Part 10 (1/2)

”That's about as good as any place,” answered the Confederate, pointing across the street. ”Where you see the two lights burning.”

”Thank you.”

”Welcome.” He pulled the coat about his face again and disappeared into the storm.

Tom crossed the street to spend his first night behind the Confederate lines.

CHAPTER SEVEN

IN MARIETTA

Tom awoke dazed from twelve hours of sleep. For a moment he could not remember where he was; then it flashed across his mind. In Chattanooga! He sprang from bed, dressed and went downstairs. It was late, but the proprietor of the hotel gave him breakfast, after some grumbling about people who had nothing to do but sleep.

The train from Marietta did not leave until two o'clock, and as the hotel clock had just struck ten, Tom began to wonder what he should do with himself. For a half-hour he sat in the hotel watching the people who pa.s.sed in and out. The sight of so many young men in civilian clothes rea.s.sured him, for it meant that there was less chance of being questioned by the military authorities. Finally he went out to the street. The rain had stopped, and the sun was struggling through the clouds.

There were crowds of civilians and soldiers upon the narrow sidewalks, and through the streets lumbered the heavy wagons of the Southern army. Tom walked along slowly, scanning the faces of the people he pa.s.sed, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brown. Finally he reached the station.

A train had just come in, and the station was crowded with pa.s.sengers, struggling out with the bags and packages, and townspeople who had come to get the news. Tom listened closely to the chatter. The train was from Memphis and had pa.s.sed over the line which Mitchel was about to attack. There was no suggestion of excitement or activity along the route. Then the news of Mitchel's movement had not advanced before him, thought Tom. To him, that was the best news in the world. Mitchel's plans were successful.

He followed the crowd from the station and once again began wandering about the streets. Not far away was a big shed labeled Commissary Department. The army wagons were backed up to a loading platform, and Confederate soldiers were busy transferring boxes of supplies. By this time Tom had lost the first sense of strangeness at being in the enemy country, and so he went over to watch the soldiers work.

Presently it was noon, and time for dinner. He returned to the hotel.

There, sitting apart from the others at one end of the long table, were Brown and his companion! They glanced at him, and then continued eating. It dawned upon Tom that while he knew Brown, Brown did not know him. He took a seat opposite them.

”How d'you do?” said Tom.

Brown and the other man nodded, but did not speak.

”Just traveling through?” asked Tom.

”Yes,” said Brown.

”Where are you from?” Tom's manner was casual and friendly.

”Kentucky,” answered Brown.

”Oh, is that so? Coming through to enlist?”

”Yes.”

”Whereabouts in Kentucky do you hail from?” persisted Tom.

”Fleming County.”

”Well, that's good news! I'm from Fleming County myself. Let's see, I think I remember you. Your name is Brown, isn't it?” Brown's eyes were wide; the other man's jaw was drooping. ”Surely I remember you,” continued Tom. ”You're a locomotive engineer, aren't you? I presume you'll be running a locomotive here in the South. We need engineers.”

Brown was speechless; his companion was rising from the table.

”That's all right,” said Tom. ”Sit down! I'm Burns. We met at the same place last Monday night, Brown.”