Smoke was rising from the chimney,
and Captain Markham felt sure that they could obtain information from
its inmates. Dick, at his direction, beat on the door with the butt of
a small riding whip. There was no response. He beat again rapidly and
heavily, and no answer coming he pushed in the door.
A fire was burning on the hearth, but the house was abandoned. Nor
had the owners been gone long. Besides the fire to prove it, clothing
was hanging on hooks in the wall, and there was food in the cupboard.
Captain Markham sighed.
"Again they're afraid of us," he said. "I've no doubt the signal has
been passed ahead of us, and that we'll not get within speaking distance
of a single native. Curious, too, because this region in the main is
for the North."
"Perhaps somebody has been robbing and plundering in our name," said
Dick. "Skelly and his raiders have been through these parts."
"That's so," said Markham, thoughtfully. "I'm afraid those guerillas
who claim to be our allies are going to do us a great deal of harm.
Well, we'll turn back into the road, if you can call this stream of icy
mud a road, and go on."
Another mile and they caught the gleam of water among the wintry boughs.
Dick knew that it was the Cumberland which was now a Southern artery,
bringing stores and arms for the army of Crittenden and Zollicoffer.
Even here, hundreds of miles from its mouth, it was a stream of great
depth, easily navigable, and far down its current they saw faintly the
smoke of two steamers.
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