The farmer looked at his intractable guest, and then upon his dutiful son; and the idea tardily passed through his dull brain that the soldiers would be just as dangerous to the welfare of the son as to the visitor. Probably he had intended, when the military force came, to send Tom up the chimney, as he had done a dozen times before; but the secret was no longer in the keeping of the family alone. "I see you understand the case perfectly," said Somers, as he contemplated with intense satisfaction the blank dismay of both father and son. "If you had the wisdom of Solomon, you couldn't comprehend it any better." "I reckon ye're about right, stranger," replied the farmer. "You can see now it is for your interest as well as mine that we make friends. Tom's safety and mine are both the same thing. The best you can do is to take good care of me to-day, and at night help me to make my way over to the other side of the river." "Then yer be a Yank?" "I didn't say so. Tom can go with me if he likes. He will be safer there than here." "Tom?" "If he is a deserter from the rebel army, he will be caught sooner or later, and be shot. He will be safe on the other side of the river." "Go over to the Yanks! He hates 'em wurs'n pizin. Don't yer, Tom?" "Bet yer life I do, dad," replied the hopeful son. "I won't go over thar, nohow." "Just as he pleases about that. I only wanted to do him a friendly act." "Well, stranger, I don't mind keepin' yer to-day; but Tom can't go with yer." "Very well; then I will stay in this room; and, if the soldiers come, I can go up the chimney with Tom," replied Somers. "I'm tired and sleepy. Didn't sleep a wink last night. I will take a nap on the floor. You will wake me, Tom, if there's any danger; won't you?" "Yes, I'll wake yer," replied the deserter with a broad grin. "We'll see that you don't git caught; kase, if yer do, of course, Tom'll git caught too," added the farmer. There was something in his manner which Somers did not like. Though he was a man of dull mind, there was a kind of low cunning visible in his look and manner which warned Somers to be cautious. He stretched himself on the floor; and the farmer and his son left the room, closing the door behind them. Our scout was, as he had before declared, both tired and sleepy; but rest and sleep were luxuries in which he could not permit himself to indulge in the midst of so much peril and so many enemies. As soon as the door closed behind the sire and the son, he rose from his reclining posture, and hastened to reconnoiter the position. The enemy--for such he was fully assured his host was--passed through the entry and out the door at the back of the house, as Somers discovered from the noise of their retreating footsteps.