"Very well, indeed," he replied, smiling at her eagerness. "He was raised on this plantation and never knew any other master than me until that day at Rouse's Bridge."
"Why, that is the very place my brother captured him. I remember the name now that you mention it!" she exclaimed.
"Is it anything surprising," said he, "that the day I lost him should be the day he captured him?"
"No—not exactly—but then"—she paused in confusion as she glanced at the empty sleeve which was pinned across his breast.
"Yes," said he, noticing her look, "I lost that there," pointing to the empty sleeve as he spoke; "and though it was a sore loss to a young man who prided himself somewhat on his physical activity, I believe I mourned the horse more than I did the arm."
"But my brother—" she began with a frightened look into his face.
"Well, he must have been in my immediate vicinity, for Satan was the best-trained horse in the squadron. Even after I was dismounted, he would not have failed to keep his place in the ranks when the retreat was sounded, unless an unusually good horseman were on his back."
"My brother said he had as hard a struggle with him then as he had with his rider before," she said, looking shyly up.
"Indeed! I am obliged to him," he responded with a smile. "The commendation of an enemy is always pleasant to a soldier."
"Oh, he said you were terribly bloodthirsty and rode at him as if nothing would satisfy you but his life," she said, with great eagerness.