universally 
 loyal to the government of the United States. Of this 
 the marauders were well aware. The First Alabama Cav- 
 alry, now attached to Kilpatrick's command in Sherman's 
 army, were enlisted among these mountains, or rather had 
 left their homes in the mountains, and made their way to 
 Huntsville and Decatur to volunteer in the United States 
 army. They had met Wheeler more than once on the 
 battle-field, and given him cause to remember them with 
 terror as well as with hatred. It was among their friends, 
 their fathers, mothers, sisters, and little brothers, that he 
 now found himself, and, poor as they were, he contrived, 
 in his hurried march, to leave them still poorer. Pur- 
 suing his way to Georgia, he rejoined General Bragg with 
 less than one-third of the men with whom he had set out 
 upon his expedition. Here we take leave of them for the 
 present, or rather of that part of them who still preserved 
 a show of organization ; but Wheeler's cavalry were ubi- 
 quitous. There was not a neighborhood in several States 
 which was unoccupied by United States soldiers, or, what 
 they dreaded still more, regular Confederate troops, in 
 which they were not to be found. These last were partic- . 
 ularly shunned, because, if caught by them, they would 
 certainly be sent to the army, where, if reported to Gen- 
 eral Bragg, they would stand a fair chance of being shot 
 for desertion. But in every part of the country where no 
 such danger was to be apprehended, they were to be found 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 311 
 
 roving about with no object but pillage ; and when ques- 
 tioned as to the reasons for their absence from their proper 
 place in the army) the answer invariably was, either that 
 they had been sent off on special duty by general or colonel 
 somebody, or that they were then on their way to the front. 
 In this connection it will not be improper to record a con- 
 versation which occurred between one of these parties and 
 an old lady near the line between Alabama and Tennessee. 
 Riding up to her house about mid-day, they inquired if 
 they could get some dinner, adding that they were willing 
 to pay her well for it — a willingness which was attributable 
 to the fact that a body of United States cavalry were in 
 the neighborhood, and they were thus restrained from 
 committing depredations which would induce the sufferer 
 to make a report that would cause pursuit. 
 
 After a brief inspection of their persons from the door 
 of her house, she inquired : 
 
 "Who are you, and where are you going?" 
 
 She was answered : 
 
 "We belong to General Wheeler's cavalry, and are on 
 our way to the front." 
 
 "Well, now, I wish you'd just tell me where the front 
 is ? I see you coming from all directions, and going every 
 which way, and every living soul says he's going to the 
 front. I want to know where the front is ?" 
 
 In the eastern part of Jackson County there was an in- 
 fantry garrison at Stevenson, and another at Bridgeport. 
 The advent of Captain Rogers with his mounted men had 
 also become known, and the consequence was that these 
 stragglers, or, more properly speaking, deserters, gave 
 that section a pretty wide berth, and confined their opera- 
 tions principally to that part of Marshall County lying 
 north of the Tennessee, Jackson, west of Paint Rock, the 
 whole of Madison, Limestone, and part of Lauderdale. 
 
312 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 In returning from his pursuit of Wheeler, Gen. Crook 
 had divided his command : one division, led by himself, re- 
 tracing the route over which they had advanced ; the other, 
 under General Mitchell, marching up the valley, nearer 
 the river, through Athens and Huntsville, on the direct 
 road to Stevenson. 
 
 Many prisoners were captured by General Mitchell, but 
 they were in general the least offensive of the gang, being 
 those who had quietly settled at their own homes, or had 
 collected in the towns without any object but that of en- 
 joying themselves and avoiding the hard service of an 
 actual campaign in Northern Georgia — the worst despe- 
 radoes having hidden themselves in the mountains and 
 swamps until such time as they could emerge from their 
 coverts with safety ; then a regular system of thieving was 
 inaugurated everywhere in the counties named, and a reign 
 of terror in Southeastern Madison and ]N"orthern Marshall. 
 Men were murdered, houses burned down, and property 
 wantonly destroyed. The inhabitants, though almost all 
 in moderate circumstances, were, nevertheless, well sup- 
 plied with the necessaries of life. They had been nearly 
 unanimous against secession. At one precinct, in that part 
 of Madison, which cast over three hundred votes, there 
 was not a single secessionist. This afforded a pretext for 
 outrages upon them, which was never neglected. To be or 
 to have been a Union man, unless the offender had subse- 
 quently become a violent secessionist, was always a suffi- 
 cient excuse for any wrong that a brutal, thieving, murder- 
 ing soldiery saw proper to commit. One neighborhood 
 was completely depopulated, and the surrounding ones 
 suffered terribly. Occasional bodies of United States 
 troops had been sent into that region to clear the country 
 of the wretches who infested it, and afford protection to 
 the loyal residents. But in the mountains and swamps 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 313 
 
