“Well, then, I thought it was right.  There was an urgent call for men and strong public feeling.  I was at college.  I couldn’t see others go and not go with them.  I had no influence, no one to push my interests, so I simply enlisted, and am trying to push my way by extra services.  Now, Miss Baron, think for yourself a little.  Here we are, two young people thrown together by a strange chance.  We have been brought up differently, surrounded by different influences.  Even if you think me wrong, can you not believe that I’ve followed my conscience and lived up to such light as I had?  I can believe this of you.  I don’t wish you to think that we Yankees are monsters.  Do I look like a monster?  Why, Miss Baron, if I should live to be a hundred years I should regard a chance to do you a kindness as the best good-fortune that could befall me.”

As he spoke these words his face flushed, there was a slight quiver in his dark mustache, betokening deep, honest feeling, and his expression was one of frank admiration and respect.  She looked at him in silent wonder, and asked herself, “Can this be one of the Yankees of whom I have heard such horrible things?”

She began saying, “I am trying to think for myself, but I have been so shut out from the world that—­” when she was suddenly interrupted.  Chunk appeared and said, “Marse Scoville, des git up de ladder en shut de trap-do’ quicker’n lightnin’.  Miss Lou, kin’er peramberlate slow to’rd de house, des nachel like ez ef you ain’ keerin’ ’bout not’n.  Wash away, granny.  Play possum, ev’y one.”

Miss Lou had gone but a little way before Mad Whately joined her, having ordered his men to pass on before.  “Chunk,” he shouted, “take my horse and rub him well, or you’ll get rubbed down yourself.”

The openings under the eaves in Aun’ Jinkey’s cabin were so many and large that Scoville had fairly good opportunities for observing what was going on in the immediate vicinity.  In witnessing the meeting between Whately and Miss Lou he was conscious of a peculiar satisfaction when noting that her manner confirmed her words.  The dashing cousin evidently was not in favor.  “Well,” thought the scout, with a decisive little nod toward him, “were I a young Southerner, you’d have a rival that would put you to your best speed.  What a delicious little drawl she has in speaking, and how charmingly her consonants shade off into vowels!  I would be more readily taken for a Southerner than she, if I did not speak.  How blue her eyes are! and her fluffy hair seemed a golden halo when the sunshine touched it through the trees.  And then how unsophisticated her face and expression!  She is a lady from instinct and breeding, and yet she is but a sweet-faced child.  Well! well! it was an odd chance to be pitched to the feet of a girl like that.  Very possibly I’d be there again of my own free will should I see her often enough.”