We were almost back to the jail with our second load, and I was just beginning to think we might pull this off, when Uncle Wiggens wandered into the street.
'Who there?' he called out, his words slurred.
Emma ducked behind a tree, but I didn't move fast enough. 'Is that you, Dit?'
I nodded. Something was strange about him.
'What you doing out so late at night?' he asked.
'Nothing.' I figured out what was strange. 'Where's your leg?' I asked. His leg ended at the knee and he was hopping along on one leg and his cane.
'Left it at home,' said Uncle Wiggens. 'Always do when I'm sleepwalking. My daughter warned me about drinking a whole bottle of whiskey in one sitting. But I was never one to let a woman tell me what to do.'
'Yeah. Me neither.'
'Well,' said Uncle Wiggens, 'I'd best get on home before I wake up.'
'Yeah.'
'Being without my leg and all.'
'That would be embarrassing.'
'Sure would. Sure would.' Uncle Wiggens mumbled to himself as he wandered off. 'General Lee always said, if you ain't got all your supplies, don't ride into battle. Course he meant bullets, but he wouldn't have liked us going off without our legs neither. Course most of us have our legs buttoned on, but...