 there were many hiding-places that were inaccessible to 
 those who were not familiar with the locality; and above 
 all, the nearness of the river, and their facilities for cross- 
 ing it at all times, made their escape of easy accomplish- 
 ment. The only way therefore to put an effectual stop to 
 their depredations was to make a regular station somewhere 
 on the north bank nearly opposite to Guntersville. To 
 put a small force there would be to doom it to capture or 
 destruction, for the rebels held the south bank in consider- 
 able force, with Guntersville as headquarters, and could at 
 any time, within a few days, collect and cross over a suffi- 
 cient number to overwhelm a detachment composed of less 
 than two hundred and fifty men. There was no military 
 reason for establishing a permanent post at that point, and 
 General Grant, who was then making arrangements to 
 drive the enemy from around Chattanooga, had no troops 
 to spare for any but absolutely necessary purposes. The 
 occasional visits of parties of United States cavalry there- 
 fore did harm instead of good, for every man who received 
 them kindly, or was known to have given them any in- 
 formation, was instantly marked, and the departure of the 
 troops was the signal for remorseless vengeance. 
 
 Toward the last of October all the United States troops 
 were withdrawn from the valley of the Tennessee, prepara- 
 tory to a contemplated attack upon the rebel lines about 
 Chattanooga. The company of Captain Rogers were the 
 only mounted men that remained on the north baiik of the 
 river. The country ^oon swarmed with guerrillas, and 
 again the inhabitants were subjected to the infliction of 
 outrages of every description. In the western part of the 
 valley their object seemed to be mainly that of gain. They 
 uttered many threats indeed of hanging, burning, and de- 
 stroying, and all were satisfied that these were threats 
 which it would require but little provocation to induce 
 
 28 
 
314 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 them to carry into execution ; but the inhabitants were 
 unarmed, the young men had been dragged away by the 
 conscription, none but the old and helpless were left be- 
 hind, and as these made no opposition to acts they could 
 not prevent, or even ameliorate by remonstrance, they were 
 generally exempt from personal violence. 
 
 A different state of things prevailed in the southeast and 
 among the mountains to the northeast. Here, worse pas- 
 sions had been excited; neighbor was arrayed against 
 neighbor, and to the evils of open violence were added 
 private assassinations and midnight burnings. No man 
 knew whom to trust, and gloomy suspicions even of his 
 friends settled upon every man's heart. Learning that 
 small parties of self-constituted soldiers had come down 
 from Tennessee, and were infesting the northern and north- 
 western part of the county not far from him. Captain 
 Rogers determined to make an effort to capture or destroy 
 them. He therefore divided his company, and moving with 
 one-half nearly northward, he sent Lieutenant Miller to 
 the northwest, with instructions when he had reached a 
 given point to turn eastward and move as rapidly as the 
 country would permit, to meet him. In this way he ex- 
 pected to hem in and cut off the vandals who bid fair to 
 desolate the land. As he proceeded on his march, his 
 heart sickened within him. Almost every hour revealed 
 some evidence of the cruel and relentless presence of men 
 whom the long indulgence of every bad passion had con- 
 verted into fiends. Now he would* pass a field with the 
 fences destroyed, the corn trampled down and rotting on 
 the ground. A little farther on a heap of ashes marked 
 where a dwelling once stood ; and the question forced itself 
 upon him, what has become of the helpless wretches who 
 were once sheltered here ? No cattle, no hogs, no horses, 
 and no domestic animals of any kind were to be seen. A 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 315 
 
 dull, dread silence brooded over all. The footpriats of deso- 
 lation were the only signs which indicated that a happy and 
 contented people once gathered their daily bread from the 
 little coves and valleys about it. As he penetrated deeper 
 into the mountains, the work of ruin did not seem to have 
 been so complete. At long intervals, inhabited cabins 
 were to be found, but the white-headed urchins playing in 
 the yards ran to the houses with terrified faces, and their 
 mothers would peep from the doors to see what new danger 
 threatened them. If he halted to make an inquiry, the 
 answer came from trembling lips, as if they were uncertain 
 whether they were not giving information which would 
 cause them to be visited by the vengeance of the opposing 
 party. Approaching a house near nightfall, w4iere there 
 appeared to have been much less comparative suffering, 
 and there was a prospect of obtaining sufficient forage for 
 his horses, he gave notice to the owner of his purpose to 
 halt, at the same time assuring him that he would pay 
 liberally for whatever his men might consume. 
 
