PS 
 
 afdtnell Iniueraita libratg 
 
 31tl|ata, New ^aik 
 
 BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE 
 
 SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND 
 
 THE GIFT OF 
 
 HENRY W. SAGE 
 
 1891 
 
Cornell University Library 
 PS 2514.T97 1906 
 
 Two little Confederates.Aniona the camps. 
 
 3 1924 022 067 593 
 
The original of tliis bool< is in 
 tlie Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022067593 
 
PLANTATION 
 EDITION 
 
 VOLUME XI 
 
Over Evelyn he bent silently. 
 
 CpAGE 212^ 
 
* THE NOVELS, STORIES, 
 SKETCHES AND POEMS OF 
 THOMAS NELSON PAGE * 
 
 TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 TWO PRISONERS 
 
 CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS 
 NEW YORK, * ♦ * * 1906 
 
TWO UTTLB COIWEDERATBS 
 Copyright, 1888, by 
 
 OHABIiES SOBIBNEB'S SONS 
 
 AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Copyright, 1891, by 
 
 Ohablzb Scbibnxb's Sons 
 
 TWO EEISOJTEEa 
 
 Copyright, 1898, by 
 
 BOBEBrr Howard RtjsskIiL 
 
 Copyright, 1903, by 
 
 Habpsb & Bbothebs 
 
 Copyright, 1906, by 
 Ohablzs Sobibnxb's Sons 
 
 AU Bights Beaemed 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PACK 
 
 TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 3 
 
 AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 A Captured Santa Claus 173 
 
 KiTTYKIN. AND THE PART SHE PLAYED IN THE WAR . 217 
 
 "Nancy PANSY" 243 
 
 "Jack AND Jake" 296 
 
 TWO PRISONERS 353 
 
ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "OVER EVELYN HE BENT SILENTLY" FrontispiKo 
 
 Diawn by W. L. Jacobs 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 
 "TM IN COMMAND,' SAID THE GENTLEMAN. SMILING AT HIM 
 
 OVER THE TOWEL" 20 
 
 Dnwn by A. C. Redwood 
 
 THE MAJOR'S CHRISTMAS PRESENTS 162 
 
 Drawn by W- L. Jacobs 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
TO MY MOTHER 
 
TWO 
 LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 THE "Two Little Confederates" lived at 
 Oakland. It was not a handsome place, 
 as modern ideas go, but down in Old Virginia, 
 where the standard was different from the later 
 one, it passed in old times as one of the best 
 plantations in all that region. The boys thought 
 it the greatest place in the world, of course ex- 
 cepting Richmond, where they had been one 
 year to the fair, and had seen a man pull 
 fire out of his mouth, and do other wonderful 
 things. It was quite secluded. It lay, it is true, 
 right between two of the county roads, the 
 Court-house Eoad being on one side, and on 
 the other the great "Mountain Road," down 
 which the large covered wagons with six horses 
 and jingling bells used to go ; but the lodge lay 
 this side of the one, and ' ' the big woods, ' ' where 
 the boys shot squirrels, and hunted 'possums 
 
 3 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 and coons, and which reached to the edge of 
 "Holetown," stretched between the house and 
 the other, so that the big gate-post where the 
 semi-weekly mail was left by the mail-rider each 
 Tuesday and Friday afternoon was a long walk, 
 even by the near cut through the woods. The 
 railroad was ten miles away by the road. There 
 was a nearer way, only about half the distance, 
 by which the negroes used to walk, and which 
 during the war, after all the horses were gone, 
 the boys, too, learned to travel ; but before that, 
 the road by Trinity Church and Honeyman's 
 Bridge was the only route, and the other was 
 simply a dim bridle-path, and the "horseshoe- 
 ford" was known to the initiated alone. 
 ' The mansion itself was known on the planta- 
 tion as "the great-house," to distinguish it from 
 all the other houses on the place, of which there 
 were many. It had as many wings as the angels 
 in the vision of Ezekiel. 
 
 These additions had been made, some in one 
 generation, some in another, as the size of the 
 family required ; and finally, when there was no 
 side of the original structure to which another 
 wing could be joined, a separate building had 
 been erected on the edge of the yard which was 
 called "The Office," and was used as such, as 
 
 4 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 well as for a lodging-place by the young men 
 of the family. The privilege of sleeping in the 
 Office was highly esteemed, for, like the toga 
 virilis, it marked the entrance upon manhood of 
 the youths who were fortunate enough to enjoy 
 it. There smoking was admissible, there the 
 guns were kept in the corner, and there the dogs 
 were allowed to sleep at the feet of their young 
 masters, or in bed with them, if they preferred it. 
 
 In one of the rooms in this building the boys 
 went to school whilst small, and another they 
 looked forward to having as their own when they 
 should be old enough to be elevated to the 
 coveted dignity of sleeping in the Office. Hugh 
 already slept there, and gave himself airs in 
 proportion; but Hugh they regarded as a very 
 aged person; not as old, it was true, as their 
 cousins who came down from college at Christ- 
 mas, and who, at the first outbreak of war, all 
 rushed into the army; but each of these was in 
 the boys ' eyes a Methuselah. Hugh had his own 
 horse and the double-barrelled gun, and when 
 a fellow got those there was little material 
 difference between him and other men, even if 
 he did have to go to the academy,— which was 
 really something like going to school. 
 
 The boys were Frank and Willy ; Frank being 
 5 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 the eldest. They went by several names on the 
 place. Their mother called them her "little 
 men," with much pride; Uncle Balla spoke of 
 them as "them chillern," which generally im- 
 plied something of reproach; and Lucy Ann, 
 who had been taken into the house to "run 
 after" them when they were little boys, always 
 coupled their names as "Frank 'n' Willy." 
 Peter and Cole did the same when their mistress 
 was not by. 
 
 "V^Hien there first began to be talk at Oakland 
 about the war, the boys thought it would be a 
 dreadful thing; their principal ideas about war 
 being formed from an intimate acquaintance 
 with the Bible and its accounts of the wars of 
 the Children of Israel, in which men, women and 
 children were invariably put to the sword. This 
 gave a vivid conception of its horrors. 
 
 One evening, in the midst of a discussion 
 about the approaching crisis, Willy astonished 
 the company, who were discussing the merits of 
 probable leaders of the Union armies, by sud- 
 denly announcing that he 'd "bet they didn't 
 have any general who could beat Joab. ' ' 
 
 Up to the time of the war, the boys had led a 
 very uneventful, but a very pleasant life. They 
 used to go hunting with Hugh, their older 
 
 6 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 brother, when he would let them go, and after 
 the cows with Peter and Cole. Old Balla, the 
 driver, was their boon comrade and adviser, and 
 taught them to make whips, and traps for hares 
 and birds, as he had taught them to ride and to 
 cobble shoes. 
 
 He lived alone (for his wife had been set free 
 years before, and lived in Philadelphia). His 
 room over ' ' the old kitchen ' ' was the boys ' play- 
 room when he would permit them to come in. 
 There were so many odds and ends in it that it 
 was a delightful place. 
 
 Then the boys played blindman 's-buff in the 
 house, or hide-and-seek about the yard or gar- 
 den, or upstairs in their den, a narrow alcove 
 at the top of the house. 
 
 The little willow-shadowed creek, that ran 
 through the meadow behind the barn, was one of 
 their haunts. They fished in it for minnows and 
 little perch ; they made dams and bathed in it ; 
 and sometimes they played pirates upon its 
 waters. 
 
 Once they made an extended search up and 
 down its banks for any fragments of Pharaoh's 
 chariots which might have been washed up so 
 high ; but that was when they were younger and 
 did not have much sense. 
 
 7 
 
n 
 
 THEEE was great excitement at Oakland 
 during the John Brown raid, and the 
 boys' grandmother used to pray for him and 
 Cook, whose pictures were in the papers. 
 
 The boys became soldiers, and drilled punc- 
 tiliously with guns which they got Uncle Balla 
 to make for them. Frank was the captain, Willy 
 the first lieutenant, and a dozen or more little 
 negroes composed the rank and file, Peter and 
 Cole being trusted file-closers. 
 
 A little later they found their sympathies all 
 on the side of peace and the preservation of the 
 Union. Their uncle was for keeping the Union 
 unbroken, and ran for the Convention against 
 Colonel Eichards, who was the chief officer of 
 the militia in the county, and was as blood- 
 thirsty as Tamerlane, who reared the pyramid 
 of skulls, and as hungry for military renown as 
 the great Napoleon, about whom the boys had 
 read. 
 
 There was immense excitement in the comity 
 8 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 over the election. Though the boys' mother had 
 made them add to their prayers a petition that 
 their Uncle William might win, and that he 
 might secure the blessings of peace ,- and though 
 at family prayers, night and morning, the same 
 petition was presented, the boys' uncle was 
 beaten at the polls by a large majority. And 
 then they knew there was bound to be war, and 
 that it must be very wicked. They almost felt 
 the ' ' invader 's heel, ' ' and the invaders were in- 
 variably spoken of as " cruel, ' ' and the heel was 
 described as of "iron," and was always men- 
 tioned as engaged in the act of crushing. They 
 would have been terribly alarmed at this cruel 
 invasion had they not been reassured by the 
 general belief of the community that one South- 
 erner could whip ten Yankees, and that, collec- 
 tively, the South could drive back the North with 
 popguns. When the war actually broke out, the 
 boys were the most enthusiastic of rebels, and 
 the troops in Camp Lee did not drill more con- 
 tinuously nor industriously. 
 
 Their father, who had been a Whig and op- 
 posed secession until the very last, on Virginia's 
 seceding, finally cast his lot with his people, and 
 joined an infantry company ; and Uncle William 
 raised and equipped an artillery company, of 
 
 9 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 whicli he was chosen captain; but the infantry 
 was too tame and the artillery too ponderous to 
 suit the boys. 
 
 They were taken to see the drill of the county 
 troop of cavalry, with its prancing horses and 
 clanging sabres. It was commanded by a 
 cousin; and from that moment they were cav- 
 alrymen to the core. They flung away their stick- 
 guns in disgust; and Uncle Balla spent two 
 grumbling days fashioning them a stableful of 
 horses with real heads and "sure 'nough" 
 leather bridles. 
 
 Once, indeed, a secret attempt was made to 
 utilize the horses and mules which were running 
 in the back pasture ; but a premature discovery 
 of the matter ended in such disaster to all con- 
 cerned that the plan was abandoned, and the 
 boys had to content themselves with their 
 wooden steeds. 
 
 The day that the final orders came for their 
 father and uncle to go to Richmond,— from 
 which point they were ordered to "the Penin- 
 sula,"— the boys could not understand why 
 every one was suddenly plunged into such dis- 
 tress. Then, next morning, when the soldiers 
 left, the boys could not altogether comprehend 
 it. They thought it was a very fine thing to be 
 
 10 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 allowed to ride Frank and Hnn, ttie two war- 
 horses, with their new, deep army saddles and 
 long bits. They cried when their father and 
 uncle said good-bye, and went away ; but it was 
 because their mother looked so pale and ill, and 
 not because they did not think it was all grand. 
 They had no doubt that all would come back 
 soon, for old Uncle Billy, the "head-man," who 
 had been born down in "Little York," where 
 Cornwallis surrendered, had expressed the sen- 
 timent of the whole plantation when he declared, 
 as he sat in the back yard surrounded by an ad- 
 miring throng, and surveyed with pride the two 
 glittering sabres which he had allowed no one 
 but himself to polish, that "Ef them Britishers 
 jest sees dese swodes dee '11 run!" The boys 
 tried to explain to him that these were not Brit- 
 ish, but Yankees,— but he was hard to convince. 
 Even Lucy Ann, who was incurably afraid of 
 everything like a gun or fire-arm, partook of the 
 general fervor, and boasted effusively that she 
 had actually ' ' tetched Marse John 's big pistils. ' ' 
 Hugh, who was fifteen, and was permitted to 
 accompany his father to Richmond, was re- 
 garded by the boys with a feeling of mingled 
 envy and veneration, which he accepted with 
 dignified complacency. 
 
 11 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 Frank and Willy soon found that war brought 
 some immunities. The house filled up so with 
 the families of cousins and friends who were 
 refugees that the boys were obliged to sleep in 
 the Office, and thus they felt that, at a bound, 
 they were almost as old as Hugh. 
 
 There were the cousins from Gloucester, from 
 the Valley, and families of relatives from Balti- 
 more and New York, who had come south on the 
 declaration of war. Their favorite was their 
 Cousin Belle, whose beauty at once captivated 
 both boys. This was the first time that the boys 
 knew anything of girls, except their own sister, 
 Evelyn ; and after a brief period, during which 
 the novelty gave them pleasure, the inability of 
 the girls to hunt, climb trees, or play knucks, 
 etc., and the additional restraint which their 
 presence imposed, caused them to hold the 
 opinion that ' ' girls were no good. ' ' 
 
 12 
 
m 
 
 IN course of time they saw a great deal of "the 
 army," — which meant the Confederates. 
 The idea that the Yankees could ever get to Oak- 
 land never entered any one 's head. It was un- 
 derstood that the army lay between Oakland and 
 them, and surely they could never get by the in- 
 numerable soldiers who were always passing up 
 one road or the other, and who, day after day 
 and night after night, were coming to be fed, and 
 were rapidly eating up everything that had been 
 left on the place. By the end of the first year 
 they had been coming so long that they made 
 scarcely any difference; but the first time a 
 regiment camped in the neighborhood it created 
 great excitement. 
 
 It became known one night that a calvary reg- 
 iment, in which were several of their cousins, 
 was encamped at Honeyman's Bridge, and the 
 boys' mother determined to send a supply of 
 provisions for the camp next morning; so sev- 
 eral sheep were killed, the smoke-house was 
 
 13 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 opened, and all night long the great fires in the 
 kitchen and wash-house glowed; and even then 
 there was not room, so that a big fire was kin- 
 dled in the back yard, beside which saddles of 
 mutton were roasted in the tin kitchens. Every- 
 body was * ' rushing. ' ' 
 
 The boys were told that they might go to see 
 the soldiers, and as they had to get off long be- 
 fore daylight, they went to bed early, and left 
 all "the other boys"— that is, Peter and Cole 
 and other colored children— squatting about the 
 fires and trying to help the cooks to pile on wood. 
 
 It was hard to leave the exciting scene. 
 
 They were very sleepy the next morning ; in- 
 deed, they seemed scarcely to have fallen asleep 
 when Lucy Ann shook them ; but they jumped up 
 without the usual application of cold water in 
 their faces, which Lucy Ann so delighted to 
 make ; and in a little while they were out in the 
 yard, where Balla was standing holding three 
 horses,— their mother's riding-horse; another 
 with a side-saddle for their Cousin Belle, whose 
 brother was in the regiment; and one for him- 
 self,— and Peter and Cole were holding the car- 
 riage-horses for the boys, and several other men 
 were holding mules. 
 
 Great hampers covered with white napkins 
 14 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 were on the porch., and the savory smell decided 
 the boys not to eat their breakfast, but to wait 
 and take their share with the soldiers. 
 
 The roads were so bad that the carriage could 
 not go; and as the boys' mother wished to get 
 the provisions to the soldiers before they broke 
 camp, they had to set out at once. In a few min- 
 utes they were all in the saddle, the boys and 
 their mother and Cousin Belle in front, and 
 Balla and the other servants following close be- 
 hind, each holding before him a hamper, which 
 looked queer and shadowy as they rode on in the 
 darkness. 
 
 The sky, which was filled with stars when they 
 set out, grew white as they splashed along mile 
 after mile through the mud. Then the road be- 
 came clearer ; they could see into the woods, and 
 the sky changed to a rich pink, like the color of 
 peach-blossoms. Their horses were covered with 
 mud up to the saddle-skirts. They turned into 
 a lane only half a mile from the bridge, and, sud- 
 denly, a bugle rang out down in the wooded bot- 
 tom below them, and the boys hardly could be 
 kept from putting their horses to a run, so fear- 
 ful were they that the soldiers were leaving, and 
 that they should not see them. Their mother, 
 however, told them that this was probably the 
 
 15 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 reveille, or "rising-bell," of the soldiers. She 
 rode on at a good sharp canter, and the boys 
 were diverting themselves over a discussion as 
 to who would act the part of Lucy Ann in waking 
 the regiment of soldiers, when they turned a 
 curve, and at the end of the road, a few hundred 
 yards ahead, stood several horsemen. 
 
 "There thoy are," exclaimed both boys. 
 
 "No, that is a picket," said their mother; 
 ' ' gallop on, Frank, and tell them we are bring- 
 ing breakfast for the regiment." 
 
 Frank dashed ahead, and soon they saw a 
 soldier ride forward to meet him, and, after a 
 few words, return with him to his comrades. 
 Then, while they were still a hundred yards dis- 
 tant, they saw Frank, who had received some 
 directions, start off again toward the bridge, at 
 a hard gallop. The picket had told him to go 
 straight on down the hill, and he would find the 
 camp just the other side of the bridge. He ac- 
 cordingly rode on, feeling very important at be- 
 ing allowed to go alone to the camp on such a 
 mission. 
 
 As he reached a turn in the road, just above 
 the river, the whole regiment lay swarming be- 
 low him among the large trees on the bank of 
 the little stream. The horses were picketed to 
 
 16 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 bushes and stakes, in long rows, the saddles ly- 
 ing on the ground, not far off ; and hundreds of 
 men were moving about, some in full uniform 
 and others without coat or vest. A half-dozen 
 wagons with sheets on them stood on one side 
 among the trees, near which several fires were 
 smoking, with men around them. 
 
 As Frank clattered up to the bridge, a soldier 
 with a gun on his arm, who had been standing 
 by the railing, walked out to the middle of the 
 bridge. 
 
 ' ' Halt ! Where are you going in such a hurry, 
 my young man ? " he said. 
 
 "I wish to see the colonel," said Frank, re- 
 peating as nearly as he could the words the 
 picket had told him. 
 
 "What do you want with him?" 
 
 Frank was tempted not to tell him ; but he was 
 so impatient to deliver his message before the 
 others should arrive, that he told him what he 
 had come for. 
 
 "There he is," said the sentinel, pointing to 
 a place among the trees where stood at least five 
 hundred men. 
 
 Frank looked, expecting to recognize the colo- 
 nel by his noble bearing, or splendid uniform, 
 or some striking marks. 
 
 17 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Where?" lie asked, in doubt; for while a 
 number of the men were in uniform, he knew 
 these to be privates. 
 
 "There," said the sentry, pointing; "by that 
 stump, near the yellow horse-blanket." 
 
 Frank looked again. The only man he could 
 fix upon by the description was a young fellow, 
 washing his face in a tin basin, and he felt that 
 this could not be the colonel ; but he did not like 
 to appear dull, so he thanked the man and rode 
 on, thinking he would go to the point indicated, 
 and ask some one else to show him the officer. 
 
 He felt quite grand as he rode in among the 
 men, who, he thought, would recognize Ms im- 
 portance and treat him accordingly; but, as he 
 passed on, instead of paying him the respect he 
 had expected, they began to guy him with all 
 sorts of questions. 
 
 "Hullo, bud, going to jine the cavalry?" 
 asked one. "Which is oldest; you or your 
 horse?" inquired another. 
 
 "How's pa— and ma?" "Does your mother 
 know you 're out?" asked others. One soldier 
 walked up, and putting his hand on the bridle, 
 proceeded affably to ask him after his health, 
 and that of every member of his family. At first 
 Frank did not understand that they were mak- 
 
 18 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 ing fun of Mm, but it dawned on him when the 
 man asked him solemnly : 
 
 "Are there any Yankees around, that you 
 were running away so fast just now?" 
 
 * ' No ; if there were I 'd never have found you 
 here," said Frank, shortly, in reply; which at 
 once turned the tide in his favor and diverted 
 the ridicule from himself to his teaser, who was 
 seized by some of his comrades and carried off 
 with much laughter and slapping on the back. 
 
 "I wish to see Colonel Marshall," said Frank, 
 pushing his way through the group that sur- 
 rounded him, and riding up to the man who was 
 still occupied at the basin on the stump. 
 
 "All right, sir, I 'm the man," said the indi- 
 vidual, cheerily looking up with his face drip- 
 ping and rosy from its recent scrubbing. 
 
 "You the colonel!" exclaimed Frank, sus- 
 picious that he was again being ridiculed, and 
 thinking it impossible that this slim, rosy-faced 
 youngster, who was scarcely stouter than Hugh, 
 and who was washing in a tin basin, could be the 
 commander of all these soldierly-looking men, 
 many of whom were old enough to be his father. 
 
 "Yes, I 'm the lieutenant-colonel. I 'm in com- 
 mand," said the gentleman, smiling at him over 
 the towel. 
 
 19 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 Something made Frank understand that 
 this was really the officer, and he gave his mes- 
 sage, which was received with many expressions 
 of thanks. 
 
 ' ' Won 't you get down ? Here, Campbell, take 
 this horse, will you?" he called to a soldier, as 
 Frank sprang from his horse. The orderly 
 stepped forward and took the bridle. 
 
 * ' Now, come with me, ' ' said the colonel, lead- 
 ing the way. "We must get ready to receive 
 your mother. There are some ladies coming — 
 and breakfast, ' ' he called to a group who were 
 engaged in the same occupation he had just 
 ended, and whom Frank knew by instinct to be 
 officers. 
 
 The information seemed to electrify the little 
 knot addressed ; for they began to rush around, 
 and in a few moments they all were in their uni- 
 forms, and surrounding the colonel, who, having 
 brushed his hair with the aid of a little glass 
 hung on a bush, had hurried into his coat and 
 was buckling on his sword and giving orders in 
 a way which at once satisfied Frank that he was 
 every inch a colonel. 
 
 "Now let us go and receive your mother," 
 said he to the boy. As he strode through the 
 camp with his coat tightly buttoned, his soft hat 
 
 20 
 
" 1 'm in command," said the gentleman, smiling at him over the towel 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 set jauntily on the side of his head, his plumes 
 sweeping over its side, and his sword clattering 
 at his spurred heel, he presented a very different 
 appearance from that which he had made a little 
 before, with his head in a tin basin, and his face 
 covered with lather. In fact, Colonel Marshall 
 was already a noted officer, and before the end 
 of the war he attainer still higher rank and 
 reputation. 
 
 The colonel met the rest of the party at the 
 bridge, and introduced himself and several offi- 
 cers who soon joined him. The negroes were 
 directed to take the provisions over to the other 
 side of the stream into the camp, and in a little 
 while the whole regiment were enjoying the 
 breakfast. The boys and their mother had at 
 the colonel's request joined his mess, in which 
 was one of their cousins, the brother of their 
 cousin Belle. 
 
 The gentlemen could eat scarcely anything, 
 they were so busy attending to the wants of the 
 ladies. The colonel, particularly, waited on 
 their cousin Belle all the time. 
 
 As soon as they had finished the colonel left 
 them, and a bugle blew. In a minute all was 
 bustle. Officers were giving orders ; horses were 
 saddled and brought out ; and, by what seemed 
 
 21 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 magic to the boys, the men, who just before were 
 scattered about among the trees laughing and 
 eating, were standing by their horses all in 
 proper order. The colonel and the ofificers came 
 and said good-bye. 
 
 Again the bugle blew. Every man was in his 
 saddle. A few words by the colonel, followed by 
 other words from the captains, and the column 
 started, turning across the bridge, the feet of 
 the horses thundering on the planks. Then the 
 regiment wound up the hill at a walk, the men 
 singing snatches of a dozen songs, of which 
 "The Bonnie Blue Flag," "Lorena," and 
 "Carry me Back to Old Virginia Shore," were 
 the chief ones. 
 
 It seemed to the boys that to be a soldier was 
 the noblest thing on earth; and that this regi- 
 ment could do anything. 
 
 22 
 
IV 
 
 AFTER this it became a common tMng for 
 - passing regiments to camp near Oakland, 
 and the fire blazed many a night, cooking for the 
 soldiers, till the chickens were crowing in the 
 morning. The negroes all had hen-houses and 
 raised their own chickens, and when a camp was 
 near them they used to drive a thriving trade 
 on their own account, selling eggs and chickens 
 to the privates while the officers were enter- 
 tained in the "gret house." 
 
 It was thought an honor to furnish food to the 
 soldiers. Every soldier was to the boys a hero, 
 and each young officer might rival Ivanhoe or 
 Ccenr de Lion. 
 
 It was not a great while, however, before they 
 learned that all soldiers were not like their fav- 
 orite knights. At any rate, thefts were frequent. 
 The absence of men from the plantations, and 
 the constant passing of strangers made stealing 
 easy; hen-roosts were robbed time after time, 
 and even pigs and sheep were taken without any 
 
 23 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 trace of the thieves. The boys ' hen-house, how- 
 ever, which was in the yard, had never been 
 troubled. It was about their only possession, 
 and they took great pride in it. 
 
 One night the boys were fast asleep in their 
 room ia the oflSce, with old Bruno and Nick 
 curled up on their sheepskins on the floor. Hugh 
 was away, so the boys were the only "men" on 
 the place, and felt that they were the protector-s 
 of the plantation. The frequent thefts had made 
 every one very suspicious, and the boys had 
 made up their minds to be on the watch, and, 
 if possible, to catch the thief. 
 
 The negroes said that the deserters did the 
 stealing. 
 
 On the night in question, the boys were sound 
 asleep when old Bruno gave a low growl, and 
 then began walking and snifiSng up and down 
 the room. Soon Nick gave a sharp, quick bark. 
 
 Frank waked first. He was not startled, for 
 the dogs were in the habit of barking whenever 
 they wished to go out-of-doors. Now, however, 
 they kept it up, and it was in a strain somewhat 
 different from their usual signal. 
 
 "What's the matter with you? Gro and lie 
 down, Bruno," called Frank. "Hush up, Nick!" 
 But Bruno would not lie down, and Nick would 
 
 24 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 not keep quiet, though at the sound of Frank's 
 voice they felt less responsibility, and contented 
 themselves with a low growling. 
 
 After a little while Frank was on the point 
 of dropping off to sleep again, when he heard 
 a sound out in the yard, which at once thor- 
 oughly awakened him. He nudged Willy in the 
 side, 
 
 "Willy— Willy, wake up; there's some one 
 moving around outdoors." 
 
 "Umm-mm," groaned Willy, turning over 
 and settling himself for another nap. 
 
 The sound of a chicken chirping out in fright 
 reached Frank's ear. 
 
 "Wake up, Willy!" he called, pinching him 
 hard. "There's some one at the hen-house." 
 
 Willy was awake in a second. The boys con- 
 sulted as to what should be done. Willy was 
 sceptical. He thought Frank had been dream- 
 ing, or that it was only Uncle Balla, or "some 
 one" moving about the yard. But a second 
 cackle of warning reached them, and in a minute 
 both boys were out of bed pulling on their 
 clothes with trembling impatience. 
 
 "Let's go and wake Uncle Balla," proposed 
 Willy, getting himself all tangled in the legs of 
 his trousers. 
 
 25 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "No; I '11 tell you what, let's catch him our- 
 selves," suggested Frank. 
 
 "All right," assented Willy. "We '11 catch 
 him and lock him up; suppose he's got a pistol? 
 your gun maybe won't go off; it does n't always 
 burst the cap. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Well, your old musket is loaded, and you can 
 hold him, while I snap the cap at him, and get it 
 ready." 
 
 "All right-I can't find my jacket-I '11 hold 
 him." 
 
 "Where in the world is my hat?" whispered 
 Frank. "Never mind, it must be in the house. 
 Let's go out the back way. We can get out with- 
 out his hearing us. ' ' 
 
 "What shall we do with the dogs? Let 's 
 shut them up. ' ' 
 
 "No, let's take 'em with us. We can keep them 
 quiet and hold 'em in, and they can track him 
 if he gets away." 
 
 "All right;" and the boys slowly opened the 
 door, and crept stealthily out, Frank clutching 
 his double-barrelled gun, and Willy hugging a 
 heavy musket which he had found and claimed 
 as one of the prizes of war. It was almost pitch- 
 dark. 
 
 They decided that one should take one side of 
 26 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 the hen-house, and one the other side (in such a 
 way that if they had to shoot, they would almost 
 certainly shoot one another!) but before they 
 had separated both dogs jerked loose from their 
 hands and dashed away in the darkaess, barking 
 furiously. 
 
 "There he goes round the garden," shouted 
 Willy, as the sound of footsteps like those of a 
 man running with all his might came from the 
 direction which the dogs had taken. 
 
 "Come on," and both started; but, after tak- 
 ing a few steps, they stopped to listen so that 
 they might trace the fugitive. 
 
 A faint noise behind them arrested their atten- 
 tion, and Frank tiptoed back toward the hen- 
 house. It was too dark to see much, but he heard 
 the hen-house door creak, and was conscious 
 even in the darkness that it was being pushed 
 slowly open. 
 
 "Here's one, Willy," he shouted, at the same 
 time putting his gun to his shoulder and puUing 
 the trigger. The hammer fell with a sharp 
 "click" just as the door was snatched to with a 
 bang. The cap had failed to explode, or the 
 chicken-eating days of the individual in the hen- 
 house would have ended then and there. 
 
 The boys stood for some moments with their 
 27 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 guns pointed at the door of the hen-house ex- 
 pecting the person within to attempt to burst 
 out; but the click of the hammer and their hur- 
 ried conference without, in which it was 
 promptly agreed to let him have both barrels 
 if he appeared, reconciled him to remaining 
 within. 
 
 After some time it was decided to go and wake 
 Uncle Balla, and confer with him as to the 
 proper disposition of their captive. Accordingly, 
 Frank went off to obtain help, while Willy re- 
 mained to watch the hen-house. As Frank left 
 he called back : 
 
 "Willy, you take good aim at him, and if he 
 pokes his head out — let him have it ! " 
 
 This Willy solemnly promised to do. 
 
 Frank was hardly out of hearing before Willy 
 was surprised to hear the prisoner call him by 
 name in the most friendly and familiar manner, 
 although the voice was a strange one. 
 
 "Willy, is that you?" called the person inside. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Where's Frank?" 
 
 "Gone to get Uncle Balla." 
 
 "Did you see that other fellow?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 ' ' I wish you 'd shot him. He brought me here 
 28 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 and played a joke on me. He told me this was a 
 house I conld sleep in, and shut me up in here,— 
 and blest if I don't b'lieve it's nothin' but a hen- 
 house. Let me out here a minute, ' ' he continued, 
 after a pause, cajolingly. 
 
 "No, I won't," said Willy firmly, getting his 
 gun ready. 
 
 There was a pause, and then from the depths 
 of the hen-house issued the most awful groan: 
 
 ' ' Umm ! Ummm ! ! Ummmm ! ! ! " 
 
 Willy was frightened. 
 
 ' ' Umm ! Umm ! ' ' was repeated. 
 
 "What's the matter with you?" asked Willy, 
 feeling sorry in spite of himself. 
 
 "Oh! Oh! Oh! I 'm so sick," groaned the 
 man in the hen-house. 
 
 ' ' How ? What 's the matter r ' 
 
 "That man that fooled me in here gave me 
 something to drink, and it's pizened me ; oh I oh I 
 oh ! I 'm dying. ' ' 
 
 It was a horrible groan. 
 
 Willy's heart relented. He moved to the door 
 and was just about to open it to look in when a 
 light flashed across the yard from Uncle Balla's 
 house, and he saw him coming with a flaming 
 light-wood knot in his hand. 
 
 29 
 
INSTEAD of opening the door, therefore, 
 Willy called to the old man, who was 
 leisurely crossing the yard: 
 
 "Eun, Uncle Balla. Quick, run!" 
 
 At the call Old Balla and Frank set out as 
 fast as they could. 
 
 "What's the matter? Is he done kill de 
 chickens? Is he done got away?" the old man 
 asked, breathlessly. 
 
 "No, he's dyin'," shouted Willy. 
 
 "Hi ! is you shoot him?" asked the old driver. 
 
 "No, that other man 's poisoned him. He 
 was the robber and he fooled this one," ex- 
 plained Willy, opening the door and peeping 
 anxiously in. 
 
 "Go 'long, boy,— now, d' ye ever heah de bet- 
 ter o' dat?— dat man's foolin' wid you; jes' 
 tryin' to git yo' to let him out." 
 
 "No, he isn't," said Willy; "you ought to 
 have heard him." 
 
 But both Balla and Frank were laughing at 
 him, so he felt very shamefaced. He was re- 
 lieved by hearing another groan. 
 
 "Oh, oh, oh! Ah, ah!" 
 30 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "You hear that?" he asked, triumphantly. 
 
 "I boun' I '11 see what's the matter with him, 
 the roscol! Stan' right dyah, y' all, an' if he 
 try to run shoot him, but mine you don ' hit me, ' ' 
 and the old man walked up to the door, and 
 standing on one side flung it open. "What you 
 doin' in dyah after dese chillern's chickens?" 
 he called fiercely. 
 
 "Hello, old man, 's 'at you? I 's mighty sick," 
 muttered the person within. Old Balla held his 
 torch inside the house, amid a confused cackle 
 and flutter of fowls. 
 
 "Well, ef 't ain' a white man, and a soldier 
 at dat!" he exclaimed. "What you doin' heah, 
 robbin' white folks' henroos'?" he called, 
 roughly. "Git up off dat groun'; you ain' 
 sick." 
 
 "Let me get up, Sergeant,— hie— don't you 
 heaJi the roll-call?— the tent's mighty dark; 
 what you fool me in here for?" muttered the 
 man inside. 
 
 The boys could see that he was stretched out 
 on the floor, apparently asleep, and that he was 
 a soldier in uniform. Balla stepped inside. 
 
 "Is he dead?" asked both boys as Balla 
 caught him by the arms, lifted him, and let him 
 fall again limp on the floor. 
 
 31 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEBATES 
 
 "Nor, he's dead-drunk," said Balla, picking 
 up an empty flask. ' ' Come on out. Let me see 
 what I gwi' do wid you?' ' he said, scratching his 
 head. 
 
 ' ' I know what I gwi ' do wid you. I gwi ' lock 
 you up right whar you is." 
 
 * ' Uncle Balla, s 'pose he gets well, won't he get 
 out?" 
 
 "Ain' I gwi' lock him up? Dat's good from 
 you, who was jes' g^i' let 'im out ef me an' 
 Frank had n't come up when we did." 
 
 Willy stepped back abashed. His heart ac- 
 cused him and told him the charge was true. 
 Still he ventured one more question : 
 
 "Had n't you better take the hens out?" 
 
 "Nor; 't ain' no use to teck nuttin' out dyah. 
 Ef he comes to, he know we got 'im, an' he 
 dyahson' trouble nuttin'." 
 
 And the old man pushed to the door and 
 fastened the ir,on hasp over the strong staple. 
 Then, as the lock had been broken, he took a 
 large nail from his pocket and fastened it in the 
 staple with a stout string so that it could not 
 be shaken out. All the time he was working he 
 was talking to the boys, or rather to himself, for 
 their benefit. 
 
 "Now, you see ef we don' find him heah in the 
 32 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 mornin'! Willy jes' gwi' let you get 'way, but 
 a man got you now, wha'ar' been handlin' 
 horses an' know how to hole 'em in the stalls. 
 I boun' he '11 have to butt like a ram to git out 
 dis log hen-house," he said, finally, as he 
 finished tying the last knot in his string, and 
 gave the door a vigorous rattle to test its 
 strength. 
 
 Willy had been too much abashed at his mis- 
 take to fully appreciate all of the witticisms over 
 the prisoner, but Frank enjoyed them almost as 
 much as Unc' Balla himself. 
 
 "Now y' all go 'long to bed, an' I '11 go back 
 an' teck a little nap myself, ' ' said he, in parting. 
 "Ef he gits out that hen-house I '11 give you 
 ev'y chicken I got. But he ain' gwvne git out. A 
 man's done fasten him up dyah." 
 
 The boys went off to bed, Willy still feeling 
 depressed over his ridiculous mistake. They 
 were soon fast asleep, and if the dogs barked 
 again they did not hear them. 
 
 The next thing they knew, Lucy Ann, con- 
 vulsed with laughter, was telling them a story 
 about Uncle Balla and the man in the hen-house. 
 They jumped up, and pulling on their clothes 
 ran out in the yard, thinking to see the prisoner. 
 
 Instead of doing so, they found Uncle BaUa 
 33 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 standing by the hen-house with a comical look 
 of mystification and chagrin ; the roof had been 
 lifted off at one end and not only the prisoner, 
 but every chicken was gone ! 
 
 The boys were half inclined to cry; Balla's 
 look, however, set them to laughing. 
 
 "TJnc' Balla, you got to give me every chicken 
 you got, 'cause you said you would," said Willy. 
 
 "Go 'way from heah, boy. Don' pester me 
 when I studyin' to see which way he got out." 
 
 "You ain't never had a horse get through the 
 roof before, have you ? ' ' said Frank. 
 
 "Go 'way from here, I tell you," said the old 
 man, walking around the house, looking at it. 
 
 As the boys went back to wash and dress 
 themselves, they heard Balla explaining to Lucy 
 Ann and some of the other servants that "the 
 man them chillern let git away had just come 
 back and tooken out the one he had locked up " ; 
 a solution of the mystery he always stoutly in- 
 sisted upon. 
 
 One thing, however, the person's escape 
 effected— it prevented Willy's ever hearing any 
 more of his mistake ; but that did not keep him 
 now and then from asking Uncle Balla "if he 
 had fastened his horses well." 
 
 34 
 
VI 
 
 THESE hens were not the last things stolen 
 from Oakland. Nearly aU the men in the 
 country had gone with the army. Indeed, with 
 the exception of a few overseers who remained 
 to work the farms, every man in the neighbor- 
 hood, between the ages of seventeen and fifty, 
 was in the army. The country was thus left al- 
 most wholly unprotected, and it would have been 
 entirely so but for the ' ' Home Guard, " as it was 
 called, which was a company composed of young 
 boys and the few old men who remained at 
 home, and who had volunteered for service as a 
 local guard, or police body, for the neighborhood 
 of their homes. 
 
 Occasionally, too, later on, a small detachment 
 of men, under a leader known as a " conscript- 
 officer," would come through the country hunt- 
 ing for any men who were subject to the con- 
 script law but who had evaded it, and for de- 
 serters who had run away from the army and 
 refused to return. 
 
 35 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 These two classes of troops, however, stood 
 on a very different footing. The Home Guard 
 was regarded with much respect, for it was com- 
 posed of those whose extreme age or youth alone 
 withheld them from active service; and every 
 youngster in its ranks looked upon it as a train- 
 ing school, arid was ready to die in defence of 
 his home if need were, and, besides, expected to 
 obtain permission to go into the army "next 
 year. ' ' 
 
 The conseript-guard, on the other hand, were 
 grown men, and were thought to be shirking the 
 very dangers and hardships into which they 
 were trying to force others. 
 
 A few miles from Oakland, on the side toward 
 the mountain road and beyond the big woods, 
 lay a district of virgin forest and old-field pines 
 which, even before the war, had acquired a re- 
 putation of an unsavory nature, though its in- 
 habitants were a harmless people. No highways 
 ran through this region, and the only roads 
 which entered it were mere wood-ways, filled 
 with bushes and carpeted with pine-tags; and, 
 being travelled only by the inhabitants, ap- 
 peared to outsiders "to jes' peter out," as the 
 phrase went. This territory was known by the 
 unpromising name of Holetown. 
 
 36 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 Its denizens were a peculiar but kindly race 
 known to the boys as "poor white folks," and 
 called by the negroes, with great contempt, "po' 
 white trash. ' ' Some of them owned small places 
 in the pines ; but the majority were simply ten- 
 ants. They were an inoffensive people, and their 
 worst vices were iatemperance and evasion of 
 the tax-laws. 
 
 They made their living— or rather, they 
 existed— by fishing and hunting; and, to eke it 
 out, attempted the cultivation of little patches of 
 corn and tobacco near their cabins, or in the 
 bottoms where small branches ran into the 
 stream already mentioned. 
 
 In appearance they were usually so thin and 
 sallow that one had to look at them twice to see 
 them clearly. At best, they looked vague and 
 illusive. 
 
 They were brave enough. At the outbreak of 
 the war nearly all of the men in this community 
 enlisted, thinking, as many others did, that war 
 was more like play than work, and consisted 
 more of resting than of laboring. Although most 
 of them, when in battle, showed the greatest 
 fearlessness, yet the duties of camp soon became 
 irksome to them, and they grew sick of the re- 
 straint and drilling of camp-life; so some of 
 
 37 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 them, when refused a furlougli, took it, and came 
 home. Others stayed at home after leave had 
 ended, feeling secure in their stretches of pine 
 and swamp, not only from the feeble efforts of 
 the conscript-guard, but from any parties who 
 might be sent in search of them. 
 
 In this way it happened, as time went by, that 
 Holetown became known to harbor a number of 
 deserters. 
 
 According to the negroes, it was full of them ; 
 and many stories were told about glimpses of 
 men dodging behind trees in the big woods, or 
 rushing away through the underbrush like wild 
 cattle. And, though the grown people doubted 
 whether the negroes had not been startled by 
 some of the hogs, which were quite wild, feeding 
 in the woods, the boys were satisfied that the 
 negroes really had seen deserters. 
 
 This became a certainty when there came re- 
 port after report of these wood-skulkers, and 
 when the conscript-guard, with the brightest of 
 uniforms, rode by with as much show and noise 
 as if on a fox-hunt. Then it became known that 
 deserters were, indeed, infesting the piny dis- 
 trict of Holetown, and in considerable numbers. 
 
 Some of them, it was said, were pursuing agri- 
 culture and all their ordinary vocations as 
 
 38 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 openly as in time of peace, and more indus- 
 triously. They had a regular code of signals, 
 and nearly every person in the Holetown settle- 
 ment was in league with them. 
 
 When the conscript-guard came along, there 
 would be a rush of tow-headed children through 
 the woods, or some of the women about the 
 cabins would blow a horn lustily; after which 
 not a man could be found in all the district. The 
 horn told just how many men were in the guard, 
 and which path they were following ; every mem- 
 ber of the troop being honored with a short, 
 quick "toot." 
 
 "What are you blowing that horn for?" 
 sternly asked the guard one morning of an old 
 woman,— old Mrs. Hall, who stood out in front 
 of her little house blowing like Boreas in the 
 pictures. 
 
 "Jes' blowin' fur Millindy to come to din- 
 ner," she said, sullenly. "Can't y' all let a 
 po' 'ooman call her gals to git some 'n' to eat? 
 You got all her boys in d'army, killin' 'em; why 
 n't yo' go and git kilt some yo'self, 'stidder 
 ridin' 'bout heah tromplin' all over po' folk's 
 chickens ? ' ' 
 
 When the troop returned in the evening, she 
 was still blowing ; "blowin' fur Millindy to come 
 
 39 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 home," she said, with more sharpness than be- 
 fore. But there must have been many Millindys, 
 for horns were sounding all through the settle- 
 ment. 
 
 The deserters, at such times, were said to take 
 to the swamps, and marvellous rumors were 
 abroad of one or more caves, all fitted up, 
 wherein they concealed themselves, like the rob- 
 bers in the stories the boys were so fond of 
 reading. 
 
 After a while thefts of pigs and sheep became 
 so common that they were charged to the 
 deserters. 
 
 Finally it grew to be such a pest that the ladies 
 in the neighborhood asked the Home Guard to 
 take action in the matter, and after some delay 
 it became known that this valorous body was 
 going to invade Holetown and capture the de- 
 serters or drive them away. Hugh was to ac- 
 company them, of course; and he looked very 
 handsome, as well as very important, when he 
 started out on horseback to join the troop. It 
 was his first active service ; and with his trousers 
 in his boots and his pistol in his belt he looked 
 as brave as Julius Cassar, and quite laughed at 
 his mother's fears for him, as she kissed him 
 
 40 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 good-bye and walked out with Mm to Ms horse, 
 which Balla held at the gate. 
 
 The boys asked leave to go with him; but 
 Hugh was so scornful over their request, and 
 looked so soldierly as he galloped away with the 
 other men that the boys felt as cheap as possible. 
 
 41 
 
vn 
 
 WHEN the boys went into the house they 
 found that their Aunt Mary had a head- 
 ache that morning, and, even with the best in- 
 tentions of doing her duty in teaching them, had 
 been forced to go to bed. Their mother was too 
 much occupied with her charge of providing for 
 a family of over a dozen white persons, and five 
 times as many colored dependents, to give any 
 time to acting as substitute in the school-room, 
 so the boys found themselves with a holiday be- 
 fore them. It seemed vain to try to shoot duck on 
 the creek, and the perch were averse to biting. 
 The boys accordingly determined to take both 
 guns and to set out for a real hunt in the big 
 woods. 
 
 They received their mother's permission, and 
 after a lunch was prepared they started in high 
 glee, talking about the squirrels and birds they 
 expected to kill. 
 
 Frank had his gun, and Willy had the musket; 
 42 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 and both carried a plentiful supply of powder 
 and some tolerably round slugs made from car- 
 tridges. 
 
 They usually hunted in the part of the woods 
 nearest the house, and they knew that game was 
 not very abundant there ; so, as a good long day 
 was before them, they determined to go over to 
 the other side of the woods. 
 
 They accordingly pushed on, taking a path 
 which led through the forest. They went entirely 
 through the big woods without seeing anything 
 but one squirrel, and presently found themselves 
 at the extreme edge of Holetown. They were 
 just grumbling at the lack of game when they 
 heard a distant horn. The sound came from per- 
 haps a mile or more away, but was quite distinct. 
 
 "What's that? Somebody fox-hunting?— or 
 is it a dinner-horn?" asked Willy, listening in- 
 tently. 
 
 "It's a horn to warn deserters, that's what 't 
 is," said Frank, pleased to show his superior 
 knowledge. 
 
 "I tell you what to do :— let's go and hunt de- 
 serters," said Willy, eagerly. 
 
 "All right. Won't that be fun!" and both 
 boys set out down the road toward a point where 
 they knew one of the paths ran into the pine- 
 
 43 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 district, talking of the numbers of prisoners 
 they expected to take. 
 
 In an instant they were as alert and eager as 
 young hounds on a trail. They had mapped out 
 a plan before, and they knew exactly what they 
 had to do. Frank was the captain, by right of 
 his being older; and Willy was lieutenant, and 
 was to obey orders. The chief thing that troubled 
 them was that they did not wish to be seen by 
 any of the women or children about the cabins, 
 for they all knew the boys, because they were 
 accustomed to come to Oakland for supplies; 
 then, too, the boys wished to remain on friendly 
 terms with their neighbors. Another thing 
 worried them. They did not know what to do 
 with their prisoners after they should have cap- 
 tured them. However, they pushed on and soon 
 came to a dim cart-way, which ran at right- 
 angles to the main road and which went into 
 the very heart of Holetown. Here they halted 
 to reconnoitre and to inspect their weapons. 
 
 Even from the main road, the track, as it led 
 off through the overhanging woods with thick 
 underbrush of chinquapin bushes, appeared to 
 the boys to have something strange about it, 
 though they had at other times walked it from 
 end to end. Still, they entered boldly, clutching 
 
 44 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 their guns. Willy suggested that they should go 
 in Indian file and that the rear one should step 
 in the other's footprints as the Indians do; but 
 Frank thought it was best to walk abreast, as 
 the Indians walked in their peculiar way only 
 to prevent an enemy who crossed their trail 
 from knowing how many they were ; and, so far 
 from it being any disadvantage for the deserters 
 to know their number, it was even better that 
 they should know there were two, so that they 
 would not attack from the rear. Accordingly, 
 keeping abreast, they struck in ; each taking the 
 woods on one side of the road, which he was to 
 watch and for which he was to be responsible. 
 
