Campbell laughed. "Noted, Kirby. We'll see that you desperate Rebs get all that's comin' to you."
"Now that, Cap'n, is jus' what I'm afraid of. We git all that's comin'—that sounds a right smart better!"
"Company ahead, Cap'n!" The trooper who had suggested this action, indicated a man walking down the drive to meet their cavalcade.
"That's Mr. McKeever." Drew identified their host for Campbell.
But the captain was already moving ahead to meet the older man. He touched fingers to kepi—a neat blue kepi—in a smart salute.
"Chivers, Captain, Eleventh Ohio, sir. We'd like to make our noon halt here if you'll grant permission."
Thomas McKeever beamed. "No reason not, suh. Take your men over in the orchard, Captain. We can add a little something to your rations. Glad, always glad to entertain our boys." His attention wandered to the score of "prisoners" in the center of the troop.
"Prisoners, Captain?"
"Some of Morgan's horse thieves." Campbell glanced back at the shabby exhibit. "You've heard the news, of course, sir? We smashed 'em proper over at Cynthiana—"
"You did? Now that's good hearin', Captain. It deserves a regular celebration; it surely does. Morgan smashed! Was he taken too? Next time I trust they'll put him in something stronger than that jail you Ohio boys had him in last time; he's a slippery one."