n said so far. At a turn of the road they came upon a
gray-bearded man, wearing a battered silk hat and spectacles, whom Mrs.
Bolster greeted as "'Squire."

The word seemed to send all the blood from Shorty's face, and he looked
appealingly to Si as if the crisis had come.

The newcomer looked them over sharply and inquired:

"Who are these men, Mrs. Bolster?"

"They'uns 's all right. They'uns 's had enough o' Abolition doin's,
and hev come over whar they'uns allers rayly belonged. This one is a
partickler friend o' mine," and she leered at Shorty in a way that made
his blood run cold.

"Hain't yo' time t' stop a minute, 'Squire?" she asked appealingly, as
the newcomer turned his horse's head to renew his journey.{200}

"Not now; not now," answered the 'Squire, digging his heels into his
steed's side. "I want to talk t' yo' and these 'ere men 'bout what's
gwine on in the Lincoln camps, but I must hurry on now to meet Capt.
Solomon at the Winding Blades. I'll come over to your house this
evening," he called back.

"Don't fail, 'Squire," she answered, "fur I've got a little job for yo',
an' I want hit partickerly done this very evenin'. Hit can't wait."

"I'll be there without fail," he assured her.

"Capt. Solomon's the man what sent the letter to you," she explained,
which somewhat raised Shorty's depressed heart, for he began to have
hopes that Rosenbaum might rescue him if Capt. McGillicuddy should be
behind time.

As they jogged onward farther from camp Mrs. Bolster's saturnine
earnestness began to be succeeded by what were intended to be
demonstrations of playful affection for her future husband, whom she now
began to regard as securely hers. She would draw Shorty into the path
a little ahead of Si, and walk alongside of him, pinching his arm and
jabbering incoherent words which were meant for terms of endearment.
When the narrowness of the road made them walk in single file she would
come up from time to time alongside with cuffs intended for playful
love-taps.

At each of these Shorty would cast such a look of wretchedness at Si
that the latter had difficulty in preserving his steadfast silence and
rigidity of countenance.

But the woman's chief affection seemed to be called forth by the package
of coffee. She would{201} stop in the midst of any demonstration to pull
out the bag containing the fragrant berry, and lovingly inhale its odor.

It was long past noon when she announced: "Thar's my house