MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
"O' course it is; I saw that back yonder, an' he don't never wigwag without thar's reason fer it, thet boy."
We met at the edge of a ravine, our horses jerked back sharply.
"What is it, O'Brien?"
He waved his hand backward. "There's a house down there in the hollow, without nobody livin' in it, just a shack of a place, but Oi thought maybe Oi bether look inside afore Oi went by; an thar's a dead man lyin' there: Oi had to push the body aside to get the door open."
"A soldier?"
"Naw; one o' Daniels's sort, Oi reckon."
"Killed?"
"Shot through the head."
I spurred my horse around the end of the ravine, Daniels keeping close at my heels. Apparently he needed no guide, for, as we drew up to where O'Brien waited, the old scout pressed straight forward up a cleft in the ridge, and, with a nod to the boy, I followed silently.
The house, a rude log affair with dilapidated lean-to, occupied a little hollow, partly overgrown with underbrush, and was not easily discernible against the brown background of the hills. The ridge cleft, however, led almost directly to the door, which stood ajar. Daniels swung down from the saddle and disappeared within. Following I found him bent above the prostrate figure of a man, lying upon its back, a haggard face, covered by a straggly iron-gray beard, staring with sightless eyes up into the black shadows of the rafters. The light was dim, being merely that which streamed in through the
[ 98 ]
