Mohun had dismounted, and, leaning against the trunk of a tree, was
smoking a cigar. He was much thinner and paler than when I had last
seen him; but his eye was brilliant and piercing, his carriage erect
and proud. In his fine new uniform, replacing that left at Fort
Delaware, and his brown hat, decorated with a black feather, he was the
model of a cavalier, ready at a moment's warning to meet the enemy.
We exchanged a close grasp of the hand. Something in this man had
attracted me, and from acquaintances we had become friends, though
Mohun had never given me his confidence.
I informed him of Nighthawk's visit and narrative, congratulated him on
his escape, and then presented him with his appointment to the grade of
brigadier-general.
"Hurrah for Stuart! He is a man to count on!" exclaimed Mohun, "and
here inclosed is the order for me to take command of four regiments!"
"I congratulate you, Mohun."
"I hope to do good work with them, my dear Surry--and I think they are
just in time."
With which words Mohun put the paper in his pocket.
"You know the latest intelligence?" he said.
"Yes; but do not let us talk of it. Tell me something about
yourself--but first listen to a little narrative from me."
And I described the visit which I had made with Tom Herbert to the
house near Buckland; the scene between Darke and his companion; and, to
keep back nothing, repeated the substance of their conversation.
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