A Daughter of the Union Part 29

"Our men coming back," was the answer. "They have a number of prisoners and have captured some fine horses."

Jeanne reported the news to Bob, but she received it apathetically. So overcome by grief was she that she appeared to no longer care for anything.

"Bob," said Jeanne suddenly, "can't we do something to help your brother?"

"I am afraid not," answered Bob in heartbroken accents. "What can we do?

We are only girls. What can we do?"

"Well, we can make an effort. I will never forgive myself if I don't do something for him."

"Why should you care?" asked Bob listlessly. "He is not your brother."

"No, Bob, he isn't. But he is one of our officers, and I intend to help him get away. It would be an awful thing for him to die by the hand of his father."

"What are you going to do?" asked Bob looking at her with a gleam of interest.

"I don't know. I have been thinking all day and I don't know," said Jeanne. "But we must do something. I did not think that your father could be so cruel."

"He is doing his duty," said Bob with pale lips. "Poor dad! Jeanne, you think him hard-hearted, but I know that this will kill him. Poor, poor dad!"

"Then if he cares why does he condemn his son to death?" asked Jeanne in surprise.

"Because he came here as a spy, and dad could not overlook that fact even if he is his son. Dad must regard Frank as a Federal, Jeanne. He is bound to as a Confederate officer."

"But you are not bound. Surely you are not going to let your brother die without trying to save him?"

"Dad will never forgive me," said Bob weakly. "And yet I can't let Frank die."

"Of course not," answered Jeanne. "Now, Bob, let's think hard. Maybe between us we can get some plan."

But the time pa.s.sed, and darkness found them still with no plan matured.

"We will save our rations," said Bob as their supper was handed in to them. "Frank ought to have them to take with him if he succeeds in escaping. If he doesn't we won't care to eat."

So they carefully put up the food into a small package, and again fell to discussing ways and means for the escape of Lieutenant Peyton.

"Bob," exclaimed Jeanne presently, "do you know that I have not heard the guard patrol our tent for a long time?"

Bob listened intently, and then sprang to her feet.

"It's true," she exclaimed excitedly. "I wonder what the reason is?"

They ran to the door of the tent and peered out cautiously. There seemed to be a commotion of some kind in camp. Men were hurrying to and fro; bayonets rattled, and the subdued murmur of many voices plainly told that an unusual movement was on foot. The girls looked on breathlessly and presently they heard the order given for the men to fall in line. Then "Forward, March!" came the command and the ranks filed out of the camp on the double quick, the Colonel at their head.

"Something's up," said Bob with conviction. "Let's go down to where the prisoners are, Jeanne, and see how the land lies. Then maybe we will know what to do."

Silently Jeanne signified her a.s.sent and the two stole quietly through the long rows of tents to where the prisoners were.

"There is but one guard," whispered Bob in delight. "See, Jeanne! Frank lies the closest to the fire. He is bound too, hand and foot."

"I see," whispered Jeanne. "Let's get closer, Bob."

Cautiously they approached nearer to the men. Presently Jeanne uttered an exclamation and stopped stock still.

"What is it?" asked Bob quickly. "Did you hurt yourself?"

"Bob," whispered Jeanne in great agitation, "do you see that young fellow just beyond Frank? The one with the yellow hair, I mean."

"Yes, Jeanne. Why?"

"That is my brother d.i.c.k. They shan't have d.i.c.k, Bob. Not if I had to face the whole Confederate army myself."

"Jeanne, is it truly d.i.c.k? Aren't you mistaken? Maybe it's only some one who looks like him."

"It's d.i.c.k," said Jeanne positively. "Watch him. He will know my voice."

Regardless of caution she began singing softly the then popular melody:

"'Will you come with me, my Phillis dear, To yon blue mountain free, Where the blossoms smell the sweetest, Come rove along with me.

It's every Sunday morning, When I am by your side, We'll jump into the wagon, And all take a ride.'"

Bob watched the young fellow as Jeanne's voice floated out upon the night air. The boy, he was scarcely more than that, raised himself to a sitting posture instantly, a blank look of amazement upon his face.

"Miss Bob," came from the guard, "it's against orders for either you or the 'Little Yank' to be about the prisoners. I'm mighty sorry, but you'll have to go."

"Johnson," said Bob coaxingly, "haven't I always been good to you?"

"Yes, Miss Bob."

"Who looked after you when you were wounded, and cooked for you, and wrote your letters to your wife?"

"Miss Bob, for goodness sake don't tell me any of those things now. The Colonel's away, and there are just a few of us left to guard the prisoners and the camp. 'Tain't right, Miss Bob."

"You said that there was nothing that you would not do for me," went on Bob inexorably.

"And I meant it," said the poor fellow. "I know what you mean. I know that's your brother. But you must not ask it of me. Please, Miss Bob."

"I'm only going to ask you to turn your back for ten minutes," said Bob.

"And his knife," whispered Jeanne tremblingly. "Get his knife, Bob."

"Turn your back for ten minutes," repeated Bob, "and lend me your knife."

"For the love of mercy, Miss Bob," pleaded Johnson, "don't ask this of me. It means worse than death to me. It is a betrayal of trust."

"Your knife, Johnson," and Bob held out her hand. "What would your wife think of your refusing me anything?"

"Take it," said the man with the resignation of despair. "The Colonel will have me shot like a dog, but take it. I cannot refuse."