 "I can't hinder you from stopping here, sir," was the 
 reply, "or from taking what you want. But, for God's 
 sake, go on a mile or two farther. If you stop here I am 
 undone. The first time your enemies come here they will 
 charge me with entertaining you, and destroy everything 
 that is left. The old woman and the children will be turned 
 out to starve." 
 
 "But, old man," was the reply, "you cannot help my 
 staying here, as you say ; and surely no one would take 
 vengeance on you for that ?" 
 
 "Oh yes, sir; my nearest neighbor was burned out of 
 bouse and home for no other reason." 
 
 " Who did it ?" 
 
 "I don't know," was the reply. 
 
 "But I mean, which party did it?" 
 
316 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 "I don't know, sir, — indeed I don't," he again said, de- 
 termined not to confess his knowledge of anything relating 
 to the hostile parties. 
 
 "Well," said Rogers, who saw that his ignorance was 
 assumed, "I'll tell you who I am, and what my business 
 is here. I am Captain Thomas Rogers, commanding a 
 company of Union soldiers, and my business here is to take 
 prisoner, shoot, and render harmless in every possible way 
 the villains who have worked such terrible mischief here." 
 
 "Oh, sir ! we thank you ; all of us thank you at heart. 
 But you will go away again, and then we shall be at their 
 mercv." 
 
 "I think not: I think I have made such arrangements 
 as will insure the destruction of a good many of them, and 
 strike such terror into the remainder, that they will be in 
 no hurry to visit this neiorhborhood ao^ain." 
 
 "Well, sir, since it must be so, stay where you are; I 
 have plenty of corn and fodder, for they have left me 
 scarcely anything to feed ; but I am afraid that your men 
 will have to put up with a scanty allowance." 
 
 " They have plenty of meat in their haversacks, and some 
 bread ; if you can furnish me a little more, that will be 
 sufficient." 
 
 There was an abundance of corn-meal upon the premises, 
 so that difficulty was soon settled. When their horses were 
 fed, and the usual nightly precautions taken, Rogers en- 
 tered the old man's dwelling, whose family consisted of him- 
 self and his wife, with two orphan grandchildren. The 
 little ones were nearly as wild as savages ; and though 
 they had been assured that these were soldiers from whom 
 they had nothing to dread, they shrank together in a cor- 
 ner, and remained there mute and stirless during the whole 
 of his visit. 
 
 The old people greeted him cordially enough, and he 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 317 
 
 seated himself by the log-fire which served the purpose of 
 both heating and lighting the room. After some remarks 
 upon indifferent subjects, Rogers asked : 
 
 " Can you tell me how far it is to Johnson's Gap ? I 
 know it is somewhere about here, but I do not know ex- 
 actly where." 
 
 "It is not over a half a mile, sir. That's my name. 
 The gap was called after me, because I was the first settler 
 in these parts." 
 
 " Not more than half a mile 1" repeated Rogers. " Then 
 you must have had troublesome visitors frequently; for I 
 am told that is the only passway from the west." 
 
 " The only one near here, sir ; but there is another four 
 or five miles south that they can get through, though it's 
 pretty rough." 
 
 " They'll not go southward," said Rogers; "and, if they 
 do, they'll get into hot water pretty soon. They cannot 
 get away in that direction." 
 
 So saying, he bid the old couple "good-by," and, declin- 
 ing their invitation to sleep in the house, returned to his 
 men. Large camp-fires, which the cool nights of October 
 rendered particularly grateful, were still blazing brightly. 
 Spreading his blanket on the ground before one of them, 
 and taking his seat upon it, he sent for Franklin to hold 
 a consultation as to the best course to be adopted on the 
 morrow. His lieutenant strongly insisted upon moving 
 forward to the gap by daylight, and placing th^ troop 
 where it could not be seen, but where it would at the same 
 time completely command the pass. In this way he argued 
 that not a single marauder who was driven before Miller's 
 force could escape. 
 