 The farther they went the more indistinct the 
 track became, and the wilder beeame the sur- 
 rounding woods. They proceeded with great 
 caution, examining every particularly thick 
 clump of bushes ; peeping behind each very large 
 tree; and occasionally even taking a glance up 
 among its boughs; for they had themselves so 
 often planned how, if pursued, they would climb 
 trees and conceal themselves, that they would 
 not have been at all surprised to find a fierce 
 deserter, armed to the teeth, crouching among 
 the branches. 
 
 Though they searched carefully every spot 
 45 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 where a deserter could possibly lurk, they passed 
 through the oak woods and were deep in the 
 pines without having seen any foe or heard a 
 noise which could possibly proceed from one. A 
 squirrel had daringly leaped from the trunk of a 
 hickory-tree and run into the woods, right be- 
 fore them, stopping impudently to take a good 
 look at them ; but they were hunting larger game 
 than squirrels, and they resisted the temptation 
 to take a shot at him,— an exercise of virtue 
 which brought them a distinct feeling of pleas- 
 ure. They were, however, beginning to be em- 
 barrassed as to their next course. They could 
 hear the dogs barking, farther on in the pines, 
 and knew they were approaching the vicinity of 
 the settlement; for they had crossed the little 
 creek which ran through a thicket of elder 
 bushes and "gums," and which marked the 
 boundary of Holetown. Little paths, too, every 
 now and then turned off from the main track and 
 went into the pines, each leading to a cabin or 
 bit of creek-bottom deeper in. They therefore 
 were in a real dilemma concerning what to do ; 
 and Willy's suggestion, to eat lunch, was a wel- 
 come one. They determined to go a little way 
 into the woods, where they could not be seen, 
 and had just taken the lunch out of the game- 
 
 46 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 bag and were turning into a by-path, when they 
 met a man who was coming along at a slow, 
 lounging walk, and carrying a long single-bar- 
 relled shot-gun across his arm. 
 
 When first they heard him, they thought he 
 might be a deserter; but when he came nearer 
 they saw that he was simply a countryman out 
 hunting; for his old game-bag (from which 
 peeped a squirrel's tail) was over his shoulder, 
 and he had no weapon at all, excepting that old 
 squirrel-gun. 
 
 ' ' Good morning, sir, ' ' said both boys, politely. 
 
 ' ' Mornin ' ! What luck y ' all had ? " he asked 
 good-naturedly, stopping and putting the butt of 
 his gun on the ground, and resting lazily on it, 
 preparatory to a chat. 
 
 "We're not hunting; we're hunting de- 
 serters. ' ' 
 
 "Huntin' deserters!" echoed the man with a 
 smile which broke into a chuckle of amusement 
 as the thought worked its way into his brain. 
 "Ain't you see' none?" 
 
 "No," said both boys in a breath, greatly 
 pleased at his friendliness. ' ' Do you know where 
 any are?" 
 
 The man scratched his head, seeming to re- 
 flect. 
 
 47 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Well, 'pears to me I hearn tell o' some, 
 'roun' to'des that-a-ways, " making a compre- 
 hensive sweep of his arm in the direction just 
 opposite to that which the boys were taking. 
 "I seen the conscrip '-guard a little while ago 
 pokin' 'roun' this-a-way; but Lor', that ain' 
 the way to ketch deserters. I knows every foot 
 o' groun' this-a-way, an' ef they was any de- 
 serters roun ' here I 'd be mighty apt to know it. ' ' 
 
 This announcement was an extinguisher to 
 the boys ' hopes. Clearly, they were going in the 
 wrong direction. 
 
 "We are just gomg to eat our lunch," said 
 Frank; "won't you join us?" 
 
 Willy added his invitation to his brother's, 
 and their friend politely accepted, suggesting 
 that they should walk back a little way and find 
 a log. This all three did ; and in a few minutes 
 they were enjoying the lunch which the boys' 
 mother had provided, while the stranger was 
 telling the boys his views about deserters, which, 
 to say the least, were very original. 
 
 "I seen the conscrip '-guard jes' this mornin', 
 ridin' 'round whar they knowd they warn' no 
 deserters, but ole womens and children," he said 
 with his mouth full. "Why n't they go whar 
 they knows deserters isf" he asked. 
 
 48 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 ' ' Where are they ? We heard they had a cave 
 do-wn on the river, and we were going there," 
 declared the boys. 
 
 "Down on the river?— a cave? Ain' no cave 
 down thar, without it's below Rockett's mill ; fur 
 I 've hunted and fished ev'y foot o' that river 
 up an' down both sides, an't' ain' a hole thar, 
 big enough to hide a' ole hyah, I ain' know." 
 
 This proof was too conclusive to admit of 
 further argument. 
 
 "Why don't you go in the army?" asked 
 Willy, after a brief reflection. 
 
 "What? Why don't I go in the army?" re- 
 peated the hunter. "Why, I 's in the army! 
 You didn't think I war n't in the army, did 
 you?" 
 
 The hunter's tone and the expression of his 
 face were so full of surprise that Willy felt 
 deeply mortified at his rudeness, and began at 
 once to stammer something to explain himself. 
 
 "I b 'longs to Colonel Marshall's regiment," 
 continued the man, " an ' I 's been home sick on 
 leave o' absence. Got wounded in the leg, an' 
 I 's jes' gettin' well. I ain' rightly well enough 
 to go back now, but I 's anxious to git back; 
 I 'm gwine to-morrow mornin' ef I don' go this 
 evenin'. You see I kin hardly walk now!" and 
 
 49 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 to demonstrate his lameness, he got up and 
 limped a few yards. "I aia' well yit," he pur- 
 sued, returning and dropping into his seat on 
 the log, with his face drawn up by the pain the 
 exertion had brought on. 
 
 ''Let me see your wound. Is it sore now?" 
 asked Willy, moving nearer to the man with a 
 look expressive of mingled curiosity and sym- 
 pathy. 
 
 "You can't see it; it's up heah," said the 
 soldier, touching the upper part of his hip ; "an' 
 I got another one heah," he added, placing his 
 hand very gently to his side. ' ' This one 's whar 
 a Yankee run me through with his sword. Now, 
 that one was where a piece of shell hit me,— I 
 don't keer nothin' 'bout that," and he opened 
 his shirt and showed a triangular purple scar on 
 his shoulder. 
 
 * ' You certainly must be a brave soldier, ' ' ex- 
 claimed both boys, impressed at sight of the 
 scar, their voices softened by fervent admira- 
 tion. 
 
 ' ' Yes, I kep ' up with the bes ' of 'em, ' ' he said, 
 with a pleased smile. 
 
 Suddenly a horn began to blow, "toot— toot- 
 toot," as if all the "Millindys" in the world 
 were being summoned. It was so near the boys 
 that it quite startled them. 
 
 50 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "That's for the deserters, now," they both 
 exclaimed. 
 
 Their friend looked calmly up and down the 
 road, both ways. 
 
 "Them rascally conscrip '-guard been tellin' 
 you all that, to gi' 'em some excuse for keepin' 
 out o ' th ' army theyselves— that 's all. Th ' ain ' 
 gwine ketch no deserters any whar in all these 
 parts, an' you kin tell 'em so. I 'm gwine down 
 thar an' see what that horn 's a-blown' fur; hit 
 's somebody's dinner horn, or somp'n'," he 
 added, rising and taking up his game-bag. 
 
 "Can't we go with you?" asked the boys. 
 
 "Well, nor, I reckon you better not," he 
 drawled; "thar 's some right bad dogs down 
 thar in the pines,— mons 'us bad; an' I 's gwine 
 cut through the woods an' see ef I can't pick up 
 a squ'rr'l, gwine 'long, for the ole 'ooman's 
 supper, as I got to go 'way to-night or to-mor- 
 row ; she 's mighty poorly. ' ' 
 
 "Is she poorly much?" asked Willy, greatly 
 concerned. ' ' We '11 get mamma to come and see 
 her to-morrow, and bring her some bread. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Nor, she ain ' so sick ; that is to say, she jis ' 
 poorly and 'sturbed in her mind. She gittia' 
 sort 0' old. Here, y' all take these squ'rr'ls," 
 he said, taking the squirrels from his old game- 
 bag and tossing them at Willy 's feet. Both boys 
 
 51 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 protested, but he insisted. "Oh, yes; I kin get 
 some mo ' fur her. ' ' 
 
 "Y' all better go home. Well, good-by, much 
 obliged to you, ' ' and he strolled off with his gun 
 in the bend of his arm, leaving the boys to ad- 
 mire and talk over his courage. 
 
 They turned back, and had gone about a 
 quarter of a mile, when they heard a great 
 trampling of horses behind them. They stopped 
 to listen, and in a little while a squadron of 
 cavalry came in sight. The boys stepped to one 
 side of the road to wait for them, eager to tell 
 the important information they had received 
 from their friend, that there were no deserters 
 in that section. In a hurried consultation they 
 agreed not to tell that they had been hunting 
 deserters themselves, as they knew the soldiers 
 would only have a laugh at their expense. 
 
 "Hello, boys, what luck?" called the oflScer in 
 the lead, in a friendly manner. 
 
 They told him they had not shot anything; 
 that the squirrels had been given to them ; and 
 then both boys inquired : 
 
 ' ' You all hunting for deserters ? ' ' 
 
 "You seen any?" asked the leader, carelessly, 
 while one or two men pressed their horses for- 
 ward eagerly. 
 
 52 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 "No, th' ain't any deserters in this direction 
 
 at all," said the boys, with conviction in their 
 
 manner. 
 "How do you know?" asked the officer, 
 " 'Cause a gentleman told us so." 
 "Who? When? What gentleman?" 
 "A gentleman who met us a little while ago," 
 " How long ago ? Who was he ? " 
 "Don't know who he was," said Frank, 
 "When we were eating our snack," put in 
 
 Willy, not to be left out. 
 
 ' ' How was he dressed ? Where was it ? What 
 
 sort of man was he ? " eagerly inquired the lead- 
 ing trooper. 
 
 The boys proceeded to describe their friend, 
 
 impressed by the intense interest accorded them 
 
 by the listeners. 
 
 "He was a sort of a man with red hair, and 
 
 wore a pair of gray breeches and an old pair of 
 
 shoes, and was in his shirt-sleeves." Frank was 
 
 the spokesman. 
 
 "And he had a gun— a long squirrel-gun," 
 
 added Willy, "and he said he belonged to 
 
 Colonel Marshall's regiment." 
 "Why, that's Tim Mills. He 's a deserter 
 
 himself," exclaimed the captain. 
 
 "No, he ain't— fee ain't any deserter," pro- 
 53 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 tested both, at once. "He is a mighty brave sol- 
 dier, and he 's been home on a furlough to get 
 well of a wound on his leg where he was shot. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, and it ain't well yet, but he 's going 
 back to his command to-night or to-morrow 
 morning ; and he 's got another wound in his side 
 where a Yankee ran him through with his sword. 
 We know he ain 't any deserter. ' ' 
 
 ' ' How do you know all this ? ' ' asked the ofl&cer. 
 
 "He told us so himself, just now — a little 
 while ago, that is," said the boys. 
 
 The man laughed. 
 
 "Why, he 's fooled you to death. That 's Tim 
 himself, that 's been doing all the devilment 
 about here. He is the worst deserter in the whole 
 gang." 
 
 "We saw the wound on his shoulder," de- 
 clared the boys, still doubting. 
 
 "I know it; he 's got one there, — that 's what 
 I know him by. Which way did he go, — and how 
 long has it been?" 
 
 ' ' He went that way, down in the woods ; and 
 it 's been some time. He 's got away now. ' ' 
 
 The lads by this time were almost convinced 
 of their mistake ; but they could not prevent their 
 sympathy from being on the side of their late 
 agreeable companion. 
 
 54 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "We '11 catcli the rascal," declared the leader, 
 very fiercely. "Come on, men,— he can't have 
 gone far;" and he wheeled his horse about and 
 dashed back up the road at a great pace, fol- 
 lowed by his men. The boys were half inclined 
 to follow and aid in the capture; but Frank, 
 after a moment's thought, said solemnly: 
 
 "No, Willy; an Arab never betrays a man 
 who has eaten his salt. This man has broken 
 bread with us ; we cannot give him up. I don't 
 think we ought to have told about him as much 
 as we did." 
 
 This was an argument not to be despised. 
 
 A little later, as the boys trudged home, they 
 heard the horns blowing again a regular "toot- 
 toot " f or " Millindy. ' ' It struck them that sup- 
 per followed dinner very quickly in Holetown. 
 
 When the troop passed by in the evening the 
 men were in very bad humor. They had had a 
 fruitless addition to their ride, and some of them 
 were inclined to say that the boys had never seen 
 any man at all, which the boys thought was 
 pretty silly, as the man had eaten at least two- 
 thirds of their lunch. 
 
 Somehow the story got out, and Hugh was 
 very scornful because the boys had given their 
 lunch to a deserter. 
 
 55 
 
vni 
 
 4 S time went by the condition of things at 
 U^\. Oakland changed — as it did everywhere 
 else. The boys' mother, like all the other ladies 
 of the country, was so devoted to the cause that 
 she gave to the soldiers until there was nothing 
 left. After that there was a failure of the crops, 
 and the immediate necessities of the family and 
 the hands on the place were great. 
 
 There was no sugar nor coffee nor tea. These 
 luxuries had been given up long before. An 
 attempt was made to manufacture sugar out of 
 the sorghum, or sugar-cane, which was now 
 being cultivated as an experiment ; but it proved 
 unsuccessful, and molasses made from the cane 
 was the only sweetening. The boys, however, 
 never liked anything sweetened with molasses, 
 so they gave up everything that had molasses in 
 it. Sassafras tea was tried as a substitute for 
 tea, and a drink made out of parched corn and 
 wheat, of burnt sweet potato and other things, 
 in the place of coffee ; but none of them were fit 
 
 56 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 to drink— at least so the boys thought. The wheat 
 crop proved a failure ; but the corn turned out 
 very fine, and the boys learned to live on com 
 bread, as there was no wheat bread. 
 
 The soldiers still came by, and the house was 
 often full of young officers who came to see the 
 boys ' cousins. The boys used to ride the horses 
 to and from the stables, and, being perfectly 
 fearless, became very fine riders. 
 
 Several times, among the visitors, came the 
 young colonel who had commanded the regiment 
 that had camped at the bridge the first year of 
 the war. It did not seem to the boys that Cousin 
 Belle liked him, for she took much longer to 
 dress when he came; and if there were other 
 officers present she would take very little notice 
 of the colonel. 
 
 Both boys were in love with her, and after 
 considerable hesitation had written her a joint 
 letter to tell her so, at which she laughed heartily 
 and kissed them both and called them her sweet- 
 hearts. But, though they were jealous of several 
 young officers who came from time to time, they 
 felt sorry for the colonel,— their cousin was so 
 mean to him. They were on the best terms with 
 him and had announced their intention of going 
 into his regiment if only the war should last long 
 
 57 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 enough. When he came there was always a 
 scramble to get his horse; though of all who 
 came to Oakland he rode the wildest horses, as 
 both boys knew by practical experience. 
 
 At length the soldiers moved off too far to 
 permit them to come on visits, and things were 
 very dull. So it was for a long while. 
 
 But one evening in May, about sunset, as the 
 boys were playing in the yard, a man came 
 riding through the place on the way to Eich- 
 mond. His horse showed that he had been riding 
 hard. He asked the nearest way to "Ground- 
 Squirrel Bridge." The Yankees, he said, were 
 coming. It was a raid. He had ridden ahead of 
 them, and had left them about Greenbay depot, 
 which they had set on fire. He was in too great 
 a hurry to stop and get something to eat, and he 
 rode off, leaving much excitement behind him; 
 for Greenbay was only eight miles away, and 
 Oakland lay right between two roads to Rich- 
 mond, down one or the other of which the party 
 of raiders must certainly pass. 
 
 It was the first time the boys ever saw their 
 mother exhibit so much emotion as she then did. 
 She came to the door and called : 
 
 "Balla, come here." Her voice sounded to 
 the boys a little strained and troubled, and they 
 
 58 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 ran up the steps and stood by her. Balla came 
 to the portico, and looked up with an air of in- 
 quiry. He, too, showed excitement. 
 
 "Balla, I want you to know that if you wish 
 to go, you can do so. ' ' 
 
 "Hi, Mistis— " began Balla, with an air of 
 reproach ; but she cut him short and kept on. 
 
 ' ' I want you all to know it. ' ' She was speaking 
 now so as to be heard by the cook and the maids 
 who were standing about the yard listening to 
 her. "I want you all to know it— every one on 
 the place ! You can go if you wish ; but, if you 
 go, you can never come back ! ' ' 
 
 "Hi, Mistis," broke in Uncle Balla, "whar is 
 I got to go? I wuz born on dis place an' I 'spec' 
 to die here, an' be buried right yonder" ; and he 
 turned and pointed up to the dark clumps of 
 trees that marked the graveyard on the hill, a 
 half mile away, where the colored people were 
 buried. "Dat I does," he affirmed positively. 
 " Y' all sticks by us, and we '11 stick by you." 
 
 "I know I ain' gwine nowhar wid no Yankees 
 or nothin ', ' ' said Lucy Ann, in an undertone. 
 
 "Dee tell me dee got hoofs and horns," 
 laughed one of the women in the yard. 
 
 The boys' mother started to say something 
 further to Balla, but though she opened her lips, 
 
 59 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 she did not speak; she turned suddenly and 
 walked into the house and into her chamber, 
 where she shut the door behind her. The boys 
 thought she was angry, but when they softly 
 followed her a few minutes afterward, she got 
 up hastily from where she had been kneeling 
 beside the bed, and they saw that she had been 
 crying. A murmur under the window called them 
 back to the portico. It had begun to grow dark ; 
 but a bright spot was glowing on the horizon, 
 and on this every one's gaze was fixed. 
 
 "Where is it, Balla? What is it?" asked the 
 boys' mother, her voice no longer strained and 
 harsh, but even softer than usual. 
 
 "It 's the depot, madam. They 's burnin' it. 
 That man told me they was burnin' ev'ywhar 
 they went." 
 
 "Will they be here to-night?" asked his 
 mistress. 
 
 "No, marm; I don' hardly think they will. 
 That man said they could n't travel more than 
 thirty miles a day ; but they 'ell be plenty of 'em 
 here to-morrow— to breakfast." He gave a 
 nervous sort of laugh. 
 
 "Here,— you all come here," said their mis- 
 tress to the servants. She went to the smoke- 
 house and unlocked it. "Qro in there and get 
 
 60 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 down the bacon— take a piece, each of you." A 
 great deal was still left. "Balla, step here." 
 She called him aside and spoke earnestly in an 
 undertone. 
 
 "Yes 'm, that 's so; that 's jes' what I wuz 
 gwine do," the boys heard him say. 
 
 Their mother sent the boys out. She went and 
 locked herself in her room, but they heard her 
 footsteps as she turned about within, and now 
 and then they heard her opening and shutting 
 drawers and moving chairs. 
 
 In a little while she came out. 
 
 "Frank, you and Willy go and tell Balla to 
 come to the chamber door. He may be out ia the 
 stable." 
 
 They dashed out, proud to bear so important 
 a message. They could not find him, but an hour 
 later they heard him coming from the stable. He 
 at once went into the house. They rushed into 
 the chamber, where they found the door of the 
 closet open. 
 
 "Balla, come in here," called their mother 
 from within. "Have you got them safe?" she 
 asked. 
 
 "Yes 'm; jes' as safe as they kia be. I want 
 to be 'bout here when they come, or I 'd go 
 down an' stay whar they is." 
 
 61 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "What is it?" asked the boys. 
 
 "Where is the best place to put that?" she 
 said, pointing to a large, strong box in which, 
 they knew, the finest silver was kept ; indeed, all 
 excepting what was used every day on the table. 
 
 "Well, I declar', Mistis, that 's hard to tell," 
 said the old driver, "without it 's in the stable." 
 
 "They may burn that down." 
 
 "That 's so ; you might bury it under the floor 
 of the smoke-house ? ' ' 
 
 "I have heard that they always look for silver 
 there," said the boys' mother. "How would it 
 do to bury it in the garden?" 
 
 ' ' That 's the very place I was gwine name, ' ' 
 said Balla, with flattering approval. "They 
 can't burn that down, and if they gwine dig for 
 it then they '11 have to dig a long time before 
 they git over that big garden. ' ' He stooped and 
 lifted up one end of the box to test its weight. 
 
 ' ' I thought of the other end of the flower-bed, 
 between the big rose-bush and the lilac. ' ' 
 
 "That 's the very place I had in my mind," 
 declared the old man. ' ' They won' never fine it 
 dyah!" 
 
 "We know a good place," said the boys both 
 together; "it 's a heap better than that. It 's 
 
 62 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 where we bury our treasures when we play 
 'Black-beard the Pirate.' " 
 
 ' ' Very well, ' ' said their mother ; " I don 't care 
 to know where it is until after to-morrow, any- 
 how. I know I can trust you," she added, 
 addressing Balla. 
 
 "Yes'm, you know dat," said he, simply. 
 "I '11 jes' go an' git my hoe." 
 
 "The garden has n't got a roof to it, has it, 
 Unc' Balla?" asked Willy, quietly. 
 
 "Gro 'way from here, boy," said the old man, 
 making a sweep at him with his hand. "That 
 boy ain ' never done talkin ' 'bout that thing yit, ' ' 
 he added, with a pleased laugh, to his mistress. 
 
 "And you ain't ever given me all those 
 chickens either," responded Willy, forgetting 
 his grammar. 
 
 "Oh, well, I 'm gwi' do it; ain't you hear me 
 say I 'm gwine do it?" he laughed as he went 
 out. 
 
 The boys were too excited to get sleepy before 
 the silver was hidden. Their mother told them 
 they might go down into the garden and help 
 Balla, on condition that they would not talk. 
 
 "That 's the way we always do when we bury 
 the treasure. Ain't it, Willy?" asked Frank. 
 
 63 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 " If a man speaks, it 's death ! ' ' declared Willy, 
 slapping his hand on his side as if to draw a 
 sword, striking a theatrical attitude and speak- 
 ing in a deep voice. 
 
 "Give the 'galleon* to us," said Prank. 
 
 " No ; be off with you, ' ' said their mother. 
 
 ' ' That ain 't the way, ' ' said Frank. ' ' A pirate 
 never digs the hole until he has his treasure at 
 hand. To do so would prove him but a novice ; 
 would n't it, Willy?" 
 
 "Well, I leave it all to you, my little Buc- 
 caneers," said their mother, laughing. "I '11 
 take care of the spoons and forks we use every 
 day. I '11 just hide them away in a hole some- 
 where." 
 
 The boys started off after Balla with a shout, 
 but remembered their errand and suddenly 
 hushed down to a little squeal of delight at being 
 actually engaged in burying treasure— real 
 silver. It seemed too good to be true, and withal 
 there was a real excitement about it, for how 
 could they know but that some one might watch 
 them from some hiding-place, or might even fire 
 into them as they worked? 
 
 They met the old fellow as he was coming 
 from the carriage-house with a hoe and a spade 
 in his hand. He was on his way to the garden 
 
 64 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 in a very straightforward manner, but the boys 
 made him understand that to bury treasure it 
 was necessary to be particularly secret, and 
 after some little grumbling, Balla humored 
 them. 
 
 The difficulty of getting the box of silver out 
 of the house secretly, whilst all the family were 
 up, and the servants were moving about, was so 
 great that this part of the affair had to be car- 
 ried on in a manner different from the usual 
 programme of pirates of the first water. Even 
 the boys had to admit this ; and they yielded to 
 old Balla 's advice on this point, but made up 
 for it by additional formality, ceremony, and 
 secrecy in pointing out the spot where the box 
 was to be hid. 
 
 Old Balla was quite accustomed to their games 
 and fun — their "pranks," as he called them. 
 He accordingly yielded willingly when they 
 marched him to a point at the lower end of the 
 yard, on the opposite side from the garden, and 
 left him. But he was inclined to give trouble 
 when they both reappeared with a gun, and in a 
 whisper announced that they must march first 
 up the ditch which ran by the spring around the 
 foot of the garden. 
 
 "Look here, boys; I ain' got time to fool with 
 65 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 you chillem, ' ' said the old man. Ain 't you hear 
 your ma tell me she 'pend on me to bury that 
 silver what yo' gran 'ma and gran 'pa used to 
 eat off o'— an' don' wan' nobody to know 
 nothin' 'bout it? An' y' all comin' here with 
 guns, like you huntin' squ'rr'ls, an' now talMn' 
 'bout wadin' in the ditch!" 
 
 "But, Unc' Balla, that's the way all bucca- 
 neers do, ' ' protested Frank. 
 
 "Yes, buccaneers always go by water," said 
 Willy. 
 
 "And we can stoop in the ditch and come m 
 at the far end of the garden, so nobody can see 
 us," added Frank. 
 
 "Bookanear or bookafar,— I 'se gwine in dat 
 garden and dig a hole wid my hoe, an' I is too 
 ole to be wadin' in a ditch like chillern. I got 
 the misery in my knee now, so bad I 'se sea 'eely 
 able to stand. I don't know huccome y' all ain't 
 satisfied with the place you' ma an' I done pick, 
 anyways. ' ' 
 
 This was too serious a mutiny for the boys. 
 So it was finally agreed that one gun should be 
 returned to the office, and that they should enter 
 by the gate, after which Balla was to go with the 
 boys by the way they should show him, and see 
 the spot they thought of. 
 
 66 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 They took him down through the weeds around 
 the garden, crouching under the rose-bushes, 
 and at last stopped at a spot under the slope, 
 completely surrounded by shrubbery. 
 
 "Here is the spot," said Frank in a whisper, 
 pointing under one of the bushes. 
 
 "It 's in a line with the longest limb of the big 
 oak-tree by the gate," added Willy, "and when 
 this locust bush and that cedar grow to be big 
 trees, it will be just half-way between them." 
 
 As this seemed to Balla a very good place, he 
 set to work at once to dig, the two boys helping 
 him as well as they could. It took a great deal 
 longer to dig the hole in the dark than they had 
 expected, and when they got back to the house 
 everything was quiet. 
 
 The boys had their hats pulled over their eyes, 
 and had turned their jackets inside out to dis- 
 guise themselves. 
 
 " It 's a first-rate place ! Ain 't it, Unc ' Balla ? ' ' 
 they said, as they entered the chamber where 
 their mother and aunt were waiting for them. 
 
 ' ' Do you think it will do, Balla ? ' ' their mother 
 asked. 
 
 "Oh, yes, madam; it 's far enough, an' they 
 got mighty comical ways to get dyah, wadin' in 
 ditch an' things— it will do. I ain.' sho' I kin fin' 
 
 67 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 it ag'in myself. ' ' He was not particularly enthu- 
 siastic. Now, however, he shouldered the box, 
 with a grunt at its weight, and the party went 
 slowly out through the hack door into the dark. 
 The glow of the burning depot was still visible 
 in the west. 
 
 Then it was decided that Willy should go be- 
 fore—he said to "reconnoitre," Balla said "to 
 open the gate and lead the way,"— and that 
 Frank should bring up the rear. 
 
 They trudged slowly on through the darkness, 
 Frank and Willy watching on every side, old 
 Balla stooping under the weight of the big box. 
 After they were some distance in the garden 
 they heard, or thought they heard, a sound back 
 at the gate, but decided that it was nothing but 
 the latch clicking; and they went on down to 
 their hiding place. 
 
 In a little while the black box was well settled 
 in the hole, and the dirt was thrown upon it. The 
 replaced earth made something of a mound, 
 which was unfortunate. They had not thought 
 of this; but they covered it with leaves, and 
 agreed that it was so well hidden, the Yankees 
 would never dream of looking there. 
 
 "TJnc' Balla, where are your horses?" asked 
 one of the boys. 
 
 68 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 "That 's for me to know, an' them to find out 
 what kin, ' ' replied the old fellow with a chuckle 
 of satisfaction. 
 
 The whole party crept back out of the garden, 
 and the boys were soon dreaming of buccaneers 
 and pirates. 
 
 69 
 
IX 
 
 THE boys were not sure that they had even 
 fallen asleep when they heard Lucy Ann 
 call outside. They turned over to take another 
 nap. She was coming up to the door. No, for it 
 was a man's step, it must be Uncle Balla's ; they 
 heard horses trampling and people talking. In a 
 second the door was flung open, and a man 
 strode into the room followed by one, two, a 
 half-dozen others, all white and all in uniform. 
 They were Yankees. The boys were too fright- 
 ened to speak. They thought they were arrested 
 for hiding the sUver. 
 
 "Get up, you lazy little rebels," cried one of 
 the intruders, not unpleasantly. As the boys 
 were not very quick in obeying, being really too 
 frightened to do more than sit up in bed, the man 
 caught the mattress by the end, and lifting it 
 with a jerk emptied them and all the bedclothes 
 out into the middle of the floor in a heap. At this 
 all the other men laughed. A minute more and 
 he had drawn his sword. The boys expected no 
 
 70 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 less than to be immediately killed. They were 
 almost paralyzed. But instead of plunging his 
 sword into them, the man began to stick it into 
 the mattresses and to rip them up ; while others 
 pulled open the drawers of the bureau and 
 pitched the things on the floor. 
 
 The boys felt themselves to be in a very ex- 
 posed and defenceless condition ; and Willy, who 
 had become tangled in the bedclothes, and had 
 been a little hurt in falling, now that the strain 
 was somewhat over, began to cry. 
 
 In a minute a shadow darkened the doorway 
 and their mother stood in the room. 
 
 "Leave the room instantly!" she cried. 
 "Aren't you ashamed to frighten children!" 
 
 "We haven't hurt the brats," said the man 
 with the sword, good-naturedly. 
 
 "Well, you terrify them to death. It 's just as 
 bad. Give me those clothes!" and she sprang 
 forward and snatched the boys ' clothes from the 
 hands of a man who had taken them up. She 
 flung the suits to the boys, who lost no time in 
 slipping into them. 
 
 They had at once recovered their courage in 
 the presence of their mother. She seemed to 
 them, as she braved the intruders, the grandest 
 person they had ever seen. Her face was white, 
 
 71 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 but her eyes were like coals of fire. They were 
 very glad she had never looked or talked so to 
 them. 
 
 When they got outdoors the yard was full of 
 soldiers. They were upon the porches, in the 
 entry, and in the house. The smoke-house was 
 open and so were the doors of all the other out- 
 houses, and now and then a man passed, car- 
 rying some article which the boys recognized. 
 
 Li a little while the soldiers had taken every- 
 thing they could carry conveniently, and even 
 things which must have caused them some in- 
 convenience. They had secured all the bacon 
 that had been left in the smoke-house, as well as 
 all other eatables they could find. It was a queer 
 sight, to see the fellows sitting on their horses 
 with a ham or a pair of fowls tied to one side of 
 the saddle and an engraving, or a package of 
 books, or some ornament, to the other. 
 
 A new party of men had by this time come up 
 from the direction of the stables. 
 
 "Old man, come here!" called some of them 
 to Balla, who was standing near expostulating 
 with the men who were about the fire. 
 
 ' ' Who ? -me ?" asked Balla. 
 
 "B 'ain't you the carriage driver?" 
 
 "Ain't I the keridge driver?" 
 72 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 "Yes, you; we know you are, so you need not 
 be lying about it." 
 
 "Hi! yes; I the keridge driver. Wbo say I 
 ain't?" 
 
 "Well, where have you hid those horses? 
 Come, we want to know, quick," said the fellow 
 roughly, taking out his pistol in a threatening 
 way. 
 
 The old man's eyes grew wide. "Hi! befo' 
 de Lord ! Marster, how I know anything of the 
 horses ef they ain't in the stable,— there 's 
 where we keep horses ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' Here, you come with us. We won't have no 
 foolin' 'bout this," said his questioner, seizing 
 him by the shoulder and jerking him angrily 
 around. "If you don't show us pretty quick 
 where those horses are, we'll put a bullet or two 
 into you. March off there ! ' ' 
 
 He was backed by a half-a-dozen more, but the 
 pistol, which was at old Balla's head, was his 
 most efficient ally. 
 
 " Hi ! Marster, don 't p 'int dat thing at me that 
 way, I ain't ready to die yit— an' I ain' like 
 dem things, noways, ' ' protested Balla. 
 
 There is no telling how much further his 
 courage could have withstood their threats, for 
 the boys' mother made her appearance. She was 
 
 73 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 about to bid Balla show where the horses were, 
 when a party rode into the yard leading them. 
 
 "Hi! there are Bill and John, now," ex- 
 claimed the boys, recognizing the black carriage- 
 horses which were being led along. 
 
 "Well, ef dee ain't got 'em, sho' 'nough!" ex- 
 claimed the old driver, forgetting his fear of the 
 cocked pistols. 
 
 "Gentlemen, marsters, don't teck my horses, 
 ef you please," he pleaded, pushing through the 
 group that surrounded him, and approaching 
 the man who led the horses. 
 
 They only laughed at him. 
 
 Both the boys ran to their mother, and, 
 flinging their arms about her, burst out crying. 
 
 In a few minutes the men started off, riding 
 across the fields; and in a little while not a 
 soldier was in sight. 
 
 "I wish Marse William could see you ridin' 
 'cross them fields," said Balla, looking after the 
 retiring troop in futile indignation. 
 
 Investigation revealed the fact that every 
 horse and mule on the plantation had been car- 
 ried off, except only two or three old mules, 
 which were evidently considered not worth 
 taking. 
 
 74 
 
A FTER this, times were very hard on the 
 XJL plantation. But the boys' mother strug- 
 gled to provide as best she could for the family 
 and hands. She used to ride all over the county 
 to secure the supplies which were necessary for 
 their support ; one of the boys usually being her 
 escort and riding behind her on one of the old 
 mules that the raiders had left. In this way the 
 boys became acquainted with the roads of the 
 county and even with all the bridle-paths in the 
 neighborhood of their home. Many of these were 
 dim enough too, running through stretches of 
 pine forest, across old fields which were little 
 better than jungle, along gullies, up ditches, and 
 through woods mile after mile. They were 
 generally useful only to a race, such as the 
 negroes, which had an instinct for direction like 
 that shown by some animals; but the boys 
 learned to follow them unerringly, and soon be- 
 came as skilful in "keepin' de parf" as any 
 night-walker on the plantation. 
 
 75 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 As the year passed the times grew harder and 
 harder, and the expeditions made by the boys' 
 mother became longer and longer, and more and 
 more frequent. 
 
 The meat gave out, and, worst of all, they had 
 no hogs left for next year. The plantation 
 usually subsisted on bacon ; but now there was 
 not a pig left on the place— unless the old wild 
 sow in the big woods (who had refused to be 
 "driven up" the fall before) still survived, 
 which was doubtful ; for the most diligent search 
 was made for her without success, and it was 
 conceded that even she had fallen prey to the 
 deserters. Nothing was heard of her for months. 
 
 One day, in the autumn, the boys were out 
 hunting in the big woods, in the most distant and 
 wildest part, where they sloped down toward a 
 little marshy branch that ran into the river a 
 mile or two away. 
 
 It was a very dry spell and squirrels were 
 hard to find, owing, the boys agreed, to the noise 
 made in tramping through the dry leaves. 
 Finally, they decided to station themselves each 
 at the foot of a hickory and wait for the squir- 
 rels. They found two large hickory trees not 
 too far apart, and took their positions each on 
 the ground, with his back to a tree. 
 
 76 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 It was very dull, waiting, and a half-whis- 
 pered colloquy was passing between them as to 
 the advisability of giving it up, when a faint 
 "cranch, cranch, cranch," sounded in the dry 
 leaves. At first the boys thought it was a squir- 
 rel, and both of them grasped their guns. Then 
 the sound came again, but this time there ap- 
 peared to be, not one, but a number of animals, 
 rustling slowly along. 
 
 "What is it?" asked Frank of Willy, whose 
 tree was a little nearer the direction from which 
 the sound came. 
 
 " 'Tain't anything but some cows or sheep, I 
 believe," said Willy, in a disappointed tone. The 
 look of interest died out of Frank's face, but he 
 still kept his eyes in the direction of the sound, 
 which was now very distinct. The underbrush, 
 however, was too thick for them to see anything. 
 At length Willy rose and pushed his way rapidly 
 through the bushes toward the animals. There 
 was a sudden "oof, oof," and Frank heard them 
 rushing back down through the woods toward 
 the marsh. 
 
 "Somebody's hogs," he muttered, in disgust. 
 
 "Frank! Frank 1" called WiUy, in a most 
 excited tone. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 77 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "It's the old spotted sow, and she's got a lot 
 of pigs with her— great big shoats, nearly 
 grown!" 
 
 Frank sprang up and ran through the "bushes. 
 
 "At least six of 'em!" 
 
 "Let's follow 'em!" 
 
 "All right." 
 
 The boys, stooping their heads, struck out 
 through the bushes in the direction from which 
 the yet retreating animals could still be heard. 
 
 "Let's shoot 'em." 
 
 "All right." 
 
 On they kept as hard as they could. What 
 great news it was ! What royal game ! 
 
 "It's like hunting wild boars, is n't it?" 
 shouted Willy, joyfully. 
 
 They followed the track left by the animals 
 in the leaves kicked up in their mad flight. It 
 led down over the hill, through the thicket, and 
 came to an end at the marsh which marked the 
 beginning of the swamp. Beyond that it could 
 not be traced ; but it was evident that the wild 
 hogs had taken refuge in the impenetrable re- 
 cesses of the marsh which was their home. 
 
 78 
 
XI 
 
 AFTER circling the edge of the swamp for 
 - some time the boys, as it was now growing 
 late, turned toward home. They were full of 
 their valuable discovery, and laid all sorts of 
 plans for the capture of the hogs. They would 
 not tell even their mother, as they wished to sur- 
 prise her. They were, of course, familiar with 
 all the modes of trapping game, as described in 
 the story books, and they discussed them all. 
 The easiest way to get the hogs was to shoot 
 them, and this would be the most ' ' fun ; ' ' but it 
 would never do, for the meat would spoil. When 
 they reached home they hunted up Uncle Balla 
 and told him about their discovery. He was 
 very much inclined to laugh at them. The hogs 
 they had seen were nothing, he told them, but 
 some of the neighbors' hogs which had wan- 
 dered into the woods. 
 
 When the boys went to bed they talked it over 
 once more, and determined that next day they 
 would thoroughly explore the woods and the 
 swamp also, as far as they could. 
 
 79 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 The following afternoon, therefore, they set 
 out, and made immediately for that part of the 
 woods where they had seen and heard the hogs 
 the day before. One of them carried a gun and 
 the other a long jumping-pole. After finding the 
 trail they followed it straight down to the 
 swamp. 
 
 Rolling their trousers up above their knees, 
 they waded boldly in, selecting an opening be- 
 tween the bushes which looked like a hog-path. 
 They proceeded slowly, for the briers were so 
 thick in many places that they could hardly make 
 any progress at all when they neared the branch. 
 So they turned and worked their way painfully 
 down the stream. At last, however, they reached 
 a place where the brambles and bushes seemed 
 to form a perfect wall before them. It was im- 
 possible to get through. 
 
 "Let's go home," said "Willy. " 'Tain't any 
 use to try to get through there. My legs are 
 scratched all to pieces now." 
 
 "Let's try and get out here," said Frank, and 
 he turned from the wall of brambles. They crept 
 along, springing from hummock to hummock. 
 Presently they came to a spot where the oozy 
 mud extended at least eight or ten feet before 
 the next tuft of grass. 
 
 80 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 "How am I to get the gun across?" asked 
 Willy, dolefully. 
 
 "That's a fact ! It's too far to throw it, even 
 with the caps off. ' ' 
 
 At length they concluded to go back for a piece 
 of log they had seen, and to throw this down. so 
 as to lessen the distance. 
 
 They pulled the log out of the sand, carried 
 it to the muddy spot, and threw it into the mud 
 where they wanted it. 
 
 Frank stuck his pole down and felt until he 
 had what he thought a secure hold on it, fixed 
 his eye on the tuft of grass beyond, and sprang 
 into air. 
 
 As he jumped the pole slipped from its in- 
 secure support into the miry mud, and Frank, 
 instead of landing on the hummock for which 
 he had aimed, lost his direction, and soused flat 
 on his side with a loud "spa-lash," in the water 
 and mud three feet to the left. 
 
 He was a queer object as he staggered to his 
 feet in the quagmire ; but at the instant a loud 
 "oof, oof," came from the thicket, not a dozen 
 yards away, and the whole herd of hogs, roused, 
 by his fall, from slumber in their muddy lair, 
 dashed away through the swamp with ' ' oofs ' ' of 
 fear. 
 
 81 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 ' ' There they go, there they go ! " shouted both 
 boys, eagerly,— Willy, in his excitement, splash- 
 ing across the perilous-looking quagmire, and 
 finding it not so deep as it had looked. 
 
 "There 's where they go in and out," ex- 
 claimed Frank, pointing to a low round opening, 
 not more than eighteen inches high, a little 
 further beyond them, which formed an arch in 
 the almost solid wall of brambles surrounding 
 the place. 
 
 As it was now late they returned home, re- 
 solving to wait until the next afternoon before 
 taking any further steps. There was not a pound 
 of bacon to be obtained anywhere in the country 
 for love or money, and the flock of sheep was al- 
 most gone. 
 
 Their mother's anxiety as to means for keep- 
 ing her dependents from starving was so great 
 that the boys were on the point of telling her 
 what they knew ; and when they heard her wish- 
 ing she had a few hogs to fatten, they could 
 scarcely keep from letting her know their plans. 
 At last they had to jump up, and run out of the 
 room. 
 
 Next day the boys each hunted up a pair of 
 old boots which they had used the winter before. 
 The leather was so dry and worn that the boots 
 
 82 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 hurt their growing feet cruelly, but they brought 
 the boots along to put on when they reached the 
 swamp. This time, each took a gun, and they 
 also carried an axe, for now they had determined 
 on a plan for capturing the hogs. 
 
 ' ' I wish we had let Peter and Cole come, ' ' said 
 Willy, dolefully, sitting on the butt end of a log 
 they had cut, and wiping his face on his sleeve. 
 
 * ' Or had asked Uncle Balla to help us, ' ' added 
 Frank. 
 
 "They 'd be certain to tell all about it." 
 
 * ' Yes ; so they would. ' ' 
 
 They settled down in silence, and panted. 
 
 "I tell you what we ought to do! Bait the 
 hog-path, as you would for fish. ' ' This was the 
 suggestion of the angler, Frank. 
 
 "With what?" 
 
 "Acorns." 
 
 The acorns were tolerably plentiful around 
 the roots of the big oaks, so the boys set to work 
 to pick them up. It was an easier job than cut- 
 ting the log, and it was not long before each had 
 his hat full. 
 
 As they started down to the swamp, Frank 
 exclaimed, suddenly, "Look there, Willy!" 
 
 Willy looked, and not fifty yards away, with 
 their ends resting on old stumps, were three or 
 
 83 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 four "hacks," or piles of rails, whicli had been 
 mauled the season before and left there, prob- 
 ably having been forgotten or overlooked, 
 
 Willy gave a hurrah, while bending under the 
 weight of a large rail. 
 
 At the spot where the hog-path came out of 
 the thicket they commenced to build their trap. 
 
 First they laid a floor of rails ; then they built 
 a pen, five or six raUs high, which they 
 strengthened with "outriders." When the pen 
 was finished, they pried up the side nearest the 
 thicket, from the bottom rail, about a foot ; that 
 is, high enough for the animals to enter. This 
 they did by means of two rails, using one as a 
 fulcrum and one as a lever, having shortened 
 them enough to enable the work to be done from 
 inside the pen. 
 
 The lever they pulled down at the farther 
 end untU it touched the bottom of the trap, and 
 fastened it by another rail, a thin one, run at 
 right-angles to the lever, and across the pen. 
 This would slip easily when pushed away from 
 the gap, and needed to be moved only about an 
 inch to slip from the end of the lever and release 
 it; the weight of the pen would then close the 
 gap. Behind this rail the acorns were to be 
 thrown ; and the hogs, in trying to get the bait, 
 
 84 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 would push the rail, free the lever or trigger, 
 and the gap would be closed by the fall of the 
 pen when the lever was released. 
 
 It was nearly night when the boys finished. 
 
 They scattered a portion of the acorns for bait 
 along the path and up into the pen, to toll the 
 hogs in. The rest they strewed inside the pen, 
 beyond their sliding rail. 
 
 They could scarcely tear themselves away 
 from the pen ; but it was so late they had to hurry 
 home. 
 
 Next day was Sunday. But Monday morning, 
 by daylight, they were up and went out with their 
 guns, apparently to hunt squirrels. They went, 
 however, straight to their trap. As they ap- 
 proached they thought they heard the hogs 
 grunting in the pen. Willy was sure of it; and 
 they ran as hard as they could. But there were 
 no hogs there. After going every morning and 
 evening for two weeks, there never had been 
 even an acorn missed, so they stopped their 
 visits. 
 
 Peter and Cole found out about the pen, and 
 then the servants learned of it, and the boys 
 were joked and laughed at unmercifully. 
 
 "I believe them boys is distracted," said old 
 Balla, in the kitchen; "settin' a pen in them 
 
 85 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 woods for to ketcli hogs,— with the gap open! 
 Think hogs goin' stay in pen with gap open— 
 ef ajiy wuz dyah to went in ! " 
 
 "Well, you come out and help us hunt for 
 them," said the boys to the old driver. 
 
 "Go 'way, boy, I ain' got time fpolin' wid 
 you chillern, buildin' pen in swamp. There ain't 
 no hogs in them woods, onless they got in dyah 
 sence las' fall." 
 
 "You saw 'em, did n't you, Willy?" declared 
 Frank. 
 
 "Yes, I did." 
 
 "Go 'way. Don't you know, ef that old sow 
 had been in them woods the boys would have got 
 her up las' fall— an' ef they had n't, she 'd come 
 up long bef ' this ? ' ' 
 
 "Mister Hall ketch you boys puttin' his hogs 
 up in pen, he '11 teck you up, ' ' said Lucy Ann, in 
 her usual teasing way. 
 
 This was too much for the boys to stand after 
 all they had done. Uncle BaJla must be right. 
 They would have to admit it. The hogs must 
 have belonged to some one else. And their 
 mother was in such desperate straits about meat ! 
 
 Lucy Ann's last shot, about catching Mr. 
 HaJl's hogs, took effect; and the boys agreed 
 
 86 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 that they would go out some afternoon and pull 
 the pen down. 
 
 The next afternoon they took their guns, and 
 started out on a squirrel-hunt. 
 
 They did not have much luck, however. 
 
 "Let's go by there, and pull the old pen 
 down," said Frank, as they started homeward 
 from the far side of the woods. 
 
 "It's out of the way,— let the old thing rip." 
 
 "We 'd better pull it down. If a hog were to 
 be caught there, it would n 't do. ' ' 
 
 "I wish he would!— but there ain't any hogs 
 going to get caught, ' ' growled Willy. 
 
 "He might starve to death." 
 
