MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
I drew a quick breath, still staring down at the fragment of paper between my fingers. What was this?—a warning to Johnston of my message to Rosecrans? I could hardly decide, and yet there were words there which aroused my suspicion. And Jean Denslow, unable to ride herself, had discovered and sent forward a courier! I desired to learn more.
"Daniels, you say this dead man was your cousin; what side was he on?"
"Wal, he was agin Big Donald, an' thet's 'bout all ther side thar is up yere in ther mountings. We ain't carin' much between Yank and Reb, but I reckon under ther circumstances he was most likely with us."
"Oh, I see; but what was he doing with this paper, then? That was a message to Johnston warning him that I had taken a report of his plans to the Federal camp."
"Ther hell! who sent it?"
"A young girl—Jean Denslow."
The seamed, whiskered face appeared to darken, the eyes narrowing, with a cruel gleam in them.
"You know her?" I questioned doubtfully.
"I reckon I do, tol'ble; but I don't know how she ever got no chance fer to butt in yere. However ther way o' it is clar though. She must have run up agin Jake somewhar, an' mistook him fer one o' Donald's outfit. But Jake never was ridin' fer Johnston's camp, or he would n't a bin way down yere. He was streakin' it fer ther Landin', an' either run into some guerillas, or else Donald trailed him. Anyhow he was shot out yonder in ther openin' an' then dragged in yere."
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