 "They must come out here," he said, "or go south. 
 They cannot stay where they are, for Miller knows every 
 hole and hiding-place in the mountains ; and if they cross 
 
 28* 
 
318 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 the ridge anywhere below us we can easily overtake them, 
 and cut them to pieces. We have only to stay here, and 
 they will rush right into our hands. If we move forward, 
 they may get around our flanks and escape." 
 
 Captain Rogers was not of that class of soldiers who 
 delight in acting in opposition to the opinions of their 
 subordinates. He knew the value of good advice, no 
 matter from what quarter it emanated, and was very far 
 from rejecting it because it came from an inferior. He saw 
 at once the sound good sense of Franklin's suggestion, and 
 resolved to adopt it, — taking, however, at the same time 
 the precaution of sending four men to guard the lower 
 (or southern) pass. 
 
 During that day his men remained patiently at the posts 
 to which they had been moved. At night no camp-fires 
 were lighted, and not a sound broke the stillness that 
 reigned in the solitary pass. About midnight two men 
 came riding through. They were conversing uncon- 
 cernedly, wholly unconscious of danger. Almost before 
 they were aware of it they were seized, their arms pin- 
 ioned behind them, and then they were led quietly to where 
 the main body were sleeping. JSTot a question was asked. 
 Their legs were also secured, and they were left on the 
 ground to ruminate upon the difference between the 
 license of their present mode of life and the restraints of 
 a Northern prison. 
 
 During that night no others made their appearance, but 
 the next day the look-out reported the approach of a con- 
 siderable body. It turned out that they were fifteen in 
 number. They had been divided into smaller squads, but 
 as they were driven before Miller, they met and united in 
 one body. Seeing only seven or eight men in the gap they 
 at first mistook them for friends, but being soon undeceived 
 upon that point, they unslung their carbines and prepared 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 319 
 
 to force a passage. Allowing them to approach within 
 short rifle range, Rogers poured in a deadly fire from each ' 
 side of the mountain-pass where his men were concealed, 
 which was also the appointed signal for the party in front 
 to charge. 
 
 The frightened guerrillas, who still retained their saddles 
 unhurt, wheeled their horses and fled in the direction from 
 which they had come. 
 
 Anticipating something of this sort, Miller had extended 
 his flanks to their utmost capacity. He was much nearer 
 to them than the fugitives supposed. They had not gone 
 far before they found themselves inclosed in a semicircle, 
 from which there was no escape. Every man was either 
 killed or captured. The prisoners, including those previ- 
 ously taken by Miller and the two captured by Rogers in 
 the gap, amounted to eleven in all. These were carried to 
 Stevenson, and from thence transported to Nashville, for 
 such disposition as the Federal commander at that point 
 might see fit to make of them. 
 
 While Miller proceeded to Stevenson with his prisoners 
 and the main body of his troop, Thomas Rogers, with a 
 few picked men, remained to pay a visit to his old friend 
 Dr. Griffin. 
 
 They met as men meet in troubled times, when they know 
 that an hour of parting must soon come, and cannot tell 
 whether they shall ever meet again. But it was not to visit 
 the kind-hearted doctor alone that Thomas Rogers allowed 
 himself this brief respite from duty. He had in contempla- 
 tion a meeting still dearer, and more anxiously looked for, 
 but one which he thought it necessary to bring about by 
 apparent accident, and for which he desired to give some 
 plausible reason other than the one which really governed 
 him. Whether he succeeded, and how he succeeded, and 
 what was the result, we reserve for another chapter. 
 
CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 Thomas Rogers remained for several days at Dr. Grif- 
 fin's hospitable mansion. In the daytime his old friend was 
 generally absent from home, attending to his professional 
 duties. At such periods, Rogers would take long walks, 
 always in the direction of Mrs. Whitlock's house. Some- 
 times he would seat himself where he had a full view of the 
 premises, and remain for hours waiting to catch a glimpse 
 of the form that had become to him a holy and a worshiped 
 thing. And when disappointed, as he generally was, he 
 would rise and go away with sad and mournful steps, as 
 if some great calamity had suddenly come upon him. At 
 length his patient watchfulness was rewarded. One morn- 
 ing he saw her come forth, mount a horse which was 
 standing ready saddled at the gate, and ride away. He 
 marked the road she had taken ; hastily returned to Dr. 
 Griffin's, saddled and mounted his own steed, and rode in 
 the direction he had seen her take. "I shall not miss her," 
 he muttered, "for I could follow her horse's tracks if they 
 made no more impression upon the earth than the moc- 
 casin of an Indian. Instinct would lead me aright." 
 
