“How ridiculous; how supremely ridiculous! Why, of course I will, though I don't suppose Edith really cares very much, but she believed it would be highly proper to be shocked. I don't think she likes you so very well anyway, Captain Wayne, for she never will talk about you.” With these cheering words ringing in my ears, and feeling thoroughly defeated in every cherished hope, I strode savagely down the long hill and mounted my horse. How roughly fortune had buffeted me, to be sure, and how extremely small the inspiration left. Well, perhaps I deserved it for ever permitting myself to love one whom I knew to be the wife of another. Doubtless she had seized upon this slight pretext to be rid of me, and was already rejoicing over its easy accomplishment. In my agitation I forgot entirely the presence of Maria Bungay at the house, and ordering my men into saddle prepared for departure without giving a thought to the little fellow and his domestic troubles. I chose the road leading toward the northwest, for although I had not asked the question I conceived it highly probable that Brennan and his party would ride from the Federal cavalry quarters at Colter's Church, and I had no desire to meet them. They were upon an errand of mercy of far greater importance than my revenge. As we swung along through the heavily timbered land fringing our road, Bungay pressed his mule into a trot and finally succeeded in ranging up at my side. Even in my disturbed mental condition I was amused at his unique style of riding, although I would not wound him by laughing. “I say, Cap,” he said, jerking the words out to the mule's hard trot, and grasping his saddle pommel desperately, “I sorter reckon as how ther'll be some fun back thar afore long, 'less all signs fail.” “Why?” I stared at him, now thoroughly aroused to the thought that he had important news to communicate. “Wal,” he explained slowly, “whin ye wint off, I sorter tuk a notion ter look 'bout a bit. Used ter be an ol' stompin' ground o' mine. So Dutchy an' me clumb thet big hill back o' whar we halted, an' by gum, down thar in ther gully on t' other side thar's a durned big camp o' fellers.” I reined up short, and with uplifted hand signalled the men behind to halt. “Why didn't you tell me this before?” I questioned sternly. “How many were there? and what did they look like?” He scratched the back of his head thoughtfully, and answered with careful deliberation. “Durn it, I didn't jine ye till after ye'd started, an' I reckon as how it took me all o' tew mile ter git this yere blame muel up ter whar I cud talk. Thar's quite a smart bunch, but they hed some pickets out, an' I cudn't git close 'nough ter tell zackly. Dutchy thought thar wus nigh onter two hunderd o' 'em, but I jist don't know. They wusn't dressed like sojers o' either army, an' I reckon they're out o' ther hills.”