a man that afternoon (no doubt
the farmers had all gone into town to talk politics with their
neighbors), but there were plenty of womenfolks in the houses along the
road, and they had their full share of curiosity. They flocked to the
doors and windows and looked closely at him as he passed, and Rodney
knew well enough that the men would hear all about him when they came
home at night.

When darkness came on Rodney Gray began to realize the helplessness of
his position. It was time he was looking for a place to stay all night,
but what should he say to the farmer to whom he applied for supper and
lodging? If he told the truth and declared himself to be a Confederate,
and the farmer chanced to belong to the opposite side, or if he tried to
pass himself off for a Unionist and the farmer proved to be a red-hot
Jackson man:

"Ay, there's the rub," thought Rodney, looking down at the ground in
deep perplexity. "There's where the difficulty comes in, and I don't
know how to decide it."

He was not called upon to decide the matter that night, for while these
thoughts were passing through his mind, a voice a short distance in
advance of him began shouting:

"Pig-g-e-e! pig-g-i-i! pig-g-o-o!" And a chorus of squeals and grunts,
followed by a rush in the bushes at the side of the road, told him that
the call had been heard, and that the farmer's hogs were making haste to
get their supper of corn. Before Rodney could make up his mind whether
to stop or keep on, his horse brought him from behind the bushes which
had covered his approach, and the boy found himself within less than
twenty feet of a man in his shirt-sleeves, who stopped his shouting and
stood with an ear of corn uplifted in his hand.

"Evening," said Rodney, who saw that it was useless to retreat.

"I'll be dog-gone!" said the man, throwing the ear of corn with unerring
aim at the head of the nearest porker and beckoning to Rodney with both
hands. "Come out of the road. Come up behind the bresh and be quick
about it."

Rodney obeyed, lost in wonder; but as he rode across the shallow ditch
that ran between the road and the fence behind which the farmer stood,
he did not neglect to give his right leg a shake to loosen his revolver,
which during his long ride had worked its way down into his boot. Of
course the farmer had made a mistake of some kind, and Rodney was rather
anxious to learn what he would do when he found it out.

"I have been a-hoping that you