"I rather reckon I do, young man," he replied slowly. "Fur I was raised up on the Green Briar. What mout be yer name?"
"Cowan," I answered promptly, my mind instantly alert, and aware I had made a mistake."
"Ho! Ye don't say! One o' ol' Ned Cowan's boys?"
"No. I am a son of Widow Cowan, over on Coal Creek."
There was not the faintest glimmer in the cold, blue eyes, no evidence of any recollection in the wrinkled face. His jaws rose and fell on the tobacco which extended his cheek.
"I don't reckon I've been over that a way fer nigh on fifteen year," he said at last reflectively. "An' somehow I don't just recall no Widow Cowan—but I know ol' Ned mighty well. He's took to the brush with his whole breed since this fracus started, an' som' cusses burned his house, an' sent the ol' woman after 'em. It's plumb hell in Green Briar. Maybe yer a Cowan, but I'm damned if ye look like eny o' thet outfit ever I see afore. What part o' the army wus ye with?"
"Sixty-fifth Virginia—Covington Company, Captain Daniels."
The older man chewed awhile in silence, evidently impressed with the seeming frankness of the reply.
