Montour American. (Danville, Pa.) 1866-1920, 1902-07-24

bines in the bow under the legs of n
ready for use. When all had crossed,
the boat was hauled up into the bushes
! just as we had found it on the other
/ side. Then we were marched about
| half a mile from the river to n big log
! hut.
"Now, boys" said my old acquaint-
ance, well make you feel as much at
home as we can without bein' unsafe.
Wen onloose one of you at time, SO
you can stretch your arms an eat, an
We'll send word to our camp soon ez
we can for somebody to come an take
you long to Richmond"
Were in no hurry to get there, I'm
sure" said |.
He looked at me sharply n moment
and replied:
"Mcbbe they amt as well fixed thar
as you uns at Fort Monroe, where they
I tuck us when we got ketched, but
they'll do the best they can for you.
{ Resides, you'll be exchanged fore long,
just as we was"
1t was real kind of him to say this,
and | told him so, but my heart grew
heavier and heavier. What would IA
ther and mother think? Who would
write them about my disappearance?
What would the writer say? Could
there be any possible way of getting
word home from Richmond? | asked
my old acquaintance this question and
told him | was afraid my disappear
ance would kill my parents unless they
knew what had happened.
"That's 50, my friend" said he. Just
you write n scrap to some friend of
yours in your camp, an I'll see it
reaches him in week. Nuthin' else,
though, mind. except that you're cap
tured."
"Iow will you get it there" 1 asked,
with natural curiosity.
"Asl me no questions, an I'll tell you
no lies" said he. You give me coffee
one time, don't you remember? Well
that's enough"
AS 1t happened that just then was my
turn to be unbound, got some letters
out of my breast pocket and found
bldllh nan Sllccl VI pdpClr oll WHICH
penciled:
Dear Hamilton-We were captured by the en-
emy. Tell my father not to worry. Our captors
say well be exchanged pretty soon.
JACK FROST.
My old acquaintance looked over my
shoulder while | wrote. When | had
finished, he said:
Put in little more. Say The man
that | gave coffee to when he was
ketchcd is the man that's got me, an
he says I'll be well treated or his name
ain'tClay Hillyard.' That ought to make
'em feel easier to home, oughtn't itY
"I'm sure it would if they knew
YOU" said |. 81 wrote them n long
letter after that scout in which you
were captured, about how you fixed
fried bacon and hoecake for us that
night and how you showed me how to
parch corn in bacon fat. | wrote how
awfully hungry l was on that trip, too,
and my mother wrote back that she'd
pray for you every night of her life
70; being kind to her boy"
'Sho! You git out! Is that so,
uenT said my particular Johnny,
with a sheepish look. "Well, mothers
Is all alike, s'pose." Then he and one
of his party began to prepare n meal
Of bacon and hoecake, for it was now
nearly dark.
The aroma of the cooking diverted
my thoughts from the situation, for we
had started near noon and in such
haste that we had forgotten to bring
our haversacks. The Johnnies evident
ly intended to feed us, for they were
preparing an immense quantity Of
food
Say, sarge" remarked my friend to
the large, quiet man who seemed to be
the leader of the party, these boys
cayn't eat with their arms tied. S'pose
we tie their legs instead. They'll be
safe agin runnin' away, an they'll be
more comfortable"
The sergeant muttered assent. The
change was made, and then, as we sat
on a long low bench against one wall,
we were bountifully fed. We chatted
freely, our CaptOrs being quite willing
to converse, and the conversation ran
as entirely to farming methods as IL