There was no need that they should "look out" for their guide now, because there was no way in which he could betray them secretly. The danger would arise when they stopped for the night or after they parted from him the next morning. Then he would be at liberty to go where he pleased, and as he was acquainted with every Union man for miles around, it would not take him long to spread among them the report that there was a Confederate stopping at Mr. Truman's house in company with a young Missourian who did not want his name spoken where other folks could hear it. If such a story as that should get wind, it would make trouble all around--for Mr. Truman as well as for themselves; for Truman's neighbors would want to know why he gave food and lodging to a Confederate when he claimed to be a Union man himself. The longer Rodney thought of these things, the more he wished himself safe back in Louisiana. At half-past four by Tom Percival's watch the negro stopped his mule beside a rail fence running between the woods and an old field, on whose farther side was a snug plantation house, nestled among the trees. That was where Mr. Truman lived, and where Merrick had told them to stop for the night. "And I suppose you will stay also, won't you?" said Tom, speaking to the darkey who bent down from his mule and threw a few of the top rails off the fence so that the boys could jump their horses over into the field. "Who? Me? Oh no, sar," answered the guide, with rather more earnestness than the occasion seemed to demand. "Marse Merrick done tol' me to be sure an' come home dis very night, an' I 'bleeged to mind him, sar." "I'll bet you don't mind him," thought Tom, as he and Rodney rode into the field and waited for the negro to build up the fence again. "There's a bug under that chip and I know it." The appearance of three horsemen riding up to the back door in this unexpected way created something of a flutter among the female portion of Mr. Truman's family, and even the farmer himself, who presently came to the door of one of the outbuildings, seemed to be a little startled; but when a second look showed him that one of Mr. Merrick's negroes was of the number, he came up to the pump near which the boys had dismounted. "This is Mr. Truman, I believe," said Tom. "Well, yes; that's my name, but I don't reckon I ever saw you before," replied the man cautiously. "Do you know this boy who has been acting as our guide?" "Oh, yes. I know all of Merrick's boys, so it must be all right. But you see in times like these--" "I understand," Tom interposed, for Mr. Truman talked so slowly that the boy was afraid he might never get through with what he had to say. "In times like these you don't know whom to trust. That's our fix, exactly; and we shouldn't have thought of stopping here if Merrick and Hobson had not told us who and what you are. Go on, boy, and tell Mr. Truman who and what we are, where we came from, where we want to go, and all about it."