Presently the farmer arose and stretched, "I'll go out an' see if the chickens are all right," he said, and left the shanty. "Don't be a fool," said Wilson earnestly, "Don't be a better rebel than the Southerners." "I'm sorry," replied Shadrack. "That's what we were told to say...." "I know," interrupted Wilson, "but we have to be careful in the way we tell that story. For one thing, remember that we're still inside our own lines." "Yes," replied Shadrack ruefully. "I think you'd better do the talking for us," suggested Tom to Wilson. "We'll just agree to what you say." "Now, that's a good idea!" exclaimed Shadrack. "We'll just nod our heads an' say, 'That's right!' I'll not say a word after this." A half-hour passed before the farmer returned. Without speaking, he took off his boots and coat, and lay down on his bed. The others arranged themselves on the floor about the stove, and Tom blew out the light. The floor was hard, but the stove was warm--and they were dry. Sleep came almost immediately. They were awakened at dawn by the door opening, and a man shouting, "Get up there! Hold you hands up! Strike a light, Johnson." Tom jumped to his feet. In the half-light of morning he saw the glint of a revolver. Wilson and Shadrack were beside him, and the farmer was sitting on the edge of his bed. They put their hands up--all except the farmer. The bluish flame of a sulphur match sputtered, then grew bright. Three Union soldiers stood before them with drawn revolvers, while a fourth lighted the lamp. "These are the men, I presume, Smith?" asked the Sergeant. The farmer grunted. Tom and Shadrack looked to Wilson to speak, but he said nothing. So the farmer had sent word to Union troops! When he had gone out to look after his chickens, he had sent a messenger with the news that three ardent Southerners were to be captured at his house if the soldiers would come and get them! Captured by their own troops! "Pull on your boots," ordered the Sergeant. "Wait a minute! Look through their clothes and see if they're armed, Martin." The soldier who had lighted the lamp approached, and ran his hands through their pockets. He produced three revolvers and laid them on the table. The Sergeant picked them up, glanced at them to be sure they were loaded; then distributed them among the soldiers. "That's all, Sergeant," said the soldier addressed as Martin. "All right, get on your boots. You did a good night's work, Smith." "I told 'em they'd better go back home," said the farmer dully. Tom, Wilson, and Shadrack sat on the floor pulling on their heavy, water-laden boots. When they stood up, the Sergeant said: "Call Jim and Max." Two more soldiers appeared, making six in all. "Two of us to a prisoner. Come on." They left the shanty. The farmer was still sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at them. CHAPTER FOUR TOM GOES ALONE