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"If yer'll not object, Cap'n," said Lincoln, addressing me in a whisper, "I'd rayther go 'ithout kump'ny. Thar ain't two men I'd like, in a tight fix, better'n Rowl and Chane; but I hev done a smart chance o' trackin' in my time, an' I allers gets along better when I'm by myself." "Very well, Sergeant; as you wish it, go alone. We shall wait for you."
I need not describe our mutual pleasure at meeting, which was more than shared by my wife, who had often made me detail to her the exploits of my comrades. I inquired for Chane. The Irishman, at the breaking up of the "war-troops", had entered one of the old regiments, and was at this time, as Lincoln expressed it, "the first sargint of a kump'ny."
"Mahs' Junius," she exclaimed, "Miss Rob's orful sick wid her back an' her j'ints, an' she say she can't see no kump'ny folks, an' Mahs' Robert he done gone away to see ole Miss Keswick. I jes run down h'yar to tell you to hurry up." Keswick started. "Where did you say your Master Robert had gone?" "To ole Miss Keswick's. He went dis mawnin'."
Raising myself on the instant, I could see a greenish-looking object just disappearing over the spur of a ridge. It was a vidette, who had fired and run in. "Do you think they are any of our people?" "That 'ar's one of our kump'ny, Cap'n; I seed the green on his cap," said Lincoln. I galloped to the front. Twing was just detaching a small party to reconnoitre.
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