“Come, why don’t you obey orders?” growled Lieutenant Boggs, as Cavalry Curt hesitated a moment.
“Danged if I see just how I am going to get up to that first limb,” muttered the scout. “I never was much of a climber,” and he started around the tree, obviously to find a way to ascend its trunk, but really to test the intentions of his companions.
No sooner had he moved than their rifles were half-raised and they seemed ready to spring upon him. He no longer doubted their purpose. Neither did he delay further in his course of action.
“We’ll show you a way to get your lubberly carcass up there if you don’t try for yourself pretty lively,” exclaimed the lieutenant, impatiently.
“If some of you will just give me a boost I guess I can get up here,” declared Curt.
With the assistance of a couple of the others he was enabled to reach the first branch when he slowly drew himself up until he had gained its support.
Glancing over his shoulder he saw that the squad had covered him with their guns, and that Lieutenant Boggs was smiling triumphantly.
Without seeming to notice their hostile movement, however, Cavalry Curt continued his ascent of the pine.
Feeling confident of their game the Confederates allowed him to go up higher until his form began to fade from sight.
“We can take him as he comes down,” said Boggs. “Look sharp for him, boys.”
This was spoken in an undertone which of course did not reach the scout’s ears, though he knew well enough their intentions.
Higher and higher he rapidly ascended the tree, until at last he was near the top.
Parting the thick branches he gazed out upon the surrounding country scene for several miles in the clear starlight. Had it been daylight he might have seen distinctly a wide panorama of scenery.
As he had expected to do he gazed upon the tents of an encampment of the Federal troops. He knew well enough it was McPherson’s corps lying in wait, undecided as yet whether to move boldly upon Reseca or to retreat.
The forces were but a few miles away and fixing the direction in his mind he began to look around him for some avenue of escape, knowing that he had but a few minutes in which to act.
Peering down through the matted branches he saw that the Confederates were listlessly waiting his movements. At the least cause for alarm they would be active enough, though evidently they felt certain of their prey.
As we have already told the pine stood near to the house, so near in fact that Cavalry Curt had noticed that its branches touched the building.
Particularly were they thick together and long at a point objective to the chamber windows. Here was where the scout hoped to escape.
Without stopping to take more than a hasty survey from his lofty perch Curt, leaving his slouched hat so it might be seen by those below, cautiously began to descend, hugging closely to the tree.
Swiftly yet silently he retraced his course until he stood on the branch that, reaching around the corner of the dwelling, had boldly pushed its way through one of the windows.
Hearing nothing as yet from his enemies to alarm him, he glided out along the branch concealed by the matted growth of boughs above and below.
“Helloa!” called out Lieutenant Boggs, cautiously, when he was about midway in the passage, “what do you see?”
Of course Curt made no reply—only quickened his progress knowing that his time would soon be up.
“I say where are you?” called out Boggs a little louder, as he listened in vain for an answer to his first call.
“Hang the fool! why don’t he speak!” muttered the officer. Then louder than before he called out:
“Are you going to keep us here all night? Come down at once.”
At this moment Curt’s hand touched the window-sill, when with the agility of a cat he noiselessly drew himself forward allowing the branch to sway back to its normal position as gently as possible.
Still the Confederate received no reply to his appeal and he began to grow first uneasy, then furious.
“He is clean, clear to the top,” declared one of his followers, “I can just see his head between the branches. P’raps he don’t hear you, for he don’t move.”
“I’ll send a chunk of lead up there if he don’t stir pretty soon,” growled Boggs. “Reckon that’ll fetch him.”
The night seemed unusually quiet, and not a sound followed his words.
Curt had gained the house and stood within its walls.
“Look here, you infernal Yank!” called out Boggs louder than before, “if you don’t come down we’ll riddle you with bullets! We have waited long enough and its time for you to know that your game is up!”
Of course he received no reply and he stamped the ground madly, regardless of the danger he was courting, forgetting that he might have enemies within hearing.
“He don’t move,” whispered the soldier. “Shall I fire at him?”
“Curses upon our stupidity, no. It would wake up the whole army of Yanks. Let me speak to the dog once more!”
Again he called out to the scout with, as might be expected, no better result.
“One of you must go up there,” said Lieutenant Boggs. “Who will do it?”
Not one of the little group volunteered to do so.
“He’s a desperate chap,” ventured one; “and as he’s above he’s going to have us at a disadvantage. I don’t care to tackle him alone, I allow.”
“Bah!” retorted Boggs, “you are a coward.”
He shirked the undertaking himself, however.
“Perhaps it would be safer for three to go up,” he said a minute later. “Can the dog have mistrusted our plan?”
“Hark! what was that?” exclaimed one of the soldiers as a loud crash from within the house broke the stillness of the night.