corn and potatoes
to keep his family from absolute want, and a little log cabin in which
he found shelter when he was not absent on his hunting and thieving
expeditions. Marcy had not seen him since his return from Barrington,
but he had heard of him as a red-hot Confederate who went about
declaring that hanging was too good for Yankees and their sympathizers.
When Marcy heard of this, he told himself that the man was another Bud
Goble, who, when the pinch came, would take to the woods and stay there
as long as danger threatened.

"I'll be with him directly," he said, addressing himself to the girl,
who went out, closing the door behind her.

"What in the name of wonder can that worthless man want with me?"
whispered Mrs. Gray, when she thought she had given the domestic time to
get out of hearing. "He has never been in this house before except to
beg."

"And he wouldn't be here now if he hadn't been sent," replied the boy.

"Oh, Marcy!" said his mother.

"That is just what I mean. It isn't old clothes or grub that he is after
this time."

"But Beardsley couldn't have put him up to anything. He is in Newbern."

"No odds. He left plenty of friends behind to do his dirty work, and
this fellow, Kelsey, is one of them. It will take a sharper man than he
is to pull the wool over my eyes."

"Don't be over-confident, my son. He is not too insignificant--no one is
too insignificant these times to do us some terrible injury. Be careful
how you treat him and what you say to him. It might be dangerous to make
him angry, for he has powerful friends behind him. Don't be gone long,
for I shall be uneasy until you return."

"I'll be right back," promised Marcy; and, giving his mother a
reassuring kiss, he left the room and went out on the porch to see what
Beardsley's friend and spy wanted.

The latter looked just as he did the last time Marcy saw him--too lazy
to take a long breath. He was tall and lank, his hair fell down upon his
shoulders, his whiskers were as tangled and matted as a little brush
heap--in short, he was as fine a specimen of a poor white as one could
find anywhere in the seceded States. He looked stupid as well as
shiftless, but the young pilot knew he wasn't. He was as sly as a fox
and as cunning as well, and Marcy confessed to himself that he stood
more in fear of him than he did of Captain Beardsley. When the man heard
Marcy's step upon the porch, he tried to assume the servile air which
was charac