“What are you doing here?” she asked in a whisper.
“I am about to be fed against my will,” he answered, with a grin. “The young lady insisted that I must be taken care of. She met me on the road and would have it that I come here and be stuffed, although I told her I needed nothing.”
“Then why did you come?” demanded Dorothea.
“Because if I had been too insistent she would have been suspicious,” he answered. “I venture to think that there are not many Rebel soldiers, wounded as badly as I am, who would protest at being taken care of by a charming young lady. And I don’t want to be shot, you know. I’ve more important matters to attend to.”
His voice was low but there was a reckless boyishness about it that contrasted strangely with his appearance.
“But why are you in this part of the country at all?” Dorothea demanded again. She was worried about him, for, having helped to save him once, she thought it a useless risk that he should run his head into the lion’s mouth again.
“I am on my way South to warn our troops,” he replied soberly. “And I haven’t much time either. The Johnny Rebs are preparing a secret expedition against the forces Sherman left at Savannah. It’s a very pretty plan, and, unless I get through, it will make trouble for us. I know the country and volunteered to carry the word. I wanted to see you and the charming little lady who helped me before, but I did not believe I should be lucky enough to meet you, as I couldn’t risk stopping at the house. I would be miles on my road now, if it hadn’t been for this zealous young lady. I shall have to run half the night to make up for it.”
He laughed quietly and looked down at his crutch.
“We did not know whether you had gotten away safely or not,” Dorothea replied. “We didn’t hear a word about it.”
“Didn’t that Irishman tell you?” Stanchfield asked, in surprise.