"Dese is my missy's clothes! I sho weren't gwine let dem Yankees steal dem!"
"Didn't you save any of your own things?"
"Didn't have time ter git mine!"
They came to a guerilla camp. Men and horses were resting on either side of the road. Some of them were carrying water to their horses or to the women who cooked about their camp fires. The scene looked like a monster barbecue. These irregular troops of the South were friends in time of need to-day.
They crowded the road, asking for news and commenting freely on the shelling of the city.
A rough-looking fellow pushed his way to Jennie's cart.
"When did they begin firin'?"
"Just after breakfast."
Yesterday she would have resented the familiar tones in which this uncouth illiterate countryman spoke without the formality of an introduction. In this hour of common peril he was a Knight entering the lists wearing her colors.
He didn't mince words in expressing his opinions.