 Then the idea occurred to him that she had g9ue to visit 
 a neighbor, and would probably remain all day. "Xo mat- 
 ter," was his inward comment, " I can wait ; I have waited 
 longer than that for objects less dear and less worthy. I 
 can surely wait now." 
 
 While thus ruminating, he had unconsciously touched 
 his mettled courser's side, more than once, with the spur. 
 (320) 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 321 
 
 The animal had gradually increased his pace ; and when 
 consciousness fully returned, his master found himself borne 
 along in greater haste than he cared for any one to observe. 
 On arriving at the road, or rather pathway, that Ella had 
 taken, he found no difiQculty in following the tracks of her 
 horse, they being the only ones apparently by which it had 
 been trodden for a week. She must have ridden very 
 slowly, for as he came in sight of a house, about two miles 
 distant from her mother's, he saw a man leading her horse 
 
 to the stable. 
 
 " She has just gone in," he thought ; " and from their put- 
 ting up her horse it is clear that she will remain during the 
 greater part of the day ; but she will not stay away from her 
 mother at night, and I shall meet her as she returns home- 
 ward." Pviding slowly back on the path he had come, he 
 turned into the woods where there was a thick undergrowth 
 of bushes, when he alighted and stretched himself upon the 
 grass, to wait, with a patience he knew would meet its re- 
 ward, for the intervening hours to roll away. Toward 
 evening he again rode forward in the direction he expected 
 to meet her, but observing no sign of her coming, he rode 
 backward and forward along the little path until, at last, 
 he was gratified by seeing her horse led out, and soon 
 afterward she herself came forth, and, shaking hands with 
 the members of the family, started on her homeward way. 
 Making a circuit through the woods to allow her time to 
 come up, he again entered the path but a few yards in ad- 
 vance of her. She turned crimson when she saw him, and 
 he, long and eagerly as he had sought that meeting, and 
 prepared for it as he was, trembled like an aspen. When 
 the first salutations were over, he inquired, with assumed 
 ignorance, where she had been riding. It is doubtful if he 
 heard the answer; it is certain that he never could remem- 
 ber it afterward. 
 
322 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 His next effort at conversation was : 
 
 "As I am going your way, Miss Ella, may I have the 
 pleasure of escorting you home ?" 
 
 "Surely," she replied. "Thanks to you, we need no 
 protection here now ; but Captain Rogers's company must 
 be always agreeable to his friends." 
 
 He was both gratified and abashed by this speech ; grati- 
 fied at her speaking so frankly of him as a friend, but 
 abashed and uneasy at her quick resumption of her usual 
 unembarrassed air. 
 
 They rode on, side by side; the only conversation being 
 such as was elicited by occasional questions from her. He 
 felt keenly that he was losing the opportunity he had so 
 eagerly sought ; but, for the life of him, he could not break 
 the spell that bound him. When they came within sight 
 of her mother's house, he suddenly summoned courage, and, 
 laying his hand upon her bridle, said : 
 
 "Ella, we must not part yet; I have anxiously sought 
 this interview, though I did not care to tell Dr. GriflBn or 
 your mother ; but I have no wish to conceal the fact from 
 you. I am going upon a hard and dangerous service, and 
 you know me well enough to be certain that I shall not 
 lag behind when brave men are seeking honor at the can- 
 non's mouth. In the battle which drives Gen. Bragg from 
 the heights around Chattanooga, I will have to meet a dif- 
 ferent enemy from the robber bands whom I have so easily 
 defeated here. Gen. Bragg's soldiers are thoroughly dis- 
 ciplined veterans. Their charge is the most terrible thing 
 I ever witnessed. Victors or vanquished, their pathway is 
 always strewn with corpses, and marked by rills of blood. 
 These are the men I must meet now ; and I need not tell 
 you that those who do so, if they expect to come off vic- 
 torious, must carry their lives in their hands. The chances 
 are even, Ella, that we will never meet again; and there- 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 323 
 
 fore I wished to see you once more before I left your 
 neighborhood, perhaps forever." 
 
