Jute shook him and adjured him to get up,
saying, "I years quar soun's comin' dis way."
When satisfied that their victim could make no resistance, Jute and
companions pretended to start away in terror. Perkins tried to
implore them to remain, but his lips seemed paralyzed. A few moments
later a strange group entered the cottage--five figures dressed in
Federal uniforms, hands and faces white and ghastly, and two
carrying white cavalry sabres. Each one had its finger on its lips,
but Perkins was beyond speech. In unspeakable horror he stared
vacantly before him and remained silent and motionless. The ghostly
shapes looked at him fixedly for a brief time, then at one another,
and solemnly nodded. Next, four took him up and bore him out, the
fifth following with the jug. At the door stood an immovably tall
form, surmounted by a cavalry hat and wrapped in a long army
overcoat.
"Leftenant Scoville!" gasped Perkins.
The figure, as if the joints of its back were near the ground, made
a portentous inclination of assent and then pointed with another
white sabre to the hill, leading the way.
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