Part 32 (1/2)

”You are so pale,” said Jeanne, touching him gently. ”Are you well, d.i.c.k?”

”Fine! Just need a good square meal to set me up all right,” answered the boy cheerily. ”I haven't had very much to eat since you girls set me free. Just what I could find in the woods. Herbs and wild grapes, and persimmons. I eat the green ones mostly.”

”But why?” asked Jeanne mystified. ”The ripe ones are ever so much better.

I like them now, although I didn't at first.”

”The green ones are best if you don't have much to eat,” rejoined d.i.c.k.

”They are fine to draw the stomach up to fit the supply. Say, Jeanne, don't you wish we had some of mother's doughnuts?”

”You poor, poor boy,” cried Jeanne laughing, but there were tears in her eyes. ”I wish we were where we could get them. Will the war last much longer, d.i.c.k?”

”I am afraid so,” was the lad's reply. ”The rebs have played the mischief this fall, and it looks as if all our work had to be done over again. Now, Jeanne, you go to sleep, or you won't be fit to travel to-morrow.”

”And what will you do?”

”Watch while you sleep. Never mind me. I am used to it. I have often stood guard, and can do it just as well as not.”

”I don't believe that anything will bother us, brother. I wish you would sleep too.”

”No,” said d.i.c.k st.u.r.dily, ”not now.”

Jeanne tried to obey him but sleep would not come to her. The dark pines were on all sides of them. The owls hooted dismally, and the chill wind sobbed and moaned fitfully in the pine trees. Presently d.i.c.k stooped over her.

”Are you cold, Jeanne?”

”Yes, d.i.c.k. And I can't sleep a bit. Can't we talk, or walk, or do something?”

”We will walk,” decided d.i.c.k. ”I think that the horse must be rested by this time. What is his name?”

”Robert E. Lee,” answered Jeanne in a hesitating tone fearing that d.i.c.k might not like the animal to be so called. ”Bob called him 'Rel' for short, and so do I because I don't like the full name.”

”Lee is a fine general,” commented d.i.c.k. ”If we had had him on our side to begin with, the war would have been over by this time. I hope the horse is worthy of his name. Take my hand, Jeanne, and we will start.”

Throwing the rein over his shoulder d.i.c.k guided himself by the stars and the brother and sister again took up their journey to the westward.

Slowly they proceeded, stopping occasionally to rest and picking their way carefully through the forest. At last, just at the break of day, they came to a clearing in the woods in which stood a cabin. The blue smoke curled invitingly from the chimney, and in the open door stood a venerable darky.

”It's darkies,” cried d.i.c.k joyfully. ”They will give us something to eat.”

They hurried forward. The old man stared at them as they approached him.

”Could you give us some breakfast, sir?” asked d.i.c.k. ”We are willing to pay well for it. We are Unionists.”

”'Meriky,” called the old man excitedly, ”hyar's two ob Ma.s.sa Link.u.m's folks wantin' sumthing ter eat. Yes, suh; k.u.m in, suh. We'll gib yer what we've got. k.u.m in!”

Gladly they entered. A bright looking colored woman surrounded by half a dozen pickaninnies of all ages and sizes from two to fifteen was busily preparing the morning meal. She bustled forward bowing and courtesying as they entered.

”k.u.m in an' welcome,” she said. ”Lawsie, you is one ob Ma.s.sa Link.u.m's sojers sho' nuff. Hain't neber seed one befo'. We all jest lubs Fadder Abraham, suh.”

”And the horse?” said d.i.c.k suggestively.

”Dat's all right, suh. Hyar, Geo'ge Was.h.i.+ngton! Done yer see de gem'man's hoss a stan'ing dere? Gib him sum fodder.”