husband is fighting the British with the rest of you."
"God help him!" said I.
"Amen!" said she, bringing my food to the table. "The great Napoleon he will teach them a lesson."
She was a widow, as she told me, living there alone with two young daughters who were off at a picnic in the near town. We were talking quietly when a familiar voice brought me standing.
"Judas Priest!" it said. D'ri stood in the doorway, hatless and one boot missing—a sorry figure of a man.
"Hidin' over 'n th' woods yender," he went on as I took his hand. "See thet air brown hoss go by. Knew 'im soon es I sot eyes on 'im—use' t' ride 'im myself. Hed an idee 't wus you 'n the saddle—sot s' kind o' easy. But them air joemightyful clo's! Jerushy Jane! would n't be fit t' skin a skunk in them dclo's, would it?"
"Got 'em off a scarecrow," I said.
"’Nough t' mek a painter ketch 'is breath, they wus."
