ps, and to find out, if
possible, the position in which the Northern forces in Tennessee were at
present posted--all of which points he was at present ignorant of. He
passed two or three large farmhouses without entering, for although the
greater part of the male population were away with one or other of the
armies, he might still find two or three hands in such buildings.
Besides, it was now late, and whatever the politics of the inmates they
would be suspicious of such late arrivals, and would probably altogether
refuse them admittance. Accordingly another night was spent in the wood.

The next morning, after walking a mile or two, they saw a house at which
Vincent determined to try their fortune. It was small, but seemed to
have belonged to people above the class of farmer. It stood in a little
plantation, and was surrounded by a veranda. Most of the blinds were
down, and Vincent judged that the inmates could not be numerous.

"You remain here, Dan, and I will go and knock at the door. It is better
that we should not be seen together." Vincent accordingly went forward
and knocked at the door. An old negress opened it.

"We have nothing for tramps," she said. "De house am pretty well cleared
out ob eberything." She was about to shut the door when Vincent put his
foot forward and prevented its closing. "Massa Charles," the negress
called out, "bring yo' shot-gun quick; here am tief want to break into
the house."

"I am neither a thief nor a tramp," Vincent said; "and I do not want
anything, except that I should be glad to buy a loaf of bread if you
have one that you could spare. I have lost my way, and I want to ask
directions."

"Dat am pretty likely story," the old woman said. "Bring up dat
shot-gun, quick, Massa Charles."

"What is it, Chloe?" another female voice asked.

"Here am a man pretend he hab lost his way and wants to buy a loaf. You
stand back, Miss Lucy, and let your brudder shoot de villain dead."

"I can assure you I am not a robber, madam," Vincent said through the
partly opened door. "I am alone, and only beg some information, which I
doubt not you can give me."

"Open the door, Chloe," the second voice said inside; "that is not the
voice of a robber."

The old woman reluctantly obeyed the order and opened the door, and
Vincent saw in the passage a young girl of some sixteen years old. He
took off his hat.

"I am very sorry to disturb you," he said, "but I am an entire stranger
here, and