Bass professed to believe that General Sherman would be "surroundered"
and captured before his troops reached Middle Georgia; but the three
columns, miles apart, continued their march unopposed.

It was observed that during this period of doubt, anxiety, and terror,
Little Compton was on the alert. He appeared to be nervous and restless.
His conduct was so peculiar that some of the more suspicious citizens of
the region predicted that he had been playing the part of a spy, and
that he was merely waiting for the advent of Sherman's army in order to
point out where his acquaintances had concealed their treasures.

One fine morning a company of Federal troopers rode into Hillsborough.
They were met by Little Compton, who had borrowed one of Jack Walthall's
horses for just such an occasion. The cavalcade paused in the public
square, and, after a somewhat prolonged consultation with Little
Compton, rode on in the direction of Rockville. During the day small
parties of foragers made their appearance. Little Compton had some
trouble with these; but, by hurrying hither and thither, he managed to
prevent any depredations. He even succeeded in convincing the majority
of them that they owed some sort of respect to that small town. There
was one obstinate fellow, however, who seemed determined to prosecute
his search for valuables. He was a German who evidently did not
understand English.

In the confusion Little Compton lost sight of the German, though he had
determined to keep an eye on him. It was not long before he heard of him
again; for one of the Walthall negroes came running across the public
square, showing by voice and gesture that he was very much alarmed.

"Marse Compton! Marse Compton!" he cried, "you better run up ter Marse
Jack's, kaze one er dem mens is gwine in dar whar ole Miss is, en ef he
do dat he gwine ter git hurted!"

Little Compton hurried to the Walthall place, and he was just in time to
see Jack rushing the German down the wide flight of steps that led to
the veranda. What might have happened, no one can say; what did happen
may be briefly told. The German, his face inflamed with passion, had
seized his gun, which had been left outside, and was aiming at Jack
Walthall, who stood on the steps, cool and erect. An exclamation of
mingled horror and indignation from Little Compton attracted the
German's attention, and caused him to turn his head. This delay probably
saved Jack Walthall's life; for the Germ