“You wish to see me?” the colonel asked. “You say you have Big Harp’s head?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Come this way.” He led the boys out of hearing of the sentry. “You will pardon me, Governor,” he added to the young gentleman with him, “but this is the fourth time that Big Harp’s head has come to me within the year. If a patriot had as many heads to give for his country as an outlaw has to have offered for ransom, our enemies would never come to the end of them. What proof have you, young sir, and, in faith, who are you that you wear a scalp-lock with a civil tongue? Your garments bespeak the arksman from Kentucky, but your head looks as if it might be forfeit, like our friend’s here.”
“Aye, sir, it came near being,” said Jimmy, smiling; “and to him, at that. But since it had to be the one or the other, I’m glad to have had it as it is.” He began fumbling with the leather thong that tied the bag he carried.
“Oh, not so fast,” expostulated the colonel. “It’s an ill sight to sup on. Governor Claiborne, here, would be offering a ransom for the return of his appetite. Let it wait until to-morrow.”
“Governor Claiborne?” repeated Jimmy. He looked with astonishment on the young gentleman in black.
The governor looked back at him in some amusement. “Well,” said the governor, briskly, “what is it? I assure you there’s no ransom just at present on my head, that you should covet it.”
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Jimmy, hastily. “I was surprised. My name is Claiborne.”
“The devil it is!” said the governor. “You do me too much honor. And what’s the beginning of it? I didn’t know there were any head-hunters amongst our family. Where are you from?”
“From Ohio,” said Jimmy. “We came from Virginia. Uncle Amasa, my grandfather, is descended from William Claiborne.”