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"Deserters, I don't doubt!" was my comment to the ladies. Tongue revenge is poor, but it is something.

The young ladies were in rapture. Miss Harper asked how he had done it.

"That will do. Now, beyond Fayette, about seven miles north, there's a place--"

"It's twenty miles off; why are you not with it? What are you doing here?"

No, he would not; only wagons went that way, to cross the creek by a small bridge. I could cut off nearly two miles by taking the bridle-path that turned sharply down into the thick woods of the creek-bottom about a quarter of a mile from the house and crossed the stream at a sandy ford. "Ride round," he said, "and I'll show you from the front of the house."

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