own student-ailments)--he
Bent over likewise; spite the two,
Mosby's poor man more pallid grew.

Meanwhile the mounted captives near
Jested; and yet they anxious showed;
Virginians; some of family-pride,
And young, and full of fire, and fine
In open feature and cheek that glowed;
And here thralled vagabonds now they ride--
But list! one speaks for Mosby's side.

"Why, three to one--your horses strong--
Revolvers, rifles, and a surprise--
Surrender we account no shame!
We live, are gay, and life is hope;
We'll fight again when fight is wise.
There are plenty more from where we came;
But go find Mosby--start the game!"

Yet one there was who looked but glum;
In middle-age, a father he,
And this his first experience too:
"They shot at my heart when my hands were up--
This fighting's crazy work, I see"
But noon is high; what next do?
The woods are mute, and Mosby is the foe.

"Save what we've got," the Major said;
"Bad plan to make a scout too long;
The tide may turn, and drag them back,
And more beside. These rides I've been,
And every time a mine was sprung.
To rescue, mind, they won't be slack--
Look out for Mosby's rifle-crack."

"We'll welcome it! give crack for crack!
Peril, old lad, is what I seek"
"O then, there's plenty to be had--
By all means on, and have our fill"
With that, grotesque, he writhed his neck,
Showing a scar by buck-shot made--
Kind Mosby's Christmas gift, he said.

"But, Colonel, my prisoners--let a guard
Make sure of them, and lead to camp.
That done, we're free for a dark-room fight
If so you say." The other laughed;
"Trust me, Major, nor throw a damp.
But first to try a little sleight--
Sure news of Mosby would suit me quite."

Herewith he turned--"Reb, have a dram"
Holding the Surgeon's flask with a smile
To a young scapegrace from the glen.
"O yes!" he eagerly replied,
"And thank you, Colonel, but--any guile?
For if you think we'll blab--why, then
You don't know Mosby or his men."

The Leader's genial air relaxed.
"Best give it up," a whisperer said.
"By heaven, I'll range their rebel den"
"They'll treat you well," the captive cried;
"They're all like us--handsome--well bred:
In wood or town, with sword or pen,
Polite is Mosby, bland his men."

"Where were you, lads, last night?--come, tell"
"We?--at a wedding in the Vale--
The bridegroom our comrade; by h