Then you'll see
our money becoming real."
The man shook his head.
"Seein' will be believin'," he said, "an' as I ain't seein' I ain't
believin'."
Dick with a friendly good night went out. Grant, the persistent, was
still at work. His cannon flared on the dark horizon and the shells
crashed in Vicksburg. Scarcely any portion of the town was safe.
Now and then a house was smashed in and often the shells found victims.
The town was full of terror and confusion. Many of the rich planters
had come there with their families for refuge. Women and children hid
from the terrible fire, and the civilians already had begun to burrow.
Caves had been dug deep into the sides of the ravines and hundreds found
in them a rude but safe shelter.
Dick now found that his plans were going wrong. He could wander about
almost at will and to any one to whom he spoke he still claimed to be a
Tennesseean, but he knew that it could not last forever. Sooner or later,
some officer would question him closely, and then his tale would be too
thin for truth.
Unable to make a way toward the river, he returned to the slopes and
ravines, where they were digging the caves, and then fortune which had
been smiling upon him turned its face the other way.
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