“Ol Jedge Minor's place? Sure; it's up on ther south branch of ther Cowskin, an' used ter be quite a shebang afore ther war, an' afore ther ol' Jedge died. I reckon as how he hed ther biggest gang o' niggers in ther whole county, an' he wus allers durn gud ter 'em tew. Never no nigger ever run 'way from ol' Jedge Minor, ye bet. Mariar she used ter live thar whin Mis' Celie wus a baby.” “Have those fellows got down that far yet?” “Wal, I reckon not, but durn if I know fer sure, Cap. Ther whole valley is mighty bare north o' thar, fer I rid through it, an' Beelzebub hed ter live on clay, fer sure. Gee! but he wus hot. So them thar vultures hes got ter either work south er quit, an' I reckon as how they hain't likely ter quit till they hes tew. 'Sides, they're strong 'nough by now ter laugh et any sojers thar'bouts, an' ther ol' Minor place u'd make mighty gud pickin'. Thar hain't neither army ever bin up thar durin' ther war.” “How long would it take us to reach there?” “'Bout two days, I reckon, pervidin' ye shuck ther Dutchman.” I turned and looked at my men in some perplexity. They were scattered along the edge of the road, and only one group had taken the precaution to build a fire. The Sergeant lay flat upon his back on a grassy knoll, his stomach rising and falling with a regularity which convinced me he was sleeping. “Ebers,” I said sternly. There was no response, and I could distinguish clearly his heavy breathing. “One of you stir up the Sergeant, will you? I want to speak with him.” A young fellow came forward grinning, and laid one hand heavily on his officer's shoulder. “Come, Dutchy,” he said with easy familiarity, “get up!” The Sergeant shot to an upright position like a jack-in-the-box. “Mein Gott,” he asked anxiously, “is it der Yanks vot come already?” “Hell, no; but the Captain wants you.” “Der Captain?” He arose ponderously, and came forward with a decidedly halting gait. “Vos I sent for?” he asked. “Yes,” I said; “I want you to have the men get their supper at once, as we shall be obliged to ride a good portion of the night.” “Ride?” and his face took on an expression of genuine horror. “By Chiminy, Captain, it vos impossible. Mem Gott! it could not be done.” “Why, what is the difficulty, Sergeant?” “I am vounded vare I sets me down on der saddle. I am all--vot you calls it?--rare. Dunder, but it could not be.” “I am exceedingly sorry, Ebers, and if you are unable to travel we shall be compelled to leave you behind,” I said, tired of it all by this time. “Get the men to their supper. We shall go on in an hour.” How often since have I smiled at the expression upon his solemn round face as he turned ruefully away! CHAPTER XXVII AN EMBARRASSING SITUATION