“But he is not ours,” objected Jeanne, whose residence among soldiers had not been long enough to render her conscience elastic on this point.
“Yes, he is,” answered Dick. “The Government confiscated all the property belonging to the Johnnies long ago, and I guess this horse comes under that act. I am only doing my duty in taking the animal.”
“Do you think so?” asked Jeanne, dubiously.
“Certainly, I do,” and the lad led the horse away from the road into the thicket. “I thought I was going to have lots of trouble to get you away from those people,” he said, when they were a safe distance.
“They don’t care anything about me,” said the girl, sadly. “O Dick, I’ve had such a time!”
“There! There!” Dick drew her head against his shoulder caressingly. “It’s all over now. I’ll take care of you. But tell me, Jeanne, how in the world did you come down here in this benighted country? I left you safe at home in New York and find you here. How did it happen?”
“I thought that perhaps father had written,” and Jeanne looked up through her tears.
“No; I have not heard from the folks for quite a while, but we have been on the march, and I was taken prisoner. I know that there are letters for me somewhere.”
“Then I will begin at the beginning,” said Jeanne, stroking his hair tenderly. “Oh, Dick, it is so good to be with some one who belongs to me!”