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Tom of the Raiders by Austin Bishop
page 55 of 207 (26%)

"As wet as one person can possibly be. I absorbed at least half of the
rainstorm between Wartrace and here. No more water would stick to me--it
just rolled off, finally."

"I don't think I should like being a soldier," she said. "Do you?"

"I haven't tried it. I'm just beginning."

"Do you want to fight?"

"It isn't a question of wanting to fight," he replied. "It's a question of
duty."

"Oh." She sat down and he took a chair beside her. "But you were out of it.
No one would have said that it was your duty to run the danger of going
through the Union pickets."

He wished that she would not talk about the war. It was unpleasant, this
lying to a girl. With Mr. Beecham it was different. Then he remembered that
she had said "Union pickets," instead of "Yankee pickets." It struck him as
strange, coming from a Southern girl.

"Tell me about your home," she asked.

He gave a rather sketchy description of his imaginary home in Fleming
County, Kentucky--a none too convincing description. Then he tried to
change the subject by asking her if she had always lived with the Beechams.

"No--not always," she answered. "Is Fleming Cou...."
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