She ran quickly up to Ned, her eyes dancing with excitement:
"For de Lawd's sake, honey, don't you boys go up dat road no fudder!"
"Why, Mammy?" he asked with a smile.
"Lordy, chile, dey's thousan's, an' thousan's er Yankees des over dat little hill dar—dey'll kill every one er you all!"
"I reckon not, Mammy," Ned called, hurrying on.
She ran after him, still crying:
"For Gawd's sake, come back here, honey—dey kill ye sho!"
She was calling still as Ned disappeared beyond the cabin into the woods redolent now with the blossoms of chinquepin bushes and the rich odors of sweet shrub.
They climbed the little ridge on whose further slope lay an open field, and caught their first view of Howard's unsuspecting division. They halted and sent their couriers flying with the news to Jackson.
Ned looked on the scene with a thrill of exultation and then a sense of deepening pity. The boys in blue had begun to bivouac for the night, their camp fires curling through the young green leaves. The men were seated in groups laughing, talking, joking and playing cards. The horses were busy cropping the young grass.