horses, and still munching a bough-apple, scarce ripe, which he dropped into the bosom of his hunting shirt when he discovered us watching him.
Boyd laughed: “Munch away, Jack, and welcome,” he said, “only mind thy manners when we sight regular troops. I’ll have nobody reproaching Morgan’s corps that the men lack proper respect — though many people seem to think us but a parcel of militia where officer and man herd cheek by jowl.”
On mounting, he turned in his saddle and asked Hays what we had to fear on our road, if indeed we were to apprehend anything.
“There is some talk of the Legion Cavalry, sir — Major Tarleton’s command.”
“Anything definite?”