CHAPTER IX.
THE REBEL AND THE YANKEE.
Bill Baker was awake at last, and from his hiding-place had seen Capt. Carleton and Isaac disappear beneath the trees in the distance.
“They are goners,” he muttered to himself, “Won’t that snap dragon of a widow be mad, though, when she hears how they’ve got Ike. Poor Ike, I’d help him if I could, but ’taint no use interferin’ now,” and with this reflection, Bill turned his attention toward the stranger, watching him for several minutes, first to decide his politics, and second, to calculate his probable strength. The soldier was at least a head taller than Bill, who nevertheless far exceeded him in strength of muscle and power of endurance.
“I can manage him,” was Bill’s contemptuous comment, and feeling in his pocket for the strong cord Rose Mat
