n in the cabin whom he
had forgotten. It was the negro girl who, having cleared away the late
breakfast dishes and put the little furniture there was in the room to
rights, had drawn a chair to the table and fallen fast asleep with her
head resting on her folded arms. Tom took one look at her, and then he
and Mark went out. Neither of them said a word, until they had mounted
their horses and ridden into the road, and then Mark inquired:

"What do you know now more than you did when you came here? All I have
learned is that Beardsley is afraid of Marcy Gray, and don't want
anything to happen to him, if he can help it, for fear that the blame
would be laid at his door. I tell you, Tom Allison, as long as those men
who carried Hanson away are at large, we have got to look out what we
say and do. It's an awful state of affairs, but that is the way it looks
to me."

That was the way it looked to Tom also; and as he could not say anything
encouraging, he held his peace, and rode on with his eyes fastened upon
the horn of his saddle.

CHAPTER IV.

VISITORS IN PLENTY.

Although we have said that Marcy Gray appeared to be as calm as a
summer's morning, he was not so in reality. He had the most disquieting
reflections for company during every one of his waking hours, and they
troubled him so that he found it next to impossible to concentrate his
mind on anything. On this particular morning he felt so very gloomy that
he did not ride his filly to town, as was his usual custom, but sent old
Morris and a mule instead. What was the use of going to the post-office
through all that rain just to listen to the idle boasts of a few
stay-at-home rebels who could not or would not tell him a single
reliable item of news? He and his mother had been talking over the
situation--it was what they always talked about when they were
alone--and the conclusion to which they came was, that their affairs
could not go on in this way much longer, and that a change for better or
worse was sure to come before many days more had passed away.

"I suppose our situation might be worse, but I can't see how," said
Marcy, rising from his seat on the sofa and looking out at one of the
streaming windows.

"Would it not be worse if we had no roof to shelter us in weather like
this?" inquired Mrs. Gray.

"It would be bad for us if our house was burned, of course," answered
Marcy. "But as for a roof, we shall always have that. If they turn us
out of h