r a-huntin' of the cow, an' he
axed 'bout the roads out'n the Cove. An' I tole him thar war no way out
'ceptin' by the road he had jes' come, an' a path through a sorter cave
or tunnel what the creek had washed out in the spur o' the mounting, ez
could be travelled whenst the channel war dry or toler'ble low. An' he
axed me ter show him that underground way."

"An' ye war full willin'," said Mrs. Brusie, in irritation, "though ye
knowed that thar guerilla, Ackert, hed been movin' heaven an' earth ter
overhaul Tolhurst's command before they could reach the main body. An'
hyar they war cotched like a rat in a trap."

"I was sure that the Cornfeds, ez hed seen them lope down inter the
Cove, would be waitin' ter capshur them when they kem up the road
agin--I jes' showed him how ter crope out through the cave," Ethelinda
sobbed.

"How in perdition did they find thar way through that thar dark hole?--I
can't sense that!" the old man suddenly mumbled.

"They had lanterns an' some pine-knots, grandad, what they lighted, an'
the leader sent a squad ter 'reconnoitre,' ez he called it. An' whilst
he waited he stood an' talked ter me about the roads in Greenbrier an'
the lay o' the land over thar. He war full perlite an' genteel."

"I'll be bound ye looked like a 'crazy Jane,'" cried the grandmother,
with sudden exasperation. "Yer white sun-bonnet plumb off an' a-hangin'
down on yer shoulders, an' yer yaller hair all a-blowsin' at loose
eends, stiddier bein' plaited up stiff an' tight an' personable, an' yer
face burned pink in the sun, stiddier like yer skin ginerally looks,
fine an' white ez a pan o' fraish milk, an' the flabby, slinksy skirt o'
that yaller calico dress 'thout no starch in it, a-flappin' an' whirlin'
in the wind--shucks! I dun'no' _whut_ the man could hev thought o'
you-uns, dressed out that-a-way."

"He war toler'ble well pleased with me now, sure!" retorted Ethelinda,
stung to a blunt self-assertion. "He keered mo' about a good-lookin'
road than a good-lookin' gal then. Whenst the squad kem back an'
reported the passage full safe for man an' beastis the leader tuk a
purse o' money out'n his pocket an' held it out to me--though he said it
'couldn't express his thanks.' But I held my hands behind me an'
wouldn't take it. Then he called up another man an' made him open a bag,
an' he snatched up my empty milk-piggin' an' poured it nigh full o'
green coffee in the bean--it be skeerce ez gold an' nigh ez precio