"I am a soldier," I replied, rather shortly, not particularly pleased with either the man's appearance or manner. "Myself and horse are about worn out. I mistook this for a deserted cabin."
"Wal, it ain't precisely. Are you Confed?"
"Of course—no Yank would be along this pike."
"I ain't so blamed sure o' thet. Whar be ye bound? an' whut may ye be up to a travelin' alone?"
I smiled, endeavoring to retain my temper.
"See, here, friend," I returned shortly. "I have as much reason to ask you such questions as you have me. However, I am willing enough to answer. I am on furlough, and am going home across the mountains to see my folks."
"Whar to?"
"Over Beckley way."
"The hell ye are! Don't ye know the Yanks are all through the kintry now? They'll gobble ye up afore ever ye git to New River."
"Oh, I reckon not—I know that section, and where to hide out. That is why I am going back there now. Do you know Raleigh County?"
The man, who was now standing upright in the doorway, one hand gripping the barrel of a musket, the early morning light on his withered face, stared unwinkingly into my eyes.
