"You live in this neighborhood?"
"Yes, about twenty miles south of where we are now. Shall I tell you what I am doing here?"
I bowed, eager to learn although I had not been brash enough to inquire.
"You have been wondering all night," carelessly. "If you had asked I should have refused to answer, but will now reward your remarkable patience with a full confession. I am going to take quinine back to our hospitals. I won't tell you where I am going to get it," a bit defiantly, "although I am not afraid you would try to stop me."
"Certainly not; why should I?"
"There are plenty of Yanks who do; the last messenger was shot by your raiders, and the whole consignment lost. He was my cousin; that is why I am trying what I can do--the boys need it so badly. If you are an honorable soldier you will not interfere with a work of mercy."
"An honorable soldier!" I exclaimed, stung by the words. "Do you question that?"
"Not until after daylight came, and I noticed how you were clothed," and her eyes lost all gleam of humor. "I respect a scout, but despise a spy."
My cheeks flamed, as I realized what she meant--the tattered gray jacket, buttoned tightly, and concealing my blue blouse. In swift disgust I wrenched it open, and flung the garment into the road.
"I had entirely forgotten I had the thing on," I explained hastily. "Don't condemn until you hear my story. You will listen, will you not?"