He tossed half a dozen up to them and then sat down at the mouth of the hole that sheltered Tom, thinking to hide him in case the others came down the bank. His back was towards the boy. What was left of his catch hung within two inches of Tom's nose. That was Tom's chance. He tore off a couple of little fish and tore them to bits with his teeth. His first sensation was one of deathly sickness; his next one of returning strength. Grayson twitched the remaining fish into his lap. He knew the boy had already had too much food, for a first meal. Meanwhile he was chatting cheerily with his fellow soldiers, who fortunately did not come down the bank and soon moved off, leaving Jim and Tom alone. Now was the time for explanations. "Don't be afeard," said Jim, with a kindly smile. "I 'low you be Tom Strong, bean't you? I guess you was in Libby day afore yisterday. I ain't goin' to give you up. I'm Union, I be, ef I do wear Secesh gray. How kin I help you?" The sense of safety, safety at least for the moment, was too much for Tom. He could not speak. "Thar, thar," Jim went on, "it's all right. Jes' tell me what I can do. I'll bring you eatins soon ez night comes, but what'll you do then?" Tom told him what he hoped to do then. It was a wild scheme to float down nearly two hundred miles of river through a hostile country, but yet it offered a chance of success. And if there was a chance of success for the boy, why not for the man? "Ef so be's ez you'se sot on it," Jim said, at the end of the talk, "I vum I'll run the resk with you. You ain't no ways fit to start off alone. Ef you have to hist that thar tree into the James River, you cudn't a-do it. I kin. 'N ef you wuz all alonst, you mout fall off'n be drownded. We-uns'll go together. 'N then I'll hev a chanst to fight fer the old Union."