Lincoln, the unknown

LINCOLN THE UNKNOWN • 227The end was drawing near now. It came three days later.Booth had not gotten far. He had ferried across the Rappahannockat Port Royal, in the company of three Confederatecavalrymen returning from the war, had ridden one of theirhorses three miles farther South, and, with their help, had thenpalmed himseif off on a farmer, saying that his name was Boydand that he had been wounded in Lee's army near Richmond.And so for the next two days, Booth stayed at the Garrettfarm-house, sunning himself on the lawn, suffering from hiswound, consulting an old map, studying a route to the RioGrande, and making notes of the road to Mexico.The first evening he was there, while he sat at the suppertable, Garrett's young daughter began babbling about the newsof the assassination, which she had just heard through a neighbor.She talked on and on, wondering who had done it and howmuch the assassin had been paid for it."In my opinion," Booth suddenly remarked, "he wasn't paida cent, but did it for the sake of notoriety."The next afternoon, April 25, Booth and Herold werestretched out under the locust trees in the Garrett yard, whensuddenly Major Ruggles, one of the Confederate cavalrymenwho had helped them across the Rappahannock, dashed up andshouted: "The Yanks are crossing the river. Take care of yourself."They scurried away to the woods, but when darkness fellthey stole back to the house.To Garrett, that looked suspicious. He wanted to get rid ofhis mysterious "guests" at once. Was it because he suspectedthat they might have shot Lincoln? No, he never even thoughtof that. He imagined they were horse-thieves. When they said atthe supper table that they wanted to buy two horses, his suspicionsgrew, and when bedtime came, and the fugitives, thinkingof their safety, refused to go upstairs and insisted on sleepingunder the porch or in the barn—then all doubt was removed.Garrett was positive now that they were horse-thieves. Sohe put them in an old tobacco warehouse that was being usedthen for storing hay and furniture— put them in and lockedthem in with a padlock. And finally, as a double precaution, theold farmer sent his two sons, William and Henry, tiptoeing outin the darkness with blankets, to spend the night in an adjoiningcorn-crib, where they could watch and see that no horseswere whisked away during the night.