 This suggestion persuaded Willy, who could 
 not bear to have anything suffer. 
 
 So they sauntered down toward the swamp. 
 
 As they approached it, a squirrel ran up a tree, 
 and both boys were after it in a second. They 
 were standing, one on each side of the tree, 
 gazing up, trying to get a sight of the little 
 animal among the gray branches, when a sound 
 came to the ears of both of them at the same 
 moment. 
 
 "What's that?" both asked together. 
 
 "It's hogs, grunting." 
 87 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "No, they are fighting. They are in the 
 swamp. Let's run," said Willy. 
 
 "No; we'll scare them away. They may be 
 near the trap, ' ' was Frank's prudent suggestion. 
 "Let's creep up." 
 
 "I hear young pigs squealing. Do you think 
 they are ours?" 
 
 The squirrel was left, flattened out and trem- 
 bling on top of a large limb, and the boys stole 
 down the hill toward the pen. The hogs were 
 not in sight, though they could be heard grunting 
 and scuffling. They crept closer. Willy crawled 
 through a thick clump of bushes, and sprang to 
 his feet with a shout. "We've got 'em! We've 
 got 'em!" he cried, running toward the pen, 
 followed by Frank. 
 
 Sure enough! There they were, fast in the 
 pen, fighting and snorting to get out, and tearing 
 around with the bristles high on their round 
 backs, the old sow and seven large young hogs ; 
 while a litter of eight little pigs, as the boys ran 
 up, squeezed through the rails, and, squealing, 
 dashed away into the grass. 
 
 The hogs were almost frantic at the sight of 
 the boys, and rushed madly at the sides of the 
 pen ; but the boys had made it too strong to be 
 broken. 
 
 88 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 After gazing at their capture awhile, and 
 piling a few more outriders on the corners of 
 the pen to make it more secure, the two trappers 
 rushed home. They dashed breathless and 
 panting into their mother's room, shouting, 
 "We've got 'em!— we've got 'em!" and, seizing 
 her, began to dance up and down with her. 
 
 In a little while the whole plantation was 
 aware of the capture, and old Balla was sent 
 out with them to look at the hogs to make sure 
 they did not belong to some one else,— as he in- 
 sisted they did. The boys went with him. It 
 was quite dark when he returned, but as he came 
 in the proof of the boys' success was written on 
 his face. He was in a broad grin. To his mis- 
 tress 's inquiry he replied, "Yes, 'm they's got 
 'em, sho ' 'nough. They 's the beatenes ' boys ! ' ' 
 
 For some time afterward he would every now 
 and then break into a chuckle of amused content 
 and exclaim, "Them's right smart chillern." 
 And at Christmas, when the hogs were killed, 
 this was the opinion of the whole plantation. 
 
 89 
 
XII 
 
 THE gibes of Lucy Ann, and the occasional 
 little thrusts of Hugh about the "deserter 
 business," contiaued and kept the boys stirred 
 up. At length they could stand it no longer. It 
 was decided between them that they must re- 
 trieve their reputations by capturing a real 
 deserter and turning him over to the conscript- 
 officer whose office was at the depot. 
 
 Accordingly, one Saturday they started out 
 on an expedition, the object of which was to 
 capture a deserter though they should die in the 
 attempt. 
 
 The conscript-guard had been unusually ac- 
 tive lately, and it was said that several deserters 
 had been cailght. 
 
 The boys turned in at their old road, and made 
 their way into Holetown. Their guns were loaded 
 with large slugs, and they felt the ardor of battle 
 thrill them as they marched along down the nar- 
 row roadway. They were trudging on when 
 they were hailed by name from behind. Turning, 
 
 90 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 they saw their friend Tim Mills, comiag along 
 at the same slouching gait in which he always 
 walked. His old single-barrel gun was thrown 
 across his arm, and he looked a little rustier than 
 on the day he had shared their lunch. The boys 
 held a little whispered conversation, and decided 
 on a treaty of friendship. 
 
 "Good-mornin','' he said, on coming up to 
 them. ' ' How 's your ma ? ' ' 
 
 "Good-morning. She's right well." 
 
 ' ' Wbat y ' all doin ' ? Huntin ' d 'serters agin ? ' ' 
 he asked. 
 
 "Yes. Come on and help us catch them." 
 
 "No ; I can't do that— exactly ;— but I tell you 
 what I can do. I can tell you whar one is ! " 
 
 The boys ' faces glowed. ' ' All right ! ' ' 
 
 "Let me see," he begau, reflectively, chewing 
 a stick. " Does y ' all know Billy Johnson ? ' ' 
 
 The boys did not know him. 
 
 "You sure you don't know him? He 's a tall, 
 long fellow, 'bout forty years old, and breshes 
 his hair mighty slick ; got a big nose, and a gap- 
 tooth, and a mustache. He lives down in the 
 lower neighborhood. ' ' 
 
 Even after this description the boys failed to 
 recognize him. 
 
 "Well, he 's the feller. I can tell you right 
 91 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 wliar he is, this minute. He did me a mean trick, 
 an' I 'm gwine to give him up. Come along." 
 
 "What did he do to you?" inquired the boys, 
 as they followed him down the road. 
 
 "AVhy— he— ; but 't 's no use to be rakin' it 
 up ag'in. You know he always passes hisself off 
 as one o' the conscrip '-guards,— that 's his 
 dodge. Like as not, that 's what he 's gwine try 
 and put off on y' all now; but don't you let him 
 fool you." 
 
 "We 're not going to," said the boys. 
 
 "He rigs hisself up in a uniform— jes' like as 
 not he stole it, too, — an' goes roun' foolin' peo- 
 ple, meckin' out he 's such a soldier. If he fools 
 with me, I 'm gwine to finish him!" Here Tim 
 gripped his gun fiercely. 
 
 The boys promised not to be fooled by the 
 wily Johnson. All they asked was to have him 
 pointed out to them. 
 
 "Don't you let him put up any game on you 
 'bout bein ' a conscrip '-guard hisself, ' ' continued 
 their friend. 
 
 ' ' No, indeed we won 't. We are obliged to you 
 for telling us." 
 
 "He ain't so very fur from here. He 's 
 mighty tecken up with John Hall's gal, and is 
 
 92 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 tryin' to meek out like he 's Gen'l Lee hisself, 
 an' she ain't got no mo' sense than to b'lieve 
 him." 
 
 "Why, we heard, Mr. Mills, she was going to 
 marrj you." 
 
 ' ' Oh, no, I ain 't a good enough soldier for her ; 
 she wants to marry Gen'l Lee." 
 
 The boys laughed at his dry tone. 
 
 As they walked along they consulted how the 
 capture should be made. 
 
 ' ' I tell you how to take him, ' ' said their com- 
 panion. "He is a monstrous coward, and all you 
 got to do is jest to bring your guns down on him. 
 I would n't shoot him— 'nless he tried to run; 
 but if he did that, when he got a little distance 
 I 'd pepper him about his legs. Make him give 
 up his sword and pistol and don't let him ride; 
 'cause if you do, he '11 git away. Make him walk 
 —the rascal!" 
 
 The boys promised to carry out these kindly 
 suggestions. 
 
 They soon came in sight of the little house 
 where Mills said the deserter was. A soldier's 
 horse was standing tied at the gate, with a sword 
 hung from the saddle. The owner, in full imi- 
 f orm, was sitting on the porch. 
 
 93 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "I can't go any furder," whispered their 
 friend; "but that 's him — ^that 's 'Gen'l Lee'— 
 the triflin' scoundrel!— loafin' 'roun' here 'sted 
 o ' goin ' in the army ! I b 'lieve y ' all is 'f raid to 
 take him, ' ' eying the boys suspiciously. 
 
 "No, we ain't; you '11 see," said both boys, 
 fired at the doubt. 
 
 "All right; I 'm goin' to wait right here and 
 watch you. Go ahead. ' ' 
 
 The boys looked at the guns to see if they were 
 all right, and marched up the road keeping their 
 eyes on the enemy. It was agreed that Frank 
 was to do the talking and give the orders. 
 
 They said not a word until they reached the 
 gate. They could see a young woman moving 
 about in the house, setting a table. At the gate 
 they stopped, so as to prevent the man from get- 
 ting to his horse. 
 
 The soldier eyed them curiously. "I wonder 
 whose boys they is?" he said to himself. 
 "They 's certainly actin' comical! Playin' 
 soldiers, I reckon." 
 
 "Cock your gun— easy," said Frank, in a low 
 tone, suiting his own action to the word. 
 
 Willy obeyed. 
 
 "Come out here, if you please," Frank called 
 to the man. He could not keep his voice from 
 
 94 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 shaking a little, but the man rose and lounged out 
 toward them. His prompt compliance reassured 
 them. 
 
 They stood, gripping their guns and watching 
 him as he advanced. 
 
 "Come outside the gate!" He did as Frank 
 said. 
 
 "What do you want?" he asked impatiently. 
 
 ' ' You are our prisoner, ' ' said Frank, sternly, 
 dropping down his gun with the muzzle toward 
 the captive, and giving a glance at Willy to see 
 that he was supported. 
 
 ' ' Your what? What do you mean ? ' ' 
 
 ' ' We arrest you as a deserter. ' ' 
 
 How proud Willy was of Frank ! 
 
 "Go 'way from here; I ain't no deserter. 
 I 'm a-huntin' for deserters, myself," the man 
 replied, laughing. 
 
 Frank smiled at Willy with a nod, as much as 
 to say, "You see,— just what Tim told us!" 
 
 "Ain't your name Mr. Billy Johnson?" 
 
 ' ' Yes ; that 's my name. ' ' 
 
 "You are the man we 're looking for. March 
 down that road. But don't run,— if you do, 
 we '11 shoot you ! ' ' 
 
 As the boys seemed perfectly serious and the 
 muzzles of both guns were pointing directly at 
 
 95 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 him, the man began to think that they were in 
 earnest. But he could hardly credit his senses. 
 A suspicion flashed into his mind. 
 
 "Look here, boys," he said, rather angrily. 
 ' ' I don 't want any of your f oolin ' with me. I 'm 
 too old to play with children. If you all don 't go 
 'long home and stop giving me impudence, I '11 
 slap you over!" He started angrily toward 
 Frank. As he did so, Frank brought the gun to 
 his shoulder. 
 
 ' ' Stand back ! " he said, looking along the bar- 
 rel, right into the man's eyes. "If you move a 
 step, I '11 blow your head off!" 
 
 The soldier's jaw fell. He stopped and threw 
 up his arm before his eyes. 
 
 "Hold on!" he called, "don't shoot! Boys, 
 ain't you got better sense 'n that?" 
 
 "March on down that road. Willy, you get 
 the horse, ' ' said Frank, decidedly. 
 
 The soldier glanced over toward the house. 
 The voice of the young woman was heard sing- 
 ing a war song in a high key. 
 
 "Ef Millindy sees me, I 'm a goner," he re- 
 flected. ' ' Jes come down the road a little piece, 
 will you ? " he asked, persuasively. 
 
 "No talking,— march ! " ordered Frank. 
 
 He looked at each of the boys ; the guns still 
 96 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 kept their perilous direction. The boys' eyes 
 looked fiery to his surprised senses. 
 
 "Who is y' all?" he asked. 
 
 ' ' We are two little Confederates ! That 's who 
 we are," said Willy. 
 
 "Is any of your parents ever— ever been in a 
 asylum?" he asked, as calmly as he could. 
 
 * ' That 's none of your business, ' ' said Captain 
 Frank. "March on!" 
 
 The man cast a despairing glance toward the 
 house, where "The years" were "creeping 
 slowly by, Lorena," in a very high pitch,— and 
 then moved on. 
 
 "I hope she ain't seen nothin'," he thought. 
 "If I jest can git them guns away from 
 
 Frank followed close behind him with his old 
 gun held ready for need, and Willy untied the 
 horse and led it. The bushes concealed them 
 from the dwelling. 
 
 As soon as they were well out of sight of the 
 house, Frank gave the order : 
 
 "Halt!" They all halted. 
 
 "Willy, tie the horse." It was done. 
 
 "I wonder if those boys is thinkin' 'bout 
 shootin' me?" thought the soldier, turning and 
 putting his hand on his pistol. 
 
 97 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 As he did so, Frank's gun came to his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Throw up your hands or you are a dead 
 man. ' ' The hands went up. 
 
 * ' Willy, keep your gun on him, while I search 
 him for any weapons." Willy cocked the old 
 musket and brought it to bear on the prisoner. 
 
 "Little boy, don't handle that thing so reck- 
 less," the man expostulated. "Ef that musket 
 was to go off, it might kill me !" 
 
 "No talking," demanded Frank, going up to 
 him. "Hold up your hands. Willy, shoot him 
 if he moves. ' ' 
 
 Frank drew a long pistol from its holster with 
 an air of business. He searched carefully, but 
 there was no more. 
 
 The fellow gritted his teeth. "If she ever 
 hears of this, Tim 's got her certain," he 
 groaned ; ' ' but she won 't never hear. ' ' 
 
 At a turn in the road his heart sank within 
 him ; for just around the curve they came upon 
 Tim Mills sitting quietly on a stump. He looked 
 at them with a quizzical eye, but said not a word. 
 
 The prisoner 's face was a study when he rec- 
 ognized his rival and enemy. As Mills did not 
 move, his courage returned. 
 
 98 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 ' ' Good momin ', Tim, ' ' he said, with great po- 
 liteness. 
 
 The man on the stump said nothing; he only 
 looked on with complacent enjoyment. 
 
 "Tim, is these two boys crazy?" he asked 
 slowly. 
 
 ' ' They 're crazy 'bout shootin ' deserters, ' ' re- 
 plied Tim. 
 
 "Tim, tell 'em I ain't no deserter." His 
 voice was full of entreaty. 
 
 "Well, if you ain't a d'serter, what you doin' 
 outn the army?" 
 
 "You know " began the fellow fiercely; 
 
 but Tim shifted his long single-barrel lazily into 
 his hand and looked the man straight in the eyes, 
 and the prisoner stopped. 
 
 "Yes, I know," said Tim with a sudden spark 
 in his eyes. "An' you know," he added after a 
 pause, during which his face resumed its usual 
 listless look. "An' my edvice to you is to go 
 'long with them boys, if you don't want to git 
 three loads of slugs in you. They may put 'em 
 in you anyway. They 's sort of 'stracted 'bout 
 d 'sorters, and I can swear to it." He touched 
 his forehead expressively. 
 
 * ' March on ! " said Frank. 
 99 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 The prisoner, grinding his teeth, moved for- 
 ward, followed by his guards. 
 
 As the enemies parted each man sent the same 
 ugly look after the other. 
 
 "It 's all over! He 's got her," groaned 
 Johnson. As they passed out of sight, MiUs rose 
 and sauntered somewhat briskly (for him) in 
 the direction of John Hall's. 
 
 They soon reached a little stream, not far 
 from the depot where the provost-guard was 
 stationed. On its banks the man made his last 
 stand ; but his obstinacy brought a black muzzle 
 close to his head with a stern little face behind 
 it, and he was fain to march straight through the 
 water, as he was ordered. 
 
 Just as he was emerging on the other bank, 
 with his boots full of water and his trousers drip- 
 ping, closely followed by Frank brandishing his 
 pistol, a small body of soldiers rode up. They 
 were the conscript-guard. Johnson's look was 
 despairing. 
 
 ' ' Why, Billy, what in thunder ? Thought 
 
 you were sick in bed ! ' ' 
 
 Another minute and the soldiers took in the 
 situation by instinct — and Johnson's rage was 
 drowned in the universal explosion of laughter. 
 100 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 The boys had captured a member of the con- 
 script-guard. 
 
 In the midst of all, Frank and Willy, over- 
 whelmed by their ridiculous error, took to their 
 heels as hard as they could, and the last sounds 
 that reached them were the roars of the soldiers 
 as the scampering boys disappeared in a cloud 
 of dust. 
 
 Johnson went back, in a few days, to see John 
 Hall's daughter; but the young lady declared 
 she would n 't marry any man who let two boys 
 make him wade through a creek ; and a month or 
 two later she married Tim Mills. 
 
 To all the gibes he heard on the subject of his 
 capture, and they were many, Johnson made but 
 one reply : 
 
 "Them boys 's had parents in a a— sylum, 
 sure!" 
 
 101 
 
xni 
 
 IT was now nearing the end of the third year 
 of the war. Hugh was seventeen, and was 
 eager to go into the army. His mother would 
 have liked to keep him at home ; but she felt that 
 it was her duty not to withhold anything, and 
 Colonel Marshall offered Hugh a place with 
 him. So a horse was bought, and Hugh went to 
 Richmond and came back with a imiform and a 
 sabre. The boys truly thought that General Lee 
 himself was not so imposing or so great a 
 soldier as Hugh. They followed him about like 
 two pet dogs, and when he sat down they stood 
 and gazed at him adoringly. 
 
 When Hugh rode away to the army it was 
 harder to part with him than they had expected ; 
 and though he had left them his gun and dog, to 
 console them during his absence, it was difficult 
 to keep from crying. Everyone on the planta- 
 tion was moved. Uncle Balla, who up to the last 
 moment had been very lively attending to the 
 horse, as the young soldier galloped away sank 
 102 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 down on the end of the steps of the office, and, 
 dropping his hands on his knees, followed Hugh 
 with his eyes until he disappeared over the hill. 
 The old driver said nothing, but his face ex- 
 pressed a great deal. 
 
 The boys' mother cried a great deal, but it 
 was generally when she was by herself. 
 
 "She 's afraid Hugh '11 be kilt," Willy said 
 to Uncle Balla, in explanation of her tears, — 
 the old servant having remarked that he 
 "b'lieved she cried more when Hugh went away, 
 than she did when Marse John and Marse Wil- 
 liam both went." 
 
 "Hi! war n't she 'fred they '11 be kilt, too?" 
 he asked in some scorn. 
 
 This was beyond Willy's logic, so he pondered 
 over it. 
 
 "Yes, but she 's afraid Hugh '11 be Mlt, as 
 well as them," he said finally, as the best solu- 
 tion of the problem. 
 
 It did not seem to wholly satisfy Uncle Balla 's 
 mind, for when he moved off he said, as though 
 talking to himself : 
 
 "She sutn'ey is 'sot' on that boy. He '11 be 
 a gen '1 hisself , the first thing she know. ' ' 
 
 There was a bond of sympathy between Uncle 
 Balla and his mistress which did not exist so 
 103 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 strongly between her and any of the other ser- 
 vants. It was due perhaps to the fact that he 
 was the companion and friend of her boys. 
 
 That winter the place where the army went 
 into winter-quarters was some distance from 
 Oakland; but the young officers used to ride 
 over, from time to time, two or three together, 
 and stay for a day or two. 
 
 Times were harder than they had been before, 
 but the young people were as gay as ever. 
 
 The colonel, who had been dreadfully 
 wounded in the summer, had been made a brig- 
 adier-general for gallantry. Hugh had re- 
 ceived a slight wound in the same action. The 
 General had written to the boy's mother about 
 him; but he had not been home. The General 
 had gone back to his command. He had never 
 been to Oakland since he was wounded. 
 
 One evening, the boys had just teased their 
 Cousin Belle into reading them their nightly 
 portion of ' ' The Talisman, ' ' as they sat before 
 a bright lightwood fire, when two horsemen gal- 
 loped up to the gate, their horses splashed with 
 mud from fetlocks to ears. In a second, Lucy 
 Ann dashed headlong into the room, with her 
 teeth gleaming: 
 
 "Here Marse Hugh, out here!" 
 104 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 There was a scamper to the door — the boys 
 first, shouting at the tops of their voices, Cousin 
 Belle next, and Lucy Ann close at her heels. 
 
 "Who 's with him, Lucy Ann?" asked Mis^ 
 Belle, as they reached the passage-way, and 
 heard several voices outside. 
 
 "The Cunnel'swith 'im." 
 
 The young lady turned and fled up the steps 
 as fast as she could. 
 
 "You see I brought my welcome with me," 
 said the General, addressing the boy's mother, 
 and laying his hand on his young aide's 
 shoulder, as they stood, a little later, "thawing 
 out" by the roaring log-fire in the sitting-room. 
 
 "You always bring that; but you are doubly 
 welcome for bringing this young soldier back to 
 me," said she, putting her arm affectionately 
 around her son. 
 
 Just then the boys came rushing in from tak- 
 ing the horses to the stable. They made a dive 
 toward the fire to warm their little chapped 
 hands. 
 
 "I told you Hugh war n't as tall as the 
 General," said Frank, across the hearth to 
 Willy. 
 
 "Who said he was?" 
 
 "You!" 
 
 105 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "I did n't." 
 
 "You did." 
 
 They were a contradictory pair of youngsters, 
 'and their voices, pitched in a youthful treble, 
 were apt in discussion to strike a somewhat 
 higher key ; but it did not follow that they were 
 in an ill-humor merely because they contra- 
 dicted each other. 
 
 "What did you say, if you did n't say that?" 
 insisted Frank. 
 
 "I said he looked as if he thought himself as 
 tall as the General," declared Willy, defiantlyj 
 oblivious in his excitement of the eldest bro- 
 ther's presence. There was a general laugh at 
 Hugh's confusion; but Hugh had carried an 
 order across a field under a hot fire, and had 
 brought a regiment up in the nick of time, rid- 
 ing by its colonel's side in a charge which had 
 changed the issue of the fight, and had a sabre 
 wound in the arm to show for it. He could 
 therefore afford to pass over such an accusation 
 with a little tweak of Willy's ear. 
 
 "Where is Cousin Belle?" asked Frank. 
 
 "I s'peck she 's putting on her fine clothes 
 for the General to see. Did n't she run when 
 she heard he was here!" 
 
 "Willy!" said his mother, reprovingly. 
 106 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Well, she did, Ma." 
 
 His motlier shook her head at him; but the 
 General put his hand on the boy, and drew him 
 closer. 
 
 "You say she ran?" he asked, with a pleasant 
 light in his eyes. 
 
 "Yes, siree; she did that." 
 
 Just then the door opened, and their Cousin 
 Belle entered the room. She looked perfectly 
 beautiful. The greetings were very cordial — to 
 Hugh especially. She threw her arms around 
 his neck, and kissed him. 
 
 "You young hero!" she cried. "Oh, Hugh, 
 I am so proud of you ! ' '—kissing him again, and 
 laughing at him, with her face glowing, and her 
 big brown eyes full of light. "Where were you 
 wounded? Oh! I was so frightened when I 
 heard about it!" 
 
 "Where was it? Show it to us, Hugh ; please 
 do," exclaimed both boys at once, jumping 
 around him, and pulling at his arm. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh, is it still very painful?" asked 
 his cousin, her pretty face filled with sudden 
 sympathy. 
 
 "Oh! no, it was nothing— nothing but a 
 scratch," said Hugh, shaking the boys off, his 
 expression being divided between feigned in- 
 107 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 difference and sheepishness, at this praise in the 
 presence of his chief. 
 
 "No such thing, Miss Belle," put in the Gen- 
 eral, glad of the chance to secure her commen- 
 dation. "It might have been very serious, and 
 it was a splendid ride he made." 
 
 "Were you not ashamed of yourself to send 
 Mm into such danger ? ' ' she said, turning on him 
 suddenly. "Why did you not go yourself?" 
 
 The young man laughed. Her beauty en- 
 tranced him. He had scars enough to justify 
 him in keeping silence under her pretended re- 
 proach. 
 
 "Well, you see, I could n't leave the place 
 where I was. I had to send some one, and I 
 knew Hugh would do it. He led the regiment 
 after the colonel and major fell— and he did it 
 splendidly, too." 
 
 There was a chorus from the young lady and 
 the boys together. 
 
 "Oh, Hugh, you hear what he says!" ex- 
 claimed the former, turning to her cousin. * ' Oh, 
 I am so glad that he thinks so!" Then, recol- 
 lecting that she was paying him the highest 
 compliment, she suddenly began to blush, and 
 turned once more to him. "Well, you talk as if 
 
 108 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 you were surprised. Did you expect anything 
 else?" 
 
 There was a fine scorn in her voice, if it had 
 been real. 
 
 ' ' Certainly not ; you are all too clever at mak- 
 ing an attack, ' ' he said coolly, looking her in the 
 eyes. "But I have heard even of your running 
 away, ' ' he added, with a twinkle in his eyes. 
 
 "When?" she asked quickly, with a little 
 guilty color deepening in her face as she glanced 
 at the boys. "I never did." 
 
 "Oh, she did!" exclaamed both boys in a 
 breath, breaking in, now that the conversation 
 was within their range. You ought to have seen 
 her. She just flew!" exclaimed Frank. 
 
 The girl made a rush at the offender to stop 
 him. 
 
 "He does n't know what he is talking about," 
 she said, roguishly, over her shoulder. 
 
 "Yes, he does," called the other. "She was 
 standing at the foot of the steps when you all 
 came, and— oo— oo— oo— " the rest was lost as 
 his cousin placed her hand close over his mouth. 
 
 ' ' Here ! here ! run away ! You are too danger- 
 ous. They don't know what they are talking 
 about, ' ' she said, throwing a glance toward the 
 109 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 young officer, who was keenly enjoying her con- 
 fusion. Her hand slipped from Willie's mouth 
 and he went on. "And when she heard it was 
 you, she just clapped her hands and ran — oo — 
 00— umm." 
 
 ' ' Here, Hugh, put them out, ' ' she said to that 
 young man, who, glad to do her bidding, seized 
 both miscreants by their arms and carried them 
 out, closing the door after them. 
 
 Hugh bore the boys iuto the dining-room, 
 where he kept them until supper-time. 
 
 After supper, the rest of the family dispersed, 
 and the boys ' mother invited them to come with 
 her and Hugh to her own room, though they 
 were eager to go and see the General, and were 
 much troubled lest he should think their mother 
 was rude in leaving him. 
 
 110 
 
CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE next day was Sunday. The General and 
 Hugh had but one day to stay. They were 
 to leave at daybreak the following morning. 
 They thoroughly enjoyed their holiday ; at least 
 the boys knew that Hugh did. They had never 
 known him so affable with them. They did not 
 see much of the General, after breakfast. He 
 seemed to like to stay "stuck up in the house" 
 all the time, talking to Cousin Belle; the boys 
 thought this due to his lameness. Something 
 had occurred, the boys did n't understand just 
 what; but the General was on an entirely new 
 footing with all of them, and their Cousin Belle 
 was in some way concerned in the change. She 
 did not any longer run from the General, and it 
 seemed to them as though everyone acted as if 
 he belonged to her. The boys did not altogether 
 like the state of affairs. That afternoon, how- 
 ever, he and their Cousin Belle let the boys go 
 out walking with them, and he was just as 
 hearty as he could be; he made them tell him all 
 about capturing the deserter, and about catching 
 111 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 the hogs, and everything they did. They told 
 him all about their "Robber's Cave," down in 
 the woods near where an old house had stood. 
 It was between two ravines near a spring they 
 had found. They had fixed up the "cave" with 
 boards and old pieces of carpet "and every- 
 thing," and they told him, as a secret, how to 
 get to it through the pines without leaving a 
 trail. He had to give the holy pledge of the 
 "Brotherhood" before this could be divulged 
 to him; but he took it with a solemnity which 
 made the boys almost forgive the presence of 
 their Cousin Belle. It was a little awkward at 
 first that she was present; but as the "Consti- 
 tution" provided only as to admitting men to 
 the mystic knowledge, saying nothing about 
 women, this difficulty was, on the General 's sug- 
 gestion, passed over, and the boys fully ex- 
 plained the location of the spot, and how to get 
 there by turning off abruptly from the path 
 through the big woods right at the pine thicket, 
 —and all the rest of the way. 
 
 " 'T ain't a 'sure-enough' cave," explained 
 Willy; "but it 's 'most as good as one. The old 
 rock fire-place is just like a cave." 
 
 "The gullies are so deep you can't get there 
 except that one way," declared Frank. 
 112 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Even the Yankees could n't find you there," 
 asserted Willy. 
 
 "I don't believe anybody could, after that; 
 but I trust they will never have to try, ' ' laughed 
 their Cousin Belle, with an anxious look in her 
 bright eyes at the mere thought. 
 
 That night they were at supper, about eight 
 o'clock, when something out-of-doors attracted 
 the attention of the party around the table. It 
 was a noise,— a something indefinable, but the 
 talk and mirth stopped suddenly, and every- 
 body listened. 
 
 There was a call, and the hurried steps of 
 some one running, just outside the door, and 
 Lucy Ann burst into the room, her face ashy 
 pale. 
 
 "The yard 's full o' mens— Yankees, " she 
 gasped, just as the General and Hugh rose from 
 the table. 
 
 "How many are there?" asked both gentle- 
 men. 
 
 "They 's all 'roun' the house ev'y which a- 
 way." 
 
 The General looked at his sweetheart. She 
 came to his side with a cry. 
 
 "Go up-stairs to the top of the house," called 
 the boys' mother. 
 
 113 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "We can hide you; come with us," said the 
 boys. 
 
 "Go up the back way, Prank 'n' WUly, to 
 you-all's den," whispered Lucy Ann. 
 
 "That 's where we aije going," said the boys 
 as she went out. 
 
 ' ' You all come on ! " This to the General and 
 Hugh. 
 
 "The rest of you take your seats," said the 
 boys' mother. 
 
 All this had occupied only a few seconds. 
 The soldiers followed the boys out by a side- 
 door and dashed up the narrow stairs to the 
 second-story just as a thundering knocking 
 came at the front door. It was as dark as 
 pitch, for candles were too scarce to burn more 
 than one at a time. 
 
 "You run back," said Hugh to the boys, as 
 they groped along. "There are too many of 
 us. I know the way. ' ' 
 
 But it was too late ; the noise down-stairs told 
 that the enemy was already in the house ! 
 
 As the soldiers left the supper-room, the boys' 
 
 mother had hastily removed two plates from the 
 
 places and set two chairs back against the wall ; 
 
 she made the rest fill up the spaces, so that there 
 
 114 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 was nothing to show that the two men had been 
 there. 
 
 She had hardly taken her seat again, when the 
 sound of heavy footsteps at the door announced 
 the approach of the enemy. She herself rose and 
 went to the door ; but it was thrown open before 
 she reached it and an officer in full Federal uni- 
 form strode in, followed by several men. 
 
 The commander was a tall young fellow, not 
 older than the General. The lady started back 
 somewhat startled, and there was a confused 
 chorus of exclamations of alarm from the rest 
 of those at the table. The officer, finding him- 
 self in the presence of ladies, removed his cap 
 with a polite bow. 
 
 "I hope, madam, that you ladies will not be 
 alarmed," he said. "You need be under no 
 apprehension, I assure you. ' ' Even while speak- 
 ing, his eye had taken a hasty survey of the 
 room; 
 
 "We desire to see General Marshall, who is 
 at present in this house, and I am sorry to have 
 to include your son in my requisition. We know 
 that they are here, and if they are given us, I 
 promise you that nothing shall be disturbed." 
 
 ^'You appear to be so well instructed that I 
 115 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 can add little to your inf onnation, " said the 
 mistress of the house, haughtily. "1 am glad 
 to say, however, that I hardly think you will 
 find them. ' ' 
 
 "Madam, I know they are here," said the 
 young soldier positively, but with great polite- 
 ness. "I have positive information to that ef- 
 fect. They arrived last evening and have not 
 left since. Their horses are still in the stable. 
 I am sorry to be forced to do violence to my 
 feelings, but I must search the house. Come, 
 men." 
 
 "I doubt not you have found their horses," 
 began the lady, but she was interrupted by Lucy 
 Ann, who entered at the moment with a plate 
 of fresh corn-cakes, and caught the last part of 
 the sentence. 
 
 "Come along, Mister," she said, "I '11 show 
 you myself," and she set down her plate, took 
 the candle from the table, and walked to the 
 door, followed by the soldiers. 
 
 "Lucy Ann!" exclaimed her mistress; but 
 she was too much amazed at the girl's conduct 
 to say more. 
 
 "I know whar dey is!" Lucy Ann continued, 
 taking no notice of her mistress. They heard 
 her say, as she was shutting the door, "Y' all 
 
 116 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 come with me; I 'feared they gone; ef they 
 ain't, I know whar they is!" 
 
 "Open every room," said the officer. 
 
 "Oh, yes, sir; I gwine ketch 'em for you," 
 she said, eagerly opening first one door, and 
 then the other, "that is, ef they ain' gone. I 
 mighty 'feared they gone. I seen 'em goia' out 
 the back way about a little while befo' you all 
 come, — but I thought they might 'a' come back. 
 Mister, ken y' all teck me 'long with you when 
 you go?" she asked the officer, in a low voice. 
 ' ' I want to be free. ' ' 
 
 "I don't know; we can some other time, if 
 not now. We axe going to set you all free." 
 
 "Oh, glory! Come 'long. Mister; let 's ketch 
 'em. They ain 't heah, but I know whar dey is. " 
 
 The soldiers closely examined every place 
 where it was possible a man could be concealed, 
 until they had been over all the lower part of 
 the house. 
 
 Lucy Ann stopped. "Dey 's gone!" she said 
 positively. 
 
 The officer motioned to her to go up-stairs. 
 
 "Yes, sir, I wuz jes' goin' tell you we jes' 
 well look up-stairs, too," she said, leading the 
 way, talking all the time, and shading the flick- 
 ering candle with her hand. 
 117 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 The little group, flat on the floor against the 
 Avail in their dark retreat, could now hear her 
 voice distinctly. She Avas speaking in a con- 
 fidential undertone, as if afraid of being over- 
 heard. 
 
 "I wonder I did n't have sense to get some- 
 body to watch 'em when they went out," they 
 heard her say. 
 
 "She 's betrayed us!" whispered Hugh. 
 
 The General merely said, "Hush," and laid 
 his hand firmly on the nearest boy to keep him 
 still. Lucy Ann led the soldiers into the various 
 chambers one after another. At last she opened 
 the next room, and, through the wall, the men in 
 hiding heard the soldiers go in and walk about. 
 
 They estimated that there were at least half- 
 a-dozen. 
 
 "Is n't there a garret?" asked one of the 
 searching party. 
 
 "No, sir, 't ain't no garret, jes' a loft; but 
 they ain't up there," said Lucy Ann's voice. 
 
 "We '11 look for ourselves." They came out 
 of the room. " Show us the way. " 
 
 "Look here, if you tell us a lie, we '11 hang 
 you!" 
 
 The voice of the officer was very stem. 
 
 "I ain't gwine tell you no lie, Mister. What 
 118 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 you reckon I wan' tell you lie for? Dey ain't in 
 
 the garret, I know, Mister, please don't 
 
 p'int dem things at me. I 's 'feared o' dem 
 things," said the girl in a slightly whimpering 
 voice; "I gwine show you." 
 
 She came straight down the passage toward 
 the recess where the fugitives were huddled, the 
 men after her, their heavy steps echoing through 
 the house. The boys were trembling violently. 
 The light, as the searchers came nearer, fell on 
 the wall, crept along it, until it lighted up the 
 whole alcove, except where they lay. The boys 
 held their breath. They could hear their hearts 
 thumping. 
 
 Lucy Ann stepped into the recess with her 
 candle, and looked straight at them. 
 
 "They ain't in here," she exclaimed, sud- 
 denly putting her hand up before the flame, as 
 if to prevent it flaring, thus throwing the alcove 
 once more into darkness. "The trap door to 
 the garret 's 'roun' that a-way," she said to 
 the soldiers, still keeping her position at the 
 narrow entrance, as if to let them pass. When 
 they had all passed, she followed them. 
 
 The boys began to wriggle with delight, but 
 the General's strong hand kept them still. 
 
 Naturally, the search in the garret proved 
 119 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 fruitless, and the hiding-party heard the squad 
 swearing over their ill-luck as they came back; 
 while Lucy Ann loudly lamented not having sent 
 some one to follow the fugitives, and made a 
 number of suggestions as to where they had 
 gone, and the probability of catching them if 
 the soldiers went at once in pursuit. 
 
 "Did you look in here?" asked a soldier ap- 
 proaching the alcove. 
 
 "Yes, sir; they ain't in there." She snuffed 
 the candle out suddenly with her fingers. "Oh, 
 oh!— my light done gone out! Mind! Let me 
 go in front and show you the way," she said; 
 and, pressing before, she once more led them 
 along the passage. 
 
 "Mind yo' steps; ken you see?" she asked. 
 
 They went down-stairs, while Lucy Ann gave 
 them minute directions as to how they might 
 catch "Marse Hugh an' the Gen'l" at a certain 
 place a half-mile from the house (an unoccupied 
 quarter), which she carefully described. 
 
 A further investigation ensued down-stairs, 
 but in a little while the searchers went out of 
 the house. Their tone had changed since their 
 disappointment, and loud threats floated up the 
 dark stairway to the prisoners still crouching 
 in the little recess. 
 
 120 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 In a few mimites the boys' Cousin Belle came 
 rushing up-stairs. 
 
 "Now 's your time! Come quick," she 
 called; "they will be back directly. Is n't she 
 an angel!" The whole party sprang to their 
 feet, and ran down to the lower floor. 
 
 "Oh, we were so frightened!" "Don't let 
 them see you." "Make haste," were the ex- 
 clamations that greeted them as the two soldiers 
 said their good-byes and prepared to leave the 
 house. 
 
 "Go out by the side-door; that 's your only 
 chance. It 's pitch-dark, and the bushes will 
 hide you. But where are you going?" 
 
 "We are going to the boys' cave," said the 
 Greneral, buckling on his pistol; "I know the 
 way, and we '11 get away as soon as these fellows 
 leave, if we cannot before. ' ' 
 
 "God bless you!" said the ladies, pushing 
 them away in dread of the enemy's return. 
 
 "Come on. General," called Hugh in an un- 
 dertone. The General was lagging behind a 
 minute to say good-bye once more. He stooped 
 suddenly and kissed the boys' Cousin Belle be- 
 fore them all. 
 
 * * Good-bye. God bless you ! ' ' and he followed 
 121 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 Hugh out of the window into the darfcaess. The 
 girl burst into tears and ran up to her room. 
 
 A few seconds afterward the house was once 
 more filled with the enemy, growling at their 
 ill-luck in having so narrowly missed the prize. 
 
 "We '11 catch 'em yet," said the leader. 
 
 122 
 
THE raiders were up early next morning 
 scouring the woods and country around. 
 They knew that the fugitive soldiers could not 
 have gone far, for the Federals had every road 
 picketed, and their main body was not far away. 
 As the morning wore on, it became a grave ques- 
 tion at Oakland how the two soldiers were to 
 subsist. They had no provisions with them, and 
 the roads were so closely watched that there was 
 no chance of their obtaining any. The matter 
 was talked over, and the boys' mother and 
 Cousin Belle were in despair. 
 
 "They can eat their shoes," said Willy, re- 
 flectively. 
 
 The ladies exclaimed ia horror. 
 
 "That 's what men always do when they get 
 lost in a wilderness where there is no game." 
 
 This piece of information from Willy did not 
 impress his hearers as much as he supposed it 
 would. 
 
 "I '11 tell you! Let me and Frank go and 
 carry 'em something to eat!" 
 123 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "How do you know where they are?" 
 
 ' ' They are at our Robbers ' Cave, are n't they, 
 Cousin Belle? We told the General yesterday 
 how to get there, did n't we?" 
 
 "Yes, and he said last night that he would 
 go there." 
 
 Willy's idea seemed a good one, and the offer 
 was accepted. The boys were to go out as if to 
 see the troops, and were to take as much food 
 as they thought could pass for their luncheon. 
 Their mother cooked and put up a luncheon 
 large enough to have satisfied the appetites of 
 two young Brobdingnagians, and they set out 
 on their relief expedition. 
 
 The two sturdy little figures looked full of 
 importance as they strode off up the road. They 
 carried many loving messages. Their Cousin 
 Belle gave to each separately a long whispered 
 message which each by himself was to deliver to 
 the General. It was thought best not to hazard 
 a note. 
 
 They were watched by the ladies from the 
 portico until they disappeared over the hill. 
 They took a path which led into the woods, and 
 walked cautiously for fear some of the raiders 
 might be lurking about. However, the boys 
 saw none of the enemy, and ia a little while they 
 124 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 came to a point where the pines began. Then 
 they turned into the woods, for the pines were 
 so thick the boys could not be seen, and the pine 
 tags made it so soft under foot that they could 
 walk without making any noise. 
 
 They were pushing their way through the 
 bushes, when Frank suddenly stopped. 
 
 "Hush!" he said. 
 
 Willy halted and listened. 
 
 "There they are." 
 
 From a little distance to one side, in the 
 direction of the path they had just left, they 
 heard the trampling of a number of horses' 
 feet. 
 
 "That 's not our men," said Willy. "Hugh 
 and the General have n't any horses." 
 
 "No; that 's the Yankees," said Frank. 
 ' ' Let 's lie down. They may hear us. ' ' 
 
 The boys flung themselves upon the ground 
 and almost held their breath until the horses had 
 passed out of hearing. 
 
 "Do you reckon they are hunting for us?" 
 asked Willy in an awed whisper. 
 
 "No, for Hugh and the General. Come on." 
 
 They rose, went tipping a little deeper into 
 the pines, and again made their way toward the 
 cave. 
 
 125 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Maybe they 've eaught 'em," suggested 
 Willy. 
 
 ' ' They can 't catch 'em in these pines, ' ' replied 
 Frank. "You can't see any distance at all. A 
 horse can't get through, and the General and 
 Hugh could shoot 'em, and then get away before 
 they could catch 'em." 
 
 They hurried on. 
 
 "Frank, suppose they take us for Yankees?" 
 
 Evidently Willy's mind had been busy since 
 Frank's last speech. 
 
 ' ' They are n 't going to shoot us, ' ' said Frank ; 
 but it was an unpleasant suggestion, for they 
 were not very far from the dense clump of pines 
 between two gullies, which the boys called their 
 cave. 
 
 "We can whistle," he said, presently. 
 
 "Won't Hugh and the General think we are 
 enemies trying to surround them?" Willy ob- 
 jected. The dilemma was a serious one. 
 "We '11 have to crawl up," said Frank, after a 
 pause. 
 
 And this was agreed upon. They were soon 
 on the edge of the deep gully which, on one side, 
 protected the spot from all approach. They 
 scrambled down its steep side and began to 
 creep along, peeping over its other edge from 
 126 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 time to time, to see if they could discover the 
 clearing which marked the little green spot on 
 top of the hill, where once had stood an old 
 cabin. The base of the ruined chimney, with its 
 immense fire-place, constituted the boys' 
 "cave." They were close to it, now, and felt 
 themselves to be in imminent danger of a sweep- 
 ing fusillade. They had just crept up to the top 
 of the ravine and were consulting, when some 
 one immediately behind them, not twenty feet 
 away, called out: 
 
 "Hello! What are you boys doing here? 
 Are you trying to capture us ? " 
 
 They jumped at the unexpected voice. The 
 General broke into a laugh. He had been sitting 
 on the ground on the other side of the declivity, 
 and had been watching their manoeuvres for 
 some time. 
 
 He brought them to the house-spot where 
 Hugh was asleep on the ground ; he had been on 
 watch all the morning, and, during the General's 
 turn, was making up for his lost sleep. He was 
 soon wide awake enough, and he and the Gen- 
 eral, with appetites bearing witness to their long 
 fast, were without delay engaged in disposing 
 of the provisions which the boys had brought. 
 
 The boys were delighted with the mystery of 
 127 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 their surroundings. Each in turn took the Gen- 
 eral aside and held a long interview with him, 
 and gave him all their Cousin Belle's messages. 
 No one had ever treated them with such con- 
 sideration as the General showed them. The 
 two men asked the boys all about the disposi- 
 tions of the enemy, but the boys had little to tell. 
 
 "They are after us pretty hotly," said the 
 General. "I think they are going away shortly. 
 It 's nothing but a raid, and they are moving on. 
 We must get back to camp to-night." 
 
 ' * How are you going ? ' ' asked the boys. ' ' You 
 have n't any horses." 
 
 "We are going to get some of their horses," 
 said the officer. "They have taken ours— now 
 they must furnish us with others." 
 
 It was about time for the boys to start for 
 home. The General took each of them aside, 
 and talked for a long time. He was speaking 
 to Willy, on the edge of the clearing, when there 
 was a crack of a twig in the pines. In a second 
 he had laid the boy on his back in the soft grass 
 and whipped out a pistol. Then, with a low, 
 quick call to Hugh, he sprang swiftly into the 
 pines toward the sound. 
 
 "Crawl down into the ravine, boys," called 
 Hugh, following his companion. The boys 
 
 128 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATEg 
 
 rolled down over the bank like little ground- 
 hogs; but in a second they heard a familiar 
 drawling voice call out in a subdued tone : 
 
 "Hold on, Gunnel ! it 's nobody but me; don't 
 you know me?" And, in a moment, they heard 
 the General's astonished and somewhat stern 
 reply : 
 
 "Mills, what are you doing here? Who 's 
 with you? What do you want?" 
 
 ' ' Well, ' ' said the new-comer, slowly, ' ' I 'lowed 
 I 'd come to see if I could be o ' any use to you. 
 I heard the Yankees had run you 'way from Oak- 
 land last night, and was sort o' huntin' for you. 
 Fact is, they 's been up my way, and I sort o' 
 'lowed I 'd come an' see ef I could help you git 
 back to camp. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Where have you been all this time ? I won- 
 der you are not ashamed to look me in the face ! ' ' 
 
 The General 's voice was still stem. He had 
 turned around and walked back to the cleared 
 space. 
 
 The deserter scratched his head in perplexity. 
 
 "I need n' 'a' come," he said, doggedly. 
 "Where 's them boys? I don't want the boys 
 hurted. I seen 'em comin' here, an' I jes' fol- 
 lowed 'em to see they did n't get in no trouble. 
 But-" 
 
 129 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 This speech about the boys effected what the 
 offer of personal service to the General himself 
 had failed to bring about. 
 
 "Sit down and let me talk to you," said the 
 General, throwing himself on the grass. 
 
 Mills seated himself cross-legged near the of- 
 ficer, with his gun across his knees, and began 
 to bite a straw which he pulled from a tuft by 
 his side. 
 
 The boys had come up out of their retreat, 
 and taken places on each side of the General. 
 
 ' ' You all take to grass like young partridges, ' ' 
 said the hunter. The boys were flattered, for 
 they considered any notice from him a compli- 
 ment. 
 
 ""Wihat made you fool us, and send us to catch 
 that conscript-guard?" Frank asked. 
 
 ' ' Well, you ketched him, did n 't you ? You 're 
 the only ones ever been able to ketch him," he 
 said, with a low chuckle. 
 
 "Now, Mills, you know how things stand," 
 said the General. " It 's a shame for you to have 
 been acting this way. You know wKat people 
 say about you. But if you come back to camp 
 and do your duty, I '11 have it all straightened 
 out. If you don't, I '11 have you shot." 
 
 His voice was as calm and his manner as com- 
 130 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 posed as if lie were promising the man opposite 
 him a reward for good conduct. He looked 
 Mills steadily in the eyes all the time. The boys 
 felt as if their friend were about to be executed. 
 The General seemed an immeasurable distance 
 above them. 
 
 The deserter blinked twice or thrice, slowly 
 bit his shred of straw, looked casually first to- 
 ward one boy and then toward the other, but 
 without the slightest change of expression in 
 his face. 
 
