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Updated: June 1, 2025
Uncle Jeb said it would be a good idea for us to paint the pictures of our patrol animals on the doors and scratch off the numbers, because the way it is now, the cabins all look as if they had automobile licenses, and he said Daniel Boone would drop dead if he saw anything like that Cabin B 26. Good night!" "Daniel Boone is already dead!" shouted Peewee.
He fought until the limber chests were empty and there came an imperious message from Jeb Stuart, "Get back from destruction, you infernal, gallant fool, John Pelham!" The guns across the river and the blue field batteries steadily shelled for half an hour the heavily timbered slopes beyond the railroad. Except for the crack and crash of severed boughs the wood gave no sign.
Come right over here, Jeb, an' spring yur secret now that John hes split his'n to the fam'ly!" Jeb scuffled his feet and sheepishly hung his head. One foot unconsciously stirred the yolks of the broken eggs. But Sary was not a woman to stand for such shyness when it cast reflections on her ardent manner in which she described how Jeb rose to the bait temptingly hung before his very nose.
Don't expect me before that, but if I should show up on a surprise raid, don't drop dead. I may go over the top some fine day and drop in on you like a hand grenade. Are you there all alone? Write me again and let's get acquainted. I'd send you a photo, only I gave my girl the last one I had. So long, BILLY BARNARD, Scoutmaster. Uncle Jeb smoked his pipe leisurely, listening to this letter.
"God!" muttered a brigadier-general under his white moustache; "it's been a bitter pill to swallow this raid around our entire army by fifteen hundred of Jeb Stuart's riders and two iron guns!" The half dozen lancers, lying on their bellies in the grass on the bank above the road where this discussion took place remained crimson, mute, paralysed with mortification.
Scouting for Jeb Stuart was not the easiest work in the world, nor the safest, but Mosby appears to have enjoyed it, and certainly made good at it. It was he who scouted the route for Stuart's celebrated "Ride Around MacClellan" in June, 1862, an exploit which brought his name to the favorable attention of General Lee.
Yet if you should ask old Uncle Jeb Rushmore, beloved manager of the big scout camp, about these two scout heroes, a shrewd twinkle would appear in his eye and he would refer you to the boys, who would probably only laugh at you, for they are a bantering set at Temple Camp and would jolly the life out of Daniel Boone himself if that redoubtable woodsman were there.
Brewster and the girls laughed at his intensity, but Jeb's face lighted up with relief, while Sary's clouded with doubt. Then Jeb led the horses away, and a happy whistle sounded from his lips as he marched towards the barn. And Sary stood looking after his receding form as if she was seeing her future happiness vanish, also. The weary riders went indoors, and after Mrs.
"That new mustache which gives you such a romantic air. Your new uniform, very gallant. You look like one of those Imperial Hussars or something. And your Telly interviews. By a stretch of chance, I saw one of them the other day. That master of ceremonies seemed to think you are the most dashing soldier since Jeb Stuart." Joe said to the waiter, "Champagne, please."
Brewster while John rode beside Jeb. The two latter riders had much to say to each other, for John had been Jeb's particular charge when the hired man first went to work at Pebbly Pit. Now John was a head taller than his erstwhile guardian, even if he was much the younger.
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