the fire, the landlord provided me with a chair and welcomed me
very heartily, taking it for granted that I was from the country and
would want a bed for the night. On the wide hearth a very cheerful fire
burned, and the place reminded me somehow of home--particularly a big
rocking-chair in which one of the guests was seated. It had an
upholstered seat and back, and the high arms were made more comfortable
by a covering of the same material. It was a fac-simile of a chair that
we had at home, and I longed to occupy it, if only for the sake of old
times.

Among those who were taking their ease at this suburban inn was Jasper
Goodrum, one of my comrades. He was a noted scout as well as a seasoned
soldier. He looked at me hard as I entered, and continued to watch me
furtively for some time, and then his face cleared up and I knew that
he had recognized me. He was in civilian's clothes, and I knew by that
that he did not care to be recognized. So I turned my attention
elsewhere. But in a little while he seemed to have changed his mind,
and, suddenly rising from his chair, came to me with outstretched hand.

It was a mixed company around the fire. There was a big Irishman, who
leaned calmly back in a small chair and smoked a short pipe. More than
once I caught his bright eyes studying my face, but his smile was ample
apology for his seeming rudeness. He was as handsome a man as I had
ever seen, and if I had been searching for a friend on whom to depend
in an emergency I should have selected him out of a thousand.

There was a short-haired man who was built like a prize-fighter. He
wore a sarcastic smile on his face, and his shifty eyes seemed to be
constantly looking for a resting-place. He had a thick neck and jaw
like a bull-dog. I marked him down in my mental note-book as dangerous.
There was a tall and pious-looking man, and two or three civilians who
had no particular points about them; and then there was a burly man,
who sat with his hands in his pockets and did nothing but chew tobacco
and gaze in the fire, uttering not one word until some of the company
fell to discussing Captain Leroy, the famous Union scout. When Leroy's
name was mentioned the burly man was quick to join in the conversation.

"There ain't a word of truth in all this stuff you hear about Leroy,"
he said, and his manner was more emphatic than the occasion seemed to
demand. "He's in the newspapers, and he ain't anywhere else on top of
the ground.