"
Ahead of them a dog commenced to bark; then a door opened, and a man stood
looking out.
"Call your dog off," yelled Wilson.
"Who are you, and what do you want?" demanded the farmer. The dog continued
to bark, but he did not approach them.
"We're on our way to Wartrace," answered Wilson, "and we're lost in the
storm. Can you give us a place to sleep?"
"Are you soldiers?"
Wilson paused a moment, then answered, "No."
"Come on up here then, and let's look at ye," answered the farmer. "Here,
Shep, shut up that barking! Come here!"
They saw the dog curl up at its master's feet, and they went forward.
"How far are we from Wartrace?" asked Wilson, as they approached the door.
"'Bout two miles," answered the farmer. "Wait there, and I'll take a look
at ye." He reached to one side and took a lamp. Then, shielding his eyes
from the light, he held it up and glanced from one to the other. The dog
came toward them, whining and growling. "Shut up, Shep. All right--come on
in."
They entered the shanty. In one corner of the room a dilapidated stove was
glowing; in another corner there was a bed, made of rough boards, with a
pile of dirty bedding on the straw. A table and one chair completed the
furniture.
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