Courage, and hope, my boy;" and almost
carrying Harold, Duncan hurried to the door of the hut.
Pushing it open, and seeing an old negro inside, "Cato, Caesar----"
"Uncle Scip, sah," grinned the negro.
"Well, no matter for the name; will you help us? We're Federal soldiers
just escaped from Andersonville, and they're after us with bloodhounds.
Can you tell us of anything that will put the savage brutes off the
scent?"
"Sah?"
"Something that will stop the hounds from following us--quick, quick! if
you know anything."
The negro sprang up, reached a bottle from a shelf, and handing it to
Harry, said, "Turpentine, sah; rub um on your feet, gen'lemen, an' de
hounds won't follah you no moah. But please, sahs, go little ways off into
the woods fo' you use um, so de rebs not tink dis chile gib um to ye."
Harry clutched the bottle, throwing down a ten-dollar bill (all the money
he had about him) at Uncle Scip's feet, and dragging Harold some hundred
yards farther into the depths of the wood, seated him on a log, applied
the turpentine plentifully to his feet, and then to his own.
All this time the baying of the hounds came nearer and nearer, till it
seemed that the next moment would bring them into sight.
"Up!" cried Harry, flinging away the empty bottle, "one more tug for life
and liberty, or we are lost!"
Harold did not speak, but hope and fear once more inspiring him with
temporary strength, he rose and hurried on by the side of his friend.
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