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How a man could live in the United States, and not feel an interest in the stirring events which were transpiring around him, was beyond his comprehension. In one word, he so thoroughly despised Joe Burnap, that he resolved, at the first convenient opportunity, to get rid of him, for he did not feel safe in the company of such a person.
"Come here, Joe Burnap, or you are a dead man," repeated the soldier, who evidently had some scruples about depriving the infant Confederacy of an able-bodied recruit. Tom Somers, being unembarrassed by any such scruples, lifted himself up from his hiding place, and hurled the stone upon the soldier, fully expecting to hit him on the head, and dash out his brains.
Get what you can to eat, and come along." In ten minutes more, Tom and Joe Burnap were travelling towards the mountains. Joe Burnap was perfectly familiar with the country, and Tom readily accepted him as a guide; and, as they had a common object in view, neither had good cause for mistrusting the other.
Burnap was led to declare, in a very interesting course of lectures which he delivered before the Lowell Institute a few years since, that he considered the first characteristic difference between the highest species of animals and the lowest race of man to be a capacity of science. But is not the whole edifice of human science built upon the simple faculty of comparison?
"My orders are not to return without you, and I shall obey them." Mrs. Burnap, who had followed the soldier out of the house, stood behind him wringing her hands in an agony of grief. She protested with all a woman's eloquence against the proceedings of the soldier; but her tears and her homely rhetoric were equally unavailing.
The names of some of them are Daniel Burnap, Thomas Harland, Eli Terry, Eli Terry, Junior, Silas Hoadley, Seth Thomas, and Chauncey Jerome. Harland was an expert from London and had a hand in training a goodly number of American apprentices, among whom the elder Terry was one. The career of the latter man reads like a fairy tale.
"What ye going to do, Joe Burnap?" demanded the latter, after waiting a reasonable time for the other to make up his mind. "What am I gwine to do?" repeated Joe, vacantly, as he glanced to the right and the left, apparently in the hope of obtaining some suggestion that would enable him to decide the momentous question. "You needn't look round, Joe; you've got to come or be shot.
Of course it was impossible to pass through under these circumstances, and he again took to the woods. The scanty supply of food which he had purchased from Mrs. Burnap was now produced, and he made an economical breakfast. Finding a secluded place, he stretched himself upon the ground, and went to sleep. Though he slept till the sun had passed the meridian, the day was a very long one.
He was perplexed at the discovery, and at once began to debate the question whether it was advisable for him to proceed any farther in this direction. "I suppose you are a Union man ain't you?" said Tom, after he had considered his situation for some time. Instead of answering this question, Joe Burnap raised his eyes from the ground, and fixed his gaze intently upon Tom.
"Halt!" shouted the soldier, as he brought his musket to his shoulder. "Your name is Joe Burnap." "That's my name, but I don't want nothin' o' you," replied the embarrassed militiaman, as he dropped the stones with which he had intended to assault Tom's citadel. "I want something of you," replied the soldier. "You must go with me. Advance, and give yourself up." "What fur?" asked poor Joe.
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