"'Ho! Southrons, hark how one brave lad
Three Yankee standards——'"
"Captured!" cried the Major. "That's it; why, my sakes! Hold on, Jeff-Jack, I'll be with you in just a minute. Why, I know it as—why, it rhymes with 'cohorts enraptured!'—I—why, of course!—Ah! Jeff-Jack it was hard on you that the despatches got your name so twisted. It's a plumb shame, as they say." The Major's laugh grew rustic as he glanced from Jeff-Jack, red with resentment, to Judge March, lifted half out of his seat with emotion, and thence to the child, still gazing on the young hero of many battles and one ballad.
"Well, that's all over; we can only hurry along home now, and——"
"Ah! President Garnet, is it all over, seh? Is it, Mr. Jones?"
"Can't say," replied Jeff-Jack, with his down-drawn smile, and the two pairs went their opposite ways.
As the Judge loped down the hot turnpike after his distant wagon, his son turned for one more gaze on the young hero, his hero henceforth, and felt the blood rush from every vein to his heart and back again as Mr. Ravenel at the last moment looked round and waved him farewell. Later he recalled Major Garnet's offer of his daughter, but:
"I shall never marry," said John to himself.