{"id":"01KG8AK9MBHY95K7FRX0SMMT6K","cid":"bafkreicibotzhzwkabxb3sqlqntfhkkfanapc737somwhwddgfjpwlgolq","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4331,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:58.829Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 3","source_file":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","start_line":4223,"text":"  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\nHe gazed, and sad she met his eye;\r\n  “In the wood yonder were you lost”\r\nNo; at the forks they left the road\r\nBecause of hoof-prints (thick they were--\r\n  Thick as the words in notes thrice crossed),\r\n    And fearful, made that episode.\r\n    In fear of Mosby? None she showed.\r\n\r\nHer poor attire again he scanned:\r\n  “Lady, once more; I grieve to jar\r\nOn all sweet usage, but must plead\r\nTo have what peeps there from your dress;\r\n  That letter--’tis justly prize of war”\r\n    She started--gave it--she must need.\r\n    “’Tis not from Mosby? May I read?”\r\n\r\nAnd straight such matter he perused\r\n  That with the Guide he went apart.\r\nThe Hospital Steward’s turn began:\r\n“Must squeeze this darkey; every tap\r\n  Of knowledge we are bound to start”\r\n    “Garry,” she said, “tell all you can\r\n    Of Colonel Mosby--that brave man.”\r\n\r\n“Dun know much, sare; and missis here\r\n  Know less dan me. But dis I know--”\r\n“Well, what?” “I dun know what I know”\r\n“A knowing answer!” The hump-back coughed,\r\n  Rubbing his yellowish wool like tow.\r\n    “Come--Mosby--tell!” “O dun look so!\r\n    My gal nursed missis--let we go.”\r\n\r\n“Go where?” demanded Captain Cloud;\r\n  “Back into bondage? Man, you’re free”\r\n“Well, _let_ we free!” The Captain’s brow\r\nLowered; the Colonel came--had heard:\r\n  “Pooh! pooh! his simple heart I see--\r\n    A faithful servant.--Lady” (a bow),\r\n    “Mosby’s abroad--with us you’ll go.\r\n\r\n“Guard! look to your prisoners; back to camp!\r\n  The man in the grass--can he mount and away?\r\nWhy, how he groans!” “Bad inward bruise--\r\nMight lug him along in the ambulance”\r\n  “Coals to Newcastle! let him stay.\r\n    Boots and saddles!--our pains we lose,\r\n    Nor care I if Mosby hear the news!”\r\n\r\nBut word was sent to a house at hand,\r\n  And a flask was left by the hurt one’s side.\r\nThey seized in that same house a man,\r\nNeutral by day, by night a foe--\r\n  So charged his neighbor late, the Guide.\r\n    A grudge? Hate will do what it can;\r\n    Along he went for a Mosby-man.\r\n\r\nNo secrets now; the bugle calls;\r\n  The open road they take, nor shun\r\nThe hill; retrace the weary way.\r\nBut one there was who whispered low,\r\n  “This is a feint--we’ll back anon;\r\n    Young Hair-Brains don’t retreat, they say;\r\n    A brush with Mosby is the play!”\r\n\r\nThey rode till eve. Then on a farm\r\n  That lay along a hill-side green,\r\nBivouacked. Fires were made, and then\r\nCoffee was boiled; a cow was coaxed\r\n  And killed, and savory roasts were seen;\r\n    And under the lee of a cattle-pen\r\n    The guard supped freely with Mosby’s men.\r\n\r\nThe ball was bandied to and fro;\r\n  Hits were given and hits were met;\r\n“Chickamauga, Feds--take off your hat”\r\n“But the Fight in the Clouds repaid you, Rebs”\r\n  “Forgotten about Manassas yet”\r\n    Chatting and chaffing, and tit for tat,\r\n    Mosby’s clan with the troopers sat.\r\n\r\n“Here comes the moon!” a captive cried;\r\n  “A song! what say? Archy, my lad”\r\nHailing are still one of the clan\r\n(A boyish face with girlish hair),\r\n  “Give us that thing poor Pansy made\r\n    Last Year.” He brightened, and began;\r\n    And this was the song of Mosby’s man:\r\n\r\n      _Spring is come; she shows her pass--\r\n          Wild violets cool!\r\n      South of woods a small close grass--\r\n          A vernal wool!\r\n      Leaves are a’bud on the sassafras--\r\n          They’ll soon be full;\r\n      Blessings on the friendly screen--\r\n      I’m for the South! says the leafage green._\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 3"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJS1Y7RDPMD6BYTFM3M6Z","peer_type":"segment","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK9M9N9Z6KNSZZRH6PCAE","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"prev"},{"peer":"01KG8AK9MD01SSS8TRYN762085","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:59.627Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:01.967Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}