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, instantly suspicious.

“Now see here; you do know that country, and a bit too well for a man riding in the ranks.  Where did you come from?  Were you in the Confederate service?  Let’s have this straight.”

“Suah,” with frankness.  “I done tol’ de col’nel all how it was.  I was wid my Massa from Louisiana, an’ he was a captain, sah!  ’Bout two weeks ago he lef’ me down yander on de pike wid orders fo’ to stay dere till he done come back.  But it wa’n’t no job fo’ me, sah, an’ so I skipped out de first night, an’ joined up wid de Yanks.  I reckon I knows ’bout whar I belongs in dis yere fightin’, an’ I ain’t nobody’s slave no mor’.”

The lad’s earnestness impressed me, and beneath his words was evident a deep smouldering resentment, not so much against slavery as against the individual who had owned him.

“What is your name, my boy?”

“Charles Le Gaire, sah.”

CHAPTER XVI

A CALL TO DUTY

The family name was an uncommon one, and, coupled as it was with “Louisiana,” and the title “Captain,” could refer only to Gerald Le Gaire.  I wanted to question, the lad, but refrained, spurring my horse ahead so as to remove the temptation.  Even the little already said plainly revealed that he resented bitterly his position in life, and determined to remain no longer in slavery to his own father.  His father!  That would be Le Gaire!  The thought added fuel to the flame of dislike which I already cherished against the man.  Of course legally this former relationship between master and slave meant nothing; it would be considered no bar to legitimate marriage; perhaps to one brought up in the environment of slavery it would possess no moral turpitude even, yet to me it seemed a foul, disgraceful thing.  Whether it would so appear to Miss Willifred I could not even conjecture; she was of the South, with, all the prejudice and peculiarity of thought characteristic of her section.  Pure-hearted, womanly, as I believed her to be, this earlier alliance still might not seem to her particularly reprehensible.  Certainly it was not my part to bring it to her attention, or to utilize my knowledge of the situation to advance my cause, or injure Le Gaire.  Nor would I question the ex-slave further; I already knew enough, too much possibly, although curiosity was not dormant, and I wondered what had become of the mother, and from what special cause had arisen the intense hatred in the heart of the son.