 Ella Whitlock had been in tears during the latter part 
 of this speech. At its conclusion, she raised her eyes to 
 his, and said : 
 
 "I know you must go, and that you must discharge 
 your duty when there. I would not hinder you if I could. 
 But, surely, there is no occasion for incurring any unusual 
 danger?" 
 
 "Indeed there is. Upon this battle depends the fate, 
 not merely of Chattanooga, but of Georgia, Tennessee, 
 and a large part of Alabama. In that mountainq.us 
 country, cavalry or mounted men will be useless. We 
 shall be dismounted, and sent, as light troops, to the front. 
 We will be first in the advance and last in the retreat; 
 and if we should be compelled to meet one of those 
 charges in mass which won them the field at Chicka- 
 mauga, and the first day's fight at Murfreesborough, they 
 will walk over us as easily as the buffalo tramples the 
 grass of the prairie beneath his feet. Neither I nor the 
 most of my men can afford to be taken prisoners. We 
 are fighting with halters about our necks, and our dead 
 bodies are all that an enemy is likely to capture. So if 
 you hear that the Union army is defeated, put me down 
 as among the number of those who will never return." 
 
 "Spare me I" she said. "My thoughts will be dark 
 enough without hearing more of your danger. Indeed, 
 you have told me too much already." 
 
 "And will you think of me, sweet Ella, when that fear- 
 ful struggle comes ? It will not tax your memory long. 
 The last of Sherman's veterans are passing up. The bat- 
 tle cannot now be delayed. Promise to think of me then, 
 and danger will sit upon me as lightly as the dew-drop on 
 the floweret's leaf." 
 
324 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 "How can I help thinking of you? Can I forget that 
 you periled your own liberty to save my youngest brother 
 from conscription ? Or how, when both of their manly 
 forms were wrapped in bloody shrouds, you came to my 
 mother, and did all that a son could do to pour balm into 
 her wounded heart, and save us from the losses that 
 threatened us ? I must be changed, indeed, before I can 
 forget such acts as these, or fail to think of him who per- 
 formed them." 
 
 "But that is not the way, Ella, in which I wish you to 
 think of me. I would have you think of the future, not 
 of the past." 
 
 She hesitated, and then said seriously, but not angrily: 
 
 "I thought we had a contract not to speak of that for 
 six months to come." 
 
 "True; and I was very wrong to forget it. Forgive 
 me for trespassing upon forbidden ground. I had no 
 right to expect, I did not expect, the reversal of a sen- 
 tence to which I myself agreed. But my impetuous feel- 
 ings carried me away, and I forgot our compact, as well 
 as the more bitter reflection, that the law of man and the 
 law of God alike require ample atonement for blood- 
 shed." 
 
 "It is not that," she replied, hastily; "it is not that. 
 I could have decided that before now " 
 
 She stopped suddenly, as she saw the bright light that 
 flashed in his eyes, afraid that she had said too much. 
 
 "Go on !" he said, in a pleading tone, as she raised her 
 handkerchief to her face to hide the crimson flush that 
 spread over it. 
 
 " No, Captain Rogers," was the reply. " I must not 
 forget our contract, though you have done so twice. Let 
 us go in. You will wish to tell my mother good-by, and 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 326 
 
 anything further you have to say to me can be said in her 
 presence, I suppose, without embarrassment to you." 
 
 To this Captain Rogers made no objection. His man- 
 ner was far less grave than it had been for many days, and 
 he remained for some time conversing with Mrs. Whitlock, 
 exhibiting none of that restraint that would have afflicted 
 him an hour before. On his way back to Dr. Griffin's he 
 indulged himself in many a joyous dream, such as, alas I 
 are seldom realized in this world of ours. But upon one 
 point he could not be mistaken. Ella Whitlock surely did 
 not regard the blood he had shed before he became a sol- 
 dier as an insuperable barrier to their union. The few 
 words she had been surprised into uttering, left no doubt 
 of this upon his mind. 
 
 "I shouldn't be surprised," he said to himself, "if I was 
 mistaken about Sophy; and it might not have gone as 
 hard with Toby as I thought, if he had done what I did 
 for him. But no," he continued; "it would have been all 
 up with him. There's a good deal of difference between 
 Sophy and Ella ; and, besides, she had Toby's mother, with 
 her strait-laced notions of religion, to back her, while 
 Ella's mother looks at things altogether differently. I 
 know well enough her daughter told her all ; and I am 
 pretty certain I shall never hear of that stumbling-block 
 again, unless I am foolish enough to allude to it myself, 
 which I think I will be very clear of doing." 
 
