and have a talk.”
We looked at each other, then at the Johnnie Reb
. There were two of us with two clubs, and, so far as we could see, only one rebel, and he a cripple; so we came out. The negro came riding back, and we asked him what it meant.
He looked frightened, but said, “I know this man; his father raised me. He fought, but he never wanted to fought.”
The rebel said it was not safe to stay there, but designated a place where he could meet us; he mounted the horse behind the negro, and we went through the woods.
Arriving at the place designated, we saw our Johnnie jumping and coming all sorts of gymnastic performances.
We demanded an explanation; he said, “I am as sound a man as there is in the Confederacy
I was slightly wounded at Atlanta
, and was sent to guard your boys at Andersonville
I saw them starved to death and swore that if ever I could help one get away I would.
Now is my chance, and I'll be dog-goned if I don't do it.”
He was a typical rebel in every respect, a regular Georgia
cracker; hair long, high cheek bones, tall and slim, but he talked well and appeared earnest.
After the negro had turned out the horse he came to us and he and the rebel talked over the situation.
The trouble was what to do with us now we were with them.
Johnnie suggested taking us home; the negro said it would not do, as his wife's sister would betray us; but Enos
(his name was Enos Sapp
) said the Yankees
had her husband a prisoner and he reckoned she would be mighty glad if some one would help him. They talked over all the chances of the rebels finding us. We listened with much interest.
At last Enos
said, “Gentlemen, I am going to take you to my house; it may make a row, but I am boss of my own ranch.”
Being in his hands, we could do nothing but go