MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
slows an' ther Dunns, an' all thet lot along ther river yere. I 've heern tell as how Jem Donald's wife was a Denslow, but I don't never remember seein' her."
This mention of the name of Denslow brought up before me instantly the face of the young girl whom I had left a few hours before. So she also was, in a way, connected with this fierce mountain feud which had already cost so many lives. I had reason to know she was of fighting blood, yet it was seemingly impossible to connect her directly with such savagery.
I was busily thinking still, as we forded the river and came straggling up the other bank, our horses glistening in the sunshine. Coulter's Landing was apparently deserted of all inhabitants; back along the opposite shore we could see the dust cloud rising above the column of advancing cavalry. A few brief orders scattered my nondescript command to right and left, Daniels and I riding alone along the road leading up toward the ridge, watchful that the others covered thoroughly the country on either side of us. We were a mile in advance when Wilson's men first began taking water at the ford.
The knowledge of what our rapid movement meant gave zest to this advance scouting, and we pushed forward alert to any suspicious happening in our front. I observed how old Daniels's eyes narrowed like those of a cat, as he scanned the hills, peering out from beneath the brim of his slouch hat, his thin lips drawn back so as to reveal the yellow teeth. For the first time he became revealed to me as a savage, living merely for revenge, merciless and
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