 Other soliloquies broke from his lips as he rode toward 
 Dr. Griffin's house, all showing that the brightness and 
 beauty of hope were shining in upon his heart. Oh how 
 prone we are to believe that every gilded fancy that passes 
 through the brain will turn out to be a reality I How apt 
 are we to forget that there is a stern and pitiless Deity, who 
 follows us by day and reposes by our side at night, forever 
 
 29 
 
326 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 watching what golden thread he can break, what joy he can 
 poison, and what hope he can extinguish forever ! In the 
 buoyancy of youth, and the happiness of a love which he 
 believed to be already half won, Thomas Rogers thought 
 not of the shadow and the night, which so often settle 
 where the sunshine once rested and the springing flowers 
 sent forth their sweetest perfume. He was happy now, 
 and acted wisely in not looking beyond the present, or 
 allowing his imagination to conjure up the dread images 
 that reason and reflection alike tell us will come soon 
 enough of themselves to scatter mourning along a path- 
 way of gladness. 
 
 His departure had been fixed for the following morning. 
 Before his last interview wth Ella, he would have gone 
 away without uttering a word of his love to any human 
 being; but now his heart was yearning for a confidant, 
 and that night he related all that had passed — all his 
 hopes, fears, doubts, and anxieties — to Dr. Griffin, and 
 vainly tried to extract a promise from the doctor that he 
 would keep him constantly advised of all that occurred in 
 the family of Mrs. Whitlock. 
 
 "I do not ask you," he added, "to tell me anything that 
 Ella says or does, unless she knows that you mean to re- 
 peat it. But any message from her, however simple, will 
 be very sweet." 
 
 "I shall make no promises," said the doctor, rising and 
 turning his back to the fire. "I do not mean, at my years, 
 to turn love-messenger, to convey sweet nothings from a 
 foolish girl to an equally foolish young man. I may write 
 to you occasionally, but I shall- not trouble myself about 
 what she says; and, mark you, don't fill your letters to me 
 with any nonsense about your love, for I doubt if I shall 
 take the trouble to tell her that you are even in the land 
 of the living." 
 
TOBIAS WILSON. 327 
 
 Thomas Rogers knew better; and he rose from his seat 
 with a smile, saying : 
 
 "Well, doctor, you always would have your own way. 
 I must leave you to act as your own feelings prompt. I 
 know that will be kindly." 
 
 "But I don't mean to let my feelings have anything to 
 do with it. I like the girl, and, if the truth must be told, 
 I like you too, although I can't call to mind anything about 
 you that is particularly worth liking. But I do like you 
 both, and, if I were to let my feelings control me, I should 
 be doing fifty silly things that you want done, and are both 
 afraid to say you want." 
 
 ".Be it as you please, doctor. And now I must leave 
 you to your repose. I will wake you early in the morning, 
 for I must be on my. way before daylight makes its appear- 
 ance in the eastern sky." 
 
 "You must not go yet," replied the doctor. "I want 
 to ask you many questions about Tobias Wilson. I have 
 been too busy in the daytime, since you have been here, 
 and too tired at night, to ask you half I wish to know." 
 
 Rogers again took his seat, and, when all the doctor's 
 queries were answered, he rose to seek his couch, saying 
 warmly as he did so ; 
 
 " In one word, doctor, he is better, and braver, and more 
 gifted than any of us. His proper place is in a higher 
 walk than mine, and I am glad that he has found it out; 
 for, although I miss him sorely, I would not have his genius 
 fettered by such a career as' suits me, and which I must 
 follow until peace returns' to bless our land, or this body 
 makes a feast for wolves and vultures." 
 
 The next morning, long before the sun had made his ap- 
 pearance above the horizon, Thomas Rogers was on his way 
 to rejoin his command, who only awaited his coming to take 
 
328 TOBIAS WILSON. 
 
 up the line of march for one of those terrible scenes of car- 
 nage, in which our little ambition so often prompts us to 
 seek glory at the risk of a grave. But it would be unjust 
 to ascribe such motives to the great mass of the combat- 
 ants. On the contrary, higher impulses and more noble 
 aspirations led them on ; and the heroism they manifested 
 may almost be claimed as the offspring of religion. 
 
RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilmer 
 229