He was unchanged. His small eyes were as piercing, his smile as
benignant, his costume--black coat, white cravat, and "stove-pipe"
hat--as clerical as before.
"Good evening, gentlemen," said Mr. Nighthawk, smiling sweetly; "I
bring news of Colonel Mohun."
"And fly in like an owl, or your namesake!" laughed Stuart.
"An owl? I am told that is the bird of wisdom, gentlemen!"
"You hit the nail on the head, when you said 'gentlemen!'"[1] replied
Stuart, laughing; "but how about Mohun? Is he exchanged, Nighthawk?"
[Footnote 1: A favorite phrase of Stuart's.]
And Stuart wheeled round and pointed to a chair.
Nighthawk sat down modestly.
"Not exchanged, exactly, general; but safe!" he said.
"He escaped?"
"Exactly, general."
"And you helped him?"
"I believe so."
"Good! You really are a trump, Nighthawk--and you seem to have a
peculiar fancy for Mohun."
"He is the best friend I have in the world, general."
"Well, that accounts for it. But how did he escape?"
"I will tell you in a few words, general. I rather pride myself on the
manner in which I conducted the little affair. You remember, Colonel
Mohun was very badly wounded when you defeated Kilpatrick at Buckland.
It was in a fight with Colonel Darke, of the Federal cavalry, who was
also wounded and left dying, as was erroneously supposed, at a small
house on the roadside, when you fell back.
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