Where did you come from? Did--did you escape from the--the Yankees?" The girl still stammered and trembled.
The three soldiers laughed. "No, m'm. No, m'm. They never cotch us. We was in a muss down the road yere about two mile. And Bill yere they gin it to him in the arm, kehplunk. And they pasted me thar, too. Curious, And Sim yere, he didn't get nothing, but they chased us all quite a little piece, and we done lose track of our boys."
"Was it--was it those who passed here just now? Did they chase you?"
The men in grey laughed again. "What--them? No, indeedee! There was a mighty big swarm of Yanks and a mighty big swarm of our boys, too. What-- that little passel? No, m'm."
She became calm enough to scan them more attentively. They were much begrimed and very dusty. Their grey clothes were tattered. Splashed mud had dried upon them in reddish spots. It appeared, too, that the men had not shaved in many days. In the hats there was a singular diversity. One soldier wore the little blue cap of the Northern infantry, with corps emblem and regimental number; one wore a great slouch hat with a wide hole in the crown; and the other wore no hat at all. The left sleeve of one man and the right sleeve of another had been slit, and the arms were neatly bandaged with clean cloths. "These hain't no more than two little cuts," explained one. "We stopped up yere to Mis' Leavitts--she said her name was--and she bind them for us. Bill yere, he had the thirst come on him. And the fever too. We----"
"Did you ever see my father in the army?" asked Mary. "John Hinckson-- his name is."
The three soldiers grinned again, but they replied kindly: "No, m'm. No, m'm, we hain't never. What is he--in the cavalry?"
"No," said the girl. "He and my uncle Asa and my cousin--his name is Bill Parker--they are all with Longstreet--they call him."
"Oh," said the soldiers. "Longstreet? Oh, they're a good smart ways from yere. 'Way off up nawtheast. There hain't nothing but cavalry down yere. They're in the infantry, probably."
"We haven't heard anything from them for days and days," said Mary.
"Oh, they're all right in the infantry," said one man, to be consoling. "The infantry don't do much fighting. They go bellering out in a big swarm and only a few of 'em get hurt. But if they was in the cavalry-- the cavalry--"
Mary interrupted him without intention. "Are you hungry?" she asked.
