The Raid of the Guerilla | Page 2

pizened her husband, an' they kep' her in jail a consider'ble time--a senseless thing ter do ter jail her, ter my mind, fur he war a shif'less no-'count fool, an' nobody but her would hev put up with him ez long ez she did. The jedge an' jury thunk the same, fur they 'lowed ez she war crazy--an' so she war, ter hev ever married him! They turned her loose, but she never got another husband--I never knowed a man-person but what was skittish 'bout any unhealthy meddlin' with his vittles."
She paused to count the stitches on her needles, the big shadow of her cap-ruffles bobbing on the daubed and chinked log walls in antic mimicry, while down Ethelinda's pink cheeks the slow tears coursed at the prospect of such immurement.
"Jes' kase I showed a stranger his path----"
"An' two hundred an' fifty mo'--spry, good-lookin' youngsters, able to do the rebs a power o' damage."
"I war 'feared they'd git capshured. That man, the leader, he stopped me down on the bank o' the creek whar I war a-huntin' of the cow, an' he axed 'bout the roads out'n the Cove, an' I tole him thar war no way out 'ceptin' by the road he had jes' come, an' a path through a sorter cave or tunnel what the creek had washed out in the spur o' the mounting, ez could be travelled whenst the channel war dry or toler'ble low, an' he axed me ter show him that underground way."
"An' ye war full willin," said Mrs. Brusie, in irritation, "though ye knowed that thar guerilla, Ackert, hed been movin' heaven an' earth ter overhaul Tolhurst's command before they could reach the main body. An' hyar they war cotched like a rat in a trap."
"I was sure that the Cornfeds, ez hed seen them lope down inter the Cove, would be waitin' ter capshur them when they kem up the road agin--I jes' showed him how ter crope out through the cave," Ethelinda sobbed.
"How in perdition did they find thar way through that thar dark hole?--I can't sense that!" the old man suddenly mumbled.
"They had lanterns an' some pine-knots, grandad, what they lighted, an' the leader sent a squad ter 'reconnoitre,' ez he called it. An' whilst he waited he stood an' talked ter me about the roads in Greenbrier an' the lay o' the land over thar. He war full per-lite an' genteel."
"I'll be bound ye looked like a 'crazy Jane,'" cried the grandmother, with sudden exasperation. "Yer white sun-bonnet plumb off an' a-hangin' down on yer shoulders, an' yer yaller hair all a-blowsin' at loose eends, stiddier bein' plaited up stiff an' tight an' personable, an' yer face burned pink in the sun, stiddier like yer skin ginerally looks, fine an' white ez a pan o' fraish milk, an' the flabby, slinksy skirt o' that yaller calico dress 'thout no starch in it, a-flappin' an' whirlin' in the wind--shucks! I dun'no' whut the man could hev thought o' you-uns, dressed out that-a-way."
"He war toler'ble well pleased with me now, sure!" retorted Ethelinda, stung to a blunt self-assertion. "He keered mo' about a good-lookin' road than a good-lookin' gal then. Whenst the squad kem back an' reported the passage full safe for man an' beastis the leader tuk a purse o' money out'n his pocket an' held it out to me--though he said it couldn't express his thanks.' But I held my hands behind me an' wouldn't take it. Then he called up another man an' made him open a bag, an' he snatched up my empty milk-piggin' an' poured it nigh full o' green coffee in the bean--it be skeerce ez gold an' nigh ez precious."
"An' what did you do with it, Ethelindy?" her mother asked, significantly--not for information, but for the renewal of discussion and to justify the repetition of rebukes. These had not been few.
"You know," the girl returned, sullenly.
"I do," the glib grandmother interposed. "Ye jes' gin we-uns a sniff an' a sup, an' then ye tuk the kittle that leaks an' shook the rest of the coffee beans from out yer milk-piggin inter it, an' sot out an' marched yer-self through the laurel--I wonder nuthin' didn't ketch ye! howsomever naught is never in danger--an' went ter that horspital camp o' the rebels on Big Injun Mounting--smallpox horspital it is--an' gin that precious coffee away to the enemies o' yer kentry."
"Nobody comes nor goes ter that place--hell itself ain't so avoided," said Mrs. Brusie, her forehead corrugated with sudden recurrence of anxiety. "Nobody else in this world would have resked it, 'ceptin' that headin' contrairy gal, Ethelindy Brusie."
"I never resked nuthin," protested Ethelinda. "I stopped at the head of a bluff far off, an' hollered down ter 'em in the clearin' an' held up the kittle. An'