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Updated: May 17, 2025
"Stick to your story about our being Kentuckians, and say nothing imprudent that may arouse suspicion. Remember! we must be in Marietta by to-morrow night." The meeting at Marietta had, at the very last moment, been postponed by Andrews from Thursday night to Friday night. "It is well he did postpone it," thought Macgreggor; "we are far enough from Marietta as it is."
At last, when Waggie and his master were both feeling cold, and hungry, and forlorn, there came a welcome cry from the brakeman: "Marietta! All out for Marietta!" In a short time the passengers for Marietta had left the train. Watson, Jenks and Macgreggor were soon in a little hotel near the station, which was to be the rendezvous for Andrews and his party.
He seems to be a very good-natured fellow, though he is so big and old." Macgreggor was a private pupil of the Doctor's, who had lately come to prepare for Cambridge. He was a good specimen of a Highlander, who had never before been south of the Tweed.
The three Northerners who listened so anxiously at the doorway could already detect the sound of voices. "There's but one thing for us to do," quickly murmured Watson. "We must stay in this cabin." "But they won't pass the place by," urged Macgreggor. "If they know it to be deserted by a tenant this is the very reason for their looking in to see if we are hiding here.
"This heavy iron club is, you see, to knock the ball out of a rut, which would very likely cause the fracture of one of our wooden clubs. Now you understand all about the matter. Follow me; I'll tell you what to do when Macgreggor is not near; otherwise, though he is playing against us, he will advise us what to do." The ball was thrown up, and the game began. Macgreggor had the first stroke.
Watson, Macgreggor and George looked at one another, as if trying to fathom the cause of their peculiar reception at the hands of Farmer Hare. But each one silently decided that their only cue was to be as polite as possible, and refrain from any altercation with their host.
The man suddenly stopped snoring, turned his body from one side to the other, and then started up in the bed, in a half-sitting posture. "Macgreggor! Mac!" whispered George; "it's I, George Knight. Don't speak loud." "Where on earth are you?" asked the newly-awakened sleeper, in a startled voice. "Never mind where I am," answered George. "Only don't make a noise.
He had been having a walk, with a daughter of the jailer, and one of the negro servants had taken him up-stairs and unlocked the door. The next moment the key was turned; the prisoners were again shut in from the world. "Poor little Waggie," said Macgreggor. "Is he going too?" "I've taken him through too much to leave him behind now," said George fondly. "Look. This is as good as a kennel."
Watson beckoned to his two companions, and told them what the boy suggested. "We will be taking our lives in our hands," said Jenks, "but anything is better than being delayed here." "Besides," added Macgreggor, "although the river is pretty mischievous-looking, I don't think it's any more dangerous than waiting here." Jenks took out his watch, and looked at it.
The servant lighted a kerosene lamp that stood on a centre table, and then shuffled down to the office. Macgreggor lifted the lamp to take a survey of the room. "Take a good look at those beds, fellows," he said, with a grim chuckle; "it may be a long time before you sleep on such comfortable ones again. For if we come to grief in this expedition "
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