"Colonel Morrison," responded the Southerner, "you are certainly a man of ideas."
He waited for his foe to fill his own cup, then raised his in a toast:
"I drink to the health, sir, of you and yours. Here's hoping that some day I may take you prisoner!"
At the quizzical look of surprise in the other's face Cary's voice almost broke.
"I mean, sir, it's the only way I could ever hope to show you how much I appreciate—"
He stopped and covered his face with his hands, not a little to his daughter's alarm.
"Come, come, old chap," the Northerner said bluffly, tapping him on the shoulder. "Brace up. It's the fortunes of war, you know. One side or the other is bound to win. Perhaps—who knows—it may be your turn to-morrow. Well, sir—here goes. May it soon be over—in the way that's best and wisest for us all.
"Now, Virgie," he went on, when the toast had been drunk, "while I wash these cups suppose you go on another voyage of discovery through the magic knapsack for some sugar for the coffee."
He watched her fling herself impetuously on the knapsack. "If you find any Yankee spoons—put them under arrest. They haven't any pass like yours."
Then he turned to Cary: "Have any trouble on the road as you came along?"