The little man looked at the boy sharply. The eyes under his
shaggy brows were like gimlets.
"Come up to the school with me. I'll see your teacher, son."
Jeff walked beside him. He knew by the sound of the voice that his
rescuer was a Southerner and his heart warmed to him. He wanted
greatly to ask a question. Presently it plumped out.
"Was it in the war, sir?"
"I reckon I don't catch your meaning."
"That you lost your arm?" The boy added quickly, "My father was a
soldier under General Early."
The steel-gray eyes shot at him again. "I was under Early myself."
"My father was a captain--Captain Farnum," the young warrior
announced proudly.
"Not Phil Farnum!"
"Yes, sir. Did you know him?" Jeff trembled with eagerness. His
dead soldier-father was the idol of his heart.
"Did I?" He swung Jeff round and looked at him. "You're like him,
in a way, and, by Gad! you fight like him. What's your name?"
"Jefferson Davis Farnum."
"Shake hands, Jefferson Davis Farnum, you dashed little rebel. My
name is Lucius Chunn. I was a lieutenant in your father's company
before I was promoted to one of my own."
Jeff forgot his troubles instantly.
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