in't settlin' for no prisoner's rations. We
all eat full plates in heah, let that be understood from the start."

Campbell laughed. "Noted, Kirby. We'll see that you desperate Rebs get
all that's comin' to you."

"Now that, Cap'n, is jus' what I'm afraid of. We git all that's
_comin'_--that sounds a right smart better!"

"Company ahead, Cap'n!" The trooper who had suggested this action,
indicated a man walking down the drive to meet their cavalcade.

"That's Mr. McKeever." Drew identified their host for Campbell.

But the captain was already moving ahead to meet the older man. He
touched fingers to kepi--a neat blue kepi--in a smart salute.

"Chivers, Captain, Eleventh Ohio, sir. We'd like to make our noon halt
here if you'll grant permission."

Thomas McKeever beamed. "No reason not, suh. Take your men over in the
orchard, Captain. We can add a little something to your rations. Glad,
always glad to entertain our boys." His attention wandered to the score
of "prisoners" in the center of the troop.

"Prisoners, Captain?"

"Some of Morgan's horse thieves." Campbell glanced back at the shabby
exhibit. "You've heard the news, of course, sir? We smashed 'em proper
over at Cynthiana--"

"You did? Now that's good hearin', Captain. It deserves a regular
celebration; it surely does. Morgan smashed! Was he taken too? Next time
I trust they'll put him in something stronger than that jail you Ohio
boys had him in last time; he's a slippery one."

"Haven't heard about that, sir. But his men are pretty well scattered.
These aren't going to trouble any one for a while."

McKeever nodded. "I've a stout barn you're welcome to use for a
temporary lockup, Captain. Though I must say they don't display much
spirit, do they? Look pretty well beat."

Drew rubbed his hand across his face, hoping the grime there--a mixture
of road dust, sweat, and powder blacking--was an effective disguise. No
use recalling the old days for Mr. McKeever. Allowing his shoulders to
slump dispiritedly as he was herded by his file guard, he rode sullenly
on to the orchard.

They stripped their saddles and allowed the horses freedom for the first
time in hours, an act which was against prudence but which McKeever
would expect of Union troops. Drew lay full length under the curving
limbs of an apple tree, his head pillowed on saddlebags.

"Now I wonder"--Kirby dropped down, to sit with his back against the
tree trunk--"why they always say a fella is