And their pride, lifting them for a brief moment from the pitiful squalor
of their lives, seemed such a fine thing to Tom that he hoped they would
never know of the mistake they had made. He glanced back and saw them still
watching, silent and motionless.

When the procession had come to a spot where it was hidden both from the
shanties and the road, Wilson spoke:

"Sergeant, I'd like to have a word with you."

"All right," answered the Sergeant. "What is it?"

"Alone, I mean," answered Wilson. "It's important. I'm not trying to
escape. It's so important that I can't let the rest of your men hear it."

"You men stand by these two prisoners while I hear what the reb has to
say," ordered the Sergeant. "Come over here."

Wilson went to the Sergeant and talked earnestly for several minutes. The
Sergeant watched him narrowly, frowning. A few of Wilson's words drifted
over to the others; "...not asking you to take my word ... to some person
of authority ... not lose a minute about it...." The Sergeant was visibly
impressed. He tilted his cap and scratched his head; shifted his weight
from one leg to another; stroked his whiskers. Finally, after a brief
discussion, they came to a decision.

"This man and I are going to take the wagon," announced the Sergeant. "We
have to get to Wartrace as quick as we can. You others 'll have to walk.
It'll take too long if we all ride--too much of a pull for the horses."