CHAPTER VIII.
A dim, murky morning it was that dawned on Sandbrook the following day. I had spent the livelong night at the station. The missing train came unheeded, soon after Colonel Summers on "Billy's" horse loped off into the northern darkness. I had sent a dispatch to Amory, care of Department Headquarters in New Orleans. "Billy" had hospitably invited me to share his humble breakfast, made most relishable though by the steaming coffee "cooked" army fashion in a battered old pot with a reliable lid. I had noted with respect and with pleasure the fine picture of General Lee hanging over the narrow mantel, and the battered old cavalry sabre beneath it; and was beginning to ask myself how I could best employ the day until evening train-time, when the rapid beat of hoofs and the familiar rattle of the carriage-wheels sounded in my ears.
"Hyar they come," said "Billy." "I knew they would."
Even before we could reach the platform, the carriage had whirled up there and Harrod sprang from the box-seat.
"That freight gone by yet, Billy?"
"The freight! Lord, no! Colonel, you're not going to take Miss Summers that way?"
"It hasn't gone, dear," he quickly spoke to the silent inmate of the carriage. "But it's due how soon?" turning again to his friend.
"Ten minutes, colonel, and on time, too, if you're bound to go by her."
"By all means. We may strike something at Corinth; if not, we'll go on to the Junction." Then with lowered voice, "Anything is better than waiting at such a time. We'd better get them out, I think."
Them! Who could be there? thought I, for up to this time I had thought best not to intrude. Now I stepped forward as he opened the carriage-door, and with light, quick spring out popped Kitty.