The
man who was driving was carrying on a grumbling monologue. You worked like
a dog, he said, to grow crops and then the government seized them to feed
to good-for-nothing soldiers. The only crops he'd grow this year would be
just enough for his own family. If the government wanted anything from him
the government would have to pay him in advance.
Not a word about the burnt bridges or the stolen train! Tom listened
eagerly. These people were coming from the direction of Ringgold, and
certainly they would be talking about the havoc the Yanks had raised--if
they knew of it. When the wagon had disappeared around the bend, Tom came
out on the road again. Until the news spread over the countryside he was
safe from interference.
After an hour's walking he came to a scattering of houses at a cross-roads.
Over one was a sign "General Store," painted in sprawling, uneven letters.
It would probably be his last chance before the chase began to buy the
things he needed. He opened the door and entered the dimly lighted store.
An old man came out from the back room.
"Good evening," said Tom. "I want to buy a shirt."
"Evenin'," replied the man. "Shirt? Well.... Shirt? Don't think I've ever
seen you before.
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