"Keep to the right and you'll be right," answered the youth, after a pause, and then he resumed his fishing.
The man scowled darkly as he leaped again into the saddle. "How I would love to warm you—if I had time," he muttered, then put spurs to his steed and galloped off.
"So he is going to Tanner's Mill," mused the boy, when left alone. "If they have a fight there it will be getting pretty close to home. I don't believe mother will like that."
As will be surmised from the scene just described, Jack Ruthven was a manly, self-reliant boy, not easily intimidated by those who would browbeat him.
He lived in a large mansion, set back some distance from the river, upon what was considered at that time one of the richest plantations in South Carolina.
Mrs. Ruthven was a widow, having lost her husband, Colonel Martin Ruthven, at the bloody battle of Gettysburg. She had one daughter, Marion, a beautiful young lady of seventeen. Marion and Jack thought the world of each other and were all but inseparable.
The sudden taking-off of the colonel had proved a great shock both to the children and to Mrs. Ruthven, and for a long time the lady of the house had lain on a bed of sickness, in consequence.
She was now around, but still weak and pale. Her one consolation was the children, and she clung to them closer than ever.
On several occasions Jack had spoken of enlisting as a drummer boy, but Mrs. Ruthven would not listen to it.
"No, no, Jack! I cannot spare you!" had been her words. "One gone out of the family is enough."