The lad was nearing his long journey’s end. In the distance were the mountains. A few miles further and Monticello would be visible. Over those mountains lay what seemed to the lad a great world. The life he had lived in it seemed like another life and Ahneota, little Louis, the Indian village and all, but the fancies of a dream. Sometime he would go back there.
When he saw the familiar house a thought came to 290 his mind, and he wondered it had not come sooner. Would he find them as he had left them, mother, and ’Omi, and Zeb, and Mam, and Thello?
For an instant he almost feared to go on. Ah, there was Mam, waddling across from house to shed, probably going to call Thello from his favourite seat in the sunshine on the sheltered side of the building. The door opens and his mother runs out. She has seen him riding up, and she cries: “Rodney, my boy!” and throws her arms about his neck, standing on tiptoe, for he is tall.
“Only one arm left for hugging, Mother. This is the only badge I bring back from the war,” and he pointed to his arm in the sling, adding, as he notes her alarm, “it’s nothing serious. How are you all?”
“All well and happy now you are back, all save poor old Thello, who’s very miserable, but sight of you will make him forget his aches, I’m sure. Why, Rodney, where did you find Nat? Don’t you know me, Nat, or have they treated you so badly you’ve forgotten old friends?”
Naomi, now grown to a handsome girl, ran out and it was some minutes before quiet was restored. Then Rodney asked for Zeb.
“I sent him to Philadelphia. I learned a very dear friend of ours living there is in sore trouble, and I hope he will succeed in having her return with him.”
“Any one I know?”
“Some one you are much interested in. Your 291 friend, Captain Enderwood, who had been to Philadelphia to see her, came all the way to Charlottesville to tell us about her. He also told me how she was the one who had you released from prison and nursed you through your sickness while you were unconscious, and made herself sick in consequence.”
“You don’t mean––you can’t mean––”