Search was made. Fall-leaf was found out by the camp-fire, undergoing the process of the lotion-cure for his wounds, at the hands of Madge, who was carefully washing the bruised and cut flesh of the red-man. All inquiries for Nettleton were fruitless; he was not to be found. It was ascertained, at length, that his horse also was gone. Many were the surmises as to the cause of his absence, and fears were expressed for his safety.
Morning came, and the party, now rejoined by the entire battalion, prepared to move, by easy stages, from the valley toward the line of march pursued by the retreating army. Captain Hayward was made quite comfortable in a camp-wagon, with his sister for companion and nurse. Fall-leaf pushed out far ahead to scout and secure the command from surprise. Adjutant Hinton and Wells were tireless in their devotion to the comfort and safety of their charge. It was a pleasant journey—that week of slow progress toward Tipton. At length, however, the village hove in sight. The white tents dotting the hills and valleys proved that the division was there. While yet a long way off, a party of horsemen, accompanied by ladies, was seen dashing off at full speed toward the spot where the battalion had halted for its noon bivouac. Wells caught sight of the party, and with his glass made out the gaunt form of Nettleton far in advance. Behind him on the same horse rode a female, whose identity the officer could not fix. Nearer and nearer the horsemen came, until, after an exciting race, they dashed into the camp—Nettleton and Sally Long! They were received with a wild huzza from the entire troop, and none shouted louder than Nettleton himself.
“Hooray! hooray! By the eternal jingo!” he cried, leaping from the horse, and leaving Miss Sally sitting there alone, before the eyes of the joyous and excited troops. Making his way to the captain’s “marquee”—as the men had named the wagon—he was welcomed by Hayward in a manner which quickly turned his servant’s joy to mourning, for the embrace of real affection bestowed quite upset Nettleton’s confidence.
“I’m nothin’ but a great darn skunk, any how!” he exclaimed, as, breaking away from the captain’s embrace, he started for his horse and the neglected Sally.
“Nettle be sick!”
He turned to behold Fall-leaf gazing upon him in mock compassion.
“Not by a danged sight, you infernal lump of glory!” he now shouted, as, clasping the Indian in his arms, he gave the red-man a hug which brought forth a grunt.
“Ugh! Nettle make Fall-leaf sick! Guess Nettle got full of Miss Sally now!”
“Yes, sar; and thar she is, in all her glory!” was the rejoinder, as the “body-guard” pointed, in evident pride, to the smiling woman.
“Gentlemen of the jury! let me present to you my wife—the dangdest sk— no, the most blissful woman you ever saw.”