 "Cun'l," he said, at length, "I ain't no de- 
 serter. I ain't feared of bein' shot. Ef I was, 
 I would n' 'a' come here now. I 'm gwine wid 
 you, an' I 'm gwine back to my company; an' 
 I 'm gwine fight, ef Yankees gits in my way ; but 
 ef I gits tired, I 's comin' home; an' taiu't no 
 urse to tell you I ain't, 'cause I is, — an' ef any- 
 body flings up to me that I 's a-runnin' away, 
 I 'm gwine to kill 'em ! ' ' 
 
 He rose to his feet in the intensity of his feel- 
 ing, and his eyes, usually so dull, were like live 
 coals. 
 
 The Greneral looked at him quietly a few sec- 
 onds, then himself arose and laid his hand on 
 Tim Mills ' shoulder. 
 
 "All right," he said. 
 131 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "I got a little snack M'lindy put up," said 
 Mills, pulling a substantial bundle out of bis 
 game-bag. "I 'lowed maybe you might be sort 
 o' hongry. Jes' two or three squirrels I shot," 
 he said, apologetically. 
 
 "You boys better git 'long home, I reckon," 
 said Mills to Willy. "You ain' 'fraid, is you? 
 'Cause if you is, I '11 go with you. ' ' 
 
 His voice had resumed its customary drawl. 
 
 "Oh, no," said both boys, eagerly. "We are 
 n't afraid." 
 
 "An' tell your ma I ain' let nobody tetch 
 nothin' on the Oakland plantation; not sence 
 that day you all went huntin' deserters ; not if I 
 knowed 'bout it." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "An' tell her I 'm gwine take good keer o' 
 Hugh an' the Cunnel. Good-bye!— now run 
 along!" 
 
 "All right, sir,— good-bye." 
 
 "An' ef you hear anybody say Tim Mills is a 
 d'serter, tell 'em it 's a lie, an' you know it. 
 Good-bye." He turned away as if relieved. 
 
 The boys said good-bye to all three, and 
 started in the direction of home. 
 
 132 
 
XVI 
 
 AFTEE crossing the gully, and walMng on 
 through the woods for what they thought 
 a safe distance, they turned into the path. 
 
 They were talking very merrily ahout the 
 General and Hugh and their friend Mills, and 
 were discussing some romantic plan for the re- 
 capture of their horses from the enemy, when 
 they came out of the path into the road, and 
 found themselves within twenty yards of a group 
 of Federal soldiers, quietly sitting on their 
 horses, evidently guarding the road. 
 
 The sight of the blue-coats made the boys 
 jump. They would have crept back, but it was 
 too late — ^they caught the eye of the man nearest 
 them. They ceased talking as suddenly as birds 
 in the trees stop chirruping when the hawk sails 
 over ; and when one Yankee called to them, in a 
 stern tone, "Halt there!" aad started to come 
 toward them, their hearts were in their mouths. 
 
 "Where are you boys going?" he asked, as 
 he came up to them. 
 
 133 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Going home." 
 
 "Where do you belong?" 
 
 "Over there — at Oakland," pointing in the 
 direction of their home, which seemed suddenly 
 to have moved a thousand miles away. 
 
 ' ' Where have you been ? ' ' The other soldiers 
 had come up now. 
 
 "Been down this way." The boys' voices 
 were never so meek before. Each reply was 
 like an apology. 
 
 "Been to see your brother?" asked one who 
 had not spoken before— a pleasant-looking fel- 
 low. The boys looked at him. They were para- 
 lyzed by dread of the approaching question. 
 
 "Now, boys, we know where you have been," 
 said a small fellow, who wore a yellow chevron 
 on his arm. He Jiad a thin moustache and a 
 sharp nose, and rode a wiry, dull sorrel horse. 
 "You may just as well tell us all about it. We 
 know you 've been to see 'em, and we are going 
 to make you carry us where they are. ' ' 
 
 "No, we ain't," said Frank, doggedly. 
 
 Willy expressed his determination also. 
 
 "If you don't it 's going to be pretty bad for 
 
 you, ' ' said the little corporal. He gave an order 
 
 to two of the men, who sprang from their horses. 
 
 and, catching Frank, swung him up behind an- 
 
 134 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 other cavalryman. The boy's face was very 
 pale, but lie bit his lip. 
 
 "Go ahead,"— continued the corporal to a 
 number of his men, who started down the path, 
 ' ' You four men remain here till we come back, ' ' 
 he said to the men on the ground, and to two 
 others on horseback. ' * Keep him here, ' ' j erking 
 his thumb toward Willy, whose face was already 
 burning with emotioii. 
 
 "I 'm going with Frank," said Willy. "Let 
 me go." This to the man who had hold of him 
 by the arm. "Frank, make him let me go," he 
 shouted, bursting into tears, and turning on his 
 captor with all his little might. 
 
 "Willy, he 's not goin' to hurt you,— don't 
 you tell!" called Frank, squirming until he dug 
 his heels so into the horse 's flanks that the horse 
 began to kick up. 
 
 "Keep quiet, Johnny; he 's not goin' to hurt 
 him," said one of the men, kiadly. He had a 
 brown beard and shining white teeth. 
 
 They rode slowly down the narrow path, the 
 dragoon holding Frank by the leg. Deep down 
 in the woods, beyond a small bran.ch, the path 
 forked. 
 
 "Which way?" asked the corporal, stopping 
 and addressing Frank. 
 135 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 Frank set Ms mouth tight and looked him in 
 the eyes, 
 
 "Which is it?" the corporal repeated. 
 
 "I ain't going to tell," said he, firmly. 
 
 "Look here, Johnny; we 've got you, and we 
 are going to make you tell us ; so you might just 
 as well do it, easy. If you don't, we 're goin' to 
 make you." 
 
 The boy said nothing. 
 
 "You men dismount. Stubbs, hold the 
 horses." He himself dismounted, and three 
 others did the same, giving their horses to a 
 fourth. 
 
 "Get down!"— this to Frank and the soldier 
 behind whom he was riding. The soldier dis- 
 mounted, and the boy slipped off after biTn ajid 
 faced his captor, who held a strap in one hand. 
 
 "Are you goin' to tell us?" he asked. 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Don't you know?" He came a step nearer, 
 and held the strap forward. There was a long 
 silence. The boy's face paled perceptibly, but 
 took on a look as if the proceedings were indif- 
 ferent to him. 
 
 "If you say you don't know"— said the man, 
 hesitating in face of the boy's resolution. 
 "Don't you know where they are?" 
 136 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Yes, I know; but I ain't goin' to tell you," 
 said Frank, bursting into teajs. 
 
 "The little Johnny 's game," said the soldier 
 who had told him the others were not going to 
 hurt Willy. The corporal said something to 
 this man in an undertone, to which he replied: 
 
 "You can try, but it is n't going to do any 
 good. I don't half like it, anyway." 
 
 Frank had stopped crying after his first out- 
 burst. 
 
 ' 'If you don 't tell, we are going to shoot you, ' ' 
 said the little soldier, drawing his pistol. 
 
 The boy shut his mouth close, and looked 
 straight at the corporal. The man laid down 
 his pistol, and, seizing Frank, drew his hands 
 behind him, and tied them. 
 
 "Get ready, men," he said, as he drew the 
 boy aside to a small tree, putting him with his 
 back to it. 
 
 Frank thought his hour had come. He thought 
 of his mother and Willy, and wondered if the 
 soldiers would shoot Willy, too. His face 
 twitched and grew ghastly white. Then he 
 thought of his father, and of how proud he 
 would be of his son's bravery when he shoidd 
 hear of it. This gave him strength. 
 
 "The knot— hurts my hands," he said. 
 137 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 The man leaned over and eased it a little. 
 
 "I was n't crying because I was scared," said 
 Frank. 
 
 The kind-looking fellow turned away. 
 
 ''Now, boys, get ready," said the corporal, 
 taking up his pistol. 
 
 How large it looked to Frank. He woruiered 
 where the bullets would hit him, and if the 
 wounds would bleed, and whether he would be 
 left alone all night out there in the woods, and 
 if his mother would come and kiss him. 
 
 "I want to say my prayers," he said, faintly. 
 
 The soldier made some reply which he could 
 not hear, and the man with the beard started for- 
 ward; but just then all grew dark before his 
 eyes. 
 
 Next, he thought he must have been shot, for 
 he felt wet about his face, and was lying down. 
 He heard some one say, "He 's coming to;" 
 and another replied, ' ' Thank Grod ! ' ' 
 
 He opened his eyes. He was lying beside the 
 little branch with his head in the lap of the big 
 soldier with the beard, and the little corporal 
 was leaning over him. throwing water in his 
 face from a cap. The others were standing 
 around. 
 
 "What 's the matter?" asked Frank. 
 138 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 "That 's all right," said the little corporal, 
 kindly. "We were just a-foolin' a bit with you, 
 Johnny." 
 
 ' * We never meant to hurt you, ' ' said the other. 
 ' ' You feel better now ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, where 's Willy?" He was too tired to 
 move. 
 
 "He 's all right. We '11 take you to him." 
 
 "Am I shot?" asked Frank. 
 
 " No ! Do you think we 'd have touched a hair 
 of your head — and you such a brave little fel- 
 low? We were just trying to scare you a bit and 
 carried it too far, and you got a little faint, — 
 that 'sail." 
 
 The voice was so Idndly that Frank was en- 
 couraged to sit up. 
 
 "Can you walk now?" asked the corporal, 
 helping him and steadying him as he rose to his 
 feet. 
 
 "I '11 take him," said the big fellow, and be- 
 fore the boy could move, he had stooped, taken 
 Frank in his arms, and was carrjdng him back 
 toward the place where they had left Willy, 
 while the others followed after with the horses. 
 
 "I can walk," said Frank. 
 
 "No, I '11 carry you, b— bless your heart!" 
 
 The boy did not know that the big dragoon 
 139 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 was looking down at the light hair resting on 
 his arm, and that while he trod the Virginia 
 wood-path, in fancy he was home in Delaware ; 
 or that the pressure the boy felt from his strong 
 arms was a caress given for the sake of another 
 boy far away on the Brandywine. A little while 
 before they came in sight Prank asked to be put 
 down. 
 
 The soldier gently set him on his feet, and be- 
 fore he let him go kissed him. 
 
 "I 've got a cnrly-headed fellow at home, just 
 the size of you," he said softly. 
 
 Frank saw that his eyes were moist. "I hope 
 you '11 get safe back to him," he said. 
 
 "God grant it!" said the soldier. 
 
 When they reached the squad at the gate, they 
 found Willy still in much distress on Frank's 
 account ; but he wiped his eyes when his brother 
 reappeared, and listened with pride to the sol- 
 diers' praise of Frank's "grit," as they called 
 it. When they let the boys go, the little corporal 
 wished Frank to accept a five-dollar gold piece ; 
 but he politely declined it. 
 
 140 
 
xvn 
 
 THE story of Frank's adventure and cour- 
 age was the talk of all the Oakland plan- 
 tation. His mother and Cousin Belle both kissed 
 him and called him their little hero. WUly also 
 received a full share of praise for his courage. 
 
 About noon there was great commotion among 
 the troops. They were far more numerous than 
 they had been in the morning, and instead of 
 riding about the woods in small bodies, hunting 
 for the concealed soldiers, they were collecting 
 together and preparing to move. 
 
 It was learned that a considerable body of 
 cavalry was passing down the road by Trinity 
 Church, and that the depot had been burnt again 
 the night before. Somehow, a rumor got about 
 that the Confederates were following up the 
 raiders. 
 
 In an hour most of the soldiers went away, 
 but a number still stayed on. Their horses were 
 picketed about the yard feeding ; and they them- 
 selves lounged around, making themselves at 
 141 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 home in the house, and pulling to pieces the 
 things that were left. They were not, however, 
 as wanton in their destruction as the first set, 
 who had passed by the year before. 
 
 Among those who yet remained were the little 
 corporal, and the big young soldier who had 
 been so kind to Frank. They were in the rear- 
 guard. At length the last man rode off. 
 
 The boys had gone in and out among them, 
 without being molested. Now and then some 
 rough fellow would swear at thwn, but for the 
 most part their intercourse with the boys was 
 friendly. "When, therefore, they rode off, the 
 boys were allowed by their mother to go and 
 see the main body. 
 
 Peter and Cole were with them. They took 
 the main road and followed along, picking up 
 straps, and cartridges, and all those miscella- 
 neous things dropped by a large body of troops 
 as they pass along. 
 
 Cartridges were very valuable, as they fur- 
 nished the only powder and shot the boys could 
 get for hunting, and their supply was out. These 
 were found in unusual numbers. The boys filled 
 their pockets, and finally filled their sleeves, 
 tying them tightly at the wrist with strings, so 
 th^t the contents would not spill out. One of the 
 
 142 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 boys found even an old pistol, which, was con- 
 sidered a great treasure. He bore it proudly in 
 his belt, and was envied by all the others. 
 
 It was quite late in the afternoon when they 
 thought of turning toward home, their pockets 
 and sleeves bagging down with the heavy mus- 
 ket-cartridges. They left the Federal rear- 
 guard feeding their horses at a great white pUe 
 of corn which had been thrown out of the corn- 
 house of a neighbor, and was scattered all over 
 the ground. 
 
 They crossed a field, descended a hill, and 
 took the main road at its foot, just as a body of 
 cavalry came in sight. A small squad, riding 
 some little distance in advance of the maia body, 
 hud already passed by. These were Confed- 
 erates. The first man they saw, at the head of 
 the column by the colonel, was the General, and 
 a little behind him was none other than Hugh on 
 a gray roan ; while not far down the column rode 
 their friend Tim Mills, looking rusty and sleepy 
 as usaial. 
 
 ' ' Goodness ! Why here are the General and 
 Hugh! How in the world did you get away?" 
 exclaimed the boys. 
 
 They learned that it was a column of cavalry 
 following the line of the raid, and that the Gen- 
 143 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 eral and Hugh, had met them and volunteered. 
 The soldiers greeted the boys cordially. 
 
 "The Yankees are right up there," said the 
 youngsters. 
 
 "Where? How many? What are they 
 doing?" asked the General. 
 
 "A whole pack of 'em— right up there at the 
 stables, and all about, feeding their horses and 
 sitting all around, and ever so many more have 
 gone along down the road." 
 
 "Fling the fence down there!" The boys 
 pitched down the rails in two or three places. 
 An order was passed back, and in an instant a 
 stir of preparation was noticed all down the 
 line of horsemen. 
 
 A courier galloped up the road to recall the 
 advance-guard. The head of the column passed 
 through the gap, and, without waiting for the 
 others, dashed up the hiU at a gallop— the Gen- 
 eral and the Colonel a score of yards ahead of 
 any of the others. 
 
 "Let 's go and see the fight!" cried the boys; 
 and the whole set started back up the hill as fast 
 as their legs could carry them. 
 
 "S'pose they shoot! Won't they shoot us?" 
 asked one of the negro boys, in some apprehen- 
 sion. This, though before unthought of, was a 
 144 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 possibility, and for a moment brongM them 
 down to a slower pace. 
 
 "We can lie flat and peep over the top of the 
 hill." This was Frank's happy thought, and 
 the party started ahead again. "Let 's go 
 around that way." They made a little detour. 
 
 Just before they reached the crest they heard 
 a shot, "bang!" immediately followed by an- 
 other, "bang!" and in a second more a regular 
 volley began, and was kept up. 
 
 They reached the crest of the hill in time to 
 see the Confederates gallop up the slope toward 
 the stables, firing their pistols at the blue-coats, 
 who were forming in the edge of a little wood, 
 over beyond a fence, from the other side of 
 which the smoke of their carbines was rolling. 
 They had evidently started on just as the 
 boys left, and before the Confederates came in 
 sight. 
 
 The boys saw their friends dash at this fence, 
 and could distinguish the General and Hugh, 
 who were still in the lead. Their horses took the 
 fence, going over like birds, and others followed, 
 —Tim Mills among them,— while yet more went 
 through a gate a few yards to one side. 
 
 " Look at Hugh ! Look at Hugh I ' ' 
 
 " Look ! That horse has fallen down ! ' ' cried 
 145 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 one of the boys, as a horse went down just at 
 the entrance of the wood, rolling over his rider. 
 
 "He 's shot!" exclaimed Frank, for neither 
 horse nor rider attempted to rise. 
 
 ' * See ; they are running ! ' ' 
 
 The little squad of blue-coats were retiring into 
 the woods, with the grays closely pressing them. 
 
 "Let 's cut across and see 'em run 'em over 
 the bridge." 
 
 "Come on!" 
 
 All the little group of spectators, white and 
 black, started as hard as they could go for a 
 path they knew, which led by a short cut through 
 the little piece of woods. Beyond lay a field 
 divided by a stream, a short distance on the 
 other side of which was a large body of woods. 
 
 The popping was still going on furiously in 
 the woods, and bullets were "zoo-ing" over the 
 fields. But the boys could not see anything, 
 and they did not think about the flying balls. 
 
 They were all excitement at the idea of "our 
 men" whipping the enemy, and they ran with all 
 their might to be in time to see them "chase 'em 
 across the field." 
 
 The road on which the skirmish took place, 
 and down which the Federal rear-guard had re- 
 treated, made a sharp curve beyond the woods, 
 146 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 around the bend of a little stream crossed by a 
 small bridge ; and the boys, in taking the short 
 cut, had placed the road between themselves 
 and home ; but they did not care about that, for 
 their men were driving the others. They "just 
 wanted to see it." 
 
 They reached the edge of the field in time to 
 see that the Yankees were on the other side of 
 the stream. They knew them to be where puffs 
 of smoke came out of the opposite wood. And 
 the Confederates had stopped beyond the bridge, 
 and were halted, in some confusion, in the field. 
 
 The firing was very sharp, and bullets were 
 singing in every direction. Then the Confed- 
 erates got together, and went as hard as they 
 could right at them up to the wood, all along 
 the edge of which the smoke was pouring in 
 continuous puffs and with a rattle of shots. 
 They saw several horses fall as the Confederates 
 galloped on, but the smoke hid most of it. Next 
 they saw a long line of fire appear in the smoke 
 on both sides of the road, where it entered the 
 wood; then the Confederates stopped, and be- 
 came all mixed up ; a number of horses galloped 
 away without their riders, another line of white 
 and red flame came out of the woods, the Con- 
 federates began to come back, leaving many 
 147 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 horses on the ground, and a body of cavalry in 
 blue coats poured out of the wood in pursuit, 
 
 "Look! look! They are running— they are 
 beating our men I ' ' exclaimed the boys. ' * They 
 have driven 'em back across the bridge!" 
 
 "How many of them there are!" . 
 
 "What shall we do? Suppose they see us!" 
 
 "Come on, Mah'srs Frank 'n' Willy, let 's 
 go home," said the colored boys. "They '11 
 shoot us." 
 
 The fight was now in the woods which lay 
 between the boys and their home. But just then 
 the gray-coats got together, again turned at the 
 edge of the wood, and dashed back on their pur- 
 suers, and— the smoke and bushes on the stream 
 hid everything. In a second more both emerged 
 on the other side of the smoke and went into the 
 woods on the further edge of the field, all in 
 confusion, and leaving on the ground more 
 horses and men than before. 
 
 "What 's them things 'zip-zippin' 'round my 
 ears?" asked one of the negro boys. 
 
 "Bullets," said Frank, proud of his knowl- 
 edge. 
 
 "Will they hurt me if they hit me?" 
 
 "Of course they will. They '11 kill you." 
 
 "I 'm gwine home," said the boy, and off he 
 started at a trot. 
 
 148 
 
TWO UTTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 "Hold on!— We 're goin', too; but let 's go 
 down this way; this is the best way." 
 
 They went along the edge of the field, toward 
 the point in the road where the skirmish had 
 been and where the Confederates had rallied. 
 They stopped to listen to the popping in the 
 woods on the other side, and were just saying 
 how glad they were that "our men had whipped 
 them," when a soldier came along. 
 
 "What in the name of goodness are you boys 
 doing here?" he asked. 
 
 "We 're just looking on an' lis'ning," an- 
 swered the boys meekly. 
 
 "Well, you 'd better be getting home as fast 
 as you can. They are too strong for us, and 
 they '11 be driving us back directly, and some of 
 you may get killed or run over." 
 
 This was dreadful ! Such an idea had never 
 occurred to the boys. A panic took possession 
 of them. 
 
 ' * Come on ! Let 's go home ! ' ' This was the 
 universal idea, and in a second the whole party 
 were cutting straight for home, utterly stam- 
 peded. 
 
 They could readily have found shelter and 
 
 security back over the hill, from the flying balls ; 
 
 but they preferred to get home, and they made 
 
 straight for it. The popping of the guns, which 
 
 149 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 still kept up in the woods across the little river, 
 now meant to them that the victorious Yankees 
 were driving back their friends. They believed 
 that the bullets which now and then yet whistled 
 over the woods with a long, singing "zoo-ee," 
 were aimed at them. For their lives, then, they 
 ran, expecting to be killed every minute. 
 
 The load of cartridges in their pockets, which 
 they had carried for hours, weighed them down. 
 As they ran they threw these out. Then followed 
 those in their sleeves. Frank and the other boys 
 easily got rid of theirs, but Willy had tied the 
 strings around his wrists in such hard knots 
 that he could not possibly untie them. He was 
 falling behind. 
 
 Frank heard him call. Without slacking his 
 speed he looked back over his shoulder. Willy's 
 face was red, and his mouth was twitching. He 
 was sobbing a little, and was tearing at the 
 strings with his teeth as he ran. Then the 
 strings came loose one after the other, the cart- 
 ridges were shaken out over the ground, and 
 Willy's face at once cleared up as he ran for- 
 ward lightened of his load. 
 
 They had passed almost through the narrow 
 skirt of woods where the first attack was made, 
 when they heard some one not far from the side 
 of the road call, "Water!" 
 150 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 The boys stopped. "What 's that?" they 
 asked each other in a startled undertone. A 
 groan came from the same direction, and a voice 
 said, "Oh, for some water!" 
 
 A short, whispered consultation was held. 
 
 "He 's right up on that bank. There 's a 
 road up there." 
 
 Frank advanced a little; a man was lying 
 somewhat propped up against a tree. His eyes 
 were closed, aud there was a ghastly wound in 
 his head. 
 
 "Willy, it 's a Yankee, and he 's shot." 
 
 "Is he dead!" asked the others, in awed 
 voices. 
 
 "No. Let 's ask him if he is hurt much." 
 
 They all approached him. His eyes were shut 
 and his face was ashy white. 
 
 "Willy, it 's my Yankee!" exclaimed Frank. 
 
 The wounded man moved his hand at the 
 sound of the voices. 
 
 "Water," he murmured. "Bring rae water, 
 for pity's sake!" 
 
 "I '11 get you some, — don 't you know me? Let 
 me have your canteen," said Frank, stooping 
 and taking hold of the canteen. It was held by 
 its strap ; but the boy whipped out a knife and 
 cut it loose. 
 
 151 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 The man tried to speak; but the boys could 
 not understand him. 
 
 "Where are you goin' get it, Frank?" asked 
 the other boys, 
 
 "At the branch down there that runs into the 
 creek." 
 
 "The Yankees '11 shoot you down there," ob- 
 jected Peter and Willy. 
 
 "1 ain' gwine that way," said Cole. 
 
 The soldier groaned. 
 
 I 'II go with you, Frank," said WUly, who 
 could not stand the sight of the man's suffering. 
 
 "We '11 be back directly." 
 
 The two boys darted off, the others following 
 liiem at a little distance. They reached the open 
 field. The shooting was still going on in the 
 woods on the other side, but they no longer 
 thought of it. They ran down the MIL and 
 dashed across the little flat to the branch at the 
 nearest point, washed the blood from the can- 
 teen, and filled it with the cool water. 
 
 "I wish we had something to wash his face 
 with," sighed Willy, "but I have n't got a hand- 
 kerchief." 
 
 "Neither have I." Willy looked thoughtful. 
 A second more and he had stripped off his light 
 sailor's jacket and dipped it in the water. The 
 152 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 next minute the two boys were running up the 
 hill again. 
 
 When they reached the spot where the 
 wounded man lay, he had slipped down and was 
 flat on the ground. His feeble voice still called 
 for water, but was ijauch weaker than before. 
 Frank stooped and held the canteen to the man's 
 lips, and he drank. Then Willy and Frank, to- 
 gether, bathed his face with the still dripping 
 cotton jacket. This revived him somewhat; but 
 he did not recognize them and talked incoher- 
 ently. They propped up his head. 
 
 "Frank, it 's getting mighty late, and we 've 
 got to go home," said Willy. 
 
 The boy's voice or words reached the ears of 
 the wounded man. 
 
 "Take me home," he murmured; "I want 
 some water from the well by the dairy." 
 
 "Give him some more water." 
 
 Willy lifted the canteen. ' ' Here it is. ' ' 
 
 The soldier swallowed with difficulty. 
 
 He could not raise his hand now. There was 
 a pause. The boys stood around, looking down 
 on him. "I 've come back home, ' ' he said. His 
 eyes were closed. 
 
 "He 's dreaming," whispered Willy. 
 153 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 "Did you ever see anybody die?" asked 
 Frank, in a low tone. 
 
 Willy's face paled. 
 
 "No, Frank; let 's go home and tell some- 
 body." 
 
 Frank stooped and touched the soldier's face. 
 He was talking all the time now, though they 
 could not understand everything he said. The 
 boy's touch seemed to rouse him. 
 
 "It 's bedtime," he said, presently. "Kneel 
 down and say your prayers for Father." 
 
 "Willy, let 's say our prayers for him," whis- 
 pered Frank. 
 
 "I can say, 'Now I lay me.' " But before 
 he could begin, 
 
 " 'Now I lay me down to sleep,' " said the 
 soldier tenderly. The boys followed him, think- 
 ing he had heard them. They did not know 
 that he was saying — ^for one whom but that 
 morning he had called "his curly-head at home" 
 —the prayer that is common to Virgitiia and to 
 Delaware, to North and to South, and which no 
 wars can silence and no victories cause to be 
 forgotten. 
 
 The soldier's voice now was growing almost 
 inaudible. He spoke between long-drawn 
 breaths. 
 
 154 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 " 'If I should die before I wake.' " 
 
 " 'If I should die before I wake,' " they re- 
 peated, and continued the prayer. 
 
 " 'And this I ask for Jesus' sake,' " said the 
 boys, ending. There was a long pause. Prank 
 stroked the pale face softly with his hand. 
 
 " 'And this I ask for Jesus' sake,' " whis- 
 pered the lips. Then, very softly, "Kiss me 
 good-night." 
 
 "Kiss him, Frank." 
 
 The boy stooped over and kissed the lips that 
 had kissed him in the morning. Willy kissed 
 him, also. The lips moved in a faint smile. 
 
 "God bless—" 
 
 The boys waited,— but that was all. The dusk 
 settled down in the woods. The prayer was 
 ended. 
 
 "He 's dead," said Frank, in de«p awe. 
 
 "Frank, are n't you mighty sorry?" asked 
 Willy in a trembling voice. Then he suddenly 
 broke out crying, 
 
 "I don't want him to die! I don't want him 
 to die!" 
 
 155 
 
xvin 
 
 WHEN the boys reached home it was pitch- 
 dark. They found their mother very 
 anxious about them. They gave an account of 
 the "battle," as they called it, telling all about 
 the charge, in which, by their statement, the 
 General and Hugh did wonderful deeds. Their 
 mother and Cousin Belle sat and listened with 
 tightly folded hands and blanched faces. 
 
 Then they told how they found the wounded 
 Yankee soldier on the bank, and about his death. 
 They were startled by seeing their Cousin Belle 
 suddenly fall on her knees and throw herself 
 across their mother's lap in a passion of tears. 
 Their mother put her arms around the young 
 girl, kissed and soothed her. 
 
 Early the next morning their mother had an 
 ox-cart (the only vehicle left on the place) sent 
 down to the spot to bring the body of the soldier 
 up to Oakland, so that it might be buried in the 
 grave-yard there. Carpenter William made the 
 coffin, and several men were set to work to dig 
 the grave in the garden. 
 
 156 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 It was about the middle of the day when the 
 cart came back. A sheet covered the body. The 
 little cortege was a very solemn one, the steers 
 pulling slowly up the hill and a man walking on 
 each side. Then the body was put into the coffin 
 and reverently carried to the grave. The boys' 
 mother read the burial service out of the prayer- 
 book, and afterward Uncle William Slow offered 
 a prayer. Just as they were about to turn away, 
 the boys ' mother began to sing, ' ' Abide with me ; 
 fast falls the eventide. ' ' She and Cousin Belle 
 and the boys sang the hjmm together, and then 
 all walked sadly away, leaving the fresh mound 
 in the garden, where birds peeped curiously 
 from the lilac-bushes at the soldier's grave in the 
 warm light of the afternoon sun. 
 
 A small packet of letters and a gold watch and 
 chain, found in the soldier's pocket, were sealed 
 up by the boys' mother and put in her bureau 
 drawer, for they could not then be sent through 
 the lines. There was one letter, however, which 
 they buried with him. It contained two locks of 
 hair, one gray, the other brown and curly. 
 
 The next few months brought no new incidents, 
 
 but the following year deep gloom fell upon 
 
 Oakland. It was not only that the times were 
 
 157 
 
TWO LITTLE CONI^EDERATES 
 
 harder than they had ever been— though the 
 plantation was now utterly destitute ; there were 
 no provisions and no crops, for there were nO' 
 teams. It was not merely that a shadow was 
 settling down on all the land; for the boys did 
 not trouble themselves about these things, 
 though such anxieties were bringing gray hairs 
 to their mother's temples. 
 
 The General had been wounded and captured 
 during a cavalry-fight. The boys somehow con- 
 nected their Cousin Belle with the GeneraPs cap- 
 ture, and looked on her with some disfavor. She 
 and the General had quarrelled a short time be- 
 fore, and it was known that she had returned his 
 ring. When, therefore, he was shot through the 
 body and taken by the enemy, the boys could not 
 admit that their cousin had any right to stay up- 
 stairs in her own room weeping about it. They 
 felt that it was all her own fault, and they told 
 her so ; whereupon she simply burst out crying 
 and ran from the room. 
 
 The hard times grew harder. The shadow 
 deepened. Hugh was wounded and captured in 
 a charge at Petersburg, and it was not known 
 whether he was badly hurt or not. Then came 
 the news that Eichmond had been evacuated. 
 The boys knew that this was a defeat ; but even 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 then they did not believe that the Confederates 
 were beaten. Their mother was deeply affected 
 by the news. 
 
 That night at least a dozen of the negroes dis- 
 appeared. The other servants said the missing 
 ones had gone to Eichmond "to get their 
 papers." 
 
 A week or so later the boys heard the rumor 
 that General Lee had surrendered at a place 
 called Appomattox. "When they came home and 
 told their mother what they had heard, she 
 turned as pale as death, arose, and went into her 
 chamber. The news was corroborated next day. 
 During the following two days, every negro on 
 the plantation left, excepting lame old Sukey 
 Brown. Some of them came and said they had 
 to go to Eichmond, that "the word had come" 
 for them. Others, including even Uncle Balla 
 and Lucy Ann, slipped away by night. 
 
 After that their mother had to cook, and the 
 boys milked and did the heavier work. The cook- 
 ing was not much trouble, however, for black- 
 eyed pease were about all they had to eat. 
 
 One afternoon, the second day after the news 
 of Lee's surrender, the boys, who had gone to 
 drive up the cows to be milked, saw two horse- 
 men, one behind the other, coming slowly down 
 159 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 the road on the far hill. The front horse was 
 white, and, as their father rode a white horse, 
 they ran toward the house to carry the news. 
 Their mother and Cousin Belle, however, having 
 seen the horsemen, were waiting on the porch as 
 the men came through the middle gate and rode 
 across the field. 
 
 It was their father and his body-servant, 
 Ealph, who had been with him all through the 
 war. They came slowly up the hill ; the horses 
 limping and fagged, the riders dusty and 
 drooping. 
 
 It seemed like a funeral. The boys were near 
 the steps, and their mother stood on the portico 
 with her forehead resting against a pillar. No 
 word was spoken. Into the yard they rode at a 
 walk, and up to the porch. Then their father, 
 who had not once looked up, put both hands to 
 his face, slipped from his horse, and walked up 
 the steps, tears running down his cheeks, and 
 took their mother into his arms. It was a 
 funeral— the Confederacy was dead. 
 
 A little later, their father, who had been in the 
 house, came out on the porch near where Ralph 
 still stood holding the horses. 
 
 "Take off the saddles, Ralph, and turn the 
 horses out," he said. 
 
 160 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 Ealph did so. 
 
 "Here,— here 's my last dollar. You have 
 been a faithful servant to me. Put the saddles 
 on the porch." It was done. "You are free," 
 he said to the black, and then he walked back 
 into the house. 
 
 Ralph stood where he was for some minutes 
 without moving a muscle. His eyes blinked 
 mechanically. Then he looked at the door and 
 at the windows above him. Suddenly he seemed 
 to come to himself. Turning slowly, he walked 
 solemnly out of the yard. 
 
 1611 
 
XIX 
 
 THE boys' Uncle William came the next 
 day. The two weeks which followed were 
 the hardest the boys had ever known. As yet 
 nothing had been heard of Hugh or the General, 
 though the boys' father went to Eichmond to 
 see whether they had been released. 
 
 The family lived on corn-bread and black- 
 eyed pease. There was not a mouthful of meat 
 on the plantation. A few aged animals were all 
 that remained on the place. 
 
 The boys' mother bought a little sugar and 
 made some cakes, and the boys, day after day, 
 carried them over to the depot and left them 
 with a man there to be sold. Such a thing had 
 never been known before in the history of the 
 family. 
 
 A company of Yankees were camped very 
 near, but they did not interfere with the boys. 
 They bought the cakes and paid for them in 
 greenbacks, which were the first new money 
 they had at Oakland. One day the boys were 
 walking along the road, coming back from the 
 camp, when they met a little old one-horse wagon 
 
 162 
 
--rl^^:5il" 
 
 The Major's Clinstmas presents. 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 driven by a man who lived near the depot. In 
 it were a boy about Willy's size and an old lady 
 with white hair, both in deep mourning. The 
 boy was better dressed than any boy they had 
 ever seen. They were strangers. 
 
 The boys touched their limp little hats to the 
 lady, and felt somewhat ashamed of their own 
 patched clothes in the presence of the well- 
 dressed stranger. Frank and Willy passed on. 
 They happened to look back. The wagon stopped 
 just then, and the lady called them: 
 
 "Little boys!" 
 
 They halted and returned. 
 
 "We are looking for my son; and this gentle- 
 man tells me that you live about here, and know 
 more of the country than any one else I may 
 meet." 
 
 "Do you know where any graves is ?— Yankee 
 graves?" asked the driver, cutting matters 
 short. 
 
 "Yes, there are several down on the road by 
 Pigeon Hill, where the battle was, and two or 
 three by the creek down yonder, and there 's one 
 in our garden." 
 
 ' ' Where was your son killed, ma 'am ? Do you 
 know that he was killed?" asked the driver. 
 
 "I do not know. We fear that he was ; but, of 
 163 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 course, we still hope there may have been some 
 mistake. The last seen of him was when General 
 Sheridan went through this country, last year. 
 He was with his company in the rear-guard, 
 and was wounded and left on the field. We 
 hoped he might have been found in one of the 
 prisons; but there is no trace of him, and we 
 fear — " 
 
 She broke down and began to cry. "He was 
 my only son," she sobbed, "my only son— and I 
 gave him up for the Union, and — " She could 
 say no more. 
 
 Her distress affected the boys deeply. 
 
 "If I could but find his grave. Even that 
 would be better than this agonizing suspense." 
 
 "What was your son's name?" asked the 
 boys, gently. 
 
 She told them. 
 
 "Why, that 's our soldier!" exclaimed both 
 boys. 
 
 "Do you know him?" she asked eagerly. 
 "Is—? Is—?" Her voice refused to frame 
 the fearful question, 
 
 "Yes, 'm. In our garden," said the boys, al- 
 most inaudibly. 
 
 The mother bent her head over on her grand- 
 son's shoulder and wept aloud. Awful as the 
 164 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 suspense had been, now that the last hope was 
 removed the shock was terrible. She gave a 
 stifled cry, then wept with uncontrollable grief. 
 
 The boys, with pale faces and eyes moist with 
 sympathy, turned away their heads and stood 
 silent. At length she grew calmer. 
 
 "Won't you come home with us? Our father 
 and mother will be so glad to have you," they 
 said, hospitably. 
 
 After questioning them a little further, she 
 decided to go. The boys climbed into the back 
 of the wagon. As they went along, the boys told 
 her all about her son,— his carrying Frank, their 
 finding him wounded near the road, and about 
 his death and burial. 
 
 "He was a real brave soldier," they told her 
 consolingly. 
 
 As they approached the house, she asked 
 whether they could give her grandson some- 
 thing to eat. 
 
 ' ' Oh, yes, indeed. Certainly, ' ' they answered. 
 Then, thinking perhaps they were raising her 
 hopes too high, they explained apologetically: 
 
 "We have n't got much. We did n't Idll any 
 squirrels this morning. Both our guns are 
 broken and don't shoot very well, now." 
 
 She was much impressed by the appearance 
 165 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDEEATES 
 
 of tlie place, wMch looked very beautiful among 
 the trees. 
 
 "Oh, yes, they 're big folks," said the driver. 
 
 She would have waited at the gate when they 
 reached the house, but the boys insisted that they 
 all should come in at once. One of them ran 
 forward and, meeting his mother just coming 
 out to the porch, told who the visitor was. 
 
 Their mother instantly came down the steps 
 and walked toward the gate. The women met 
 face to face. There was no introduction. None 
 was needed. 
 
 "My son—" faltered the elder lady, her 
 strength giving out. 
 
 The boys' mother put her handkerchief to her 
 eyes. 
 
 "I have one, too;— God alone knows where he 
 is," she sobbed. 
 
 Each knew how great was the other's loss, and 
 in sympathy with another's grief foimd consola- 
 tion for her own. 
 
 166 
 
XX 
 
 THE visitors remained at Oakland for sev- 
 eral days, as the lady wished to have her 
 son's remains removed to the old homestead in 
 Delaware. She was greatly distressed over the 
 want which she saw at Oakland — for there was 
 literally nothing to eat but black-eyed pease and 
 the- boys' chickens. Every incident of the war 
 interested her. She was delighted with their 
 Cousin Belle, and took much interest in her 
 story, which was told by the boys' mother. 
 
 Her grandson, Dupont, was a fine, brave, and 
 generous young fellow. He had spent his boy- 
 hood near a town, and could neither ride, swim, 
 nor shoot as the Oakland boys did; but he was 
 never afraid to try anything, and the boys took 
 a great liking to him, and he to them. 
 
 When the young soldier's body had been re^ 
 moved, the visitors left ; not, however, until the 
 boys had made their companion promise to pay 
 them a visit. After the departure of these 
 friends they were much missed. 
 
 But the next day there was a great rejoicing at 
 167 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 Oakland. Every one was in the dining-room 
 at dinner, and the boys' father had just risen 
 from the table and walked out of the room. A 
 second later they heard an exclamation of aston- 
 ishment from him, and he called eagerly to his 
 wife, "Come here, quickly!" and ran down the 
 steps. Every one rose and ran out. Hugh and 
 the General were just entering the yard. 
 
 They were pale and thin and looked ill; but 
 all the past was forgotten in the greeting. 
 
 The boys soon knew that the General was mak- 
 ing his peace with their Cousin BeUe, who looked 
 prettier than ever. It required several long 
 walks before all was made right; but there was 
 no disposition toward severity on either side. 
 It was determined that the wedding was ta take 
 place very soon. The boys' father suggested, 
 as an objection to an immediate wedding, that 
 since the General was just half his usual size, it 
 would be better to wait until he should regain his 
 former proportions, so that aU of him might be 
 married; but the General would not accept the 
 proposition for delay, and Cousin Belle finally 
 consented to be married at once. 
 
 The old place was in a great stir over the pre- 
 parations. A number of the old servants, in- 
 
 168 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 eluding Uncle Balla and Lucy Ann, had one by 
 one come back to their old home. The trunks ia 
 the garret were ransacked once more, and 
 enough was found to make up a wedding trous- 
 seau of two dresses. 
 
 Hugh was to be the General's best man, and 
 the boys were to be the ushers. The only diffi- 
 culty was that their patched clothes made them 
 feel a little abashed at the prominent roles they 
 were to assume. However, their mother made 
 them each a nice jacket from a striped dress, 
 one of her only two dresses, and she adorned 
 them with the military brass buttons their father 
 had had taken from his coat; so they felt very 
 proud. Their father, of course, was to give the 
 bride away,— an office he accepted with' pleas- 
 ure, he said, provided he did not have to move 
 too far, which might be hazardous so long as he 
 had to wear his spurs to keep the soles on his 
 boots. 
 
 Thus, even amid the ruins, the boys found life 
 joyous, and if they were without everything else, 
 they had life, health, and hope. The old guns 
 were broken, and they had to ride in the ox-cart; 
 but they hoped to have others and to do better, 
 some day. 
 
 169 
 
TWO LITTLE CONFEDERATES 
 
 The "some day" came sooner than they ex- 
 pected. 
 
 The morning before the wedding, word came 
 that there were at the railroad station several 
 boxes for their mother. The ox-cart was sent 
 for them. When the boxes arrived, that evening, 
 there was a letter from their friend in Delaware, 
 congratulating Cousin Belle and apologizing for 
 having sent "a few things" to her Southern 
 friends. 
 
 The ' ' few things ' ' consisted not only of neces- 
 saries, but of everything which good taste could 
 suggest. There was a complete trousseau for 
 Cousin Belle, and clothes for each member of 
 the family. The boys had new suits of fine cloth 
 with shirts and underclothes in plenty. 
 
 But the best surprise of all was found when 
 they came to the bottom of the biggest box, and 
 found two long, narrow cases, marked, "For the 
 Oakland boys." These cases held beautiful, new 
 double-barrelled guns of the finest make. There 
 was a large supply of ammunition, and in each 
 case there was a letter from Dupont promising 
 to come and spend his vacation with them, and 
 sending his love and good wishes and thanks to 
 his friends— the "Two Little Confederates." 
 
 170 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 My acknowlsdgraents are due to Mesn-s. Harper dt Brothers and to Mr* A. B, 
 Storey, the Publiahera and (Re Sditor of "Sarper^a Toung People," in lehtch 
 Magazine I ftod tlie pleasure nf lumng tJiese storiee Arst appear.— 3*. N, R 
 
TOHERi 
 
A 
 
 CAPTURED SA]S[TA CLAUS 
 
 HOLLY HILL was the place for Christmas ! 
 From Bob down to brown-eyed Evelyn, 
 with her golden hair floating all around her, 
 every one hung up a stocking, and the visit of 
 Santa Claus was the event of the year. 
 
 They went to sleep on the night before Christ- 
 mas—or rather they went to bed, for sleep was 
 long far from their eyes,— with little squeakings 
 and gurglings, like so many little white mice, 
 and if Santa Claus had not always been so very 
 punctual in disappearing up the chimney before 
 daybreak, he must certainly have been caught ; 
 for by the time the chickens were crowing in 
 the morning there would be an answering twit- 
 ter through the house, and with a patter of little 
 feet and subdued laughter small white-clad fig- 
 ures would steal through the dim light of dusky 
 rooms and passages, opening doors with sudden 
 
 173 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 bursts, and shouting "Christmas gift!" into 
 darkened chambers, at still sleeping elders, then 
 scurrying away in the gray light to rake open 
 the hickory embers and revel in the exploration 
 of their crowded stockings. 
 
 Such was Christmas morning at Holly Hill in 
 the old times before the war. Thus it was, that 
 at Christmas, 1863, when there were no new toys 
 to be had for love or money, there were much dis- 
 appointment and some murmurs at Holly Hill. 
 The children had never really felt the war until 
 then, though their father. Major Stafford, had 
 been off, first with his company and then with 
 his regiment, since April, 1861. Now from Mrs. 
 Stafford down to little tot Evelyn, there was an 
 absence of the merriment which Christmas al- 
 ways brought with it. Their mother had done 
 all she could to collect such presents as were 
 within her reach, but the youngsters were 
 much too sharp not to know that the presents 
 were "just fixed up"; and when they were all 
 gathered around the fire in their mother's cham- 
 ber, Christmas morning, looking over their pres- 
 ents, their little faces wore an expression of 
 pathetic disappointment. 
 
 "I don't think much of this Christmas," an- 
 nounced Ran, with characteristic gravity, look- 
 
 174 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA GLAUS 
 
 ing down on Ms presents with, an air of con- 
 tempt. "A hatchet, a ball of string, and a hare- 
 trap is n't much.' 
 
 Mrs. Stafford smiled, but the smile soon diei 
 away into an expression of sadness. 
 
 * * I too have to do without my Christmas gift, ' ' 
 she said. "Your father wrote me that he hoped 
 to spend Christmas with us, and he has not 
 come." 
 
 "Never mind; he may come yet," said Bob 
 encouragingly. (Bob always was encouraging. 
 That was why he was ' ' Old Bob. ") "An axe was 
 just the thing I wanted, mamma," said he, 
 shouldering his new possession proudly. 
 
 Mrs, Stafford's face lit up again. 
 
 "And a hatchet was what I wanted, ' ' admitted 
 Ran; "now I can make my own hare-traps." 
 
 "An' I like a broked knife," asserted Charlie 
 stoutly, falling valiantly into the general move- 
 ment, whilst Evelyn pushed her long hair out of 
 her eyes, and hugged her baby, declaring : 
 
 "I love my dolly, and I love Santa Tlaus, an' 
 I love my papa, ' ' at which her mother took the 
 little midget to her bosom, doll and all, and hid 
 her face in her tangled curls. 
 
 175 
 
n 
 
 THE holiday was scarcely over when one 
 evening Major Stafford galloped up to the 
 gate, his black horse Ajax splashed with mud 
 to his ear-tips. 
 
 The Major soon heard all about the little ones' 
 disappointment at not receiving any new pres- 
 ents. 
 
 "Santa Tlaus did n' turn this Trismas, but 
 he 's tummin' next Trismas," said Evelyn, look- 
 ing wisely up at him, that evening, from the rug 
 where she was vainly trying to make her doll's 
 head stick on her broken shoulders. 
 
 "And why did he not come this Christmas, 
 Miss Wisdom?" laughed her father, touching 
 her with the toe of his boot. 
 
 "Tause the Yankees would n' let him," said 
 she gravely, holding her doll up and looking at 
 it pensively, her head on one side. 
 
 "And why, then, should he come next year?" 
 
 "Tause Crod 's goin' to make him." She 
 turned the mutilated baby around and examined 
 
 176 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA GLAUS 
 
 it gravely, with her shining head set on the 
 other side. 
 
 "There 's faith for you," said Mrs. Stafford, 
 as her husband asked, ''How do you know 
 this?" 
 
 "Tause Grod told me," answered Evelyn, still 
 busy with her inspection. 
 
 "He did? "What is Santa Glaus going to 
 bring you?" 
 
 The little mite sprang to her feet. "He 's 
 goin' to bring me— a— great— big— dolly— with 
 real sure 'nough hair, and blue eyes that will 
 go to sleep." Her face was aglow, and she 
 stretched her hands wide apart to give the size. 
 
