their musket fire. Behind them was a grim
mass of infantry, silent and ominous, swinging forward like a huge
snake. The men of the Ninth straightened up, their eyes glowing, but it
was soon over with--the snake uncoiled, flinging a tail gleaming with
steel over the ridge, and the troopers sank back wearily into
their saddles.

As I turned again to glance over my shoulder I noticed a man riding at
the right of the second file. His face was new to me, and so peculiar
was it that I continued to stare, unable to determine whether the fellow
was white or colored. He was in private's uniform, but carried no arms,
and for head covering, instead of the hat worn by the Ninth, had an
infantry cap perched jauntily on his curly black hair. But his face was
clear, and his cheeks rosy, and he sat straight as an arrow in the
saddle. I drew back my horse and ranged up beside him, inspired by
curiosity. The eyes turned toward me undoubtedly betrayed negro blood.

"I do not remember seeing you before," I said, wiping the dust from my
lips. "Are you a new recruit?"

"I'se Col'nel Cochran's man," he answered, without salute, but with the
accent of education oddly mixed with dialect.

"Oh, I see--what has become of Sam?"

"He done took sick, an' de col'nel wanted a man right away, so he picked
me."

"Did you belong around here?"

"Well, no, not exactly belong round yere, but I'se travelled dese parts
some considerable. I was born down in Louisiana, sah."

"Not so very long ago either," I ventured, feeling a peculiar interest
in the fellow. "Were you a slave?"

His rather thin lips closed over his white teeth, and his fingers
gripped the saddle pommel.

"Yes,"--the word snapped out. "I'se nineteen, sah, an' my mother was a
slave. I reckon my father was white 'nough, but that don't count fo'
much--I'se a nigger just de same. Dat's bad 'nough, let me tell yo', but
it's worse to be yo' own father's nigger."

I had nothing to say to this outburst, feeling that back of it were
facts into which I had no right to probe, and we rode along quietly.
Then he spoke, glancing aside at me:

"Dey won't be no 'portant fightin' long yere, sah, not fo' 'bout ten
miles."

"How do you figure that out?"

"'Cause de lay ob de groun' ain't right, fo' one thing, an' 'cause all
de Confed intrenchments was back yander."

"Yonder--where?"

"In behind de log church at de Three Corners--done know dat country
mighty well."

I turned and faced him