She asked, "How
was the Captain wounded? No one wrote of how it happened."
"Well, missy, he would ride a horse called Hoodoo--it was just the bad
luck of that brute done it." Josiah's account was graphic and clear
enough. John Penhallow's character lost nothing as interpreted by Josiah.
"It was a dangerous errand, I suppose."
"Yes, Miss Leila. You see, when they know about a man that he somehow
don't mind bullets and will go straight to where he's sent, they're very
apt to get him killed. At the first shot he ought to have tumbled off and
played possum till it was dark."
"But then," said Leila, "he would have been too late with General Parke's
message."
"Of course, Master John couldn't sham dead like I would.--I don't despise
bullets like he does. Once before he had orders to go somewhere, and
couldn't get across a river. He was as mad as a wet hen."
"A wet hen--delightful! Did he do it?"
"Guess you don't know him! When Master John wants anything, well, he's a
terrible wanter--always was that way even when he was a boy--when he
wants anything, he gets it."
"Indeed! does he? I think he is waiting for you, Josiah."
The black's conclusive summary hardened the young woman's heart. She sat
a while smiling, then took up a book and failed to become interested.
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