 "She has dreamt it," said the Major, in an 
 undertone, to her mother. "There is not such a 
 doll as that in the Southern Gonfederacy," he 
 continued. 
 
 The child caught his meaning. "Yes, he is," 
 she insisted, " 'cause I asked hiTn an' he said 
 he would; and Charlie " 
 
 Just then that youngster himself burst into 
 the room, a small whirlwind in petticoats. As 
 soon as his cyclonic tendencies could be curbed, 
 his father asked him: 
 
 "Well, what did you ask Santa Glaus for, 
 young man?" 
 
 177 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "For a pair of breeches and a sword," an- 
 swered the boy, promptly, striking an attitude. 
 
 "Well, upon my word!" laughed his father, 
 eyeing the erect little figure and the steady, 
 clear eyes which looked proudly up at him. "I 
 had no idea what a young Achilles we had here. 
 Tou shall have them." 
 
 The boy nodded gravely. "All right. "When 
 I get to be a man I won't let anybody make my 
 mamma cry." He advanced a step, with head 
 up, the very picture of spirit. 
 
 "Ah! you won't?" said his father, with a 
 gesture to prevent his wife interrupting. 
 
 "Nor my little sister," said the young war- 
 rior, patronizingly, swelling with infantile im- 
 portance. 
 
 "No; he won't let anybody make me ky," 
 chimed in Evelyn, promptly accepting the prof- 
 fered protection. 
 
 "On my word, Ellen, the fellow has some of 
 the old blood in him," said Major Stafford, 
 much pleased. ' * Come here, my young knight. ' ' 
 He drew the boy up to him. ' ' I had rather have 
 heard you say that than have won a brigadier's 
 wreath. Yeu shall have your breeches and your 
 sword next Christmas. Were I the king I should 
 
 178 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 give you your spurs. Eemember, never let any 
 one make your mother or sister cry." 
 
 Charlie nodded in token of his acceptance of 
 the condition. 
 
 "All right," he said. 
 
 179 
 
in 
 
 WHEN Major Stafford galloped away, on 
 his return to Ms command, tlie little 
 group at the lawn gate shouted many messages 
 after him. The last thing he heard was Charlie's 
 treble, as he seated himself on the gate post, 
 calling to him not to forget to make Santa Glaus 
 bring him a pair of breeches and a sword, and 
 Evelyn's little voice reminding him of her 
 "dolly that can go to sleep." 
 
 Many times during the ensuing year, amid 
 the hardships of the campaign, the privations 
 of the march, and the dangers of battle, the 
 Major heard those little voices calling to him. 
 In the autumn he won the three stars of a col- 
 onel for gallantry in leading a desperate charge 
 on a town, in a perilous raid into the heart of 
 the enemy's country, and holding the place; but 
 none knew, when he dashed into the town at the 
 head of his regiment under a hail of bullets, that 
 his mind was full of toyshops and clothing 
 stores, and that when he was so stoutly holding 
 his position he was guarding a little boy's suit, 
 
 180 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 a small sword with a gilded scabbard, and a 
 large doll with flowing ringlets and eyes that 
 could "go to sleep." Some of his friends dur- 
 ing that year had charged the Major with grow- 
 ing miserly, and rallied him upon hoarding up 
 his pay and carrying large rolls of Confederate 
 money about his person ; and when, just before 
 the raid, he invested his entire year's pay in 
 four or five ten-dollar gold pieces, they vowed 
 he was mad. 
 
 The Major, however, always met these charges 
 with a smile. And as soon as his position was 
 assured in the captured town he proved his 
 sanity. 
 
 The owner of a handsome store on the prin- 
 cipal street, over which was a large sign, "Men's 
 and Boy's Clothes," peeping out, saw a Con- 
 federate major ride up to the door, which had 
 been hastily fastened when the fight began, and 
 rap on it with the handle of his sword. There 
 was something in the rap that was imperative, 
 and fearing violence if he failed to respond, 
 he hastily opened the door. The officer entered, 
 and quickly selected a little uniform suit of blue 
 cloth with brass buttons. 
 
 "What is the price of this?" 
 
 "Ten dollars," stammered the shopkeeper. 
 181 
 
"AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 To his astonishment the Confederate officer 
 put his hand in his pocket and laid a ten-dollar 
 gold piece on the counter. 
 
 "Now show me where there is a toyshop." 
 
 There was one only a few doors off, and there 
 the Major selected a child's sword handsomely 
 ornamented, and the most beautiful doll, over 
 whose eyes stole the whitest of roseleaf eyelids, 
 and which could talk and do other wonderful 
 things. He astonished this shopkeeper also by 
 laying down another gold piece. This left him 
 but two or three more of the proceeds of his 
 year's pay, and these he soon handed over a 
 counter to a jeweller, who gave him a small 
 package in exchange. 
 
 All during the remainder of the campaign 
 Colonel Stafford carried a package carefully 
 sealed, and strapped on behind his saddle. His 
 care of it and his secrecy about it were the sub- 
 jects of many jests among his friends in the 
 brigade, and when in an engagement his horse 
 was shot, and the Colonel, under a hot fire, 
 stopped and calmly unbuckled his bundle, and 
 during the rest of the fight carried it in his 
 hand, there was a clamor that he should disclose 
 the contents. Even an offer to sing them a song 
 would not appease them. 
 
 182 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 The brigade officers were gathered around a 
 camp-fire that night on the edge of the bloody 
 field. A Federal officer, Colonel Denby, who 
 had been slightly wonnded and captured in the 
 fight, and who now sat somewhat grim and 
 moody before the fire, was their guest. 
 
 "Now, Stafford, open the bundle and let us 
 into the secret," they all said. The Colonel, 
 without a word, rose and brought the parcel 
 up to the fire. Kneeling down, he took out his 
 knife and carefully ripped open the outer cover. 
 Many a jest was leveled at him across the blaz- 
 ing logs as he did so. 
 
 One said the Colonel had turned peddler, and 
 was trying to eke out a living by running the 
 blockade on Lilliputian principles; another 
 wagered that he had it full of Confederate bills ; 
 a third, that it was a talisman against bullets, 
 and so on. Within the outer covering were 
 several others; but at length the last was 
 reached. As the Colonel ripped carefully, the 
 group gathered around and bent breathlessly 
 over him, the light from the blazing camp-fire 
 shining ruddily on their eager, weather- 
 tanned faces. When the Colonel put in his 
 hand and drew out a toy sword, there was a 
 general exclamation, followed by a dead silence ; 
 
 183 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 but when he took the doll from her soft wrap- 
 ping, and then unrolled and held up a pair of 
 little trousers not much longer than a man's 
 hand, and just the size for a five-year-old boy, 
 the men turned away their faces from the fire, 
 and more than one, who had boys of his own at 
 home, put his hand up to his eyes. 
 
 One of them, a bronzed and weather-beaten 
 officer, who had charged the Colonel with being 
 a miser, stretched himself out on the ground, 
 flat on his face, and sobbed aloud as Colonel 
 Stafford gently told his story of Charlie and 
 Evelyn, Even the grim face of Colonel Denby 
 looked somewhat changed in the light of the 
 fire, and he reached over for the doll and gazed 
 at it steadily for some time. 
 
 184 
 
IV 
 
 DURING the whole year the children had 
 been looking forward to the conung of 
 Christmas. Charlie's outbursts of petulance 
 and not rare fits of anger were invariably 
 checked if any mention was made of his father's 
 injunction, and at length he became accustomed 
 to curb himself by the recollection of the charge 
 he had received. If he fell and hurt himself 
 in his constant attempt to climb up impossible 
 places, he would simply rub himself and say, 
 proudly, "I don't cry now, I am a knight, and 
 next Christmas I am going to be a man, 'cause 
 my papa 's goin' to tell Santa Claus to bring 
 me a pair of breeches and a sword." Evelyn 
 could not help crying when she was hurt, for 
 she was only a little girl; but she added to her 
 prayer of " God bless and keep my papa, and 
 bring him safe home," the petition, "Please, 
 God, bless and keep Santa Tlaus, and let him 
 come here Trismas." 
 
 Old Bob and Ran, toe, as well as the younger 
 ones, looked forward eagerly to Christmas. 
 
 185 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 But some time before Christmas the steady 
 advance of the Union Armies brought Holly 
 Hill and the Holly Hill children far within the 
 Federal lines, and shut out all chance of their 
 being reached by any message or thing from 
 their father. The only Confederates the chil- 
 dren ever saw now were the prisoners who were 
 being passed back on their way to prison. The 
 only news they ever received were the rumors 
 which reached them from Federal sources. Mrs. 
 Stafford's heart was heavy within her, and 
 when, a day or two before Christmas, she heard 
 Charlie and Evelyn, as they sat before the fire, 
 gravely talking to each other of the long-ex- 
 pected presents which their father had prom- 
 ised that Santa Claus should bring them, she 
 could stand it no longer. She took Bob and Ran 
 into her room, and there told them that now it 
 was impossible for their father to come, and 
 that they must help her entertain "the chil- 
 dren" and console them for their disappoint- 
 ment. The two boys responded heartily, as 
 true boys always will when thrown on their 
 manliness. 
 
 For the next two days Mrs. Stafford and 
 both the boys were busy. Mrs. Stafford, when 
 Charlie was not present, gave her time to cut* 
 
 186 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA GLAUS 
 
 ting out and making a little gray uniform suit 
 from an old coat wMch her husband had 
 worn when he first entered the army ; whilst the 
 boys employed themselves, Bob in making a 
 pretty little sword and scabbard out of an old 
 piece of gutter, and Ean, who had a wonderful 
 turn, in carving a doll from a piece of hard sea- 
 soned wood. 
 
 The day before Christmas they lost a little 
 time in following and pitying a small lot of 
 prisoners who passed along the road by the 
 gate. The boys were always pitying the pris- 
 oners and planning means to rescue them, for 
 they had an idea that they suffered a terrible 
 fate. Only one certain case had come to their 
 knowledge. A young man had one day been 
 carried by the Holly Hill gate on his way to the 
 headquarters of the oflBcer in command of that 
 portion of the lines, General Denby. He was in 
 citizen's clothes and was charged with being a 
 spy. The next morning Ean, who had risen 
 early to visit his hare-traps, rushed into his 
 mother's room white-faced and wide-eyed. 
 
 "Oh, mamma!" he gasped, "they have hung 
 him, just because he had on those clothes ! ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Stafford, though she was much moved 
 herself, endeavored to explain to the boy that 
 
 187 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 this w^s one of the laws of war ; but Ban's mind 
 was not able to comprehend the principles which 
 imposed so cruel a sentence for what he deemed 
 so harmless a fault. 
 
 This act and some other measures of severity 
 gave General Denby a reputation of much 
 harshness among the few old residents who yet 
 remained at their homes in the lines, and the 
 children used to gaze at him furtively as he 
 would ride by, grim and stem, followed by his 
 staff. Yet there were those who said that Gen- 
 eral Denby 's rigor was simply the result of a 
 high standard of duty, and that at bottom he 
 had a soft heart. 
 
 188 
 
THE approach of Christmas was recognized 
 even in the Federal camps, and many a 
 song and ringing laugh were heard around the 
 camp-fires, and in the tents and little cabins 
 used as winter quarters, over the boxes which 
 were pouring in from home. The troops in the 
 camps near General Denby's headquarters on 
 Christmas eve had been larking and frolicking 
 all day like so many children, preparing for 
 the festivities of the evening, when they pro- 
 posed to have a Christmas tree and other enter- 
 tainments; and the General, as he sat in the 
 front room of the house used as his headquar- 
 ters, writing official papers, had more than once 
 during the afternoon frowned at the noise out- 
 side which had disturbed him. At length, how- 
 ever, late in the afternoon, he finished his work, 
 and having dismissed his adjutant, he locked 
 the door, and pushing aside all his business 
 papers, took from his pocket a little letter and 
 began to read. 
 As he read, the stern lines of the grim sol- 
 189 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 dier's face relaxed, and more than once a smile 
 stole into his eyes and stirred the corners of his. 
 grizzled moustache. 
 
 The letter was scrawled in a large childish 
 hand. It ran: 
 
 "My Dearest Grandpapa: I want to see you very 
 much. I send you a Christinas gift. I made it myself. 
 I hope to get a whole lot of dolls and other presents. 
 
 I love' you. I send you all these kisses 
 
 You must kiss them. 
 
 "Your loving little granddaughter, 
 
 "Ln.Y." 
 
 When he had finished reading the letter the 
 old veteran gravely lifted it to his lips and 
 pressed a kiss on each of the little spaces so 
 carefully drawn by the childish hand. 
 
 When he had done he took out his handker- 
 chief and blew his nose violently as he walked 
 up and down the room. He even muttered 
 something about the fire smoking. Then he 
 sat down once more at his table, and placing 
 the little letter before him, began to write. As 
 he wrote, the fire smoked more than ever, and 
 the sounds of revelry outside reached him in a 
 perfect uproar; but he no longer frowned, and 
 when the strains of "Dixie" came in at the win- 
 
 190 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA CLAUS 
 dow, sung in a clear, rich, mellow solo, he sat 
 back in his chair and listened: 
 
 "I wish I were in Dixie, away, away; 
 In Dixie's land I '11 take my stand, 
 To live and die for Dixie land. 
 Away, away, away down South in Dixie!" 
 
 sang the beautiful voice, full and sonorous. 
 
 "When the song ended, there was an outburst 
 of applause, and shouts apparently demanding 
 some other song, which was refused, for the 
 noise grew to a tumult. The General rose and 
 walked to the window. Suddenly the uproar 
 hushed, for the voice began again, but this time 
 it was a hymn: 
 
 "While shepherds watched their flocks by night, 
 All seated on the ground. 
 The angel of the Lord came down, 
 And glory shone around." 
 
 Verse after verse was sung, the men pouring 
 out of their tents and huts to listen to the music. 
 
 "All glory be to God on high, 
 And to the earth be peace; 
 Good will henceforth from Heaven to men 
 Begin and never cease!" 
 
 191 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 sang the singer to the end. "When the strain 
 died away there was a dead silence. 
 
 The General finished his letter and sealed it. 
 Carefully folding up the little one which lay 
 before him, he replaced it in his pocket, and 
 going to the door, summoned the orderly who 
 was just without. 
 
 "Mail that at once," he said. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "By the way," as the soldier turned to leave, 
 "who was that singing out there just now? I 
 mean that last one who sang 'Dixie,' and the 
 hymn." 
 
 "Only a peddler, sir, I believe." 
 
 The General's eyes fixed themselves on the 
 soldier, 
 
 "Where did he come from?" 
 
 "I don't know, sir. Some of the boys had 
 him singing." 
 
 "Tell Major Dayle to come here immedi- 
 ately," said the General, frowning. 
 
 In a moment the officer summoned entered. 
 
 He appeared somewhat embarrassed. 
 
 "Who was this peddler?" asked the comman- 
 der, sternly. 
 
 "I— I don't know—" began the other. 
 192 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA GLAUS 
 
 "You don't know! Where did he come 
 from?" 
 
 "From Colonel Watchly's camp directly," 
 said he, relieved to shift a part of the respon- 
 sibility. 
 
 "How was he dressed?" 
 
 ''In citizen's clothes." 
 
 "What did he have?" 
 
 "A few toys and triakets." 
 
 "What was his name?' 
 
 "I did not hear it." 
 
 "And you let him go!" The General 
 stamped his foot. 
 
 "Yes, sir; I don't think — " he began. 
 
 "No, I know you don't," said the General. 
 "He was a spy. Where has he gone?" 
 
 "I— I don't know. He cannot have gone 
 far." 
 
 "Report yourself under arrest," said the 
 commander, sternly. 
 
 Walking to the door, he said to the sentinel: 
 
 "Call the corporal, and tell him to request 
 Captain Albert to come here immediately." 
 
 In a few hours the party sent out reported 
 that they had traced the spy to a place just over 
 the creek, where he was believed to be harbored. 
 
 193 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "Take a detail and arrest Mm, or bum the 
 house," ordered the General, angrily. "It is 
 a perfect nest of treason," he said to himself 
 as he walked up and down, as though in justi- 
 fication of his savage order. 
 
 "Or wait," he called to the captain, who was 
 just withdrawing. "I will go there myself, and 
 take it for my headquarters. It is a better place 
 than this. I cannot stand this smoke any 
 longer. That will break up their treasonable 
 work." 
 
 194 
 
VI 
 
 ALL that day the tongues of the little ones 
 at Holly Hill had been chattering unceas- 
 ingly of the expected visit of Santa Clans that 
 night. Mrs. Stafford had tried to explain to 
 Charlie and Evelyn that it would be impossible 
 for him to bring them their presents this year ; 
 but she was met with the undeniable and unan- 
 swerable statement that their father had prom- 
 ised them. Before going to bed they had hung 
 their stockings on the mantelpiece right in 
 front of the chimney, so that Santa Clans would 
 be sure to see them. 
 
 The mother had broken down over Evelyn's 
 prayer, ' ' not to forget my papa, and not to for- 
 get my dolly," and her tears fell silently 
 after the little ones were asleep, as she 
 put the finishing touches to the tiny gray 
 uniform for Charlie. She was thinking 
 not only of the children's disappointment, 
 but of the absence of him on whose promise 
 they had so securely relied. He had been away 
 now for a year, and she had had no word of him 
 for many weeks. Where was he? Was he dead 
 
 195 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 or alive? Mrs. Stafford sank on her knees by 
 the bedside. 
 
 "O Grod, give me faith like this little child!" 
 she prayed again and again. She was startled 
 by hearing a step on the front portico and a 
 knock at the door. Bob, who was working in 
 front of the hall fire, went to the door. His 
 mother heard him answer doubtfully some ques- 
 tion. She opened the door and went out. A 
 stranger with a large bundle or pack stood on 
 the threshold. His hat, which was still on his 
 head, was pulled down over his eyes, and he 
 wore a beard. 
 
 "An' leddy, wad ye bay so koind as to shel- 
 ter a poor sthranger for a noight at this blissid 
 toim of pace and goodwill?" he said, in a 
 strong Irish brogue. 
 
 "Certainly," said Mrs. Stafford with her 
 eyes fixed on him. She moved slowly up to him. 
 Then, by an instinct, quickly lifting her hand, 
 she pushed his hat back from his eyes. Her 
 husband clasped her in his arms. 
 
 "My darling!" 
 
 "When the pack was opened, such a treasure- 
 house of toys and things was displayed as surely 
 never greeted any other eyes. The smaller 
 children, including Ran, were not awaked, at 
 
 196 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 their father's request, though Mrs. Stafford 
 wished to wake them to see him; but Bob was 
 let into the secrets, except that he was not per- 
 mitted to see a small package which bore his 
 name. Mrs. Stafford and the Colonel were like 
 two children themselves as they "tipped" about 
 stuffing the long stockings with candy and toys 
 of all kinds. The beautiful doll with flaxen 
 hair, all arrayed in silk and lace, was seated, 
 last of all, securely on top of Evelyn's stocking, 
 with her wardrobe just below her, where she 
 would greet her young mistress when she should 
 first open her eyes, and Charlie's little blue uni- 
 form was pinned beside the gray one his mother 
 had made, with his sword buckled around the 
 waist. 
 
 Bob was at last dismissed to his room, and 
 the Colonel and Mrs. Stafford settled them- 
 selves before the fire, hand in hand, to talk 
 over all the past. They had hardly started, 
 when Bob rushed down the stairs and dashed 
 into their room. 
 
 "Papa! papa! the yard 's full of Yankees!" 
 
 Both the Colonel and Mrs. Stafford sprang 
 to their feet. 
 
 "Through the back door!" cried Mrs. Staf- 
 ford, seizing her husband. 
 
 197 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "He cannot get out that way— tHey are 
 everywhere. I saw them from my window," 
 gasped Bob, just as the sound of trampling 
 without became audible. 
 
 "Oh! what will you do? Those clothes! If 
 they catch you in those clothes!" began Mrs. 
 Stafford, and then stopped, her face growing 
 ashy pale. Bob also turned even whiter than 
 he had been before. He remembered the young 
 man who was found in citizen's clothes in the 
 autumn, and knew his dreadful fate. He burst 
 out crying. "Oh, papa! will they hang you?" 
 he sobbed. 
 
 "I hope not, my son," said the Colonel, 
 gravely. "Certainly not, if I can prevent it." 
 A gleam of amusement stole into his eyes. 
 "It 's an awkward fix, certainly," he added. 
 
 "You must conceal yourself," cried Mrs. 
 Stafford, as a number of footsteps sounded on 
 the porch, and a thundering knock shook the 
 door. "Come here." She pulled him almost 
 by main force into a closet or entry, and locked 
 the door, just as the knocking was renewed. As 
 the door was apparently about to be broken 
 down, she went out into the hall. Her face was 
 deadly white, and her lips were moving in 
 prayer. 
 
 198 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA GLAUS 
 
 "Who 's there?" she called, trembling, try- 
 ing to gain time. 
 
 "Open the door immediately, or it will be 
 broken down," replied a stem voice. 
 
 She turned the great iron key in the heavy 
 old brass lock, and a dozen men rushed into thep 
 hall. They all waited for one, a tall elderly 
 man in a general's fatigue uniform, and with 
 a stern face and a grizzled beard. He addressed 
 her. 
 
 "Madam, I have come to take possession of 
 this house as my headquarters." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford bowed, unable to speak. She 
 was sensible of a feeliag of relief; there was a 
 gleam of hope. If they did not know of her 
 husband's presence— But the next word de- 
 stroyed it. 
 
 "We have not interfered with you up to the 
 present time, but you have been harboring a 
 spy here, and he is here now." 
 
 "There is no spy here, and has never been," 
 said Mrs. Stafford, with dignity; "but if there 
 were, you should not know it from me." She 
 spoke with much spirit. "It is not the custom 
 of our people to deliver up those who have 
 sought their protection." 
 
 The officer removed his hat. His keen eye 
 199 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 was fixed on her white face. "We shall search 
 the premises," he said sternly, but more re- 
 spectfully than he had yet spoken. "Major, 
 have the house thoroughly searched." 
 
 The men went striding off, opening doors and 
 looking through the rooms. The General took 
 a turn up and down the hall. He walked up to 
 a door. 
 
 "That is my chamber," said Mrs. Stafford, 
 quickly. 
 
 The officer fell back. "It must be searched," 
 he said. 
 
 "My little children are asleep in there," said 
 Mrs. Stafford, her face quite white. 
 
 "It must be searched," repeated the General. 
 "Either they must do it, or I. You can take 
 your choice." 
 
 Mrs. Stafford made a gesture of assent. He 
 opened the door and stepped across the thresh- 
 old. There he stopped. His eye took in the 
 scene. Charlie was lying in the little trundle- 
 bed ia the corner, calm arid peaceful, and by 
 his side was Evelyn, her little face looking like 
 a flower lying in the tangle of golden hair which 
 fell over her pillow. The noise disturbed her 
 slightly, for she smiled suddenly, and muttered 
 
 200 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 something about "Santa Tlaus" and a "dolly." 
 The ofScer's gaze swept the room, and fell on 
 the overcrowded stockings hanging from the 
 mantel. He advanced to the fireplace and 
 examined the doll and trousers closely. With 
 a curious expression on his face, he turned and 
 walked out of the room, closing the door softly 
 behind him. 
 
 "Major," he said to the ofiBcer in charge of 
 the searching party, who descended the steps 
 just then, "take the men back to camp, except 
 the sentinels. There is no spy here." In a 
 moment Mrs. Stafford came out of her cham- 
 ber. The old officer was walking up and down 
 in deep thought. Suddenly he turned to her: 
 "Madam, be so kind as to go and tell Colonel 
 Stafford that General Denby desires him to sur- 
 render himself." Mrs. Stafford was struck 
 dumb. She was unable to move or to articulate. 
 "I shall wait for him," said the General, 
 quietly, throwing himself into an arm-chair, and 
 looking steadily into the fire. 
 
 201 
 
VII 
 
 As his father concealed himself, Bob had 
 -left the chamber. He was in a perfect 
 agony of mind. He knew that his father could 
 not escape, and if he were found dressed in 
 citizen's clothes he felt that he could have but 
 one fate. All sorts of schemes entered his boy's 
 head to save him. Suddenly he thought of the 
 small group of prisoners he had seen pass by 
 about dark. He would save him! Putting on 
 his hat, he opened the front door and walked 
 out. A sentinel accosted him surlily to know 
 where he was going. Bob invited him in to get 
 warm, and soon had him engagd in conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 "What do you do with your prisoners when 
 you catch them?" inquired Bob. 
 "Send some on to prison— and hang some." 
 "I mean when you first catch them." 
 "Oh, they stay in camp. We don't treat 'em 
 bad, without they be spies. There 's a batch at 
 camp now, got in this evening— sort o' Christ- 
 mas gift." The soldier laughed as he stamped 
 his feet to keep warm. 
 
 202 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 "Where 's your camp?" Bob asked. 
 
 "About a mile from here, right on the road, 
 or rather right on the hill at the edge of the 
 pines 'yond the crick." 
 
 The boy left his companion, and sauntered 
 in and out among the other men in the yard. 
 Presently he moved on to the edge of the lawn 
 beyond them. No one took further notice of 
 him. In a second he had slipped through the 
 gate, and was flying across the field. He knew 
 every foot of ground as well as a hare, for he 
 had been hunting and setting traps over it 
 since he was as big as little Charlie. He 
 had to make a detour at the creek to avoid the 
 picket, and the dense briers were very bad and 
 painful. However, he worked his way through, 
 though his face was severely scratched. Into 
 the creek he plunged. ' ' Outch ! ' ' He had stepped 
 into a hole, and the water was as cold as ice. 
 However, he was through, and at the top of the 
 hill he could see the glow of the camp-fires light- 
 ing up the sky. 
 
 He crept cautiously up, and saw the dark 
 forms of the sentinels pacing backward and 
 forward wrapped in their overcoats, now lit up 
 by the fire, then growing black against its blaz- 
 ing embers, then lit up again, and passing away 
 
 203 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 into the shadow. How could he ever get by 
 them? His heart began to beat and his teeth 
 to chatter, but he walked boldly up. 
 
 "Halt! who goes there?" cried the sentry, 
 bringing his gun down and advancing on him. 
 
 Bob kept on, and the sentinel, finding that it 
 was only a boy, looked rather sheepish, 
 
 "Don't let him capture you, Jim," called one 
 of them; "Call the Corporal of the Guard," 
 another ; ' ' Order up the reserves, ' ' a third ; and 
 so on. Bob had to undergo something of an 
 examination. 
 
 "I know the little Johnny," said one of them. 
 
 They made him draw up to the fire, and made 
 quite a fuss over him. Bob had his wits about 
 him and soon learned that a batch of prisoners 
 were at a fire a hundred yards further back. He 
 therefore worked his way over there, although 
 he was advised to stay where he was and get 
 dry, and had many offers of a bunk from his 
 new friends, some of whom followed him over 
 to where the prisoners were. 
 
 Most of them were quartered for the night iu 
 a hut before which a guard was stationed. One 
 or two, however, sat around the camp-fire, chat- 
 ting with their guards. Among them was a 
 
 204 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA GLAUS 
 
 major in full uniform. Bob singled him out; he 
 was just about his father's size. 
 
 He was instantly the center of attraction. 
 Again he told them he was from Holly Hill; 
 again he was recognized by one of the men. 
 
 "Run away to join the army?" asked one. 
 
 "No," said Bob, his eyes flashing at the sug- 
 gestion. 
 
 "Lost?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Mother whipped you?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 As soon as their curiosity had somewhat sub- 
 sided. Bob, who had hardly been able to con- 
 tain himself, said to the Confederate major in a 
 low undertone: 
 
 "My father. Colonel Stafford, is at home, 
 concealed, and the Yankees have taken possess- 
 sion of the house." 
 
 "Well?" said the major, looking down at him 
 as if casually. 
 
 "He cannot escape, and he has on citizen's 
 clothes, and—" Bob's voice choked suddenly 
 as he gazed at the major's uniform. 
 
 "Well?" The prisoner for a second looked 
 sharply down at the boy's earnest face. Then 
 
 205 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 he put his hand under his chin, and lifting it, 
 looked into his eyes. Bob shivered and a sob 
 escaped Mm. 
 
 The major placed his hand firmly on his knee. 
 "Why, you are wringing wet," he said, aloud. 
 "I wonder you are not frozen to death." He 
 rose and stripped off his coat. "Here, get into 
 this;" and before the boy knew it the major 
 had bundled him into his coat, and rolled up the 
 sleeves so that Bob could use his hands. The 
 action attracted the attention of the rest of the 
 group, and several of the Yankees offered to 
 take the boy and give him dry clothes. 
 
 "No, sir," laughed the major; "this boy is 
 a rebel. Do you think he will wear one of your 
 Yankee suits? He 's a little major, and I 'm 
 going to give him a major's uniform." 
 
 In a minute he had stripped off his trousers, 
 and was helping Bob into them, standing him- 
 self in his imderclothes in the icy air. The legs 
 were three times too long for the boy, and the 
 waist came up to his armpits. 
 
 "Now go home to your mother," said the 
 major, laughiug at his appearance; "and some 
 of you fellows gdt me some clothes or a blanket. 
 I '11 wear your Yankee uniform out of sheer 
 necessity." 
 
 206 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 Bob trotted around, keeping as far away 
 from the laght of the camp-fires as possible. He 
 soon found himself unobserved, and reached the 
 shadow of a line of huts, and keeping well in 
 it, he came to the edge of the camp. He 
 watched his opportunity, and when the sentry's 
 back was turned slipped out into the darkness. 
 In an instant he was flying down the hill. The 
 heavy clothes impeded him, and he stopped 
 only long enough to snatch them off and roll 
 them into a bundle, and sped on his way again. 
 He struck the main road, and was running down 
 the hill as fast as his legs could carry him, when 
 he suddenly found himself almost on a group of 
 dark objects who were standing in the road just 
 ia front of him. One of them moved. It was the 
 picket. Bob suddenly stopped. His heart was 
 in his throat. 
 
 ' ' Who goes there ? ' ' said a stem voice. Bob 's 
 heart beat as if it would spring out of his body. 
 
 "Come in; we have you," said the man, ad- 
 vancing. 
 
 Bob sprang across the ditch beside the road, 
 and putting his hand on the top rail of the fence, 
 flung himself over it, bundle and all, flat on the 
 other side, just as a blaze of light burst from 
 the picket, and the report of a carbine startled 
 
 207 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 the silent night. The bullet grazed the boy's 
 arm, and crashed through the rail. In a second 
 Bob was on his feet. The picket was almost on 
 him. Seizing his bundle, he dived into the 
 thicket as a half-dozen shots were sent ringing 
 after him, the bullets hissing and whistKng over 
 his head. Several men dashed into the woods 
 after him in hot pursuit, and a couple more gal- 
 loped up the road to intercept him; but Bob's 
 feet were winged, and he slipped through briers 
 and brush like a scared hare. They scratched 
 his face and threw him down, but he was up 
 again. Now and then a shot crashed behind 
 him, but he did not care for that; he thought 
 only of being caught. 
 
 A few hundred yards up, he plunged into the 
 stream, and wading across, was soon safe from 
 his pursuers. Breathless, he climbed the hill, 
 made his way through the woods, and emerged 
 into the open fields. Across these he sped like 
 a deer. He had almost given out. What if 
 they should have caught his father, and he 
 should be too late! A sob escaped him at the 
 bare thought, and he broke agaia into a run, 
 wiping off with his sleeve the tears that would 
 come. The wind cut him like a knife, but he did 
 not mind that. 
 
 208 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 As he neared the house he feared that he 
 might be intercepted again and the clothes 
 taken from him, so he stopped for a moment, 
 and slipped them on once more, rolling up the 
 sleeves and legs as well as he could. He crossed 
 the yard undisturbed. He went around to the 
 same door by which he had come out, for he 
 thought this his best chance. The same sentinel 
 was there, walking up and down, blowing his 
 cold hands. Had his father been arrested? 
 Bob's teeth chattered, but it was with sup- 
 pressed excitement. 
 
 "Pretty cold," said the sentry. 
 
 "Ye— es," gasped Bob. 
 
 "Your mother 's been out here, looking for 
 you, I guess " said the soldier, with much 
 friendliness. 
 
 "I rec— reckon so," panted Bob, moving 
 toward the door. Did that mean that his father 
 was caught? He opened the door, and slipped 
 quietly into the corridor. 
 
 General Denby still sat silent before the hall 
 fire. Bob listened at the chamber door. His 
 mother was weeping ; his father stood calm and 
 resolute before the fire. He had determined to 
 give himself up. 
 
 "If you only did not have on those clothes!" 
 209 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 sobbed Mrs. Stafford. "If I only had not cut 
 up the old uniform for the children!" 
 
 "Mother! mother! I have one!" gasped Bob, 
 bursting into the room and tearing off the im- 
 known major's uniform. 
 
 210 
 
vni 
 
 TEN minutes later Colonel Stafford, with a 
 steady step and a proud carriage, and 
 with his hand resting on Bob 's shoulder, walked 
 out into the hall. He was dressed in the uni- 
 form of a Confederate major, which fitted ad- 
 mirably his tall, erect figure. 
 
 "General Denby, I believe," he said, as the 
 Union officer rose and faced him. "We have 
 met before under somewhat different circum- 
 stances," he said, with a bow, "for I now find 
 myself your prisoner." 
 
 "I have the honor to request your parole," 
 said the General, with great politeness, "and to 
 express the hope that I may be able in some way 
 to return the courtesy which I formerly re- 
 ceived at your hands." He extended his hand 
 and Colonel Stafford took it. 
 
 "You have my parole," said he. 
 
 "I was not aware," said the General, with a 
 bow toward Mrs. Stafford, "until I entered the 
 room where your children were sleeping, that I 
 had the honor of your husband's acquaintance. 
 I will now take my leave and return to camp, 
 
 211 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 that I may not by my presence interfere with 
 the joy of this season." 
 
 "I desire to introduce to you my son," said 
 Colonel Stafford, proudly presenting Bob. 
 "He is a hero." 
 
 The General bowed as he shook hands with 
 him. Perhaps he had some suspicion how true 
 a hero he was, for he rested his hand kindly on 
 the boy's head, but he said nothing. 
 
 Both Colonel and Mrs. Stafford invited 
 the old soldier to spend the night there, 
 but he declined. He, however, accepted an in- 
 vitation to dine with them next day. 
 
 Before leaving, he requested permission to 
 take one more look at the- sleeping children. 
 Over Evelyn he bent silently. Suddenly stoop- 
 ing, he kissed her little pink cheek, and with a 
 scarcely audible "Good-night," passed out of 
 the room and left the house. 
 
 The next morning, by light, there was great 
 rejoicing. Charlie and Evelyn were up betimes, 
 and were laughing and chattering over their 
 presents like two little magpies. 
 
 "Here 's my sword and here 's my breeches," 
 cried Charlie, "two pair; but I 'm goin' to put 
 on my gray ones. I ain't goin' to wear a blue 
 uniform." 
 
 212 
 
A CAPTUEED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 "Here 's my dolly!" screamed Evelyn, in an 
 ecstasy over her beautiful present. And pres- 
 ently Bob and Ran burst in, their eyes fairly 
 dancing. 
 
 "Christmas gift! It 's a real one— real 
 gold!" cried Bob, holding up a small gold 
 watch, whilst Ran was shouting over a silver 
 one of the same size. 
 
 That evening, after dinner, General Denby 
 was sitting by the fire in the Holly Hill parlor, 
 with Evelyn nestled in his lap, her dolly clasped 
 close to her bosom, and in the absence of 
 Colonel Stafford, told Mrs. Stafford the story 
 of the opening of the package by the camp-fire. 
 The tears welled up into Mrs. Stafford's eyes 
 and ran down her cheeks. 
 
 Charlie suddenly entered, in all the majesty 
 of his new breeches, and sword buckled on hip. 
 He saw his mother's tears. His little face 
 flushed. In a second his sword was out, and he 
 struck a hostile attitude. 
 
 "You sha'n't make my mamma cry!" he 
 shouted. 
 
 "Charlie! Charlie!" cried Mrs. Stafford, 
 hastening to stop him. 
 
 "My papa said I was not to let any one make 
 you cry," insisted the boy, stepping before his 
 
 213 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 mother, and still keeping his angry eyes on 
 the General. 
 
 "Oh, Charlie!" Mrs. Stafford took hold of 
 him. "I am ashamed of you!— to be so rude!" 
 
 "Let him alone, madam," said the General. 
 "It is not rudeness; it is spirit— the spirit of 
 our race. He has the soldier's blood, and some 
 day he will be a soldier himself, and a brave 
 one. I shall count on him for the Union," he 
 said, with a smile. 
 
 Mrs. Stafford shook her head. 
 
 A few days later. Colonel Stafford, in accord- 
 ance with an understanding, came over to 
 General Denby's camp, and reported to be sent 
 on to Washington as a prisoner of war. The 
 General was absent on the lines at the time, but 
 was expected soon, and the Colonel waited for 
 him at his headquarters. There had been many 
 tears shed when his wife bade him good-by. 
 
 About an hour after the Colonel arrived, the 
 General and his staff were riding back to camp 
 along the road which ran by the Holly Hill gate. 
 Just before they reached it, two little figures 
 came out of the gate and started down the road. 
 One was a boy of five, who carried a toy sword, 
 drawn, in one hand, whilst with the other he 
 214 
 
A CAPTURED SANTA CLAUS 
 
 led Ms companion, a little girl of three, who 
 clasped a large yellow-haired doll to her breast. 
 
 The soldiers cantered forward and overtook 
 them. 
 
 "Where are you goiag, my little people?" 
 inquired the General, gazing down at them 
 affectionately. 
 
 "I 'm goin' to get my papa," said the tiny 
 swordsman firmly, turning a sturdy and deter- 
 mined little face up to him. "My mamma 's 
 cryia', an' I 'm goin' to take my papa home. 
 I ain' goin' to let the Yankees have him." 
 
 The officers all broke into a murmur of min- 
 gled admiration and amusement. 
 
 "No, we ain' goin' let the Yankees have our 
 papa," chimed in Evelyn, pushing her tangled 
 hair out of her eyes, and keeping fast hold of 
 Charlie's hand for fear of the horses around 
 her. 
 
 The General dismounted. 
 
 "How are you going to help, my little Semir- 
 amis?" he asked, stooping over her with smil- 
 ing eyes. 
 
 "I 'm goin' to give my dolly if they will give 
 me my papa," she said, gravely, as if she under- 
 stood the equality of the exchange. 
 215 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "Suppose you give a kiss instead?" There 
 was a second of hesitation, and then she put up 
 her little face, and the old General dropped on 
 one knee in the road aud lifted her in his arms, 
 doll and all. 
 
 "Gentlemen," he said to his staff, "you be- 
 hold the future defenders of the Union." 
 
 The little ones were coaxed home, and that 
 afternoon, as Colonel Stafford was expecting to 
 leave the camp for Washington with a lot of 
 prisoners, a despatch was brought in to General 
 Denby, who read it. 
 
 "Colonel," he said, addressing him, "I think 
 I shall have to continue your parole a few days 
 longer. I have just received information that, 
 by a special cartel which I have arranged, you 
 are to be exchanged for Colonel McDowell as 
 soon as he can reach the lines at this point from 
 Richmond ; and meantime, as we have but indif- 
 ferent accommodations here, I shall have to re- 
 quest you to consider Holly Hill as your place 
 of confinement. Will you be so kind as to con- 
 vey my respects to Mrs. Stafford, and to your 
 young hero Bob, and make good my word to 
 those two little commissioners of exchange, to 
 whom I feel somewhat committed? I wish you 
 a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year." 
 
 216 
 
KITTYKIN, AND THE PART 
 SHE PLAYED IN THE WAR 
 
 KITTYKIN played a part in the war which 
 has never been recorded. Her name does 
 not appear in the list of any battle ; nor is she 
 mentioned in any history as having saved a 
 life, or as having done anything remark- 
 able one way or the other. Yet, in fact, 
 she played a most important part: she 
 prevented a battle which was just going to 
 begin, and brought about a truce between the 
 skirmish lines of the Union and the Confederate 
 troops near her home which lasted several 
 weeks, and probably saved many lives. 
 
 There never was a kitten more highly prized 
 than Kittykin, for Evelyn had long wanted a 
 kitten, and the way she found her was so de- 
 lightfully unexpected. 
 
 It was during the war, when everything was 
 very scarce down in the Soutii where Evelyn 
 217 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 lived. "We don't have any coffee, or any kit- 
 tens, or cmythmg, ' ' Evelyn said one day to some 
 soldiers who had come to her home from their 
 camp, which was a mile or so away. You would 
 have thought from the way she put them to- 
 gether that kittens, like coffee, were something 
 to have on the table; but she had heard her 
 mamma wishing for coffee at breakfast that 
 morning, and she herself had long been want- 
 ing a kitten. Indeed, she used to ask for one in 
 her prayers. 
 
 Evelyn had no fancy for anything that, in 
 her own words, "was not live." A thing that 
 had life was of more value in her eyes than all 
 the toys that were ever given her. A young bird 
 which, too fat to fly, had fallen from the nest, 
 or a broken-legged chicken, which was too lame 
 to keep up with its mother, had her tenderest 
 care ; a little mouse slipping along the wainscot 
 or playing on the carpet excited her liveliest 
 interest ; but a kitten, a ' ' real live kittykin, ' ' she 
 had never possessed, though for a long time she 
 had set her heart on having one. One day, how- 
 ever, she was out walking with her mammy in 
 the "big road," when she met several small 
 negro children coming along, and one of them 
 
 218 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 had a little bit of a white kitten squeezed up in 
 his arm. It looked very scared, and every now 
 and then it cried "Mew, mew." 
 
 "Oh, mammy, look at that dear little kitty- 
 kin ! ' ' cried Evelyn, running up to the children 
 and stroking the little mite tenderly. 
 
 "What you children gwine do wid dat little 
 cat?" asked mammy, severely. 
 
 "We gwine loss it," said the boy who had it, 
 promptly. 
 
 "Oh, mammy, don't let them do that! Don't 
 let them hurt it!" pleaded Evelyn, turning to 
 her mammy. ' ' It would get so hungry. ' ' 
 
 A sudden thought struck her, and she sprang 
 over toward the boy, and took the kitten from 
 him, which instantly curled up in her arms just 
 as close to her as it could get. There was no 
 resisting her appeal, and a minute later she was 
 running home far ahead of her mammy, with 
 the kitten hugged tight in her arms. Her 
 mamma was busy in the sitting-room when 
 Evelyn came rushing in. 
 
 "Oh, mamma, see what I have ! A dear little 
 kittykin! Can't I have it? They were just go- 
 ing to throw it away, and lose it all by itself ; ' ' 
 and she began to jump up and down and rub 
 219 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 the kitten against her little pink cheek, till her 
 mother had to take hold of her to quiet her ex- 
 citement. 
 
 Kittykin (for that was the name she had re- 
 ceived) must have misunderstood the action, 
 and have supposed she was goiug to take her 
 from her young mistress, for she suddenly 
 bunched herself up into a little white ball, and 
 gave such a spit at Evelyn's mamma that the 
 lady jumped back nearly a yard, after which 
 Kittykin quietly curled herself up again in 
 Evelyn's arm. The next thing was to give her 
 some warm milk, which she drank as if she had 
 not had a mouthful all day; and then she was 
 put to sleep in a basket of wool, where Evelyn 
 looked at her a hundred times to see how she 
 was coming on. 
 
 Evelyn never doubted after that if she prayed 
 for a thing she would get it; for she had been 
 praying all the time for a "little white kitten," 
 and not only was Kittykin as white as snow, but 
 she was, to use Evelyn's words, "even littler" 
 than she had expected. There could not, to her 
 mind, be stronger proof. 
 
 As Kittykin grew a little she developed a 
 temper entirely out of proportion to her size; 
 
 220 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 when she got mad, she got mad all over. If any- 
 thing offended her she would suddenly back up 
 into a corner, her tail would get about twice as 
 large as usual, and she would spit like a little 
 fury. However, she never fought her little mis- 
 tress, and even in her worst moments she would 
 allow Evelyn to take her and lay her on her 
 back in the little cradle she had, or carry her by 
 the neck, or the legs, or almost any way except 
 by the tail. To pull her tail was a liberty she 
 never would allow even Evelyn to take. If she 
 was held by the tail her little pink claws flew 
 out as quick as a wink and as sharp as needles. 
 Evelyn was very kind to Eattykin, however, and 
 was careful not to provoke her, for she had been 
 told that getting angry and kicking on the floor, 
 as she herself sometimes did when mammy 
 wanted to comb her curly hair, would make an 
 ugly little girl, and of course it would have the 
 same effect on a kitten. 
 
 Fierce, however, as Kittykin was, it soon ap- 
 peared that she was the greatest little coward 
 in the world. A worm in the walk or a little 
 beetle running across the floor would set her to 
 jumping as if she had a fit, and the first time 
 she ever saw a mouse she was far more afraid 
 221 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 of it than it was of her. If it had been a rat, I 
 am sure that she would have died. 
 
 One day Evelyn was sitting on the floor in 
 her mother's chamber sewing a little blue bag, 
 which she said was her work-bag, when a tiny 
 mouse ran, like a little gray shadow, across the 
 hearth. Kittykin was at the moment busily en- 
 gaged in rolling about a ball of yarn almost 
 as white as herself, and the first thing 
 Evelyn knew she gave a jump like a trap-ball, 
 and slid up the side of the bureau like a little 
 shaft of light, where she stood with all four feet 
 close together, her small back roached up in an 
 arch, her tail all fuzzed up over it, and her 
 mouth wide open and spitting like a little 
 demon. She looked so funny that Evelyn 
 dropped her sewing, and the mouse, frightened 
 half out of its little wits, took advantage of her 
 consternation to make a rush back to its hole 
 under the wainscoting, into which it dived like a 
 little duck. After holding her lofty position for 
 some time, Kittykin let her hairs fall and low- 
 ered her back, but every now and then she would 
 raise them again at the bare thought of the aw- 
 ful animal which had so terrified her. At length 
 she decided that she might go down; but how 
 222 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 was she to do it? Smooth though the mahogany 
 was, she had, under excitement, gone up like 
 a streak of lightning ; but now when she was cool 
 she was afraid to jump down. It was so high 
 that it made her head swim; so, after walking 
 timidly around and peeping over at the floor, 
 she began to cry for some one to take her down, 
 just as Evelyn would have done under the same 
 circumstances. 
 
 Evelyn tried to coax her down, but she would 
 not come ; so finally she had to drag a chair up 
 to the bureau and get up on it to reach her. 
 
 Perhaps it was the fright she experienced 
 when she found herself up so high that caused 
 Kittykin to revenge herself on the little mouse 
 shortly afterward, or perhaps it was only her 
 cat instinct developing ; but it was only a short 
 time after this that Kittykin did an act which 
 grieved her little mistress dreadfully. The lit- 
 tle mouse had lived under the wainscot since 
 long before Kittykin had come, and it and Eve- 
 lyn were on very good terms. It would come 
 out and dash along by the wall to the wardrobe, 
 under which it would disappear, and after stay- 
 ing there some time it would hurry back. This 
 Evelyn used to call ' ' paying visits ; ' ' and she of- 
 223 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 ten wondered what mice talked about when they 
 got together under the wardrobe. Or sometimes 
 it would slip out and frisk around on the floor— 
 "just playing," as Evelyn said. There was a 
 perfect understanding between them; Evelyn 
 was not to hurt the mouse nor let mammy set a 
 trap for it, and the mouse was not to bite Eve- 
 lyn's clothes— but if it had to cut at all, was 
 to confine itself to her mamma's. After Kitty- 
 kin came, however, the mouse appeared to be 
 much less sociable than formerly; and after the 
 occasion when it alarmed Kittykin so, it did not 
 come out again for a long time. Evelyn used to 
 wonder if its mamma was keeping it in. 
 
