"I am used to the saddle," said he, as Rodney came out of the cabin and approached the place where he was standing, "but I must say that that young fellow has given me a hard pull. He must be made of iron, for he doesn't seem to mind it at all. Let's go and see how he is getting on. I want to make sure that he is safe before I go to sleep." "Don't you think this is a cold-blooded, heartless way to treat a boy who has never done you any harm?" inquired Rodney, stooping down to caress first one and then another of the large pack of dogs which came trooping up the minute the cabin door was opened. "Have you a son about the same age?" "That's neither here nor there," replied Mr. Westall; and Rodney thought from the nervous, jerky manner in which he faced about and started for the corn-crib, that the words had touched him in a tender spot. "Suppose I have; what then? If he so far forgets the training he has received ever since he was old enough to know anything, let him take the consequences." "You say that young Percival's father is strong for the Union," continued Rodney. "If that is the case, didn't he train up his son in the way he wanted him to go? No doubt he is just as honest in his opinions as we are." "Honest!" repeated Mr. Westall, in a tone of contempt. "Can a man honestly hold opinions that make him a traitor to his State? Percival is on the wrong side, but that is no fault of ours. We can't and won't have traitors in our midst preaching up their doctrines and organizing military companies. Why, do you know that they have bushwhacked scores of our men all over the State--called them to the door of their homes and shot them down like dogs, or popped them over while they were riding quietly along the road? You are a partisan, are you? You don't know the meaning of the word; but if you will go home with me I will teach it to you in less than a week." If Rodney had given utterance to his honest sentiments he would have told Mr. Westall, in pretty plain language, that he would face about and go to his own home again before he would be that kind of a partisan. Shaking his fist under a Union boy's nose and fighting him on the parade ground was one thing, and shooting him down in cold blood was another. But he did not have time to make any reply, for just as Mr. Westall ceased speaking they reached the corn-crib. "All right in there?" said the Emergency man, laying hold of the door and giving it a shake; and as he did so, Rodney took note of the fact that it opened as much as an inch and a half, so that if the prisoner on the inside had anything with which he could reach through the crack and throw the bar out of its place, he need not stay there a moment longer than he wanted to. "Will one blanket be enough to keep you warm?"