“I ain’t lahgin’, mister. Take dese white folks to lahge. Niggers cain’t lahge nuttin’ to de Buckra. Sabby?” “Get on, Combahee monkey,” called the sentry, recognizing the low country lingo. Ervin passed on towards Cumming’s Point, his eyes serving him in good stead. Almost in a moment he was by the landing. A towboat lay at anchor, and a couple of mulatto men were in charge of it. “Hello!” hailed Ervin. His tone was one of easy command. “Hello,” one of them answered. “Where are you going?” “Been out to the _Montauk_—comin’ in—” “Lay that boat alongside.” “We have orders against it, sir, except by special request.” “Never mind about the orders. I guess you don’t know Captain Brown, of your own company. You are Second South Carolina, aren’t you?” “Yes, sir.” “Company C?” “Yes, sir,” and they saluted. “You made a splendid charge at Wagner. We nearly drove the rebs out that night. There, bring her up. You are detailed by Captain Emilio to convey me to James’ Island, within the Confederate lines. I am going to do a little reconnoitering.” So they pulled up the anchor, and the towboat turned into the creeks between Morris’ and James’ Island. Scarcely had they gone a hundred yards before a boat was pushed off hurriedly after them, and a voice called excitedly: “Stop that boat! Hatchett, Simpson, he’s a rebel prisoner! Stop!” The two boatmen instantly ceased rowing and looked at McArthur angrily. Not a feature of his face changed. Only his nostrils dilated suggestively, and two little flames of fire shot from his eyes. “Take up those oars, men,” he said, quietly, pointing his pistol at them. “Row as if all hell were behind you.” The men hesitated. McArthur fired at the foremost, intentionally grazing his clothes. At the report of the pistol, they cowered in mortal terror. “Good God, marster, doan’ shoot any mo,’ we’se rowin’!” “Then row!” thundered the master. “If they catch us I’ll kill you both!” CHAPTER XXXVIII “Father,” whispered Helen Preston, in the low voice of despair. “Father, don’t you know me?” The old warrior who loved Dunvegan sat still as death in his arm chair, a happy smile on his face. “Father, it is Helen. Oh, father! Don’t you know me?” Slowly he opened his eyes with a look of incredulous disappointment. “Oh! Helen, child, is it you? Why disturb me? I was with him—we had just won a great victory—the men were cheering old Traveler as he came down the battle line—” “But, father, you had been quiet so long—I was afraid—I—” He had sunk again into a stupor. She rose heart-broken, and pressed her wan face against the window pane. “He will die soon,” she murmured, “and I shall be alone. Tait has Annie, but Ervin is so far away! Oh, if he could only come!”