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I have seen hounds, and I know how they appreciate a nice little man hunt." Watson smiled grimly. Macgreggor walked silently to one of the windows, opened the sash just a crack, and listened. He could hear nothing but the downpour of the rain. Yet it would not be long before the Vigilants dashed up to the house.
"We've had enough of prison life," said Macgreggor, in a calm, even voice, "and we are going to leave you. Now give up the keys, and keep very quiet, or you'll find " "Keep off!" cried the jailer, as he tightened his hold on the bunch of keys. He was about to call for help, but Watson placed his left hand over the man's mouth, and with his right clutched the unfortunate's throat.
"Don't go into heroics," he said, pushing Macgreggor away as though he were "shoohing" off a cat. "You know I would promise anything, and the second your backs were turned I'd give the alarm. You don't think I would be fool enough to see you fellows walking away without making a trial to get you back?" Macgreggor hesitated, as he looked at George and Watson.
At last he gave a faint exclamation of satisfaction, and stole back to his own room. Waggie, who was now lying on the bed, moved uneasily. George lighted a candle and examined the plastered wall which ran between his room and the one where the unconscious Watson and Macgreggor were gently snoring.
Two of these guards were quickly disarmed. But the other two, seeing the oncoming of the prisoners, ran out of the gate of the picket fence, uttering loud cries as they went. Their escape was entirely unexpected. The general prisoners now came tumbling into the yard, headed by Watson and Macgreggor. Watson, warned that there was no time to lose, had released his hold upon the astonished jailer.
Looking behind them they saw the meagre form of Hare standing in the kitchen doorway. He held a rifle in his right hand. The kitchen fire made him plainly visible. "Pretty good aim, old boy," shouted Macgreggor, "considering you could hardly see us. But I can see you plainly enough." As he spoke he drew his revolver. Hare was already putting the rifle to his shoulder, preparing for another shot.
"You fellows are taking a pretty long journey to serve the South," remarked Mr. Hare at last, in a nasal tone sadly at variance with the customary soft Southern cadence. "Can he suspect us?" thought Watson. The same thought went through the mind of Macgreggor, but he merely said: "We are nearly at our journey's end now. By to-morrow we will be in Chattanooga."
Then Macgreggor seized the keys, after a sharp but decisive struggle, and hurried into the hallway, where he began to release the general prisoners. He quickly unlocked in succession the doors of the three other rooms on the second floor.
"We are three Kentuckians from Fleming County on our way to enlist in Chattanooga," spoke out Macgreggor, in a voice which seemed to have the ring of truth in it. "Can we spend the night here, so that we can cross the river in the morning?" The expression of the woman, which had at first been one of surprise and irritation at being stopped in her work, softened immediately.
He had hardly had a chance to adjust the gun, however, before he dropped it with a cry of pain and ran into the house. A bullet had come whizzing from Macgreggor, and struck the farmer in his right arm. "Just a little souvenir to remember me by," laughed the lucky marksman. "Hurry up!" cried Watson. "To-morrow night we must be in Marietta.
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