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Updated: June 12, 2025
"Oh, if you were you wouldn't say so. You'd let on to be looking for good crossings on Pearl River, so that if Johnston should get chewed up we needn't be caught here in a hole, Ferry's scouts and all." The pair looked at each other behind my neck for full ten seconds.
The thing unknown to us was that already his fate was entangled with Ned Ferry's and Charlotte Oliver's, as yet more it would be, with theirs and ours, in days close at hand. Once more we were in the by-road which had brought us westward parallel with the highway. The prisoner drove. Aunt Martha sat beside him, slim, dark, black-eyed, stately, her silver-gray hair rolled high a la Pompadour.
At home Lady Ferry's vagaries were carelessly spoken of, and often smiled at; but I gained the idea that they disguised the truth, and were afraid of my being frightened.
"Nonsense!" muttered both men, and I liked them the better. "My dear Smith," said Miss Rothvelt, "keep your trust. But if I part here with these two kind gentlemen " "Who don't belong to Ferry's scouts at all," I still more sweetly added.
He kept me with him at Hazlehurst for two days, to help him and the post-quartermaster get everything ready to be moved and saved if our cavalry should be driven east of the Jackson Railroad. But it was not, and by and by we were sundered and I went and became at length in practical and continuous reality one of Ferry's scouts minus Ferry.
He had not had much good fortune in his administration. M. Ferry's colonization schemes had cost great sums of money and had led to jealousies and disputes with foreign nations. French finances had become embarrassed.
There were several men about it, including Sergeant Jim and Kendall, which two had come from Quinn, and having just been in the ambulance, at Ferry's side, were now remounting, both of them openly in tears. "Hello, Kendall." "Hello, Smith." He turned sharply from me, horse and all. "Good-morning, sergeant, is Lieutenant Ferry worse?"
"Good-evening," replied the nearer man. "How far is it to camp Austin's?" "A short three miles." "To what command do you belong?" he asked. "Ferry's scouts. What command is yours, gentlemen?" "Ferry's scouts." He scrutinized me. "What command do you say you " "Ferry's scouts," I repeated. "F-e-r-r-y-apostrophe s, Ferry's s-k-o-w-t-s scouts." The trio laughed, the young woman most musically.
On the front of the last the shadow of a deeply absorbed writer showed through the canvas, and Ferry murmured to me "The ever toiling." It was Scott Gholson. I had heard the same name for him the evening before, from her whose own lovely shadow fell so visibly and so often upon the bright curtain of Ned Ferry's thought. My leader went in while I held our horses.
"All about it?" She was answering Ferry's question. "Why, I don't need to tell you. You know, without having been there, exactly how things went." "More or less, probably. Was it very hot?" "Stifling! How could it be anything else on an August night? Janet vows her fingers burned on the keys. But she played beautifully, of course, and the bishop had a little interval of being glad he was there.
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