{"id":"01KG8AK9M9N9Z6KNSZZRH6PCAE","cid":"bafkreiauhcyyclnmzyoryxvruydxf5idb5suf44ksl6dvlyh3zmignfy3e","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4234,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:58.829Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 2","source_file":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","start_line":4127,"text":"  This fighting’s crazy work, I see”\r\n    But noon is high; what next do?\r\n    The woods are mute, and Mosby is the foe.\r\n\r\n“Save what we’ve got,” the Major said;\r\n  “Bad plan to make a scout too long;\r\nThe tide may turn, and drag them back,\r\nAnd more beside. These rides I’ve been,\r\n  And every time a mine was sprung.\r\n    To rescue, mind, they won’t be slack--\r\n    Look out for Mosby’s rifle-crack.”\r\n\r\n“We’ll welcome it! give crack for crack!\r\n  Peril, old lad, is what I seek”\r\n“O then, there’s plenty to be had--\r\nBy all means on, and have our fill”\r\n  With that, grotesque, he writhed his neck,\r\n    Showing a scar by buck-shot made--\r\n    Kind Mosby’s Christmas gift, he said.\r\n\r\n“But, Colonel, my prisoners--let a guard\r\n  Make sure of them, and lead to camp.\r\nThat done, we’re free for a dark-room fight\r\nIf so you say.” The other laughed;\r\n  “Trust me, Major, nor throw a damp.\r\n    But first to try a little sleight--\r\n    Sure news of Mosby would suit me quite.”\r\n\r\nHerewith he turned--“Reb, have a dram”\r\n  Holding the Surgeon’s flask with a smile\r\nTo a young scapegrace from the glen.\r\n“O yes!” he eagerly replied,\r\n  “And thank you, Colonel, but--any guile?\r\n    For if you think we’ll blab--why, then\r\n    You don’t know Mosby or his men.”\r\n\r\nThe Leader’s genial air relaxed.\r\n  “Best give it up,” a whisperer said.\r\n“By heaven, I’ll range their rebel den”\r\n“They’ll treat you well,” the captive cried;\r\n  “They’re all like us--handsome--well bred:\r\n    In wood or town, with sword or pen,\r\n    Polite is Mosby, bland his men.”\r\n\r\n“Where were you, lads, last night?--come, tell”\r\n  “We?--at a wedding in the Vale--\r\nThe bridegroom our comrade; by his side\r\nBelisent, my cousin--O, so proud\r\n  Of her young love with old wounds pale--\r\n    A Virginian girl! God bless her pride--\r\n    Of a crippled Mosby-man the bride!”\r\n\r\n“Four wall shall mend that saucy mood,\r\n  And moping prisons tame him down”\r\nSaid Captain Cloud. “God help that day”\r\nCried Captain Morn, “and he so young.\r\n  But hark, he sings--a madcap one”\r\n    “_O we multiply merrily in the May,\r\n    The birds and Mosby’s men, they say!_”\r\n\r\nWhile echoes ran, a wagon old,\r\n  Under stout guard of Corporal Chew\r\nCame up; a lame horse, dingy white,\r\nWith clouted harness; ropes in hand,\r\n  Cringed the humped driver, black in hue;\r\n    By him (for Mosby’s band a sight)\r\n    A sister-rebel sat, her veil held tight.\r\n\r\n“I picked them up,” the Corporal said,\r\n  “Crunching their way over stick and root,\r\nThrough yonder wood. The man here--Cuff--\r\nSays they are going to Leesburg town”\r\n  The Colonel’s eye took in the group;\r\n    The veiled one’s hand he spied--enough!\r\n    Not Mosby’s. Spite the gown’s poor stuff,\r\n\r\nOff went his hat: “Lady, fear not;\r\n  We soldiers do what we deplore--\r\nI must detain you till we march”\r\nThe stranger nodded. Nettled now,\r\n  He grew politer than before:--\r\n    “’Tis Mosby’s fault, this halt and search”\r\n    The lady stiffened in her starch.\r\n\r\n“My duty, madam, bids me now\r\n  Ask what may seem a little rude.\r\nPardon--that veil--withdraw it, please\r\n(Corporal! make every man fall back);\r\n  Pray, now I do but what I should;\r\n    Bethink you, ’tis in masks like these\r\n    That Mosby haunts the villages.”\r\n\r\nSlowly the stranger drew her veil,\r\n  And looked the Soldier in the eye--\r\nA glance of mingled foul and fair;\r\nSad patience in a proud disdain,\r\n  And more than quietude. A sigh\r\n    She heaved, and if all unaware,\r\n    And far seemed Mosby from her care.\r\n\r\nShe came from Yewton Place, her home,\r\n  So ravaged by the war’s wild play--\r\nCampings, and foragings, and fires--\r\nThat now she sought an aunt’s abode.\r\n  Her Kinsmen? In Lee’s army, they.\r\n    The black? A servant, late her sire’s.\r\n    And Mosby? Vainly he inquires.\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 2"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJS1Y7RDPMD6BYTFM3M6Z","peer_type":"segment","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK9M92DP3VY0FDHYFBQVX","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AK9MBHY95K7FRX0SMMT6K","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:59.625Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:01.817Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}