“Mrs. Brennan!” Although the disclosure was not altogether unexpected, I could not help echoing the name.
“Certainly,” in sudden surprise, and glancing aside at my face. “Can it be possible that you know her? Not more than twenty, I should say, with great clear, honest eyes, and a perfect wealth of hair that appears auburn in the sun.”
“I had the privilege of meeting her once or twice briefly while in Sheridan's lines,” I answered hurriedly “and have reason to indorse all you say regarding the lady, especially as to her dislike of everything clad in gray uniform. But the men appear to be straggling somewhat, Lieutenant; perhaps it would be as well to brace them up a bit.”
I rode slowly forward to my own position at the head of the troop, wondering at the strange coincidence which had placed Edith Brennan's name upon Colgate's lips. Her memory had been brought back to me with renewed freshness by his chance words, and so strongly did it haunt me as to be almost a visible presence. As I swung my horse into our accustomed position I was too deeply buried in reflection to be clearly conscious of much that was occurring about me. Suddenly, however, I became aware that some one, nearly obscured by the enveloping cloud of dust, was riding without the column, in an independence of military discipline not to be permitted. In the state of mind I was then in this discovery strangely irritated me.
“Sergeant,” I questioned sharply, of the raw-boned trooper at the end of the first platoon, “what fellow is that riding out yonder?”
“It's ther pesky little cuss as come in with ye yesterday, sir,” he returned with a grin. “He's confiscated a muel somewhar an' says he's a goin' back hum 'long o' we uns.”
Curious to learn how Jed had emerged from his arduous adventures, I spurred my horse alongside of him.
The little man, bending forward dubiously, as if fearful of accident, was riding bareback on a gaunt, long-legged mule, which, judging from all outward appearances, must have been some discarded asset of the quartermaster's department. The animal was evidently a complete wreck, and drooped along, dragging one foot heavily after the other as if every move were liable to be the last, his head hanging dejectedly, while his long ears flopped solemnly over the half-closed eyes at each step. Altogether the two composed so melancholy a picture it was with difficulty I suppressed my strong inclination to laugh.
“Going home, Jed?” I asked, as he glanced up and saw me.
“Jist as durn quick as I kin git thar,” he returned emphatically. “By gum, Cap, I ain't bin 'way from Mariar long as this afore in twelve year. Reckon she thinks I've skedaddled fer good this time, an' 'ill be a takin' up with some other male critter lest I git back thar mighty sudden. Women's odd, Cap, durn nigh as ornary 'bout some things as a muel.”