 One day, however, Evelyn was sewing, and 
 Kittykin was lying by, when she suddenly 
 seemed to get tired of doing nothing, and began 
 to walk about. 
 
 "Lie down, Kittykin," said her mistress; but 
 Kittykin did not appear to hear. She just low- 
 ered her head, and peeped under the bureau, 
 with her eyes set in a curious way. Presently 
 she stooped very low, and slid along the floor 
 without making the slightest noise, every now 
 and then stopping perfectly still. Evelyn 
 watched her closely, for she had never seen her 
 act so before. Suddenly, however, Kittykin 
 
 224 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 gave a spring, and disappeared under th& 
 bureau. Evelyn heard a little squeak, and the 
 next minute Kittykin walked out with a little 
 mouse in her mouth, over which she was growl- 
 ing like a little tigress. Evelyn was jumping up 
 to take it away from her when Kittykin, who 
 had gone out into the middle of the room, turned 
 it loose herself, and quietly walking away, lay 
 down as if she were going to sleep. Then Eve- 
 lyn saw that she did not mean to hurt it, so she 
 sat and watched the mouse, which remained 
 quite still for some time. 
 
 After a while it moved a little, to see if Kitty- 
 kin was really asleep. Kittykin did not stir. 
 Her eyes were fast shut, and the mouse seemed 
 satisfied ; so, after waiting a bit, it made a little 
 dash toward the bureau. In a single bound 
 Kittykin was right over it, and had laid her 
 white paw on it. She did not, however, appear 
 to intend it any injury, but began to play with 
 it just as Evelyn would have liked to do ; and, 
 lying down, she rolled over and over,, holding it 
 up and tossing it gently, quite as Evelyn some- 
 times did her, or patting it and admiring it as 
 if it had been the sweetest little mouse in the 
 world. The mouse, too, appeared not to mind 
 it in the least bit ; and Evelyn was just thinking 
 
 225 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 how nice it was that Kittykin and it had become 
 such friends, and was planning nice games with 
 them, when there was a faint little squeak, and 
 she saw Kittykin, who had just been petting the 
 little creature, suddenly drive her sharp white 
 teeth into its neck. 
 
 Evelyn rushed at her, 
 
 "Oh, you wicked Kittykin! Are n't you 
 ashamed of yourself?" she cried, catching her 
 up by the tail and shaking her well, as the best 
 way to punish her. 
 
 Just then her mamma entered. "Oh, Evelyn, 
 why are you treating kitty so?" she asked. 
 
 "Because she 's so mean," said Evelyn, se- 
 verely. "She 's a murderer." 
 
 Her mamma tried to explain that killing the 
 mouse was Kittykin 's nature; but Evelyn could 
 not see that this made it any the less painful, 
 and she was quite cool to Kittykin for some 
 time. 
 
 The little mouse was buried that evening in a 
 matchbox under a rose-bush in the garden ; and 
 Kittykin, in a black rag which was tied around 
 her as a dress, was compelled, evidently much 
 against her will, to do penance by acting as 
 chief mourner. 
 
 226 
 
n 
 
 KITTYKIN was about five months old when 
 ■ there was a great marching of soldiers 
 backward and forward ; the tents in the field be- 
 yond the woods were taken down and carried 
 away in wagons, and there was an immense stir. 
 The army was said to be "moving." There 
 were rumors that the enemy was coming, and 
 that there might be a battle near there. Evelyn 
 was so young that she did not understand any 
 more of it than Kittykin did; but her mother 
 appeared so troubled that Evelyn knew it was 
 very bad, and became frightened, though she did 
 not know why. Her mammy soon gave her such 
 a gloomy account, that Evelyn readily agreed 
 with her that it was "like torment." As for 
 Kittykin, if she had been born in a battle, she 
 could not have been more unconcerned. In a 
 day or two it was known that the main body of 
 the army was some little way off on a long ridge, 
 and that the enemy had taken up its position on 
 another hill not far distant, and Evelyn's home 
 was between them; but there was no battle. 
 227 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Each army began to intrench itself; and in a 
 little while there was a long red bank stretched 
 across the far edge of the great field behind the 
 house, which Evelyn was told was "breast- 
 works" for the picket line, and she pointed them 
 out to Eattykin, who blinked and yaAvned as if 
 she did not care the least bit if they were. 
 
 Next morning a small squadron of cavalry 
 came galloping by. A body of the enemy had 
 been seen, and they were going to learn what it 
 meant. In a little while they came back. 
 
 "The enemy," they said, "were advancing, 
 and there would probably be a skirmish right 
 there immediately." 
 
 As they rode by, they urged Evelyn's mamma 
 either to leave the house at once or to go down 
 into the basement, where they might be safe 
 from the bullets. Then they galloped on across 
 the field to get the rest of their men, who were 
 in the trenches beyond. Before they reached 
 there a lot of men appeared on the edge of the 
 wood in front of the house. No one could teU 
 how many they were; but the sun gleamed on 
 their arms, and there was evidently a good 
 force. At first they were on horseback; but 
 
 228 
 
KITTYKIN 
 there was a "Bop! bop!" from the trenches 
 in the field behind the house, and they rode back, 
 and did not come put any more. Next morn- 
 ing, however, they too had dug a trench. These, 
 Evelyn heard some one say, were a picket line. 
 About eleven o'clock they came out into the 
 field, and they seemed to have spread themselves 
 out behind a little rise or knoll in front of the 
 house. Mammy's teeth were just chattering, 
 and she went to moaning and saying her prayers 
 as hard as she could, and Evelyn's mamma told 
 her to take Evelyn down into the basement, and 
 she would bring the baby ; so mammy, who had 
 been following mamma about, seized Evelyn, 
 and rushed with her downstairs, where, al- 
 though they were quite safe, as the windows 
 were only half above the ground, she fell on her 
 face on the floor, praying as if her last hour 
 had come. "Bop! bop!" went some muskets 
 up behind the house. * ' Bang ! bop ! bang ! ' ' went 
 some on the other side. 
 
 Evelyn suddenly remembered Kittykin. 
 "Where was she?" The last time she had seen 
 her was a half -hour before, when she had been 
 lying curled up on the back steps fast asleep in 
 the sun. Suppose she should be there 
 229 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 now, she would certainly be killed, for the baxjk 
 steps ran right out into the yard so as to be just 
 the place for Kittykin to be shot. So thought 
 Evelyn. "Bang! bang!" went the guns again 
 —somewhere. Evelyn dragged a chair up to a 
 window and looked. Her heart almost stopped ; 
 for there, out in the yard, quite clear of the 
 houses, was Kittykin, standing some way up the 
 trunk of a tall locust-tree, looking curiously 
 around. Her little white body shone like a 
 small patch of snow against the dark brown 
 bark. Evelyn sprang down from the chair, and 
 forgetting everything, rushed through the entry 
 and out of doors. 
 
 "Kitty, kitty, kitty!" she called. "Kittykin, 
 come here! You '11 be killed! Come here, 
 Kittykin!" 
 
 Kittykin, however, was in for a game, and as 
 her little mistress, with her golden hair flying in 
 the breeze ran toward her, she rushed scamper- 
 ing still higher up the tree. Evelyn could see 
 that there were some men scattered out in the 
 fields on either side of her, some of them stoop- 
 ing, and some lying down, and as she ran on 
 toward the tree she heard a "Bang! bang!" on 
 each side, and she saw little puffs of white 
 
 230 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 smoke, and something went "Zoo-ee-ee" up in 
 the air ; but she did not think about herself, she 
 was so frightened for Kittykin, 
 
 "Kitty, Mtty! Come down, Kittykin!" she 
 called, running up to the tree and holding up 
 her arms to her. Kittykin might, perhaps, have 
 liked to come down now, but she could no longer 
 do so; she was too high up. She looked down, 
 first over one shoulder, and then over the other, 
 but it was too high to jump. She could not 
 turn around, and her head began to swim. She 
 grew so dizzy, she was afraid she might fall, so 
 she dug her little sharp claws into the bark, and 
 began to cry. 
 
 Evelyn would have run back to tell her 
 mamma (who, having sent the baby downstairs 
 to mammy, was stiU busy upstairs trying to 
 hide some things, and so did not know she was 
 out in the yard) ; but she was so afraid Kittykin 
 might be killed that she could not let her get 
 out of her sight. Indeed, she was so absorbed 
 in Kittykin that she forgot all about everything 
 else. She even forgot all about the soldiers. 
 But though she did not notice the soldiers, it 
 seemed that some of them had observed her. 
 Just as the leader of the Confederate picket 
 231 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 line was about to give an order to make a dash, 
 for the houses in the yard, to his horror he saw 
 a little girl in a white dress and with flying hair 
 suddenly run out into the clear space right be- 
 tween him and the soldiers on the other side, 
 and stop under a tree just in the line of their 
 fire. His heart jumped into his mouth as he 
 sprang to his feet and waved his hands wildly 
 to call attention to the child. Then shouting to 
 his men to stop firing, he walked out in front of 
 the line, and came at a rapid stride down the 
 slope. The others all stood stUl and almost 
 held their breaths for fear some one would 
 shoot ; but no one did. Evelyn was so busy try- 
 ing to coax Kittykin down that she did not no- 
 tice anything until she heard some one call out : 
 
 "For Heaven's sake, run iuto the house, 
 quick!" 
 
 She looked around and saw the gentleman 
 hurrying toward her. He appeared to be very 
 much excited. 
 
 "What on earth are you doing out here?" he 
 gasped, as he came running up to her. 
 
 He was a young man, with just a little light 
 mustache, and with a little gold braid on the 
 sleeves of his gray jacket; and though he 
 
 232 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 seemed very much surprised, he looked very 
 kind. 
 
 "I want my KittyMn," said Evelyn, answer- 
 ing him, and looking up the tree, with a little 
 wave of her hand, toward where Kittykin still 
 climg tightly. Somehow she felt at the moment 
 that this gentleman could help her better than 
 any one else. 
 
 Kittykin, however, apparently thought differ- 
 ently about it; for she suddenly stopped mew- 
 ing; and as if she felt it unsafe to be so near a 
 stranger, she climbed carefully up imtil she 
 reached a limb, in the crotch of which she eur 
 sconced herself, and peeped curiously over at 
 them with a look of great satisfaction in her 
 face, as much as to say, "Now I 'm safe. I 'd 
 like to see you get me." 
 
 The gentleman was stroking Evelyn's hair, 
 and was looking at her very intently, when a 
 voice called to him from the other side : 
 
 "Hello, Johnny! what 's the matter?" 
 
 Evelyn looked around, and saw another gen- 
 tleman coming toward them. He was older than 
 the first one, and had on a blue coat, while the 
 first had on a gray one. She knew one was a 
 Confederate and the other was a Yankee, and 
 
 233 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 for a second she was afraid they might shoot 
 each other, but her first friend called out: 
 
 "Her kitten is up the tree. Come ahead!" 
 
 He came on, and looked for a second up at 
 Kittykin, but he looked at Evelyn really hard, 
 and suddenly stooped down, and putting his 
 arm around her drew her up to him. She got 
 over her fear in a minute. 
 
 "Kittykin 's up there, and I 'm afraid she '11 
 be kilt. ' ' She waved her hand up over her head, 
 where Kittyldn was takiag occasion to put a 
 few more limbs between herself and the enemy. 
 
 "It 's rather a dangerous place when the boys 
 are out hunting, eh, Johnny?" He laughed as 
 he stood up again. 
 
 "Yes, for as big a fellow as you. You 
 would n't stand the ghost of a show." 
 
 "I guess I 'd feel small enough up there." 
 And both men laughed. 
 
 By this time the men on both sides began to 
 come up, with their guns over their arms. 
 
 "Hello! what 's up?" some of them called 
 out. 
 
 "Her kitten 's up," said the first two; and, 
 to make good their words, Kittyldn not liking 
 so many people below her, shifted her position 
 234 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 again, and went up to a fresh limb, from which 
 she again peeped over at them. The men all 
 gathered around Evelyn, and began to talk to 
 her, and both she and Kittykin were surprised 
 to hear them joking and laughing together in 
 the friendliest way. 
 
 "What are you doing out here?" they asked; 
 and to all she made the same reply : 
 
 "I want my Kittykin." 
 
 Suddenly her mamma came out. She had 
 just gone downstairs, and had learned where 
 Evelyn was. The two officers went up and spoke 
 to her, but the men still crowded around Evelyn. 
 
 "She '11 come down," said one. "All you 
 have to do is to let her alone." 
 
 "No, she won't. She can't come down. It 
 makes her head swim," said Evelyn. 
 
 "That 's true," thought Kittykin up in the 
 tree, and to let them understand it she gave 
 a little "Mew." 
 
 "I don't see how anything can swim when 
 it 's as dry as it is around here," said a fellow 
 in gray. 
 
 A man in blue handed him his canteen, which 
 he at once accepted, and after surprising Eve- 
 lyn by smelling it— which she knew was dread- 
 235 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 fully bad manners— turned it up to his lips. 
 She heard the liquid gurgling. 
 
 As he handed it back to its owner he said: 
 "Yank, I 'm mighty glad I did n't shoot you. 
 I might have hit that canteen. ' ' At which there 
 was a laugh, and the canteen went around until 
 it was empty. Suddenly KittyHn from her high 
 perch gave a faint "Mew," which said, as 
 plainly as words could say it, that she wanted 
 to get down and could not. 
 
 Evelyn's big brown eyes filled with tears. 
 "I want my Kittykin," she said, her little lip 
 trembling. 
 
 Instantly a dozen men unbuckled their belts, 
 laid their guns on the ground, and pulled off 
 their coats, each one trying to be the first to 
 climb the tree. It was, however, too large for 
 them to reach far enough around to get a good 
 hold on it, so climbing it was found to be far 
 more difficult than it looked to be. 
 
 "Why don't you cut it down?" asked some 
 one. 
 
 But Evelyn cried out that that would kill Kit- 
 tykin, so the man who suggested it was called a 
 fool by the others. At last it was proposed that 
 one man should stand against the tree and an- 
 
 236 
 
' KITTYKIN 
 
 other should climb up on his shoulders, when 
 he might get his arms far enough around it to 
 work his way up. A stout fellow with a gray 
 jacket on planted himself firmly against the 
 trunk, and one who had taken off a blue jacket 
 climbed up on his shoulders, and might have got 
 up very well if he had not remarked that as the 
 Johnnies had walked over him in the last battle, 
 it was but fair that he should now walk over a 
 Johnny. This joke tickled the man under him 
 so that he slipped away and let him down. At 
 length, however, three or four men got good 
 "holds," and went slowly up one after the other 
 amid such encouraging shouts from their friends 
 on the ground below as: "Go it, Yank, the 
 Johnny 's almost got you!" "Look out, 
 Johnny, the Yanks are right behind you!" etc., 
 whilst Kittykin gazed down in astonishment 
 from above, and Evelyn looked up breathless 
 from below. With much pulling and kicking, 
 four men finally got up to the lowest limb, after 
 which the climbiag was comparatively easy. A 
 new difficulty, however, presented itself. Kitty- 
 kin suddenly took alarm, and retreated still 
 higher up among the branches. 
 The higher they climbed after that, the higher 
 237 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 she climbed, until she was away up on one of the 
 topmost boughs, which was far too slender for 
 any one to follow her. There she turned and 
 looked back with alternate alarm and satisfac- 
 tion expressed in her countenance. If the men 
 stirred, she stood ready to fly ; if they kept stUl, 
 she settled down and mewed plaintively. Once 
 or twice as they moved she took fright and 
 looked almost as if about to jump. 
 
 Evelyn was breathless with excitement. 
 "Don't let her jump," she called, "she will get 
 kilt!" 
 
 The men, too, were anxious to prevent that. 
 They called to her, held out their hands, and 
 coaxed her in every tone by which a kitten is 
 supposed to be influenced. But it was all in 
 vain. No cajoleries, no promises, no threats, 
 were of the least avail. KittyMn was there safe, 
 out of their reach, and there she would remain, 
 sixty feet above the ground. Suddenly she saw 
 that something was occurring below. She saw 
 the men all gather around her little mistress, 
 and could hear her at first refuse to let some- 
 thing be done, and then consent. She could not 
 make out what it was, though she strained her 
 ears. She remembered to have heard mammy 
 
 238 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 tell her little mistress once that "curiosity had 
 killed a cat," and she was afraid to think too 
 much about it so high up in the tree. Still when 
 she heard an order given, "Go back and get 
 your blankets, ' ' and saw a whole lot of the men 
 go running off into the field on either side, and 
 presently come back with their arms full of 
 blankets, she could not help wondering what 
 they were going to do. They at once began to 
 unroll the blankets and hold them open all 
 around the tree, until a large circle of the 
 ground was quite hidden. 
 
 "Ah!" said Kittykin, "it 's a wicked trap!" 
 and she dug her little claws deep into the bark, 
 and made up her mind that nothing should in- 
 duce her to jump. Presently she heard the sol- 
 diers in the tree under her call to those on the 
 ground : 
 
 "Are you ready?" 
 
 And they said, "All right!" 
 
 "Ah!" said Kittykin, "they cannot get down, 
 either. Serves them right!" 
 
 But suddenly they all waved their arms at 
 her and cried, "Scat!" 
 
 Goodness! The idea of crying "scat" at a 
 kitten when she is up in a tree!— "scat," which 
 239 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 fills a kitten 's brea st with terror ! It was brutal, 
 and then it was all so unexpected. It came very 
 near making her fall. As it was, it set her 
 heart to thumping and bumping against her ribs, 
 like a marble in a box. " Ah ! " she thought, ' ' if 
 those brutes below were but mice, and I had 
 them on the carpet!" So she dug her claws 
 into the bark, which was quite tender up there, 
 and it was well she did, for she heard some one 
 call something below that sounded Hke 
 "Shake!" and before she knew it the man 
 nearest her reached up, and, seizing the limb on 
 which she was, screwed up his face, and— Good- 
 ness ! it nearly shook the teeth out of her mouth 
 and the eyes out of her head. 
 
 Shake ! shake ! shake! it came again each time 
 nearly tearing her little claws out of their sock- 
 ets and scaring her to death. She saw the 
 ground swim far below her, and felt that she 
 would be mashed to death. Shake! shake! 
 shake! shake! She could not hold out much 
 longer, and she spat down at them. How those 
 brutes below laughed ! She formed a desperate 
 resolve. She would get even with them. "Ah, 
 if they were but—" Shake! sha— With a 
 fierce spit, partly of rage, partly of fear, Kitty- 
 kin let go, whirled suddenly, and flung herself 
 
 240 
 
KITTYKIN 
 
 on the upturned face of the man next beneath 
 her, from him to the man below him, and finally, 
 digging her little claws deep in his flesh, sprang 
 with a wild leap clear of the boughs, and shot 
 whizzing out into the air, whilst the two men, 
 thrown off their guard by the suddenness of the 
 attack, loosed their hold, and went crashing 
 down into the forks upon those below. 
 
 The first thing Evelyn and the men on the 
 ground knew was the crash of the falling men 
 and the sight of Kittyldn coming whizzing 
 down, her little claws clutching wildly at the 
 air. Before they could see what she was, she 
 gave a bounce like a trap-ball as high as a man's 
 head, and then, as she touched the ground again, 
 shot like a wild sky-rocket hissing across the 
 yard, and, with her tail all crooked to one side 
 and as big as her body, vanished under the 
 house. Oh, such a shout as there was from the 
 soldiers ! Evelyn heard them yelling as she ran 
 off after Kittykin to see if she was n't dead. 
 They fairly howled with delight as the men in 
 the tree, with scratched faces and torn clothes, 
 came crawling down. They looked very sheep- 
 ish as they landed among their comrades; but 
 the question whether Kittykin had landed in a 
 blanket or had hit the solid ground fifty feet out 
 241 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 somewhat relieved them. They all agreed that 
 she had boimced twenty feet. 
 
 Why KittyMn was not killed outright was a 
 marvel. One of her eyes was a little bimged 
 up, the claws on three of her feet were loosened, 
 and for a week she felt as if she had been run 
 through a sausage mill; but she never lost any 
 of her speed. Ever afterward when she saw a 
 soldier she would run for life, and hide as far 
 back under the house as she could get, with her 
 eyes shining like two little live coals. 
 
 For some time, indeed, she lived in perpetual 
 terror, for the soldiers of both lines used to come 
 up to the house, as the friendship they formed 
 that day never was changed, and though they 
 remained on the two opposite hills for quite a 
 while, they never fired a shot at each other. 
 They used instead to meet and exchange tobacco 
 and coffee, and laugh over the way Kittykin 
 routed their joint forces in the tree the day of 
 the skirmish. 
 
 As for Kittykin, she never put on any airs 
 about it. She did not care for that sort of 
 glory. She never afterward could tolerate a 
 tree; the earth was good enough for her; and 
 the highest she ever climbed was up in her little 
 mistress's lap. 
 
 242 
 
"NAJSfCY PANSY." 
 
 NANCY PANSY" was what Middleburgh 
 called her, though, the parish register of 
 baptism contained nothing nearer the name 
 than thai of one Anne, daughter of Baylor Sed- 
 don, Esq., and EUenor, his wife. Whatever the 
 register may have thought about it, "Nancy 
 Pansy" was what Middleburgh called her, and 
 she looked so much Hke a cherub, with her 
 great eyes laughing up at you and her tangles 
 blowing all about her dimpling pink face, that 
 Dr. Spotswood Hunter, or "the Old Doctor," 
 as he was known to Middleburgh, used to vow 
 she had gotten out of Paradise by mistake that 
 Christmas Eve. 
 
 Nancy Pansy was the idol of the old doctor, 
 as the old doctor was the idol of Middleburgh. 
 He had given her a doll baby on the day she 
 was bom, and he always brought her one on 
 her birthday, though, of course, the first three or 
 
 243 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 four which he gave her were of rubber, because 
 as long as she was a little girl she used to chew 
 her doll after a most cannibal-like fashion, she 
 and Harry's puppies taking turn and turn 
 about at chewing in the most impartial and 
 friendly way. Harry was the old doctor's son. 
 As she grew a little older, however, the doctor 
 brought her better dolls; but the puppies got 
 older faster than Nancy Pansy, and kept on 
 chewing up her dolls, so they did not last very 
 long, which, perhaps, was why she never had a 
 "real live doll," as she called it. 
 
 Some people said the reason the old doctor 
 was so fond of Nancy Pansy was because he 
 had been a lover of her beautiful aunt, whose 
 picture as "Charity giving Bread to the Poor 
 Woman and her Children" was in the stained- 
 glass window in the church, with the Advent 
 angel in the panel below, to show that she had 
 died at Christmas-tide and was an angel her- 
 self now; some said it was because he had had 
 a little daughter himself who had died when a 
 wee bit of a girl, and Nancy Pansy reminded 
 him of her ; some said it was because his young- 
 est bom, his boy Harry, with the light hair, who 
 now commanded a company in the Army of 
 
 244 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 Northern Virginia, was so fond of Nancy 
 Pansy's lovely sister Ellen; some said it was 
 because the old doctor was fond of all children ; 
 but the old doctor said it was "because Nancy 
 Pansy was Nancy Pansy," and looked like an 
 angel, and had more sense than anybody in 
 Middleburgh, except his old sorrel horse 
 Slouch, who, he always maintained, had sense 
 enough to have prevented the war if he had 
 been consulted. 
 
 Whatever was the cause, Nancy Pansy was 
 the old doctor's boon companion; and wher- 
 ever the old doctor was, whether in his old rat- 
 tling brown buggy, with Slouch jogging sleepily 
 along the dusty roads which Middleburgh 
 called her "streets," or sitting in the shadiest 
 corner of his porch, Nancy Pansy was in her 
 waking hours generally beside him, her great 
 pansy-colored eyes and her sunny hair making 
 a bright contrast to the white locks and tanned 
 cheeks of the old man. His home was just 
 across the fence from the big house in which 
 Nlancy Pansy lived, and there was a hole where 
 two palings were pulled off, through which 
 Nancy Pansy used to slip when she went back 
 and forth, and through which her little black 
 245 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 companion, whose name, according to Nancy 
 Pansy's dictionary, was "Marphy," just could 
 squeeze. Sometimes, indeed, Nancy Pansy used 
 to fall asleep over at the old doctor's on the 
 warm summer afternoons, and wake up next 
 morning, curiously enough, to find herself in 
 a strange room, in a great big bed, with a railing 
 around the top of the high bedposts, and cur- 
 tains hanging from it, and with Marphy asleep 
 on a pallet near by. 
 
 "That child is your shadow, doctor," said 
 Nancy Pansy's mother one day to him. 
 
 "No, madam; she is my sunshine," answered 
 the old man, gravely. 
 
 Nancy Pansy's mother smiled, for when the 
 old doctor said a thing he meant.it. All Middle- 
 burgh knew that, from old Sloudi, who never 
 would open his eyes for any one else, and old 
 Mrs. Hippin, who never would admit she was 
 better to any one else, up to Nancy Pansy her- 
 self. Perhaps this was the reason why when 
 the war broke out, and all the other men went 
 into the army, the old doctor, who was too old 
 and feeble to go himself, but had sent his only 
 son Harry, was chosen by tacit consent as Mid- 
 dleburgh's general adviser and guardian. Thus 
 it was he who had to advise Mrs. Latimer the 
 
 246 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 druggist's wife, how to keep the little apothe- 
 cary's shop at the corner of the Court-house 
 Square after her husband went into the army; 
 and it was he who advised Mrs. Seddon to keep 
 the post-oflSce in the little building at the bot- 
 tom of her lawn, which had served as her hus- 
 band's law office before he went off to the war 
 at the head of the Middleburgh Artillery. He 
 even gave valuable assistance as well as advice 
 to Mrs. Hippin about curing her chickens of the 
 gapes; and to Nancy Pansy's great astonish- 
 ment had several times performed a most re- 
 markable operation by inserting a hair from old 
 Slouch's mane down the invalid's little 
 stretched throat. 
 
 He used to go around the town nearly every 
 afternoon, seeing the healthy as well as the 
 sick, and giving advice as well as physic, both 
 being taken with equal confidence. It was what 
 he called "reviewing his out-posts" and he used 
 to explain to Nancy Pansy that that was the 
 way her father and his Harry did in their camp. 
 Nancy Pansy did not wholly understand him, 
 but she knew it was something that was 
 just right; so she nodded gravely, and said, 
 "Umh-hmh!" 
 
 It was not hard to get a doll the first year 
 247 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 of the war, but before the second year was half 
 over there was not one left in Middleburgh. 
 The old doctor explained to Nancy Pansy that 
 they had all gone away to the war. She did 
 not quite understand what dollies had to do 
 with fighting, but she knew that war made the 
 doUs disappear. Still she kept on talking about 
 the new doll she would get on her birthday at 
 Christmas, and as the old doctor used to talk to 
 her about it, and discuss the sort of hair it 
 should have, and the kind of dress it should 
 wear, she never doubted that she should get 
 it in her stocking as usual on Christmas morn- 
 ing. 
 
 248 
 
n 
 
 THE old doctor's boots were very bad— 
 those old boots which Middleburgh knew 
 as well as they knew Nancy Pansy's eyes or 
 the church steeple. Mrs. Seddon had taken 
 the trouble to scold him one day in the autumn 
 when she heard him coughing, and she had sent 
 him a small roll of money "on account," she 
 wrote him, "of a long bill," to get a pair of 
 new boots. The old doctor never sent in a bill ; 
 he would as soon have sent a small-pox patient 
 into Nancy Pansy's play-room. He calmly re- 
 turned the money, saying he never transacted 
 business with women who had husbands, and 
 that he always dressed to suit himself, at which 
 Mrs. Seddon laughed; for, like the rest of Mid- 
 dleburgh, she knew that those old boots never 
 stood back for any weather, however bad. She 
 arranged, however, to have a little money sent 
 to him through the post-office from another 
 town without any name to the letter enclosing 
 it. But the old boots were still worn, and Nancy 
 Pansy, at her mother's suggestion, learned to 
 
 249 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 knit, that slie miglit have a pair of yarn socks 
 knit for the old doctor at Christmas. She in- 
 tended to have kept this a secret, and she did 
 keep it from every one but the old doctor; she 
 did not quite tell even him, but she could not help 
 making him "guess" about it. Christmas Eve 
 she went over to the old doctor 's, and whilst she 
 made him shut his eyes, hung up his stocking 
 herself, into which she poked a new pair of very 
 queer-shaped yarn socks, a little black in some 
 places from her little hands, for they were just 
 done, and there had not been time to wash them. 
 She consulted the old doctor to know if he 
 really— reaUy, "now, really"— thought Santa 
 Claus would bring her a doU "through the 
 war"; but she could only get a "perhaps" out 
 of him, for he said he had not heard from 
 Harry. 
 
 It was about ten o'clock that night when the 
 old doctor came home from his round of visits, 
 and opening his old secretary, took out a long 
 thin bundle wrapped in paper, and slipping it in- 
 to his pocket, went out again into the snow which 
 was falling. Old Limpid, the doctor's man, 
 had taken Slouch to the stable, so the old doc- 
 tor walked, stumbling around through the dark 
 by the gate, thinking with a sigh of his boy 
 
 250 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 Harry, who would just have vaulted over the 
 palings, and who was that night sleeping in the 
 snow somewhere. However, he smiled when he 
 put the bundle into Nancy Pansy's long stock- 
 ing, and he smiled again when he put his old 
 worn boots to the fire and warmed his feet. 
 But when Nancy Pansy slipped next morning 
 through her "little doctor 's-gate, " as she 
 called her hole in the fence, and burst into his 
 room before he was out of bed, to show him with 
 dancing eyes what Santa Clans had brought 
 her, and announced that she had "named her 
 'Harry,' all herself," the old doctor had to 
 wipe his eyes before he could really see her. 
 
 Harry was the first "real doll" Nancy Pansy 
 had ever had— that was what she said— and 
 Harry soon became as well known in Middle- 
 burgh as Nancy Pansy herself. She used to 
 accompany Nancy Pansy and the old doctor 
 on their rounds, and instead of the latter two 
 being called "the twins," they and Harry were 
 now dubbed "the triplets." It was astonishing 
 what an influence Harry came to have on 
 Nancy Pansy's life. She carried her every- 
 where, and the doll would frequently be seen 
 sitting up in the old doctor's buggy alone, 
 whilst Slouch dozed in the sun outside of some 
 
 251 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 patient's door. Of course, so much work as 
 Harry had to do had the effect of marring her 
 freshness a good deal, and she met with one or 
 two severe accidents, such as breaking her leg, 
 and cracking her neck; but the old doctor 
 attended her in the gravest way, and performed 
 such successful operations that really she was, 
 except as to looks, almost as good as new; be- 
 sides, as Nancy Pansy explained, dolls had to 
 have measles and "theseases" just like other 
 folks. 
 
 252 
 
in 
 
 IN March, 186-, Middleburgh "fell." That 
 is, it fell into the hands of the Union army, 
 and remained in their hands afterwards. It was 
 terrible at first, and Nancy Pansy stuffed Harry 
 into a box, and hid her away. 
 
 It was awfully lonesome, however, and to 
 think of the way Harry was doubled up and 
 cramped down ia that box under the floor was 
 dreadful. So at last, finding that whatever else 
 they did, the soldiers did not trouble her, she 
 took Harry out. But she never could go about 
 with her as before, for of course things were 
 different, and although she got over her fright 
 at the soldiers, as did her sister Ellen and the 
 rest of Middleburgh, they never were friendly. 
 Indeed, sometimes they were just the reverse, 
 and at last they got to such a pitch that the regi- 
 ment which was there was taken away, and a 
 new regiment, or rather two new companies, 
 were sent there. These were Companies A and 
 
 C of the — th Eegiment of Veterans. They 
 
 had been origiaally known as "Volunteers," but 
 253 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 now they were known as "Veterans," because 
 they had been in so many battles. 
 
 The — th were perhaps the youngest men in 
 that department, being mainly young college 
 fellows who had enlisted all together. Some 
 of the regiments composed of older men were 
 at first inclined to laugh at the smooth-faced 
 youngsters who could hardly raise a mustache 
 to a mess; but when these same rosy-cheeked 
 fellows flung off their knapsack in battle after 
 battle, and went rushing ahead under a hail of 
 bullets and shell, they changed their tune and 
 dubbed them "The Baby Veterans." Thus, 
 in 186—, the Baby Veterans went to Middle- 
 burgh for a double purpose:— first, that they 
 might recruit and restj and, secondly, because 
 for the past six months Middleburgh had been 
 causing much worry, and was regarded as a 
 nest of treason ajnd. trouble. The regiment 
 which had been there before was a new regi- 
 ment, not long since recruited, and had been in 
 a continual quarrel with Middleburgh, and as 
 Middleburgh consisted mainly of women and 
 children and a few old men, there was not much 
 honor to be got out of rows with them. Middle- 
 burgh complained that the soldiers were tyran- 
 nical and caused the trouble; the soldiers in- 
 
 254 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 sisted that Middleburgh was constantly break- 
 ing the regulations, and conducted itself in a 
 high-handed and rebellious way, and treated 
 them with open scorn. As an evidence, it was 
 cited that the women in Middleburgh would not 
 speak to the Union soldiers. And it was 
 rumored that the girls there were uncommonly 
 pretty. When the Baby Veterans heard this, 
 they simply laughed, pulled their budding mus- 
 taches, and announced that they would "keep 
 things straight in Middleburgh." 
 
 Tom Adams was first lieutenant of Company 
 C He had enlisted as a private, and had been 
 rapidly promoted' to corporal, sergeant, and 
 then lieutenant ; and he was in a fair way to be 
 captain soon, as the captain of his company was 
 at home badly wounded, and if he should be per- 
 manently disabled, Tom was certain of the cap- 
 taincy. If any man could bring Middleburgh 
 to terms, Tom Adams was the man, so his 
 friends declared, and they would like to see 
 any woman who would refuse to speak to Tom 
 Adams— they really would. 
 
 The Baby Veterans reached Middleburgh in 
 
 the night, and took up their quarters on the 
 
 Court-house Square, vacated by the regiment 
 
 which had just left. When morning came they 
 
 255 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 took a look at Middlebnrgh, and determined to 
 intimidate it on the spot. They drilled, marched 
 and counter-marched up and down the dusty 
 streets, and around the old whitewashed court- 
 house, to show that they meant business, and 
 did not propose to stand any foolishness— not 
 they. 
 
 Nancy Pansy and her sister Ellen had been 
 with Harry to see old Mrs. Hippin, who was 
 sick, to carry her some bread and butter, and 
 were returning home about mid-day. They had 
 not seen the new soldiers, and were hurrying 
 along, hoping they might not see them, when 
 they suddenly heard the drums and fifes play- 
 ing, and turning the comer, they saw the sol- 
 diers between them and their gate, marching up 
 the road toward them. A tall young officer 
 was at their head; his coat was buttoned up 
 very tight, and he carried his drawn sword with 
 the handle in his right hand and the tip in his 
 left, and carried his head very high. It was 
 Tom Adams. Nancy Pansy caught tight hold 
 of her sister's hand, and clasped Harry closely 
 to her bosom. For a second they stopped, then, 
 as there was no help for it, they started for- 
 ward across the road, just in front of the sol- 
 diers. They were so close that Nancy Pansy 
 256 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 was afraid they would inarch over them, and 
 she would have liked to run. She clutched sis- 
 ter 's hand hard; but her sister did not quicken 
 her pace at all, and the young officer had to 
 give the order, "Mark time— march!" to let 
 them pass. He looked very grand as he drew 
 himself up, but Nancy Pansy's sister held her 
 hand firmly, and took not the slightest notice of 
 him. Lifting her head defiantly in the air, and 
 keeping her dark eyes straight before her, she 
 passed with Nancy Pansy within two steps of 
 the young lieutenant and his drawn sword, 
 neither quickening nor slowing her pace a par- 
 ticle. They might have seemed not to know 
 that a Federal soldier was within a hundred 
 miles of them but for the way that Nancy Pansy 
 squeezed Harry, and the scornful air which sat 
 on her sister's stern little face and erect figure 
 as she drew Nancy Pansy closer to her, and 
 gathered up her skirts daintily in her small 
 hand, as though they might be soiled by an 
 accidental touch. 
 
 Tom Adams had a mind to give the order 
 "Forward!" and make them run out of the 
 way, but he did not do it, so he marched back 
 to camp, and told the story to his mess, walking 
 around the table, holding the table-cloth in his 
 257 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 hand, to show how the little rebel had done. 
 Hfe vowed he would get even with her, 
 
 As the days went on, the Baby Veterans and 
 Middleburgh came no nearer being acquainted 
 than they were that morning. The Baby Vet- 
 erans still drilled, and paraded, and set pickets 
 all around the town; Middleburgh and Nancy 
 Pansy still picked up their skirts and passed by 
 with uplifted heads and defiant eyes. The Baby 
 Veterans shouted on the Court-house Square, 
 "Yankee Doodle" and the "Star-spangled Ban- 
 ner"; Middleburgh sang on its verandas and 
 in its parlors, "Dixie" and the "Bonnie Blue 
 Flag." Perhaps, some evenings Middleburgh 
 may have stopped its own singing, and have 
 stolen out on its balconies to listen to the rich 
 chorus which came up from the Court-house 
 Grove, but if so, the Baby Veterans never knew 
 it; or, perhaps, the Baby Veterans some even- 
 ings may have strolled along the shadowed 
 streets, or stretched themselves out on the grass 
 to listen to the sweet voices which floated down 
 from the embowered verandas in the Judge's 
 yard; if so, Middleburgh never guessed it. 
 
 Nancy Pansy used to sing sweetly, and she 
 would often sing whilst her sister played for 
 her. 
 
 258 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 The strict regulations established by the sol- 
 diers prevented any letters from going or com- 
 ing unopened, and Middleburgh never would 
 tolerate that. So the only mail which passed 
 through the office was that which the Baby Vet- 
 erans received or sent. As stated, Nancy 
 Pansy's mother, by the old doctor's advice and 
 for reasons good to her and her friends, still 
 kept the post-office, under a sort of surveillance, 
 yet the intercourse with the soldiers was 
 strictly official; the letters were received or 
 were delivered by the post-mistress in silence, 
 or if the Baby Veterans asked a question it 
 was generally replied to by a haughty bow, or 
 an ungracious "No." 
 
 One mail day Mrs. Seddon was ill, so Nancy 
 Pansy's sister Ellen had to go to open the mail, 
 and Nancy Pansy went with her, taking Harry 
 along, "to take care of them." 
 
 It happened that Tom Adams and a friend 
 came in to ask for their letters. Nancy Pansy's 
 sister was standing at the table arranging the 
 mail, and Nancy Pansy was sitting up on the 
 table by her, holding the battered but cherished 
 Harry in her lap. The young officer stiffened 
 up as he saw who was before him. 
 
 "Are there any letters for Lieutenant 
 259 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Adams?" lie asked, in a very formal and 
 stately manner. 
 
 There was no reply or motion to show that he 
 had been heard, except that Nancy Pansy's sis- 
 ter began to go over the letters again from the 
 beginning of the A's. Suddenly Nancy Pansy, 
 who was watching her, saw one, and exclaim- 
 ing, "Oh! there 's one!" seized it, and slipped 
 down from the table to give it to its owner, 
 proud to show that she could read writing. Be- 
 fore she had reached the window, however, her 
 sister caught her quickly, and taking the letter 
 from her, slowly advanced and handed it to 
 the young soldier; then turning quietly away, 
 she took out her handkerchief and wiped her 
 hand very hard where it had touched the letter, 
 as if it had been soiled. The young officer 
 strode out of the door with a red face and an 
 angry step, and that evening the story of the 
 way the little rebel wiped her hands after 
 touching Tom Adams's letter was all over 
 camp. 
 
 260 
 
IV 
 
 APTEE this it was pretty well understood 
 that the Baby Veterans and Middleburgh 
 were at war. The regulations were more 
 strictly enforced than ever before, and for a 
 while it looked as if it was going to be as bad 
 as it was when the other regiment was there. 
 Old Limpid, the old doctor's man, was caught 
 one night with some letters on his person, sev- 
 eral of them addressed to "Captain Harry 
 Hunter, Army of Northern Virginia, ' ' etc., and 
 was somewhat severely dealt with, though,, per- 
 haps fortunately for him and his master, the let- 
 ters, one of which was in a feminine hand, 
 whilst abusive of the soldiers, did not contain 
 any information which justified very severe 
 measures, and after a warning he was set free 
 again. 
 
 Nancy Pansy's sister Ellen was enraged next 
 day to receive again her letter from a corpor- 
 al's guard, indorsed with an ofi&cial stamp, 
 "Returned by order," etc. She actually cried 
 about it. 
 
 261 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Nancy Pansy had written a letter to Harry, 
 too— not her own Harry, but the old doctor's — 
 and hers came back also; but she did not cry 
 about it, for she had forgotton to tell Harry 
 that she had a kitten. 
 
 Still it was very bad ; for after that even the 
 old doctor was once more subjected to the strict 
 regulations which had existed before the Baby 
 Veterans came, and he could no longer drive in 
 and out at will, as he and Nancy Pansy had 
 been doing since the regiment arrived. 
 
 It was not, however, long after this that 
 Nancy Pansy had quite an adventure. She and 
 Harry had been with the old doctor, and the 
 old doctor had to go and see some children with 
 the measles, so, as Harry had never had measles, 
 he sent her and Nancy Pansy back ; but Nancy 
 Pansy had found an old cigar-box, which was a 
 treasure, and would have made a splendid 
 cradle for Harry, except that it was so short 
 that when Harry's legs were put into it, her 
 head and shoulders stuck up, and when her 
 body was in it, her legs hung out. Still, if it 
 would not do for a cradle, she had got a piece 
 of string, and it would do for a carriage. So 
 she was coming home very cheerfuUy, thinking 
 
 262 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 of the way Harry would enjoy her ride down 
 the walk. 
 
 It was just at this time that Tom Adams, 
 feeling thoroughly bored with his surround- 
 ings, left camp and sauntered up the street 
 alone, planning how he could get his company 
 ordered once more to the front. He could not 
 stand this life any longer. As he strolled along 
 the walk the sound of the cheerful voices of 
 girls behind the magnolias and rose bowers 
 came to him, and a wave of homesickness swept 
 over him as he thought of his sisters and little 
 nieces away up North. 
 
 Suddenly, as he turned a corner, he saw a 
 small figure walking slowly along before him; 
 the great straw hat on the back of her head 
 almost concealed the little body, but her sunny 
 hair was peeping down below the broad brim, 
 and Adams knew the child. 
 
 She carried under her arm an old cigar-box, 
 out of one end of which peeped the head and 
 shoulders of an old doll, the feet of which stuck 
 out of the other end. A string hung from the 
 box, and trailed behind her on the pathway. 
 She appeared to be very busy about something, 
 and to be perfectly happy, for as she walked 
 263 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 along she was singing out of her content a 
 wordless little song of her heart, "Tra-la-la, 
 tra-la-la." 
 
 The young officer fell into the same gait with 
 the child, and instinctively trod softly to keep 
 from disturbing her. Just then, however, a 
 burly fellow named Griff O 'Meara, who had be- 
 longed to one of the companies which preceded 
 them, and had been transferred to Adams's 
 company, came down a side street, and turned 
 into the walkway just behind the little maid. 
 He seemed to be tipsy. The trailing string 
 caught his eye, and he tipped forward and 
 tried to step on it. Adams did not take in what 
 the fellow was trying to do until he attempted it 
 the second time. Then he called to him, but it 
 was too late; he had stepped on the cord, and 
 jerked the box, doll and all, from the child's 
 arm. The doll fell, face down, on a stone and 
 broke to pieces. The man gave a great laugh, 
 as the little girl turned, with a cry of anguish, 
 and stooping, began to pick up the fragments, 
 weeping in a low, pitiful way. In a second 
 Adams sprang forward, and struck the fellow 
 a blow between the eyes which sent him stagger- 
 ing off the sidewalk, down in the road, flat on 
 his back. He rose with an oath, but Adams 
 struck him a second blow which laid him out 
 264 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 again, and the fellow, finding him to be an offi- 
 cer, was glad to slink off. Adams then turned 
 to the child, whose tears, which had dried for 
 a moment in her alarm at the fight, now began 
 to flow again over her doll. 
 
 "Her pretty head 's all broke! Oh-oh-oh!" 
 she sobbed, trying vainly to get the pieces to 
 fit into something like a face. 
 
 The young officer sat down on the ground 
 by her. "Never mind, sissy," he said, sooth- 
 ingly, ' ' let me see if I can help you. ' ' 
 
 She confidingly handed him the fragments, 
 whilst she tried to stifle her sobs, and wiped 
 her eyes with her little pinafore. 
 
 "Can you do it?" she asked, dolefully, behind 
 her pinafore. 
 
 "I hope so. What 's your name?" 
 
 "Nancy Pansy, and my dolly 's named 
 Harry." 
 
 "Harry!" Tom looked at the doll's dress 
 and the fragments of face, which certainly were 
 not masculine. 
 
 ' ' Yes, Harry Hunter. He 's my sweetheart, ' ' 
 she looked at him to see if he understood her. 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 "And sister's," she nodded, confidently. 
 
 ' ' Yes, I see. Where is he 1 " 
 
 "He 's a captain now. He 's gone away— 
 265 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 away. ' ' She waved her hand in a wide sweep to 
 give an idea of the great distance it was. "He 's 
 in the army." 
 
 "Come along with me," said Tom; "let 's see 
 what we can do." He gathered up all the 
 broken pieces in his handkerchief, and set out 
 in the direction from which he had come, Nancy 
 Pansy at his side. She slipped her little hand 
 confidingly into his. 
 
 ' ' Yon knocked that bad man down for me, 
 did n't you?" she said, looking up into his face. 
 Tom had not felt until then what a hero he had 
 been. 
 
 "Yes," he said, quite graciously. The little 
 warm fingers worked themselves yet further 
 into his palm. 
 
 At the corner they turned up the street 
 toward the Court-house Square, and in a few 
 minutes were in camp. At the sight of the child 
 with Adams the whole camp turnd out pell- 
 mell, as if the "long-roll" had beat. 
 
 At first Nancy Pansy was a little shy, there 
 was so much excitement, and she clung tightly 
 to Tom Adams's hand. She soon found, how- 
 ever, that they were all friendly. 
 
 Tom conducted her to his tent, where she 
 was placed in a great chair, with a horse-cover 
 
 266 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 over it, as a sort of throne. The story of 
 O'Meara's act excited so much indignation that 
 Tom felt it necessary to explain fully the pun- 
 ishment he had given him. 
 
 Nancy Pansy, feeling that she had an interest 
 in the matter, suddenly took ilp the narrative. 
 
