MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
them back, unwilling to permit Daniels to suspect I felt any special interest in the girl. Little by little I was beginning to comprehend I was being drawn into a feud older than the war, and more bitter, the right of which—if any right there was—was extremely doubtful; but my sympathies were more inclined toward the side of Jean Denslow than toward this grim, savage mountaineer. The duty of the night grew complicated, and I must watch closely to prevent private revenge overcoming soldierly purpose. I glanced toward O'Brien, who was riding carelessly behind, whistling merrily, one leg flung over the pommel of his saddle. He would care little what happened, so there was sufficient excitement to make his blood dance, and he had been Daniels's partner long enough to side with him in case of emergency. Now that I began dimly to understand the circumstances I wished I had chosen another man.
The sun had been down an hour when the three of us ride out beyond the picket line, heading directly across the upper portion of the narrow valley occupied by Dunn's plantation toward the range of bare hills beyond. I could perceive no evidence of a trail, but Daniels evidently knew the way in the dark, and we followed his guidance without questioning. To me this silent advance into danger was more exciting than battle; yet I was young enough, possessing sufficient of the spirit of adventure, to enjoy the exhilaration and feel glad that I was there.
Scarcely a word was spoken among us, except when Daniels halted occasionally to point out some difficulties
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