They stopped only long enough to be assured that communication with Washington was still open, then started on the last stage of their journey, keeping a sharp lookout, since it was not impossible that at almost any moment they might be saluted by a volley of musketry, or thrown headlong over an unseen hiatus in the rail.
"Seems to me we are getting over the ground at a tearing pace," remarked one of the passengers in a lazy drawl. "For my part, I don't know but I'd as lief stand my chance of a minie-ball as run the risk of being knocked into railroad-pi. A slug is a neat thing; but these smash-ups are likely to injure a fellow's personal appearance."
"There they are!" exclaimed an other, who had been watching through a glass ever since they left Baltimore. "I should guess that there's only a score of cavalry; but they may have more behind. Do you see? Just over the hill. It's a pretty even thing which of us reaches the crossing first. Not above a mile ahead, is it?"
He of the drawl, a cavalry captain, turned to Margaret. "Do you object to fire-arms, ma'am?" he asked, in much the same tone of voice he would have used in asking if she objected to cigar-smoke.
"Not when there is need of them," she replied.
He pulled a beautiful silver-mounted revolver out of his pocket, and carefully examined the barrels.
"This has been like a father to me," he said with great tenderness. "It's all the family I have. The barrels I call my six little sisters. Each one has a name. They've got pretty sharp tongues, but I like the sound of 'em; and they always speak to the point. Jennie is my favorite—see! her name is engraven, with the date—ever since she helped me out of a hobble at Ball's Bluff. I was playing cat and mouse with a fellow there, he with his rifle aimed, waiting to get a shot at something besides my boot or the end of my beard, and I hanging on the off-side of my horse, clinging to saddle and mane. I was brought up on horseback, and have spent a good part of my time scouring over the Southwest, Missouri, Texas, and thereabouts; but of course I couldn't hang there for ever. Well, just as I was thinking that I should have to drop, or straighten up and take my slug like a man, I managed to spare a finger and thumb, and got Paterfamilias here out of my belt. Where can one better be than in the bosom of his family? says I. I didn't hurt the fellow much; I didn't mean to. When two men have been dodging and watching that way for some time, they get to have quite an affection for each other. I spoilt his aim, though; and I fancy that he will never be a very good writer any more."
"Aren't you sorry now that you came?" Mr. Lewis asked Margaret.
"No," she said brightly; "I feel as though we shall get through."