 "Yes, he jus' knocked him down," she said, 
 with the most charming confidence, to her ad- 
 miring audience, her pink cheeks glowing and 
 her great eyes lighting up at the recital, as she 
 illustrated Tom's act with a most expressive 
 gesture of her by no means clean little fist. 
 
 The soldiers about her burst into a roar of 
 delighted laughter, and made her tell them 
 again and again how it was done, each time re- 
 newing their applause over the 'cute way in 
 which she imitated Tom's act. Then they all 
 insisted on being formally introduced, so Nancy 
 Pansy was stood upon the table, and the men 
 came by in line, one by one, and were presented 
 to her. It was a regular levee. 
 
 Presently she said she must go home, so she 
 was taken down ; but before she was allowed to 
 leave, she was invited to go through the camp, 
 each man insisting that she should visit his tent. 
 She made, therefore, a complete tour, and in 
 every tent some souvenir was pressed upon her, 
 267 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 or she was begged to take her choice of its con- 
 tents. Thus, before she had gone far, she had 
 her arms full of things, and a string of men 
 were following her bearing the articles she had 
 honored them by accepting. There were little 
 looking-glasses, pin-cushions, pairs of scissors, 
 pictures, razors, bits of gold-lace, cigar-holders, 
 scarf-pins, and many other things. 
 
 "When she left camp she was quite piled up 
 with things, whilst Tom Adams, who acted as 
 her escort, marched behind her with a large 
 basketful besides. She did not have room to 
 take Harry, so she left her behind, on the assur- 
 ance of Tom that she should be mended, and 
 on the engagement of the entire company to 
 take care of her. The soldiers followed her to 
 the edge of the camp, and exacted from her a 
 promise to come again next day, which she 
 agreed to do if her mother would let her. And 
 when she was out of sight, the whole command 
 held a council of war over the fragments of 
 Harry. 
 
 When Adams reached the Judge's gate he 
 made a negro who was passing take the basket 
 in, thinking it better not to go himself up to the 
 house. He said good-by, and Nancy Pansy 
 started up the walk, whilst he waited at the 
 gate. Suddenly she turned and came back. 
 
 268 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 ' ' Good-by ! ' ' she said, standing on tiptoe, and 
 putting up her little face to be kissed. 
 
 The young officer stooped over the gate and 
 kissed her. 
 
 "Good-by! Come again to-morrow." 
 
 "Yes, if mamma will let me." And she 
 tripped away with her armful of presents. 
 
 Tom Adams remained leaning on the gate. 
 He was thinking of his home far away. Sud- 
 denly he was aroUsed by hearing the astonished 
 exclamations in the house as Nancy Pansy en- 
 tered. He felt sure that they were insisting 
 that the things should be sent back, and fearing 
 that he might be seen, he left the spot and went 
 slowly back to camp, where he found the sol- 
 diers still in a state of pleasurable excitement 
 over Nancy Pansy's visit. A collection was 
 taken up for a purpose which appeared to in- 
 terest everybody, and a cap nearly full of 
 money was delivered to Tom Adams, with as 
 many directions as to what he was to do with 
 it as though it were to get a memorial for the 
 Commander-in-chief. Tom said he had already 
 determined to do the very same thing himself: 
 still, if the company wished to "go in" with 
 him, ihey could do it; so he agreed to take the 
 money. 
 
 269 
 
ON" the day following Nancy Pansy's visit 
 to the camp of the Baby Veterans, Adams 
 took to the post-office a bimdle addressed to 
 "Nancy Pansy," and a letter addressed to a 
 friend of his who was in Washington. The 
 bundle contained "Harry," as fully restored 
 as her shattered state would admit of; the let- 
 ter contained a draft and a commission, the im- 
 portance of which latter Captain Adams had 
 put in the very strongest light. 
 
 He held his head very high as he dropped his 
 letter into the box, for over the table bent the 
 slender figure of the little dark-eyed postmis- 
 tress, who had wiped her dainty fingers so care- 
 iuUy after handling his letter. Perched near 
 her on the table, just as she had been that day, 
 with her tangled hair aU over her face, was 
 Nancy Pansy. She was, as usual, very busy 
 over something ; but, hearing a step, she glanced 
 up. 
 
 "Oh, there 's Tom Adams!" she exclaimed; 
 and, turning over on her face, she slipped down 
 
 270 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 from the table and ran up to him, putting up 
 her face to be kissed, just as she always did to 
 the old doctor. 
 
 Adams stooped over and kissed her, though, 
 as he did so, he heard her sister turn around, 
 and he felt as if she might be going to shoot 
 him in the back. He straightened up with de- 
 fiance in his heart. She was facing him; but 
 what was bis astonishment when she advanced, 
 and with a little smile on her lovely face, said: 
 
 "Captain Adams, I am Miss Seddon. My 
 mother has desired me to thank you in her 
 name, and in all our names, for your act of pro- 
 tection to my little sister on yesterday. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," said Nancy Pansy; "he jus' knocked 
 that bad man down," and she gave her little 
 head a nod of satisfaction to one side. 
 
 The young officer blushed to his eyes. He was 
 prepared for an attack, but not for such a flank 
 movement. He stammered something about not 
 having done anything at all worthy of thanks, 
 and fell back behind Harry, whom he suddenly 
 pulled out and placed in Nancy Pansy's hands. 
 It all ended in an invitation from Mrs. Sed- 
 don, through Nancy Pansy and her pretty sis- 
 ter, to come up to the house and be thanked, 
 which he accepted. 
 
 271 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 After this the Baby Veterans and Middle- 
 burgh came to understand each other a good 
 deal better than before. Instead of remaining 
 in their camp or marching up and down the 
 streets, with arrogance or defiance stamped on 
 every face and speaking from every figure, the 
 Baby Veterans took to loafing about town in off- 
 duty hours, hanging over the gates, or saunter- 
 ing in the autumn twilight up and down the 
 quiet walks. They and Middleburgh still rec- 
 ognized that there was a broad ground, on 
 which neither could trespass. The Baby Vet- 
 erans still sang "The Star-spangled Banner" 
 in the Court-house Grove, and Middleburgh 
 still sang "Dixie" and the "Bonnie Blue Flag" 
 behind her rose trellises ; but there was no more 
 gathering up of skirts, and disdainful wiping 
 of hands after handling letters; and the old 
 doctor was allowed to go jogging about on his 
 rounds, with Nancy Pansy and the scarred Harry 
 at his side, as unmolested as if the Baby Vet- 
 erans had never pitched their tents on the 
 Court-house Square. It is barely possible that 
 even the rigid investment of the town relaxed 
 a little as the autumn changed into winter, for 
 once or twice old Limpid disappeared for sev- 
 eral days, as he used to do before his arrest, 
 
 272 
 
"NANCY PANSY". 
 
 and Nancy Pansy's pretty sister used to get let- 
 ters from Harry, who was now a major. Nancy 
 Pansy heard whispers of Harry's coming be- 
 fore long, and even of the whole army's com- 
 ing. Somehow a rumor of this must have 
 reached the authorities, though Nancy Pansy 
 never breathed a word of it ; for an officer was 
 sent down to investigate the matter and report 
 immediately. 
 
 Just as he arrived he received secret word 
 from some ong that a rebel officer was actually 
 in Middleburgh. 
 
 That afternoon Nancy Pansy was playing in 
 the bottom of the yard when a lot of soldiers 
 came along the street, and before them rode a 
 strange, cross-looking man with a beard. Tom 
 Adams was marching with the soldiers, and he 
 did not look at all pleased. They stopped at the 
 old doctor's gate, and the strange man trotted 
 up to her place and asked Nancy Pansy if she 
 knew Captain Harry Hunter. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," said Nancy Pansy, going up 
 to the fence and poking her little rosy face over 
 it; "Harry 's a major now." 
 
 "Ah! Harry 's a major now, is he?" said the 
 strange man. 
 
 Nancy Pansy went on to tell him how her 
 273 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Harry was named after the other Harry, and 
 how she was all broken now ; but the ofi&cer was 
 intent on something else. 
 
 "Where is Harry now?" he asked her. 
 
 "In the house," and she waved her hand 
 toward the old doctor's house behind her. 
 
 "So, so," said the officer, and went back to 
 Tom Adams, who looked annoyed, and said: 
 
 "I don't believe it; there 's some mistake." 
 
 At this the strange man got angry and said: 
 "Lieutenant Adams, if you don't want the rebel 
 caught, you can go back to camp." 
 
 My ! how angry Tom was ! His face got per- 
 fectly white, and he said: "Major Black, you 
 are my superior, or you would n't dare to speak 
 so to me. I have nothing to say now, but some 
 day I '11 outrank you. ' ' 
 
 Nancy Pansy did not know what they were 
 talking about, but she did not like the strange 
 man at all; so when he asked her: "Won't you 
 show me where Harry is?" at first she said 
 "No," and then, "Yes, if you won't hurt him." 
 
 ' ' No, indeed, ' ' said the man. As Tom Adams 
 was there she was not afraid; so she went out- 
 side the gate and on into the old doctor's yard, 
 followed by the soldiers and Tom Adams, who 
 still looked angry, and told her she 'd better 
 
 274 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 run home. Some of the soldiers went around 
 behind the house. 
 
 "Where is he?" the strange gentleman 
 asked. 
 
 "Asleep up-stairs in the company-room," 
 said Nancy Pansy in a whisper. * ' You must n 't 
 make any noise." 
 
 She opened the door and they entered the 
 house, Nancy Pansy on tiptoe and the others 
 stepping softly. She was surprised to see the 
 strange man draw a pistol ; but she was used to 
 seeing pistols, so, though Tom Adams told her 
 again to run home, she stayed there. 
 
 "Which is the company-room?" asked the 
 strange man. 
 
 She pointed to the door at the head of the 
 steps. "That 's it." 
 
 He turned to the soldiers. 
 
 * ' Come ahead, men, ' ' he said, in a low voice, 
 and ran lightly up the stairs, looking very 
 fierce. When he reached the door he seized the 
 knob and dashed into the room. 
 
 Then Nancy Pansy heard him say some 
 naughty words, and she ran up the stairs to see 
 what was the matter. 
 
 They were all standing around the big bed 
 on which she had laid Harry an hour before, 
 
 275 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 with her head on a pillow; but a jerk of the 
 counterpane had thrown Harry over on her 
 face, and her broken neck and ear looked very 
 bad. 
 
 "Oh, you 've waked her up!" cried Nancy 
 Pansy, rushing forward, and turning the doU 
 over. 
 
 The strange man stamped out of the room, 
 looking perfectly furious, and the soldiers all 
 laughed. Tom Adams looked pleased. 
 
 276 
 
VI 
 
 WHEN Tom Adams next called at the 
 Judge's, lie found the atmosphere much 
 cooler within the house than it was outside. He 
 had been waiting alone in the drawing-room for 
 some time when Nancy Pansy entered. She 
 came in very slowly, and instead of running 
 immediately up to him and greeting him as she 
 usually did, she seated herself on the edge of a 
 chair and looked at him with manifest sus- 
 picion. He stretched out his hand to her. 
 
 "Come over, Nancy Pansy, and sit on my 
 knee." 
 
 Nancy Pansy shook her head. 
 
 "My sister don't like you," she said slowly, 
 eyeing him askance. 
 
 "Ah!" He let his hand fall on the arm of 
 the chair. 
 
 "No; and I don't, either," said Nancy Pansy, 
 more confidently. 
 
 "Why does n't she like me?" asked Tom 
 Adams. 
 
 "Because you are so mean. She says you 
 277 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 are just like all tlie rest of 'em;" and, pleased 
 at her visitor's interest, Nancy Pansy wriggled 
 herself higher up on her chair, prepared to 
 give him further details. 
 
 "We don't like you at all," said the child, 
 half confidentially and half defiantly. "We 
 like our side; we like Confederates.'^ Tom 
 Adams smiled. " We like Harry; we don't like 
 you." 
 
 She looked as defiant as possible, and just 
 then a step was heard in the hall, approaching 
 very slowly, and Nancy Pansy's sister appeared 
 in the doorway. She was dressed in white, and 
 she carried her head even higher than usual. 
 
 The visitor rose. He thought he had never 
 seen her look so pretty. 
 
 "Good-evening," he said. 
 
 She bowed. * ' Good-evening, ' ' very slowly, and 
 took a seat on a straight-backed chair in a cor- 
 ner of the room, ignoring the chair which 
 Adams offered her. 
 
 "I have not seen you for some time," he be- 
 gan. 
 
 "No; suppose you have been busy search- 
 ing people's houses," she said. 
 
 Tom Adams flushed a little. 
 278 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 "I carry out my orders," he said. "These 
 I must enforce." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 Nancy Pansy did not just understand it all, 
 but she saw there was a battle going on, and she 
 at once aligned herself with her side, and going 
 over, stood by her sister 's chair, and looked de- 
 fiance at the enemy. 
 
 "Well, we shall hardly agree about this, so 
 we won't discuss it," said Tom Adams. "I 
 did not come to talk about this, but to see you, 
 and to get you to sing for me. ' ' Refusal spoke 
 so plainly m her face that he added: "Or, if 
 you won't sing, to get Nancy Pansy to sing for 
 me." 
 
 "7 won't sing for you," declared Nancy 
 Pansy, promptly and decisively. 
 
 "What incorrigible rebels all of you are!" 
 said Tom Adams, smiling. He was once more 
 at his ease, and he pulled his chair up nearer 
 Nancy Pansy's sister, and caught Nancy Pansy 
 by the hand. She was just trying to pull away, 
 when there were steps on the walk outside— 
 the regular tramp, tramp of soldiers marching 
 in some numbers. They came up to the house, 
 and some order was given in a low tone. Both 
 279 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Adams and Nancy Pansy's sister sprang to 
 their feet. 
 
 "What can it mean?" asked Nancy Pansy's 
 sister, more to herself than to Adams. 
 
 He went into the hall just as there was a 
 loud rap at the front door. 
 
 "What is it?" he asked the lieutenant who 
 stood there. 
 
 ' ' Some one has slipped through the lines, and 
 is in this house, ' ' he said. 
 
 Nancy Pansy's sister stepped out into the 
 hall. 
 
 ' ' There is no one here, ' ' she said. She looked 
 at Tom Adams. "I give my word there is no 
 one in the house except my mother, ourselves, 
 and the servants." She met Tom Adams's 
 gaze frankly as he looked into her eyes. 
 
 "There is no one here. Hector," he said, 
 turning to the oflSicer. 
 
 "This is a serious matter," began the other, 
 hesitatingly. "We have good grounds to be- 
 lieve •" 
 
 "I will be responsible," said Tom Adams, 
 firmly. "I have been here some time, and 
 there is no one here." He took the officer aside 
 and talked to him a moment. 
 
 280 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 "All right," said he, as he went down the 
 steps, "as you are so positive." 
 
 "I am," said Tom. 
 
 The soldiers marched down the walk, out of 
 the gate, and around the corner. Just as the 
 sound of their footsteps died away on the soft 
 road, Tom Adams turned and faced Nancy 
 Pansy's sister. She was leaning against a pil- 
 lar, looking down, and a little moonlight sifted 
 through the rose-bushes and fell on her neck. 
 Nancy Pansy had gone into the house. "I am 
 sorry I said what I did in the parlor just now." 
 She looked up at him. 
 
 " Oh ! " said Tom Adams, and moved his hand 
 a little. "I—" he began; but just then there 
 was a sudden scamper in the hall, and Nancy 
 Pansy, with flying hair and dancing eyes, came 
 rushing out on the portico. 
 
 "Oh, sister!" she panted. "Harry 's come; 
 he 's in mamma's room!" 
 
 Nansy Pansy's sister turned deadly white. 
 "Oh, Nancy Pansy!" she gasped, placing her 
 hand over her mouth. 
 
 Nancy Pansy burst into tears, and buried her 
 face in her sister's dress. She had not seen 
 Tom Adams; she thought he had gone. 
 281 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "I did not know it," said Nancy Pansy's sis- 
 ter, turning and facing Tom Adams's stern 
 gaze. 
 
 "I believe you," lie said, -slowly. He felt at 
 his side ; but he was in a fatigue suit, and had 
 no arms. Without finishing his sentence he 
 sprang over the railing, and with a long, swift 
 stride went down the yard. She dimly saw 
 him as he sprang over the fence, and heard him 
 call, "Oh, Hector!" 
 
 As he did so, she rushed into the house. 
 "Fly! they are coming!" she cried, bursting 
 into her mother's room. "Oh, Harry, they 
 are coming!" she cried, rushing up to a hand- 
 some young fellow, who sprang to his feet as 
 she entered, and went forward to meet her. 
 
 The young man took her hand and drew her 
 to him. ' ' Well, ' ' he said, looking down into her 
 eyes, and drawing a long breath. 
 
 Nancy Pansy's sister put her face on his 
 shoulder and began to cry, and Nancy Pansy 
 rushed into her mother's arms and cried too. 
 
 Ten minutes later soldiers came in both at 
 the front and back doors. Mrs. Seddon met 
 her visitors in the hall. Nancy Pansy's sister 
 was on one side, and Nancy Pansy on the other. 
 
 Tom Adams was in command. He removed 
 282 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 his hat, but said, gravely: "I must arrest the 
 young rebel officer who is here." 
 
 Nancy Pansy made a movement; but her 
 mother tightened her clasp of her hand. 
 
 "Yes," she said, bowing. That was all. 
 
 Guards were left at the doors, and soldiers 
 went through the house. The search was 
 thorough, but the game had escaped. They 
 were coming down the steps when some one said : 
 
 "We must search the shrubbery; he will be 
 there." 
 
 "No; he is at his father's— the old doctor's," 
 said Adams. 
 
 It was said in an undertone, but Mrs. Sed- 
 don's face whitened; Nancy Pansy caught it, 
 too. She clutched her mother's gown. 
 
 "Oh, mamma! you hear what he saysf" 
 
 Her mother stooped and whispered to her. 
 
 "Yes, yes," nodded Nancy Pansy. She ran 
 to the door, and poking her little head out, 
 looked up and down the portico, calling, 
 "Kitty, Kitty!" 
 
 The sentry who was standing there holding 
 his gun moved a little, and, leaning out, peered 
 into the dusk. 
 
 " 'T ain't out here," he said, in a friendly 
 tone. 
 
 283 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Nancy Pansy slipped past him, and went 
 down the steps and around the portico, still 
 calling, "Kitty! Kitty! Kitty!" 
 
 "Who goes there?" called a soldier, as he 
 saw something move over near the old doctor's 
 fence; but when he heard a childish voice call 
 "Kitty! Kitty!" he dropped his gun again with 
 a laugh. " 'T ain't nobody but that little gal, 
 Nancy Pansy; blest if I wa' n't about to shoot 
 her!" 
 
 The next instant Nancy Pansy had slipped 
 through her little hole in the fence, through 
 which she had so often gone, and was in the 
 old doctor's yard; and when, five minutes after- 
 ward, Tom Adams marched his men up the 
 walk and surrounded and entered the house, 
 Nancy Pansy, her broken doll in her arms, was 
 sitting demurely on the edge of a large chair, 
 looking at htm with great, wide-open, dancing 
 eyes. A little princess could not have been 
 grander, and if she had hidden Harry Hunter 
 behind her chair, she could not have shown 
 more plainly that she had given him warning. 
 
 284 
 
vn 
 
 ALL Middleburgh knew next day how Nancy 
 . Pansy had saved Harry Hunter, and it 
 was still talking about it, when it was one morn- 
 ing astonished by the news that old Dr. Hunter 
 had been arrested in the night by the soldiers, 
 who had come down from Washington, and 
 had been carried off somewhere. There had 
 not been such excitement since the Middleburgh 
 Artillery had marched away to the war. The 
 old doctor was sacred. Why, to carry him off, 
 and stop his old buggy rattling about the 
 streets, was, in Middleburgh 's eyes, like stop- 
 ping the chariot of the sun, or turning the stars 
 out of their courses. Why did they not arrest 
 Nancy Pansy too? asked Middleburgh. Nancy 
 Pansy cried all day, and many times after, 
 whenever she thought about it. She went to 
 Tom Adams's camp and begged him to bring 
 her old doctor back, and Tom Adams said as he 
 had not had him arrested he could not tell what 
 he could do, but he would do all he could. Then 
 she wrote the old doctor a letter. However, all 
 285 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Middleburgh. would not accept Tom Adams's 
 statement as Nancy Pansy did, and instead of 
 holding him as a favorite, it used to speak of 
 him as ' ' That Tom Adams. ' ' Every old woman 
 in Middleburgh declared she was worse than 
 she had been in ten years, and old Mrs. Hippin 
 took to her crutch, which she had not used in 
 twelve months, and told Nancy Pansy's sister 
 she would die in a week unless she could hear 
 the old doctor's buggy rattle again. But when 
 the fever broke out in the little low houses down 
 on the river, things began to look very serious. 
 The surgeon from the camp went to see the pa- 
 tients, but they died, and more were taken ill. 
 When a number of other cases occurred in the 
 town itself, all of the most malignant type, the 
 surgeon admitted that it was a form of fever 
 with which he was not familiar. There had 
 never been such an epidemic in Middleburgh 
 before, and Middleburgh said that it was all 
 due to the old doctor's absence. 
 
 One day Nancy Pansy went to the camp, to 
 ask about the old doctor, and saw a man sitting 
 astride of a fence rail which was laid on two 
 posts high up from the ground. He had a stone 
 tied to each foot, and he was groaning. She 
 looked up at him, and saw that it was the man 
 
 286 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 who had broken her doll. She was about to 
 run away, but he groaned so she thought he 
 must be in great pain, and that always hurt her ; 
 so she went closer, and asked him what was the 
 matter. She did not understand just what he 
 said, but it was something about the weight on 
 his feet; so she first tried to untie the strings 
 which held the stones, and then, as there was a 
 barrel standing by, she pushed at it until she 
 got it up close under him, and told him to rest 
 his feet on that, whilst she ran home and asked 
 her mamma to lend her her scissors. In push- 
 ing the barrel she broke Harry's head in pieces ; 
 but she was so busy she did not mind it then. 
 Just as she got the barrel in place some one 
 called her, and turning around she saw a sen- 
 tinel ; he told her to go away, and he kicked the 
 barrel from under the man and let the stones 
 drop down and jerk his ankles again. Nancy 
 Pansy began to cry, and ran off to Tom 
 Adams's tent and told him all about it, and how 
 the poor man was groaning. Tom Adams tried 
 to explain that this man had got drunk, and 
 that he was a bad man, and was the same one 
 who had broken her doll. It had no effect. 
 "Oh, but it hurts him so bad!" said Nancy 
 Pansy, and she cried until Tom Adams called 
 287 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 a man and told him he might go and let 
 O'Meara down, and tell him that the little girl 
 had begged him off this time. Nancy Pansy, 
 however, ran herself, and called to him that 
 Tom Adams said he might get down. "When he 
 was on the ground, he walked np to her and 
 said: 
 
 "May the Holy Virgin kape yon! Griff 
 O'Meara 'U never forgit you." 
 
 A few days after that, Nancy Pansy com- 
 plained of headache, and her mother kept her 
 in the house. That evening her face was 
 flushed, and she had a fever ; so her mother put 
 her to bed and sat by her. She went to sleep, 
 but waked in the night, talking very fast. She 
 had a burning fever, and was quite out of her 
 head. Mrs. Seddon sent for the surgeon next 
 morning, and he came and stayed some time. 
 When he returned to camp he went to Tom 
 Adams's tent. He looked so grave as he came 
 in that Adams asked quickly: 
 
 "Any fresh cases?" 
 
 "Not in camp." He sat down. 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 "That little girl— Nancy Pansy." 
 
 Tom Adams's face turned whiter than it had 
 ever turned in battle. 
 
 288 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 "Is she ill?" 
 
 "Desperately." 
 
 Tom Adams sprang to his feet. 
 
 "How long— how long can she hold out?" he 
 asked, in a broken voice. 
 
 "Twenty-four hours, perhaps," said the sur- 
 geon. 
 
 Tom Adams put on his cap and left the tent. 
 Five minutes later he was in the hall at the 
 Judge's. Just as he entered, Nancy Pansy's 
 sister came quickly out of a door. She had 
 been crying. 
 
 "How is she? I have just this instant heard 
 of it," said Tom, with real grief in his voice. 
 
 She put her handkerchief to her eyes. 
 
 "So ill," she sobbed. 
 
 "Can I see her?" asked Tom, gently 
 
 "Yes; it won't hurt her." 
 
 When Tom Adams entered the room he was 
 so shocked that he stopped still. Mrs. Seddon 
 bent over the bed with her face pale and worn, 
 and in the bed lay Nancy Pansy, so changed 
 that Tom Adams never would have known her. 
 She had fallen off so in that short time that he 
 would not have recognized her. Her face was 
 perfectly white, except two bright red spots 
 on her cheeks. She was drawing short, quick 
 289 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 breaths, and was talking all the time very fast. 
 No one could understand just what she was say- 
 ing, but a good deal of it was about Harry and 
 the old doctor. Tom bent over her, but she did 
 not know him; she just went on talking faster 
 than ever. 
 
 "Nancy Pansy, don't you know Tom 
 Adams?" her mother asked her, in a soothing 
 voice. She had never called the young man so 
 before, and he felt that it gave him a place with 
 Nancy Pansy; but the child did not know him; 
 she said something about not having any 
 Harry. 
 
 "She is growing weaker," said the mother. 
 
 Tom Adams leaned over and kissed the child 
 and left the room. 
 
 As he came down the steps he met Griff 
 O'Meara, who asked how the "little gurl" was, 
 "bless her sowl!" When he told him. Griff 
 turned away and wiped his eyes with the back 
 of his hand. Tom Adams told him to stay there 
 and act as guard, which Griff vowed he 'd do if 
 the "howl ribel army kem." 
 
 Ten minutes later Tom galloped out of camp 
 with a paper in his pocket signed by the sur- 
 geon. In an hour he had covered the twelve 
 miles of mud which lay between Middleburgh 
 
 290 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 and the nearest telegraph station, and was. 
 sending a message to General , his com- 
 mander. At last an answer came. Tom Adams 
 read it. 
 
 "Tell him it is a matter of life and death," 
 he said to the operator. ' ' Tell him there is no 
 one else who understands it and can check it, 
 and tell him it must be done before the after- 
 noon train leaves, or it will be too late. Here, 
 I '11 write it out." And he did so, putting all 
 his eloquence into the despatch. 
 
 Late that night two men galloped through 
 the mud and slush in the direction of Middle- 
 burgh. The younger one had a large bos be- 
 fore him on his horse; the other was quite an 
 old man. Picket after picket was passed with 
 a word spoken by the younger man, and they 
 galloped on. At last they stopped at the 
 Judge's gate, and sprang from their splashed 
 and smoking horses. 
 
 As they hurried up the walk, the guard at the 
 steps challenged them in a rich Irish brogue. 
 
 "It 's I, O'Meara. You here still? How is 
 
 " 'Most in the Holy Virgin's arms," said the 
 Irishman. 
 ' * Is she alive ? ' ' asked both men. 
 291 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "It 's a doether can tell that," said the sen- 
 tinel. "They thought her gone an hour ago. 
 There 's several ia there," he said to his cap- 
 tain. "I did n't let 'em in at firrst, but the 
 young leddy said they wuz the frien's of the lit- 
 tle gurl, an' I let 'em by a bit." 
 
 A minute later the old man entered the sick- 
 room, whilst Tom Adams stopped at the door 
 outside. There was a general cry as he entered 
 of "Oh, doctor!" 
 
 And Mrs. Seddon called him: "Quick, quick, 
 doctor! she 's dying!" 
 
 "She 's dead," said one of the ladies who 
 stood by. 
 
 The old doctor bent over the little still white 
 form, and his coimtenance fell. She was not 
 breathing. With one hand he picked up her 
 little white arm and felt for the pulse; with the 
 other he took a small case from his pocket. 
 "Brandy," he said. It was quickly handed 
 him. He poured some into a little syringe, and 
 stuck it into Nancy Pansy's arm, by turns hold- 
 ing her wrist and feeliag over her heart. 
 
 Presently he said, quietly, "She 's living," 
 and both Mrs. Seddon and Nancy Pansy's sis- 
 ter said, "Thank God!" 
 
 All night long the old doctor worked over 
 292 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 Nancy Pansy. Just before dawn he said to Mrs. 
 Seddon: "What day is this?" 
 
 "Christmas morning," said Mrs. Seddon. 
 
 "Well, madam, I hope God has answered 
 your prayers, and given your babe back to you ; 
 I hope the crisis is passed. Have you hung up 
 her stocking?" 
 
 "No," said Nancy Pansy's mother. "She 
 was so—" She could not say anything more. 
 Presently she added: "She was all the time 
 talking about you and Harry." 
 
 The old doctor rose and went out of the room. 
 It was about dawn. He left the house, and 
 went over to his own home. There, after some 
 difficulty, he got in, and went to his office. His 
 old secretary had been opened and papers 
 taken out, but the old man did not seem to mind 
 it. Pulling the secretary out from the wall, he 
 touched a secret spring. It did not work at 
 first, but after a while it moved, and he put his 
 hand under it, and pulled out a secret drawer. 
 In it were a number of small parcels carefully 
 tied up with pieces of ribbon, which were now 
 quite faded, and from one peeped a curl of soft 
 brown hair, like that of a little girl. The old 
 'doctor laid his fingers softly on it, and his old 
 face wore a gentle look. The largest bimdle 
 293 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 was wrapped in oil-silk. This he took out and 
 carefully unwrapped. Inside was yet another 
 wrapping of tissue paper. He put the bundle, 
 with a sigh, into his overcoat pocket, and went 
 slowly back to the Judge's. Nancy Pansy was 
 still sleeping quietly. 
 
 The old doctor asked for a stocking, and it 
 was brought him. He took the bundle from his 
 pocket, and, unwrapping it, held it up. It was 
 a beautiful doll, with yellow hair done up with 
 little tucking combs such as ladies used to wear, 
 and with a lovely little old tiny-flowered silk 
 dress. 
 
 "She is thirty years old, madam," he said 
 gently to Mrs. Seddon, as he slipped tiie doll 
 into the stocking, and hung it on the bed-post. 
 "I have kept her for thirty years, thinking I 
 could never give it to any one; but last night 
 I knew I loved Nancy Pansy enough to give it 
 to her." He leaned over and felt her pulse. 
 "She is sleeping well," he said. 
 
 Just then the door opened, and in tipped Tom 
 Adams, followed by Griff 'Meara in his stock- 
 ing feet, bearing a large baby-house fitted up 
 like a perfect palace, with every room carpeted 
 and furnished, and with a splendid doll sitting 
 on a balcony. 
 
 294 
 
"NANCY PANSY" 
 
 "A Christmas gift to that blessed angel from 
 the Baby Veterans, mem," he said, as he set it 
 down ; and then taking from his bulging pocket 
 a large red-cheeked doll in a green frock, he 
 placed it in the door of the house, saying, with 
 great pride: "An' this from Griff O'Meara. 
 Heaven bless her swate sowl!" 
 
 Just then Nancy Pansy stirred and opened 
 her yes. Her mother bent over her, and she 
 smiled faintly. Mrs. Seddon slipped down on 
 her knees. 
 
 'Where 's my old doctor and my dolly?" 
 she said; and then, presently, "Where 's 
 Harry and Tom Adams?" 
 
 295 
 
"JACK AND JAKE' 
 
 « TACK AND JAKE." This is what they 
 fj used to be called. Their names were al- 
 ways coupled together. Wherever you saw 
 one, you were very apt to see the other — Jack, 
 slender, with yellow hair, big gray eyes, and 
 spirited look; and Jake, thick-set and brown, 
 close to him, like his shadow, with his shining 
 skin and white teeth. They were always in sight 
 somewhere ; it might be running about the yard 
 or far down on the plantation, or it might be 
 climbing trees to look into birds' nests — which 
 they were forbidden to trouble — or wading in 
 the creek, riding in the carts or wagons about 
 the field, or following the furrow, waiting a 
 chance to ride a plough-horse home. 
 
 Jake belonged to Jack. He had been given 
 to him by his old master, Jack's grandfather, 
 when Jack was only a few years old, and from 
 that time the two boys were rarely separated, 
 
 296 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 except at night. Jake was a little larger than 
 Jack, as he was somewhat older, but Jack was 
 the more active. Jake was dull; some people 
 on the plantation said he did not have good 
 sense ; but they rarely ventured to say so twice 
 to Jack. Jack said he had more sense than any 
 man on the place. At least, he idolized Jack. 
 
 At times the people commented on the white 
 boy being so much with the black; but Jack's 
 father said it was as natural for them to run 
 togethet as for two calves — a black one and a 
 white one— when they were turned out to- 
 gether; that he had played with Uncle Ealph, 
 the butler, when they were boys, and had taught 
 the latter as much badness as he had him. 
 
 So the two boys grew up together as "Jack 
 and Jake," forming a friendship which pre- 
 vented either of them ever knowing that Jake 
 was a slave, and brought them up as friends 
 rather than as master and servant. 
 
 If there was any difference, the boys thought 
 it was rather in favor of Jake ; for Jack had to 
 go to school, and sit for some hours every 
 morning "saying lessons" to his aunt, and had 
 to look out (sometimes) for his clothes, while 
 Jake just lounged around outside the school- 
 room door, and could do as he pleased, for he 
 297 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 was sure to get Jack's suit as soon as it had be- 
 come too much worn for Jack. 
 
 The games they used to play were surprising. 
 Jack always knew of some interesting thing 
 they could "make 'tence" (that is, pretence) 
 that they were doing. They could be fishers 
 and trappers, of course ; for there was the creek 
 winding down the meadow, in and out among 
 the heavy willows on its banks ; and in the holes 
 under the fences and by the shelving rocks, 
 where the water was blue and deep, there were 
 shining minnows, and even little perch; and 
 they could be lost on rafts, for there was the 
 pond, and with their trousers rolled up to their 
 thighs they could get on planks and pole them- 
 selves about. 
 
 But the best fun of all was "Injins." Good- 
 ness ! how much fun there was in Injins ! There 
 were bows and arrows, and tomahawks, and 
 wigwams, and fires in the woods, and painted 
 faces, and creeping-ups, and scalpings, and steal- 
 ing horses, and hot pursuits, and hidings, and 
 captures, and bringing the horses back, and the 
 full revenge and triumph that are dear to boys' 
 hearts. Injins was, of all plays, the best. 
 There was a dear old wonderful fellow named 
 Leatherstocking, who was the greatest "Injin"- 
 
 298 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 hunter in the world. Jack knew all about him. 
 He had a book with him in it, and he read it and 
 told Jake; and so they played Injins whenever 
 they wanted real fun. It was a beautiful place 
 for Injins ; the hills rolled, the creeks wound in 
 and out among the willows, and ran through 
 thickets into the little river, and the woods sur- 
 rounded the plantation on all sides, and 
 stretched across the river to the Mont Air 
 place, so that the boys could cross over and 
 play on the other side of the thick woods. 
 
 When the war came, Jack was almost a big 
 boy. He thought he was quite one. He was 
 ten years old, and grew old two years at a 
 time. His father went off with the army, and 
 left his mother at home to take care of the 
 plantation and the children. That included 
 Ancy and wee Martha ; not Jack, of course. So 
 far from leaving any one to take care of Jack, 
 he left Jack to take care of his mother. The 
 morning he went away he called Jack to him 
 and had a talk with him. He told him he 
 wanted him to mind his mother, and look out 
 for her, to help her and save her trouble, to 
 take care of her and comfort her, and defend 
 her always like a man. Jack was standing right 
 in front of him, and when the talk began he was 
 299 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 fidgety, because he was in a great hurry to go 
 to the stable and ride his father's horse War- 
 rior to the house; but his father had never 
 talked to him so before, and as he proceeded, 
 Jack became grave, and when his father took 
 his hand, and, looking him quietly in the eyes, 
 said, "Will you, my son?" he burst out crjong, 
 and flung his arms around his father's neck, 
 and said, "Yes, father, I will." 
 
 He did not go out of the house any more 
 then ; he left the horse to be brought down by 
 Uncle Henry, the carriage-driver, and he sat 
 quietly by his father, and kept his eyes on him, 
 getting him anything he wanted; and he waited 
 on his mother ; and when his father went away, 
 he kissed him, and said all over again that he 
 would do what he promised. And when his 
 mother locked herself in her room afterward, 
 Jack sat on the front porch alone, in his father 's 
 chair, and waited. And when she came out on 
 the porch, with her eyes red from weeping and 
 her face worn, he did not say anything, but 
 quietly went and got her a glass of water. His 
 father's talk had aged him. 
 
 For the first two years, the war did not make 
 much difference to Jack personally. It made 
 a difference to the country, and to the people, 
 
 300 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 and to his mother, but not to Jack individually, 
 though it made a marked difference in him. It 
 made him older. His father's words never 
 wore forgotten. They had sobered him and 
 steadied him. He had seen a good deal of the 
 war. The troop trains passed up the railroad, 
 the soldiers cheering and shouting, filling the 
 cars and crowding on top of them; the army, 
 or parts of it, marched through the country by 
 the county roads, camping in the woods and 
 fields. Many soldiers stopped at Jack's home, 
 where open house was kept, and everything 
 was gladly given to them. All the visitors now 
 were soldiers. Jack rode the gentlemen's 
 horses to water, with Jake behind him, if there 
 was but one (in which case the horse was apt 
 to get several waterings), or galloping after 
 him, if there were more. They were hard rid- 
 ers, and got many falls, for the young officers 
 were usually well mounted, and their horses 
 were wild. But a fall was no disgrace. Jack 
 remembered that his father once said to him, 
 when a colt had thrown him, "All bold riders 
 get falls; only those do not who ride tame 
 horses." 
 
 All the visitors were in uniform; all the talk 
 was of war; all thoughts were of the Confeder- 
 301 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 acy. Every one was enthusiastic. No sacrifices 
 were too great to be made. The corn-houses 
 were emptied into the great, covered, blue 
 army wagons ; the pick of the horses and mules 
 was given up. Provisions became scanty and 
 the food plain; coffee and tea disappeared; 
 clothes that were worn out were replaced by 
 homespun. Jack dressed in the same sort of 
 coarse, grayish stuff of which Jake's clothes 
 used to be made; and his boots were made by 
 Uncle Dick at the quarters; but this did not 
 trouble him. It was rather fun than otherwise. 
 Boys like to rough it. He had come to care 
 little for these things. He was getting manlier. 
 His mother called him her protector ; his father, 
 when he came home, as he did once or twice a 
 year, called him ' ' a man, ' ' and introduced him 
 to his friends as "my son." 
 
 His mother began to consult him, to rely on 
 him, to call on him. He used to go about with 
 her, or go for her wherever she had business, 
 however far off it might be. 
 
 The war had been going on two years, when 
 the enemy first reached Jack's home. It was 
 a great shock to Jack, for he had never doubted 
 that the Confederates would keep them back. 
 There had been a great battle some time before, 
 
 302 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 and his father had been wounded and taken 
 prisoner (at first he was reported killed). But 
 for that, Jack said, the "Yankees" would never 
 have got there. The Union troops did not 
 trouble Jack personally; but they made a 
 great deal of trouble about the place. They 
 took all the horses and mules that were good 
 for anything and put them in their wagons. 
 This was a terrible blow to Jack. All his life 
 he had been brought up with the horses; each 
 one was his pet or his friend. 
 
 After that the war seemed to be much more 
 about Jack's home than it had been before. 
 The place was in the possession first of one 
 army and then of the other, and at last, one 
 winter, the two armies lay not far apart, with 
 Jack's home just between them. "The Yan- 
 kees" were the nearer. Their pickets were ac- 
 tually on the plantation, at the ford, and at the 
 bridge over the little river into which the creek 
 emptied, in the big woods. There they lay with 
 their camps over behind the hills, a mile or two 
 farther away. At night the glow of their camp- 
 fires could be seen. Jack had a pretty aunt 
 who used to stay with his mother, and many 
 young officers used to come over from the Con- 
 federate side to see her. In such cases, they 
 
 303 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 usually came at night, leaving their horses, for 
 scouting parties used to come in on them occa- 
 sionally and stir them up. Once or twice skir- 
 mishes took place in the fields beyond the creek. 
 
 One evening a party of young officers came 
 in and took supper. They had some great plan. 
 They were quite mysterious, and consulted with 
 Jack's mother, who was greatly interested in 
 them. They appeared a little shy of talking be- 
 fore Jack; but when his mother said he had so 
 much judgment that he could be trusted, they 
 talked openly in his presence. They had a 
 plan to go into the Federal camp that night 
 and seize the commanding officer. They wanted 
 to know all the paths. Jack could tell thena. 
 He was so proud. There was not a cow-path 
 he did not know for two or three miles around, 
 for he and Jake had hunted all over the coun- 
 try. He could tell them everything, and he did 
 so with a swelling heart. They laid sheets of 
 paper down on the dining-table, and he drew 
 them plans of the roads and hills and big woods ; 
 showed where the river could be waded, and 
 where the ravines were. He asked his mother 
 to let him go along with them, but she thought 
 it best for him not to go. 
 
 They set out at bed-time on foot, a half-dozen 
 304 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 gay young fellows, laughing and boasting of 
 what they would do, and Jack watched them 
 enviously as their forms faded away in the 
 night. They did not succeed in capturing the 
 officer; but they captured a number of horses 
 and a picket at the bridge, and came off tri- 
 umphant, with only one or two of their num- 
 ber slightly wounded. Shortly afterwards they 
 came over, and had a great time telling their 
 experiences. They had used the map Jack made 
 for them, and had got safely beyond the pickets 
 and reached the camp. There, finding the sen- 
 tries on guard, they turned back, and taking 
 the road, marched down on the picket, as if they 
 had come to relieve them. Coming from the 
 camp in this way, they had got upon the picket, 
 when, suddenly drawing their pistols and pok- 
 ing them up against the Yankees, they forced 
 them to surrender, and disarmed them. Then 
 taking two of them off separately, they com- 
 pelled them to give the countersign. Having 
 got this, they left the prisoners under guard of 
 two of their number, and the rest went back to 
 camp. With the countersign they passed the 
 sentry, and went into the camp. Then they 
 found that the commanding officer had gone 
 off somewhere, and was not in camp that night, 
 305 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 and there were so many men stirring about 
 that they did not dare to wait. They deter- 
 mined, therefore, to capture some horses and 
 return. They were looking over the lines of 
 horses to take their pick when they were dis- 
 covered. Each man had selected a horse, and 
 was trying to get him, when the alarm was 
 given, and they were fired on. They had only 
 time to cut the halters when the camp began to 
 pour out. Flinging themselves on the horses' 
 backs, they dashed out under a fusillade, firing 
 right and left. They took to the road, but it 
 had been picketed, and they had to dash through 
 the men who held it under a fire poured into 
 their faces. All had passed safely except one, 
 whose horse had become unmanageable, and 
 had run away, fljdng the track and taking to the 
 fields. 
 
 He was, they agreed, the finest horse in the 
 lot, and his rider had had great trouble get- 
 ting him, and had lingered so long that he came 
 near being captured. He had finally cut the 
 halter, and had cut it too short to hold by. 
 
 They had great fun laughing at their com- 
 rade, and the figure he cut as his barebacked 
 horse dashed off into the darkness, with him 
 swinging to the mane. He had shortly been 
 
 306 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 dragged off of him in the woods, and when he 
 appeared in camp next day, he looked as if he 
 had been run through a mill. His eyes were 
 nearly scratched out of his head, and his uni- 
 form was torn into shreds. 
 
 The young fellow, who still showed the marks 
 of his bruising, took the chaflfing good-na- 
 turedly, and confessed that he had nearly lost 
 his life trying to hold on to his captive. He 
 had been down into the woods the next day to 
 try and get his horse ; though it was the other 
 side of the little river, and really within the 
 Federal lines. But though he caught sight of 
 him, it was only a glimpse. The animal was 
 much too wild to be caught, and the only thing 
 he received for his pains was a grazing shot 
 from a picket, who had caught sight of him 
 prowling around, and had sent a ball through 
 his cap. 
 
 The narration of the capture and escape made 
 Jack wild with excitement. All the next day 
 he was in a state of tremor, and that evening 
 he and Jake spent a long time up in the barn 
 together talkkig, or rather Jack talking and 
 Jake listening. Jake seemed to be doubtful; 
 but Jack's enthusiasm carried all before him, 
 and Jake yielded, as he nearly always did. 
 307 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 All that evening after they got back to the 
 house Jack was very quiet. It was the quiet of 
 suppressed excitement. He was thinking. 
 
 Next day, after dinner, he and Jake started 
 out. They were very mysterious. Jack carried 
 a rope that they got from the stable, and the 
 old musket that he used in hunting. Jake car- 
 ried an axe and some corn. They struck out 
 for the creek as if they were going hunting in 
 the big woods, which they entered; but at the 
 creek they turned and made for about opposite 
 where Jack understood his friend had been 
 thrown by the wild horse that night. They had 
 to avoid the pickets on the roads, so they stuck 
 to the woods. 
 
 At the river the first difficulty presented it- 
 self; the bridge and ford were picketed. How 
 were they to get across? It was over their 
 heads in the middle. Jack could swim a little, 
 but Jake could not swim a stroke. Besides, 
 they did not wish to get their clothes wet, as 
 that would betray them at home. Jack thought 
 of a raft, but that would take too long to make ; 
 so finally they decided to go down the stream 
 and try to cross on an old tree that had fallen 
 into the water two or three years before. 
 
 The way down was quite painful, for the 
 308 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 underbrush along the banks was very dense, 
 and was matted with brambles and briers, which 
 stuck through their clothes; added to which 
 there was a danger of "snakes," as Jake con- 
 stantly insisted. But after a slow march they 
 reached the tree. It lay diagonally across the 
 stream, as it had fallen, its roots on the bank 
 on their side and the branches not quite reach- 
 ing the other bank. This was a disappoint- 
 ment. However, Jack determined to try, and if 
 it was not too deep beyond the branches, then 
 Jake could come. Accordingly he pulled off 
 his clothes, and carefully tying them up in a 
 bundle, he equipped himself with a long pole 
 and crawled out on the log. When he got 
 among the branches, he fastened his bundle and 
 let himself down. It was a little over his head, 
 but he let go, and with a few vigorous strokes 
 he reached the other side. The next thing to 
 do was to get Jake over. Jake was still on the 
 far side, and, with his eyes wide open, was de- 
 claring, vehemently, "Nor, sir," he "warn 
 gwine to git in that deep water, over his head. ' ' 
 He "did n't like water nohow." Jack was in 
 a dilemma. Jake had to be got over, and so 
 had his clothes. They had an axe. They could 
 cut poles if he could get back. iThere was 
 
 309 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 nothing for it hub to try. Accordingly he went 
 up a little way, took a plunge, and, after hard 
 puUiag and much splashing and blowing, got 
 back to the tree and climbed up. They were 
 afraid the Yankees might see them if they 
 worked too long on the river, as it was a little 
 cleared up on the hill above, so they went back 
 into the woods and set to work. Jack selected 
 a young pine not too large for them to "tote," 
 and they cut it down, and cut off two poles, 
 which they carried down to the river, and fin- 
 ally, after much trouble, worked along the tree 
 in the water, and got them stretched across 
 from the branch of the fallen log to the other 
 bank. Jake could hardly be persuaded to try 
 it, but Jack offered him all his biscuit (his cus- 
 tomary coin with Jake), and promised to help 
 him, and finally Jake was got over, ''cooning 
 it"— by which was meant crawling on his hands 
 and knees. 
 
