United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Juvenile fiction
"Scattered all over two miles by the locomotive," answered Shadrack.
"Probably some of them went on the other side of the tracks, making for
Mitchel's lines. We decided to go straight north and get across the
Tennessee just as fast as we can."
"So did I," answered Tom. "Let's get over to the barn now. It's dark
enough."
They hurried across the short open space. A farm wagon standing at the end
of the barn formed a step to the hay mow. By standing on the edge of the
wagon box, Tom could reach the floor. He pulled himself up and struggled
inside. Then he helped Shadrack and Wilson to come after him.
"Whew!" breathed Shadrack. "Just like home." He chuckled.
"It does me good to hear that laugh again," said Tom. He gave Shadrack a
dig in the ribs. "I don't suppose you're hungry, are you?"
"Don't talk to me until I get through eating this hay."
"Leave enough for us to sleep on," protested Wilson.
"Smell this," said Tom. He opened the package of ham and bread. Shadrack
moaned. Tom took out his knife and divided the food; then they had supper.
"We ought to be out of this before daybreak," said Tom, throwing himself
back on the hay. "I hope one of us wakes up. I feel as though I could sleep
forever."
It was just dawn when Tom awoke. From his head to his feet, he was sore and
stiff. He sat up, rubbing his legs and stretching painfully. "Hey, Wilson!
Shadrack! Come on. It's getting light." He went to the door and looked out.
"If we drop straight down between the barn and the wagon, they can't see us
from the house." He slid over the edge, hung by his fingers and dropped to
the ground. The others followed, silently. A minute later they were on the
road again.
"Do you know exactly where this road is taking us?" asked Wilson presently.
"No," answered Tom, "but so long as it doesn't take us into Chattanooga,
I'm satisfied. We're going north and the river is about twenty miles ahead
of us."
"And we're going about one mile an hour," replied Shadrack, slipping in the
mud.
It was nearly noon when they heard the sound of horses galloping along the
road toward them. They jumped into the bushes and waited breathlessly. A
few seconds later, four horsemen, each of them carrying a rifle over his
arm, went riding past.
"They're after us," said Wilson.
Tom nodded. "What do you think we'd better do? I'm for staying to the
road."
"If it wasn't so blamed muddy we could go across the fields," said
Shadrack, "but we'd get bogged again."
"The road's our one chance," added Wilson. "Let's get to work."
During the remainder of the afternoon they worked their way up along the
edge of the road, hiding in the bushes time after time. Several small
bodies of armed men passed them, and once they caught a scrap of
conversation about "Yank bridge burners." The hunt was on.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CAPTURED
"Halt there!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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