john stockton mitchell and ness

"Who--o?" It was not one who asked; the whos came like shrapnel; and when, not knowing what else to do, I smiled as one dying, there went up a wail of mirth that froze my blood and then heated it to a fever. The company howled. They rolled over one another, crying, "Charlie Toliver!--Charlie Toliver!--Oh, Lord, where's Scott Gholson!--Charlie Toliver!"--and leaped up and huddled down and moaned and rolled and rose and looked for me.

"Oh I was forgetting that; yes, do!"

"Oh--I--just don't feel as if I could, that's all."

"He told you?--Ah! you're only guessing," I said, and saw that I was helping her to guess more correctly.

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