"What good will it do to ride around to the schooner?" thought the boy, as he gave his horse the rein and galloped out of the yard. "Of course Tierney wouldn't be there. He would hear me coming through the bushes and have plenty of time to jump ashore and hide himself. A blind man ought to see that I did right when I went to Beardsley with my story. He never asked what the plot was until he committed himself, nor did he inquire how many there were in it, nor did he get half as mad over it as he would if Tierney were a sure-enough Union man. It was a put-up job, I tell you, and who knows but there may be others of much the same sort hanging over me at this very minute? I do despise secret enemies." News travels rapidly when all the people in a place are thinking and talking about the same things, and Marcy saw the fact illustrated when he reached Nashville. The mail and express packages were delayed by an accident to the wagon in which they were conveyed to and from the nearest stage station; it took two or three hours to repair it, so that it was mid-day before Marcy was ready to start for home. He always dreaded an enforced delay in town, and tried to time himself so that he would reach the post-office after everybody else had left it. In the days gone by he had been on friendly terms with all the Nashville people who were worth knowing, but it was not so now. He was treated civilly enough, but rather coolly, by those he met on the street and in the office, and he noticed that few of them took the trouble to speak to him. This being the case, he wondered what influence had been at work to bring about the change he noticed before he was fairly inside the town limits. It was "Hello, Marcy!" here, and "How are you, old fellow?" there, and when he hitched his horse and went into the post-office, where there was a crowd assembled, his greeting was as cordial as any that had ever been extended to him. Marcy opened his eyes, but said little, knowing that if he had the patience to wait somebody would explain the matter to him. He got a clue to the situation when young Allison, after telling him that the mail wagon had broken down and might not be along for an hour or two, inquired: "How's your ship, Marcy? I suppose you calculate to sweep the sea of everything that carries the Yankee flag, don't you? I shall look for astonishing reports when you get among the war-ships that are coming to blockade the coast." Allison was a loud-mouthed young rebel who had made himself particularly obnoxious to quiet, peace-loving Marcy Gray. He did not say anything to Marcy's face that the latter could resent (he was afraid to do that, notwithstanding the fact that he always carried a loaded revolver in his pocket), but he had said a good many insulting words to others that were intended for Marcy's benefit. The latter turned upon him like a flash, and said, so that every one in the office heard it: