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"Who?" I cried. "What! You don't mean to say--was that Lieutenant Ferry?"

"Oh, if you were you wouldn't say so. You'd let on to be looking for good crossings on Pearl River, so that if Johnston should get chewed up we needn't be caught here in a hole, Ferry's scouts and all."

A plague on names! But I was not done with them yet. We met other scouts coming out of the east, who also gave reports and went on westward, sometimes through the trackless woods. At a broad cross-road which spanned the whole State from the Alabama line to the Mississippi River stood another sergeant, with three men, waiting. They were the last.

"Why, yo' name is Smith, to be sho'! I thought you was jest a-tryin' to chaw me. Why, Major Harper alludened to you not mo'n a half-ow ago. Why, Miz Wall! oh, Miz Wall!"

"No, not so easy; but those fellows are Arkansans, and they're in a bad humor with me."

"No, sir."

Old Dismukes rose. "Good-night. Shall I send this boy that Yankee's horse?"

"Cruel to you?" I took her hand from my arm and held it.

"Well, I reckon I'll stop all night." I began to move on. His eyes followed greedily.

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