Part 31 (1/2)

And now began a dreary time for Jeanne. Cold looks greeted her on every side. The old, pleasant, cheery companions.h.i.+p with Bob was no more. She missed even the tiffs they had had, and longed with a pa.s.sionate yearning for home and friends. The march to Jackson would have been a pleasant one as it led through the autumn woods which shone through a silvery mist amid spicy breezes which blew cool and keen from the heart of the pines, had it not been for the manner in which she was treated.

No one paid the least attention to her comings and goings. Indeed it seemed to her that Colonel Peyton would gladly welcome the fact of her disappearance, and so she grew into the habit of riding a little apart from the others and sometimes of loitering considerably in the rear of the cavalcade. It had been the original intention that she go in the wagon with Bob, but under the altered conditions a horse had been given her while Bob rode in front with her father.

The afternoon of the second day out Jeanne dropped behind the regiment, for she was very tired, intending to wait for the wagons and to ask the drivers to let her rest for a while in one of them. A bend of the road hid the regiment from view. The wagons were far in the rear and for the time she was alone.

”Jeanne,” came her name in low tones from the underbrush at the side of the road.

Jeanne drew rein quickly and looked wonderingly about her. She saw nothing and thinking that she had imagined the call, she started to go on, when it came again.

”Jeanne! Jeanne! Wait a moment.”

Pale and trembling the girl stopped, and then to her astonishment d.i.c.k came breathlessly though the undergrowth.

”d.i.c.k!” she cried. ”Oh, d.i.c.k!”

”I have waited and watched for this chance ever since I left the camp,”

cried the lad. ”Come with me, Jeanne. You have no business with these rebels.”

”But Colonel Peyton----” began Jeanne.

”Come,” cried d.i.c.k seizing the bridle of her horse. ”I do not understand why you are here, but it is no place for you. I will take you home.”

”Will you, d.i.c.k?” asked the girl joyfully, preparing to dismount.

”Don't get off the horse. We will need him. I don't know just where our men are, and we may have a long distance to go.”

”But he is not ours,” objected Jeanne, whose residence among soldiers had not been long enough to render her conscience elastic on this point.

”Yes, he is,” answered d.i.c.k. ”The Government confiscated all the property belonging to the Johnnies long ago, and I guess this horse comes under that act. I am only doing my duty in taking the animal.”

”Do you think so?” asked Jeanne, dubiously.

”Certainly, I do,” and the lad led the horse away from the road into the thicket. ”I thought I was going to have lots of trouble to get you away from those people,” he said, when they were a safe distance.

”They don't care anything about me,” said the girl, sadly. ”O d.i.c.k, I've had such a time!”

”There! There!” d.i.c.k drew her head against his shoulder caressingly.

”It's all over now. I'll take care of you. But tell me, Jeanne, how in the world did you come down here in this benighted country? I left you safe at home in New York and find you here. How did it happen?”

”I thought that perhaps father had written,” and Jeanne looked up through her tears.

”No; I have not heard from the folks for quite a while, but we have been on the march, and I was taken prisoner. I know that there are letters for me somewhere.”

”Then I will begin at the beginning,” said Jeanne, stroking his hair tenderly. ”Oh, d.i.c.k, it is so good to be with some one who belongs to me!”

CHAPTER XXIII

RECAPTURE