He was youngish,
stalwart and the look out of his blue eyes was fearless. He came
forward slowly, examining his visitor, and his manner was not altogether
hospitable. Harry decided that he had to deal with a difficult customer
but he had no idea of turning back.
"Good morning," he said politely.
"Good morning."
"I wish some breakfast and I will pay. I've ridden all night in our
service."
"You've so much dried mud on you that you look as if you'd been passin'
through a river."
"Correct. That's exactly what happened."
"But there's none on your horse."
"He didn't pass with me. I'm willing to answer any reasonable number of
questions, but, as I told you before, I ride on an important service.
I must have breakfast at once, and I'll pay."
"Whose service? Ours or Reb's?"
"A military messenger can't answer the chance questions of those by the
roadside. I tell you I want breakfast at once."
"Fine horse you ride, stranger. How long have you had him?"
"All this year."
"Funny. When I saw him last week he belonged to Jim Kendall down by the
Potomac, an' livin' on this very road, too."
"It isn't half as funny as you think. Hands up! Now call to your wife
as loud as you can to bring me coffee and food at the gate! I know
they're ready in the kitchen.
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