 The next thing was to find the horse, for 
 Jack had determined to capture him. This was 
 a difficult thing to effect. In the first place, he 
 might not be there at all, as he might have es- 
 caped or have been caught ; and the woods had 
 to be explored with due regard to the existence 
 of the Federal pickets, who were posted at 
 
 310 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 the roads and along the paths. If the pickets 
 caught sight of them they might be shot, or 
 even captured. The latter seemed much worse 
 fate to Jack, unless, indeed, the Yankees should 
 send them to Johnson's Island, where his father 
 was. In that case, however, what would his 
 mother do? It would not do to be captured. 
 Jack laid out the plan of campaign. They 
 would "beat the woods," going up the stream 
 at a sufficient distance apart, Jake, with the axe 
 and corn, on the inside, and he, with the gun 
 and rope, outside. Thus, if either should be 
 seen, it would be he, and if he came on a sol- 
 dier, he, having the gun, would capture him. 
 He gave orders that no word was to be spoken. 
 If any track was found notice was to be given 
 by imitating a partridge; if danger appeared, 
 it was to be shown by the cat-bird's call of 
 "Naik, naik." This was the way they used to 
 play "Injins." 
 
 They worked their way along for an hour or 
 two without seeing any traces, and Jake, con- 
 trary to Jack's command, called out to him: 
 
 "Oh, Jack, we ain' gwine fine no horse down 
 heah; dese woods is too big; he done los'. 
 There 's a clearin' right ahead here; let 's go 
 home." 
 
 311 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 There was a little field just ahead, with one 
 old cabin in it ; a path ran down from it to the 
 bridge. Jack replied in the cat-bird's warn- 
 ing note of "Naik, naik," but Jake was tired 
 of working his way through briers and bushes, 
 and he began to come over toward Jack, still 
 calling to him. Suddenly there was a shout 
 just ahead; they stopped; it was repeated. 
 
 "Who dat calling?" asked Jake, in a fright- 
 ened undertone. 
 
 "Hush! it 's a picket," said Jack, stooping 
 and motioning him back, just as a volume of 
 white smoke with blazes in it seemed to burst 
 out of the woods at the edge of the clearing, 
 and the stillness was broken by the report of 
 half a dozen carbines. Leaves and pieces of 
 bark fell around them, but the bullets flew wide 
 of their mark. 
 
 "Run, Jake!" shouted Jack, as he darted 
 away; but Jake had not waited for orders; he 
 had dropped his axe and corn, and was "fly- 
 ing." 
 
 Jack soon came up with him, and they dashed 
 along together, thinking that perhaps the 
 picket knew where they had crossed the river, 
 and would try to cut them off. 
 
 In their excitement they took a way farther 
 312 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 from the river than that by which they had 
 come. The woods were open, and there were 
 small spaces covered with coarse grass on the 
 little streams. As they ran along down a hill 
 approaching one of these, they heard a sound 
 of trampling coming towards them which 
 brought them to a sudden stand-still with their 
 hearts in their mouths. It must be the enemy. 
 They were coming at full gallop. What a 
 crashing on! They did not have time to run, 
 and Jack immediately cocked his old musket 
 and resolved at least to fight. Just then there 
 galloped up to him, and almost over him, a 
 magnificent bay horse without saddle or bridle. 
 At sight of Jack he swerved and gave a loud 
 snort of alarm, and then, with his head high in 
 the air, and with his dilated red nostrils and 
 eyes wide with fright, went dashing off into 
 the woods. 
 
 313 
 
n 
 
 ■TIIHE horse! tlie horse! Here he is! here he 
 JL is ! " shouted Jack, taking out after him as 
 hard as he could, and calling to Jake to come 
 on. In a minute or two the horse was far he- 
 yond them, and they stopped to listen and get 
 his direction ; and while they were talking, even 
 the sound of his trampling died away. But they 
 had found him. They knew he was still there, 
 a wild horse in the woods. 
 
 In their excitement all their fear had van- 
 ished as quickly as it had come. Jake sug- 
 gested something about being cut off at the tree, 
 but Jack pooh-poohed it now. He was afire 
 with excitement. How glad his mother would 
 be! What would not the soldiers say? "You 
 did n't see him, Jake?" No, Jake admitted he 
 did not, but he heard him. And Jack described 
 him— two white feet, one a forefoot and one 
 a hind foot, a star in his forehead, and a beauti- 
 ful mane and tail. Jake suddenly found that he 
 had seen him. They went back to the little 
 
 314 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 open place in the ravine where the horse had 
 been. It was a low, damp spot between very 
 high banks, that a little higher— at a point 
 where the water in rainy weather, running over 
 a fallen log in the hill-side, had washed out a 
 deep hole— had become nothing but a gully, 
 with the banks quite perpendicular and coming 
 together. 
 
 The stream was dry now except for a little 
 water in the hole at the tree. Trees and bushes 
 grew thick upon the banks to the very edge. 
 Below, where it widened, the banks became 
 lower, and the little flat piece between them was 
 covered with coarse grass, now cropped quite 
 close. The horse evidently fed there. Jack sat 
 down and thought. He looked all over the 
 ground. Then he got up, and walked along the 
 banks around the hole ; then he came back, and 
 walked up the gully. Suddenly a light broke 
 over his face. 
 
 "I 've got it, Jake; I 've got it, Jake. We 
 can trap him. If we get him in here, we 've got 
 him." 
 
 Jake was practical. "How you gwine ketch 
 boss in trap?" he asked, his idea of a trap be- 
 ing confined to hare gums. " 'T will take all 
 
 315 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 de plank in de worl' to make a hoss-trap. Be- 
 sides, how you gwine git it heali? I ain' gwine 
 tote it." 
 
 "Wlio asked you to?" asked Jack. "I 'm 
 going to trap Mm like they do tigers and lions." 
 
 "I don' know nuttin' 'bout dem beas'es," 
 said Jake, disdainfully. 
 
 "No, you don't," said Jack, with fine scorn; 
 "but I do." 
 
 He examined the banks carefully. His first 
 idea was a pitfall trap— covering over the hole. 
 But that would not do; it might kill the horse, 
 or at least break a leg. His eye fell on the 
 tracks up to the water. His face lit up. 
 
 "I 've got it! I 've got it! We '11 bait him, 
 and then catch him. Where are the axe and 
 corn you had?" 
 
 He turned to Jake. His mind up to that time 
 had been so busy with, first, the flight, and then 
 the horse, that he had not noticed that Jake did 
 not have them. 
 
 Jake's countenance fell. "I done los' 'em," 
 he said, guiltily. 
 
 Jack looked thunderstruck. "Now you just 
 go and find 'em," he said, hotly. 
 
 "I los' 'em when dem Yankees shoot we all. 
 I know I ain' gwine back deah," declared Jake, 
 
 316 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 positively. "I ain' gwine have no Yankee 
 shootin' me 'bout a old boss." 
 
 "Yes, you are," asserted Jack, "I 'm going, 
 and you 've got to go, too." Jake remained im- 
 passive. "Never mind, if you don't go I won't 
 play with you any more, and I won't give you 
 half my biscuit any more." 
 
 These were usually potent threats, but they 
 failed now. "I don' keer ef you don' play wid 
 me," said Jake, scornfully. "I don' want play 
 so much nohow; an' I don' want none you' bis- 
 cuit. Dee ain' white like dee use' to be." 
 
 Jack changed his key. 
 
 "Never mind, that was Aunt Winnie's axe 
 you lost. I 'm going to tell her you lost it, and 
 she '11 cut you all to pieces. I 'm mighty glad 
 I did n't lose it." 
 
 This was a view of the case which Jake had 
 not thought of. It was true. The Yankees 
 might not hit him, but if her axe were lost, his 
 mammy was certain to carry out her accustomed 
 threat of cutting him almost in two. Jake an- 
 nounced that he would go, but first stipulated 
 for the biggest half of the next biscuit, and that 
 Jack should go before. They set off back 
 through the woods toward the opening where 
 they had run on the picket. Jack in the lead, and 
 
 317 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 Jake a little behind. They had gone about a 
 half-mile, when they heard the sound of some 
 one coming toward them at a rapid rate. 
 
 ' ' Run, Jack ; heah dey come, ' ' cried Jake, set- 
 ting the example, and taking to his heels, with 
 Jack behind him. They ran, but were evidently 
 being overtaken, for whoever it was was gallop- 
 ing right after them as hard as he could tear. 
 
 "Hide in the bushes," cried Jack, and flung 
 himself flat on the ground under a thick bush. 
 Jake did the same. They were just in time, for 
 the pursuers were almost on them. Closer and 
 closer they came, galloping as hard as they 
 could, crashing through the branches. They 
 must have seen them, for they came straight 
 down on them. Jake began to cry, and Jack 
 was trembling, for he felt sure they would be 
 killed; there must be a hundred of them. But 
 no, they actually passed by. Jack found cour- 
 age to take a peep. He gave a cry, and sprang 
 to his feet. 
 
 "The horse! it 's the horse." Sure enough, 
 it was the horse they had seen ; all this terrible 
 trampling was nothing but him in the leaves, 
 galloping back toward the spot from which they 
 had frightened him. They listened until his 
 long gallop died out in the distance through the 
 
 318 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 woods, Jake suggested their going back to 
 look and see if he had gone to the "little pas- 
 ture," as they called the place; but Jack was 
 bent on getting the axe, and the corn with which 
 they proposed to bait him. His reference to 
 Aunt Winnie's axe prevailed, and they kept 
 on. 
 
 They had some difficulty in finding the place 
 where Jake had dropped the things, for though 
 they found the clearing, they had to be very 
 careful how they moved around through the 
 woods. They could see the picket lounging 
 about, and could hear them talking distinctly. 
 They were discussing whether the men they had 
 shot at were just scouts or were pickets thrown 
 out, and whether they had hit any of them. One 
 said that they were cavalry, for he had seen the 
 horses; another said he knew they were in- 
 fantry, for he had seen the men. Jack lay down, 
 and crept along close up. 
 
 Jack's plan was to set a trap for the horse 
 just at the head of the ravine, where the banks 
 became very steep and high. He had read how 
 Indians drove buffalo by frightening them till 
 they all rushed to one point. He had seen also 
 in a book of Livingston's travels a plan of cap- 
 turing animals in Africa. This plan he chose. 
 
 319 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 He proposed to lay Ms bait along up to the 
 gully, and to make a sort of alleyway up whicli 
 tlie horse could go. At the end he would have 
 an opening nearly but not quite closed by sap- 
 lings inclined toward each other, and which 
 would be movable, so that they might interlace. 
 On either side of this he would have a high bar- 
 ricade. He believed that the horse would be 
 led by the corn which he would strew along into 
 the trap, and would squeeze through the pliant 
 saplings, when he would be caught between the 
 high banks of the gully, and then if he at- 
 tempted to get back through the opening, he 
 would push the saplings together. He would 
 fix two strong poles so that any attempt to push 
 through would bring them into position. The 
 horse would thus be in a trap formed of the 
 high banks and the barricade. They set to 
 work and cut poles all the evening; but it got 
 late before they got enough for the barricade, 
 and they had to go home. Before leaving, how- 
 ever, Jack dragged some of the poles up, and 
 laid his corn along leading up to the gully to 
 accustom the horse to the sight of the poles and 
 to going into the gully among them. They fixed 
 the two poles firmly at the river crossing from 
 the branch of the tree to the bank, so that they 
 
 320 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 could get across easily, and then they crossed 
 on them and came home. 
 
 Jack was filled with excitement, and had hard 
 work to keep from telling his mother and aunt 
 about it, but he did not. 
 
 Jake's fear of his mammy's finding out about 
 the axe kept him silent. 
 
 The next afternoon they went down again, 
 taking more corn with them, in case the other 
 bait had been eaten. There were fresh tracks 
 up to the pool, so although they did not see the 
 horse, they knew he had been there, and they 
 went to work joyfully and cut more poles. They 
 put them into position across the ravine, and 
 when it got time to go home they had up the 
 barricade and had fixed the entrance; but this 
 was the most difficult part, so Jack laid down 
 some more corn along the alley, and they went 
 home. 
 
 The next day was Saturday, so they had a 
 good day's work before them, and taking their 
 dinner with them, they started out. Jack's 
 mother asked what he was doing ; he said, with 
 a smile, "Setting traps." When they arrived 
 the horse had been there, and they worked like 
 beavers all day, and by dinner-time had got the 
 entrance fixed. It worked beautifully. By 
 
 321 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 pressing in between the two sides they gave 
 way and then sprang together again until they 
 interlaced, and pushing against them from 
 within just pushed them tighter together. They 
 laid their bait down and went home. Monday 
 they visited the trap, but there was no horse in 
 it, the grain was eaten without— he had been 
 there— but inside it was untouched. He had 
 pushed some of the poles so that he could not 
 get in. This was a great disappointment. 
 Jack's motto, however, was, "If at first you 
 don't succeed, try, try again," so they refixed it. 
 The failure had somewhat dampened their ar- 
 dor. 
 
 The next afternoon, however, when they 
 went, there was the etntrance closed, and inside, 
 turning about contiaually, with high head and 
 wide eyes, around the edges of which were angry 
 white rims, was the horse. He was even hand- 
 somer than they had thought him. He was a 
 dangerous-looking fellow, rearing and jumping 
 about in his efforts to get out. Jake was wild 
 with excitement. The next thing was to take 
 him out and get him home. A lasso would be 
 needed to catch him ; for he looked too danger- 
 ous for them to go inside the trap to bridle him. 
 Jack strengthened the entrance by placing a 
 
 322 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 few more poles across it, and then put his corn 
 inside the trap, and hurried home to get a rope 
 and bridle. They were dreadfully afraid that 
 some one might see them, for Jack knew he 
 could not keep the secret now if he met his 
 mother, and he had pictured himself, with Jake 
 behind him, galloping up into the yard, with his 
 horse rearing and plunging, and bringing him 
 up right before his mother, with perhaps a half 
 dozen officers around her. They were back in 
 an hour or so with a good rope and bridle. 
 
 Jack made a running noose in the rope, and 
 tried to throw it over the horse 's head. He had 
 practised this on stumps and on Jake, playing 
 Injins, until he was right skilful at it ; but get- 
 ting it over the head of a wild and frightened 
 horse was another thing from putting it over 
 a stump, or even over Jake, and it was a long 
 time before he succeeded. He stood on the bank 
 over the horse, and would throw and throw, and 
 fail ; the horse got furious, and would rear and 
 strike at them with his fore-feet. At last, just as 
 he was thinking that he could not do it, the noose 
 went over the horse 's head. Jack pulled it taut. 
 
 In a second the other end was wrapped twice 
 around a small tree on the bank ; for Jack knew 
 how to "get a purchase." The horse reared 
 
 323 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 and pulled frightfully, but his pulling only 
 tightened the rope around his neck, and at last 
 he fell back choking, his eyes nearly starting 
 out of his head. This was Jack's opportunity. 
 He had often seen young steers caught and 
 yoked this way, and he had bridled young colts. 
 In a second he was in the pen, and had the bridle 
 on the horse, and in another minute he was out 
 and the rope was loosed. The horse, relieved, 
 bounded to his feet and began to wheel again; 
 but he was not so fierce as before. The bridle 
 on his head was recognized by him as a badge 
 of servitude, and he was quieter. It was now 
 late, and he was too wild to take out yet, so Jack 
 determined to leave him there, and come again 
 next day and get him. The next afternoon Jack 
 and Jake set out again for the little meadow 
 in the woods. Jack was bent on bringing his 
 captive home this time, whatever happened. 
 
 He did not go until late, for he had to pass 
 the pickets on the road to the river, and he could 
 do this better about dusk than he could in broad 
 daylight. He had an idea that they might think, 
 as he would come from toward the Yankee 
 camp, that it would be all righi; ; if not, he would 
 make a dash for it. He carried a feed of corn 
 with him to give to the horse for two reasons : 
 
 324 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 the first was that he thought he would need it, 
 and, besides, it would quiet him. They crossed 
 at the old tree, not far from the meadow; they 
 had crossed so often that they had made quite 
 a path now. All the way along Jack was telling 
 Jake how he was going to ride the horse, no 
 matter what he did. Jake was to stand on the 
 ground and hold the rope, so that if the horse 
 flung Jack he would not get loose. They ap- 
 proached the trap with great excitement. They 
 were careful, however, for they did not want 
 to scare him. As they drew near they were 
 pleased to find he had got quiet. They came 
 nearer ; he was so quiet that they thought prob- 
 ably he was asleep. So they crept up quite 
 close. Jack in advance, and peeped over the 
 bank into the trap. Jack's heart jumped up 
 into his throat. It was empty ! he was gone ! Jack 
 could not help a few tears stealing down his 
 cheeks. Yes, he was gone. At first he thought 
 he had escaped, and he could catch him again; 
 but no, an examination of the place showed him 
 that he had been found in the trap by some one, 
 and had been stolen. The barricade was pulled 
 down, and the poles of the entrance were thrown 
 back quite out of the way. Besides, there were 
 men's tracks in the wet place on the edge of the 
 
 325 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 pool. Jack sat down and cried. It was some of 
 those Yankees, he knew. Jake poured out all 
 his eloquence upon the subject. This relieved 
 him. 
 
 "If I had my gun I 'd go right straight and 
 shoot them," declared Jack. 
 
 This valorous resolve set him to thinking. He 
 got up, and went down to the gap. He could see 
 the tracks where the horse was led out. He 
 must have "cut up" a good deal, for the grass 
 outside was very much trampled. Jack could 
 see where he was led or ridden away. The 
 tracks went straight toward the clearing where 
 the picket was. They were quite fresh; he 
 could not very long have been taken. Jack de- 
 termined to track him, and find out where he 
 was if possible. They set out through the 
 woods. They could follow the track quite well 
 in most places, but in some spots it was almost 
 lost. In such cases Jack followed the method 
 of woodsmen— he took a circle, and hunted until 
 he found it again. The trail led straight to the 
 clearing. As they drew near, Jake became very 
 nervous, so Jack left^him lying under a bush, 
 and he crept up. It was so late now that it was 
 getting quite dusk in the woods, so Jack 
 could creep up close. He got down on 
 
 326 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 his hands and knees. As he came near 
 he could see the men sitting about the little old 
 cabin. They were talking. Their guns were 
 lying against the wall, at some little distance, 
 and their horses were picketed not far off, 
 rather in the shadow. Jack observed. Jack lay 
 down at the edge of the wood and counted them. 
 There were five men and six horses. Yes, one 
 of them must be his horse. He listened to the 
 men. They were talking about horses. He 
 crept a little closer. Yes, they were talk- 
 ing over the finding of his horse. One 
 man thought he knew him, that he was 
 the Colonel's horse that had been stolen 
 that night when so many horses were carried 
 off by the Johnnies; others thought it was a 
 horse some of the negroes had stolen from the 
 plantation across the river from their master, 
 and had hidden. There was the pen and the 
 bridle, and there was the path down to the cross- 
 ing at the river. Jack's heart beat faster; so 
 they knew the crossing. They were very much 
 divided, but on one thing they all agreed, that 
 anyhow he was a fine aiiimal, worth at least 
 three hundred dollars, and they would have a 
 nice sum from him when they sold him. It was 
 suggested that they should play cards for him, 
 
 327 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 and whichever one should win should have the 
 whole of him. This was agreed to, and they 
 soon arranged themselves and began to play 
 cards in the moonlight. 
 
 Jack could now make out his horse standing 
 tied near the cabin on the outside of the others. 
 He could see in the moonlight that he was tied 
 with a rope. He crept back to Jake, arid to- 
 gether they went further down into the woods 
 to consult. Jack had a plan which he unfolded 
 to Jake, but Jake was obdurate. "Nor, sah, 
 he warn' gwine 'mong dem Yankees; Yankees 
 ketch him and shoot him. He was gwine home. 
 Mammy 'd whup him if he did n'; she mought 
 whup him anyway." Jack pleaded and prom- 
 ised, but it was useless. He explained to Jake 
 that they could ride home quicker than they 
 could walk. It was of no avail. Jake recalled 
 that there was a Yankee picket near the bridge, 
 and that was the only place a horse could cross 
 since the ford was stopped up. Finally Jack 
 had to let Jake go. 
 
 He told him not to say anything at home as 
 to where he was, which Jake promised, and Jack 
 helped him across the poles at the tree, and 
 then went back alone to the clearing. He crept 
 up as before. The men were still playing cards, 
 
 328 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 and he could hear them swearing and laughing 
 over their ill or good luck. One of them looked 
 at his watch. The relief would be along in 
 twenty minutes. Jack's heart beat. He had 
 no time to lose. He cut himself a stout switch. 
 He made a little detour, and went around the 
 other side of the clearing, so as to get the horse 
 between him and the men. This put him on the 
 side toward the camp, as the men were on the 
 path which led to the bridge. Without stop- 
 ping, he crept up to the open space. Then he 
 flung himself on his face, and began to crawl 
 up through the weeds toward the horses, stop- 
 ping every now and then to listen to the men. 
 As he drew near, one or two of the horses got 
 alarmed and began to twist, and one of them 
 gave a snort of fear. Jack heard the men dis- 
 cussing it, and one of them say he would go and 
 see what was the matter. Jack lay flat in the 
 weeds, and his heart almost stopped with fright 
 as he heard the man coming around the house. 
 He could see him through the weeds, and he had 
 his gun in his hands. He seemed to be coming 
 right to Jack, and he gave himself up as lost. 
 He could hear his heart thumping so, he was 
 sure the man must hear it too. He would have 
 sprung up and cut for the woods if he had had 
 329 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 the slightest chance; and as it was, he came 
 near giving himself up, but though the man 
 seemed to be looking right toward him. Jack 
 was fortunately so concealed by the weeds that 
 he did not observe him. He went up to Jack's 
 horse, and examined the rope. " 'T ain't no- 
 thing but this new horse," he called out to his 
 comrades. "He just wanted to see his master. 
 I '11 put my saddle on him now, boys. I 've 
 got him so certain, and I mean to let him know 
 he 's got a master." He changed the saddle and 
 bridle from another horse to that, and then 
 went back to his comrades, who were all calling 
 to him to come along, and were accusing him 
 of trying to take up the time until the relief 
 came, because he was ahead, and did not want 
 to play more and give them a chance to win the 
 horse back. 
 
 Jack lay still for a minute, and then took a 
 peep at the men, who were all busily playing. 
 Then he crept up. As soon as he was out of 
 sight, he sprung to his feet and walked boldly 
 up to the horse, caught him by the bit, and with 
 a stroke of his knife cut the rope almost in two 
 close up to his head. Then he climbed up on 
 him, gathered up the reins, fixed his feet in the 
 stirrup leathers, bent over, and with a single 
 
 330 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 stroke cut the rope and turned him toward the 
 bridge. The horse began to rear and jump. 
 Jack heard the men stop talking, and one of 
 them say, "That horse is loose"; another one 
 said, "I '11 go and see"; another said, "There 's 
 the relief." Jack looked over his shoulder. 
 There came a half-dozen men on horses. There 
 was no time to lose. Lifting his switch above 
 his head, Jack struck the horse a lick with all 
 his might, and with a bound which nearly threw 
 Jack out of his seat, he dashed out into the 
 moonlight straight for the road. "He 's loose! 
 there 's a man on him!" shouted the men, 
 springing to their feet. Jack leaned forward 
 on his neck and gave him the switch just as a 
 volley was fired at him. Pop, pop, pop, pop 
 went the pistols; and the balls flew whistling 
 about Jack's head: but he was leaning far for- 
 ward, and was untouched. Under the lash the 
 horse went flying down the path across the little 
 field. 
 
 331 
 
Ill 
 
 JACK had often run races on colts, but he 
 had never ridden such a race as that. The 
 wind blew whistling by him; the leaves of the 
 bushes over the path cut him, hissing as he 
 dashed along. If he could pass the thicket 
 where the path struck the road near the bridge, 
 he would be safe. The path was on an incline 
 near the road, and was on a straight line with 
 the bridge, so he had a straight dash for it. The 
 picket was just beyond the fork. Jack had often 
 seen them. There were generally two men on 
 the bridge, and a pole was laid across the railing 
 of the bridge near the other side. But Jack did 
 not think of that now; he thought only of the 
 men galloping behind him on his track. He 
 could not have stopped the horse if he would, 
 but he had no idea of trying it. He was near the 
 bridge, and his only chance was to dash by the 
 picket. Down the path he went as straight as 
 an arrow, his splendid horse leaping under his 
 light weight— down the path like a bullet 
 through the dusk of the woods. The sleepy 
 
 332 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 picket had heard the firing at the clearing up on 
 the hill, and had got ready to stop whoever it 
 might be. They were standing in the road, with 
 their guns ready. They could not make it out. 
 It was only a single horse coming tearing down 
 toward them. 
 
 "Halt, halt!" they called, before Jack was in 
 sight ; but it was idle. Down the path the horse 
 came flying— Jack with his feet in the stirrup 
 leathers, his hands wrapped in the bridle reins, 
 his body bent forward on his horse's neck, and 
 clucking his tongue out. In one bound the horse 
 was in the road. ' ' Halt ! ' ' Bang ! bang ! went the 
 guns in his very face. But he was flying. A 
 dozen leaps and he was thundering across the 
 bridge. Jack was conscious only that a dark 
 form stood in the middle, throwing up its arms. 
 It was but a second ; he saw it shot out into the 
 water as if struck by a steam-engine. His horse 
 gave one splendid leap, and the next minute he 
 was tearing up the road toward home, through 
 the quiet woods, which gave no sound but that 
 of his rushing stride. 
 
 Jack had one moment of supreme delight. 
 His mother had got somewhat anxious about 
 him, and they were all on the front porch when 
 he galloped up into the yard, his beautiful bay 
 
 333 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 now brought down under perfect control, but 
 yet full of life and spirit. As they ran to meet 
 him, Jack sprang from the saddle and presented 
 the horse to his mother. 
 
 The next day Jack's mother called him into 
 her room. She took him by the hand. "My 
 son," she said, ''I want you to carry the horse 
 back and return him to the Yankee camp." 
 
 Jack was aghast. ""Why, mamma, he 's my 
 horse; that is, he is yours. I found him and 
 caught him and gave him to you." 
 
 His mother explained to him her reasons. 
 She did not think it was right for him to keep 
 the horse obtained in such a way. Jack argued 
 that he had found the horse running wild in 
 their own woods, and did not know his owner. 
 This made no difference ; she told him the horse 
 had an owner. He argued that the soldiers took 
 horses, had taken all of theirs, and that their own 
 soldiers— the gentlemen who had come to tea- 
 had been over and taken a lot from the camp. 
 His mother explained to him that that was dif- 
 ferent. They were all soldiers wearing uni- 
 forms, engaged openly in war. What they took 
 was capture; Jack was not a soldier, and was 
 not treated as one. Jack told her how he had 
 been shot at and chased. She was firm. She 
 
 334 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 wished the horse returned, and though Jack 
 wept a little for the joint reason of having to 
 give up the horse and the mortification of re- 
 storing it to the Yankees, he obeyed. He had 
 some doubt whether he would not be captured ; 
 but his mother said she would write a letter to 
 the commanding officer over there, explaining 
 why she returned the horse, and this would be 
 safe-conduct. She had known the colonel be- 
 fore the war, and he had once stopped at her 
 house after a little battle beyond them. Col- 
 onel Wilson had, in fact, once been a lover of 
 hers. 
 
 The idea of going with a safe-conduct was 
 rather soothing to Jack's feelings; it sounded 
 like a man. So he went and fed the horse. Then 
 he went and asked Jake to go with him. Jake 
 was very doubtful. He was afraid of the Yan- 
 kees catohiag him. The glory of Jack's capture 
 the night before had, however, given Jack great 
 prestige, and when Jack told him about the let- 
 ter his mother was going to write as a safe-con- 
 duct—like a "pass," he explained— Jake agreed 
 to go, but only on condition that he might carry 
 the pass. To this Jack consented. It was late 
 in the afternoon when they started, for the horse 
 had to be broken to carry double, and he was 
 
 335 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 very lively. Both Jack and Jake went off again 
 and again. At last, however, they got him 
 steady, and set out, Jack in the saddle, and Jake 
 behind him clinging on. Jake had the letter 
 safe in his pocket for their protection. They 
 had a beautiful ride through the woods, and 
 Jack remembered the glorious race he had had 
 there the night before. As they approached 
 the bridge, Jack thought of tying his handker- 
 chief on a stick as a flag of truce; but he was 
 not sure, as he was not a real soldier, he ought 
 to do so. He therefore rode slowly on. He 
 pictured to himself the surprise they would have 
 when he rode up, and they recognized the horse, 
 and learned that he had captured it. 
 
 This feeling almost did away with the morti- 
 fication of having to return it. He rode slowly 
 as he neared the bridge, for he did not want 
 them to think he was a soldier and shoot at him. 
 Jack was surprised when he got to the bridge 
 to find no men there. He rode across, and not 
 caring to keep up the main road, turned up the 
 path toward the clearing. He rode cautiously. 
 His horse suddenly shied, and Jack was startled 
 by some one springing out of the bushes before 
 him and calling "Halt!" as he flung up his 
 
 336 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 gun. Jake clutched him, and Jack halted. Sev- 
 eral men surrounded them, and ordered them 
 to get down. They slipped off the horse, and 
 one of the men took it. They all had guns. 
 
 "Why, this is the Colonel's thoroughbred 
 that was stolen two weeks ago," declared one 
 of the men. ' ' Where did you steal this horse ? ' ' 
 asked another of them, roughly. 
 
 "We did not steal him," asserted Jack, hotly. 
 "We found him and caught him in the woods." 
 
 "You hear that?" The man turned to his 
 comrades. ' ' Come, little Johnnie, don 't tell lies. 
 We Ve got you, and you were riding a stolen 
 horse, and there were several others stolen at 
 the same time. You 'd better tell the truth, and 
 make a clean breast of it, if you know what 's 
 good for you." 
 
 Jack indignantly denied that he had stolen 
 the horse, and told how they had caught him and 
 were bringing him back. He had a letter from 
 his mother to Colonel Wilson, he asserted, to 
 prove it. 
 
 "Where is the letter?" they asked. 
 
 Jack turned to Jake. "Jake 's got it in his 
 pocket." 
 
 "Yes, I got de pass," declared Jake, feeling 
 337 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 in Ms pocket. He felt first in one and then an- 
 other. His conntenance fell. "Hi! I done los' 
 it," he asserted. 
 
 The soldiers laughed. That was a little too 
 thin, they declared. Come, they must go with 
 them. They proposed to put a stop to this 
 horse-stealing. It had been going on long 
 enough. A horse was stolen only last night, 
 and the man had run over one of the pickets 
 on the bridge, and had knocked him into the 
 river and drowned him. They were glad to 
 find who it was, etc. 
 
 Jack felt very badly. Jake came close up to 
 him and began to whisper. "Jack, what dey 
 gwine do wid us?" he asked. 
 
 "Hang you, you black little horse-stealing 
 imp !" said one of the men, with a terrific force. 
 "Cut you up into little pieces." 
 
 The others laughed. Men are often not very 
 considerate to children. They do not realize 
 how helpless children feel in their power. Both 
 Jack and Jake turned pale. 
 
 Jake was ashy. "Jack, I told you not to 
 come," he cried. 
 
 Jack acknowledged the truth of this. He had 
 it on his tongue's end to say, "What did you 
 lose the letter for?" but he did not. He felt 
 
 338 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 that as his father's son he must be brave. He 
 just walked close to Jake and touched him. 
 "Don't be scared," he whispered. "We will 
 get away." 
 
 Just then one of the men caught Jake and 
 twisted his arm a little. Jake gave a little whine 
 of fright. In an instant Jack snatched a gun 
 from a man near by him, and cocking it, levelled 
 it at the soldier. "Let Jake go. or I '11 blow 
 your brains out," he said. 
 
 A hand seized him from behind, and the gun 
 was jerked out of his hand. It went off, but 
 the bullet flew over their heads. There was no 
 more twisting of Jake's arm, however. The 
 soldiers, after this, made them march along be- 
 tween them. They carried them to the clearing 
 where the old house was, and where some of 
 their comrades were on guard awaiting them. 
 They marched the boys up to the fire. "We 've 
 got the little horse-thieves," they declared. 
 "They were coming over after another horse; 
 but I guess we '11 break it up now." 
 
 "Why, they are mighty little fellows to be 
 horse-thieves," said one. 
 
 "They are the worst kind," declared the 
 other. 
 
 "Must be right bad, then, corporal, for you 
 339 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 are pretty handy yourself," declared a com- 
 rade. 
 
 "We are not any horse-thieves," asserted 
 Jack. "We found this horse." 
 
 ' ' Shut up ! " ordered one of his captors. They 
 began to talk about what they would do with 
 them. Several methods of securing them were 
 proposed, and it was finally determined to lock 
 them up in the loft of the old cabin till morning, 
 when they would carry them to camp, and the 
 Colonel would make proper disposition of them. 
 
 "Can't they get away in there?" asked one 
 man. 
 
 "No; there is a bolt on the outside of the 
 door, ' ' said another. ' ' Besides, we are aU down 
 here. ' ' 
 
 They were accordingly taken and carried into 
 the house and up the rickety old stairs to the 
 loft, where they were left on the bare floor with 
 a single blanket. It was quite dark in there, 
 and Jack felt very low down as he heard the bolt 
 pushed into the staple on the outside. Jake 
 was crying, and Jack could not help sobbing a 
 little himself. He had, however, to comfort 
 Jake, so he soon stopped, and applied himself 
 to his work. The only comfort Jake took was 
 in his assurance that he would get him out. 
 
 dm 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "How you gwine do it?" asked Jake. 
 
 "Never mind, I '11 do it," declared Jack, 
 though he had no idea how he was to make good 
 his word. He had taken good notice of the out- 
 side of the cabin, and now he began to examine 
 the inside. As his eyes became accustomed to 
 the darkness, he could see better, and as they 
 were barefooted, they could walk about without 
 any noise. The old roof was full of holes, and 
 they could see the sky grow white with the ris- 
 ing moon. There was an old window in one 
 end of the loft. There were holes in the side, 
 and looking out. Jack could see the men sitting 
 about, and hear their voices. Jack tried the 
 window; it was nailed down. He examined it 
 carefully, as he did every other part of the 
 room. He decided that he could cut the window 
 out in less time than he could cut a hole through 
 the roof. 
 
 He would have tried the bolt, but some of the 
 men were asleep in the room below, and they 
 could not pass them. If they could get out of 
 the window, they might climb down the chim- 
 ney. He had nothing but his old pocket-knife, 
 and unfortunately a blade of that was broken; 
 but the other was good. He told Jake his plan, 
 who did not think much of it. Jack thought it 
 341 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 was bedtime, so he knelt down and said his 
 prayers. When he prayed for his mother he 
 felt very badly, and a few tears stole out of his 
 eyes. When he was done, Jack began to work. 
 He worked carefully and quietly at first, mak- 
 ing a cut or two, and then listening to see if 
 any one stirred below. This was slow work, 
 and after a while he began to cut harder and 
 faster. It showed so very little that he pres- 
 ently got impatient, and dug his knife deeper 
 into the plank. It took a good hold, he gave 
 a vigorous pull, and the blade snapped off in the 
 middle. It made so much noise that one of the 
 men below asked: 
 
 "What are those boys doin' upstairs there? 
 They ain't tryin' to git away, yo s'pose, are 
 they? If so, we better fetch 'em down here." 
 
 Jack flung himself down beside Jake and held 
 his breath. The soldiers listened, and then one 
 of them said: 
 
 "Oh, no, 't ain't nothin' but rats. They 're 
 fast asleep, I guess." 
 
 Jack almost gave himself up for lost, for he 
 now had only his broken blade; but after a 
 while he went at it again, more carefully. He 
 could see that he was making headway now, 
 and he kept on cutting. Jake went fast asleep 
 
 342 
 
''JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 in the blanket, but Jack kept on. After a time 
 he had nearly cut out one of the planks ; he could 
 get a hold on it and feel it give. At this point his 
 impatience overcame him. He took hold and 
 gave a wrench. The plank broke with a noise 
 which startled not only Jake lying in his blan- 
 ket, but the men below, one or two of whom 
 sprang up. They began to discuss the noise. 
 
 "That war 'n't no rats," said one. "Them 
 boys is trying to git out. I heard the window 
 open. Go and see what they are doing," he 
 said to his comrade. 
 
 Jack held his breath. 
 
 "You go yourself," said he. "I say it 's 
 rats." -;' 
 
 "Bats! You 've got rats," said the other. 
 "I '11 go, just to show you 't ain't rats." 
 
 He got up, and taking a torch, came to the 
 stair. Jack felt his heart jump up in his mouth. 
 He just had time to stuff his hat into the hole 
 he had made, to shut out the sky, and to fling 
 himself down beside Jake and roll up in the 
 blanket, when the bolt was pulled back and the 
 man entered. He held the torch high above his 
 head and looked around. Jack felt his hair rise. 
 He could hear his heart thumping, and was 
 sure the man heard it too. Jake stirred. Jack 
 
 343 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 clutched him and held him. The man looked at 
 them. The flame flickered and died, the man 
 went out, the bolt grated in the staple, and the 
 man went down the shaky stair. 
 
 "Well, you are right for once," Jack heard 
 him say. "Must have been rats; they are both 
 fast asleep on the floor." 
 
 Jack waited till the talk died away, and then 
 he went to work again. He had learned a les- 
 son by this time, and he worked carefully. At 
 last he had the hole big enough to creep 
 through. It was right over the shoulder of the 
 rickety old log chimney, and by making a quick 
 turn he could catch hold of the "chinking" and 
 climb down by it. He could see the men out- 
 side, but the chimney would be partly between 
 them, and as they climbed down the shadow 
 would, he believed, conceal them. He did not 
 know how long he had been working, so he 
 thought it best not to wait any longer. There- 
 fore, after taking a peep through the cracks 
 down on the men below, and finding them all 
 asleep, he began to wake Jake. Having got him 
 awake, he lay down by him and whispered his 
 plans to him. He would go first to test the 
 chimney, and then Jake would come. They were 
 not to speak under any circumstances, and if 
 
 344 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 either slipped, they were to lie perfectly still. 
 The blanket— except one piece, which he cut off 
 and hung over the hole to hide the sky, in case 
 the men should come up and look for them — 
 was to be taken along with them to fling over 
 them if their flight should be discovered. The 
 soldiers might think it just one of their blan- 
 kets. After they got to the woods, they were to 
 make for their tree. If they were pursued, they 
 were to lie down under bushes and not speak or 
 move. Having arranged everything, and fas- 
 tened the piece of blanket so that it hung loosely 
 over the hole, allowing them to get through. 
 Jack crawled out of the window and let himself 
 down by his hands. His bare feet touched the 
 shoulder of the chimney, and letting go, he 
 climbed carefully down. Jake was already com- 
 ing out of the window. Jack thought he heard 
 a noise, and crept around the house through 
 the weeds to see what it was. It was only a 
 horse, and he was turning back, when he heard 
 a great racket and scrambling, and with a tre- 
 mendous thump Jake came tumbling down from 
 the chimney into the weeds. He had the breath 
 all knocked out of him, and lay quite still. Jack 
 heard some one say, "What on earth was that?" 
 and he had only time to throw the blanket over 
 345 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 Jake and drop down into the weeds himself, 
 when he heard the man come striding around 
 the house. He had his gun in his hand. He 
 passed right by him, between him and the dark 
 blanket lying in the corner. He stopped and 
 looked all around. He was not ten feet from 
 him, and was right over the blanket under which 
 Jake lay. He actually stooped over, as if he 
 was going to pull the blanket off of Jake, and 
 Jack gave himself up for lost. But the man 
 passed on, and Jack heard him talking to his 
 comrades about the curious noise. They de- 
 cided that it must have been a gun which burst 
 somewhere. Jack's heart was in his mouth 
 about Jake. He wondered if he was killed. He 
 was about to crawl up to him, when the blanket 
 stirred and Jake's head peeped out, then went 
 back. "Jake, oh Jake, are you dead?" asked 
 Jack, in a whisper. 
 
 "I dun know; b'lieve I is," answered Jake. 
 "Mos' dead, anyway." 
 
 "No, you ain't. Is your leg broke?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "No, 't ain't," encouraged Jack. "Waggle 
 your toe; can you waggle your toe?" 
 
 "Yes; some, little bit," whispered Jake, kick- 
 ing under the blanket. 
 
 346 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 "Waggle your otlier toe— waggle all your 
 toes," whispered Jack. 
 
 The blanket acted as if some one was having 
 a fit under it, 
 
 "Your leg ain't broke; you are all right," 
 said Jack. ' * Come on. ' ' 
 
 Jake insisted that his leg was broken, and 
 that he could not walk. 
 
 "Crawl," said Jack, creeping up to him. 
 "Come on, like Injins. It 's getting day." He 
 started off through the weeds, and Jake crawled 
 after him. His ankle was sprained, however, 
 and the briers were thick, and he made slow 
 progress, so Jack crawled along by him through 
 the weeds, helping him. 
 
 They were about half way across the little 
 clearing when they heard a noise behind them; 
 lights were moving about in the house, and, look- 
 ing back, Jack saw men moving around the 
 house and a man poked his head out of the 
 window. 
 
 "Here 's where they escaped," they called. 
 Another man below the window called out, 
 "Here 's their track, where they went. They 
 cannot have gone far. We can catch them." 
 They started toward them. It was the supreme 
 moment. 
 
 347 
 
AMONG THE CAMPS 
 
 "Run, Jake; run for the woods," cried Jack, 
 springing to Ms feet and pulling Jake up. They 
 struck out. Jake was limping, however, and 
 Jack put his arm under him and supported him 
 along. They heard a cry behind them of, 
 "There they go! catch them!" But they were 
 almost at the woods, and a second later they 
 were dashing through the bushes, heading 
 straight for their crossing at the old tree. After 
 a time they had to slow up, for Jake's ankle 
 pained him. Jack carried him on his back ; but 
 he was so heavy he had frequently to rest, and 
 it was broad day before they got near the river. 
 They kept on, however, and after a time reached 
 the stream. There Jake declared he could not 
 cross the poles. Jack urged him, and told him 
 he would help him across. He showed him how. 
 Jake was unstrung, and could not try it. He 
 sat down and cried. Jack said he would go home 
 and bring him help. Jake thought this best. 
 Jack crawled over the pole, and was nearly 
 across, when, looking back, he saw a number 
 of soldiers on the hill riding through the woods. 
 
 "Come on, Jake; here they come," he called. 
 The soldiers saw him at the same moment, and 
 some of them started down the hill. A shot 
 or two were fired toward them; Jake began to 
 
 348 
 
"JACK AND JAKE" 
 
 cry. Jack was safe, but he turned and crawled 
 back over the pole toward him. "Come on, 
 Jake; they are coming. They won't hit you— 
 you can get over." 
 
 Jake started; Jack waited, and reached out 
 his hand to him. Jake had gotten over the 
 worst part, when his foot slipped, and with a 
 cry he went down into the water. Jack caught 
 his hand, but it slipped out of his grasp. He 
 came up with his arms beating wildly. "Help 
 —help me!" he cried, and went down again. 
 In went Jack head foremost, and caught him by 
 the arm. Jake clutched him. They came up. 
 Jack thought he had him safe. "I Ve got you, ' ' 
 he said. "Don't—" But before he could finish 
 the sentence, Jake flung his arm around his 
 neck and choked him, pulling him down under 
 the water, and getting it into his throat and 
 nostrils. Jack struggled, and tried to get up, 
 but he could not ; Jake had him fast. He knew 
 he was drowning. He remembered being down 
 on the bottom of the river and thinking that if he 
 could but get Jake to the top again he would 
 be safe. He thought that the Yankees might 
 save him. He tried, but Jake had him tight, 
 choking him. He thought how he had brought 
 him there ; he thought of his mother and father, 
 
 349 
 
AMONG THE CAMt»S 
 
 and that he had not seen his mother that morn- 
 ing, and had not said his prayers, and then he 
 did not know anything more. 
 
 The next thing he knew, some one said, "He 's 
 all right," and he heard confused voices, and 
 was suffering some in his chest and throat, and 
 he heard his mother's voice, and opening his 
 eyes he was in a tent. She was leaning over 
 him, crying and kissing him, and there were 
 several gentlemen around the bed he was on. 
 He was too weak to think much, but he felt glad 
 that his mother was there. "I went back after 
 Jake," he said, faintly. 
 
 "Yes, you did, like a man," said a gentleman 
 in an oflScer's uniform, bending over him. "We 
 saw you." 
 
 Jack turned from him. "Mother," he said, 
 feebly, "we carried the horse back, but—" 
 
 "He is just outside the door," said the same 
 gentleman; "he belongs to you. His owner has 
 presented him to you." 
 
 "To me and Jake!" said Jack. "Where is 
 Jake ? ' ' But they would not let him talk. They 
 made him go to sleep. 
 
 350 
 
TWO PRISONEES 
 
 Aeknowledgmentt are made to Mensri. Hitrper S Srothera, in wJtose 
 magazine, "Barper''9 Totmg People," tojien uitder the management of the 
 late Alfred B. Storey, some years ago, this atary in a coTidenaed form first 
 appeared. 3?ke etory Jias heen rewritten and ampUfied.~-T. N, P^ 
 
TO THE MEMORY OF 
 ALFRED B. STAREY 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 SQUEEZED in between other old dingy 
 houses down a dirty, narrow street paved 
 with cobble-stones, and having, in place of side- 
 walks, gutters filled with gray slop-water, stood 
 a house, older and dingier than the rest. It had 
 a battered and knock-kneed look, and it leant 
 on the houses on either side of it, as if it were 
 unable to stand up alone. The door was just on 
 a level with the street, and in rainy weather the 
 water poured in and ran through the narrow 
 little passage leaving a silt of mud in which the 
 children played and made tracks. The win- 
 dows were broken in many places, and were 
 stuffed with old rags, or in some places had bits 
 of oilcloth nailed over the holes. It looked black 
 and disreputable even in that miserable quar- 
 ter, and it was. Only the poorest and the most 
 unfortunate would stay in such a rookery. It 
 seemed to be in charge of or, at least, ruled over 
 353 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 by a woman named Mrs. O'Meath, a short, red- 
 faced creature, who said she had once been "a 
 wash lady," but who had long given up a pro- 
 fession which required such constant use of 
 water, and who now, so far as could be seen, 
 used no liquid in any way except whiskey or 
 beer. 
 
 The dingiest room in this house was, per- 
 haps, the little hall-cupboard at the head of the 
 second flight of rickety stairs. It was smaU and 
 dim. Its single window looked out over the 
 tops of wretched little shingled houses in the 
 bottom below to the backs of some huge ware- 
 houses beyond. The only break in the view of 
 squalor was the blue sky over the top of the 
 great branching elm shading the white back- 
 portico of a large house up in the high part of 
 the town several squares off. In this miser- 
 able cupboard, hardly fit to be called a room, 
 unfurnished except with a bed and a broken 
 chair, lived a person — a little girl — ^if one 
 could be said to live who lies in bed all the time. 
 You could hardly tell her age, for the thin face 
 looked much older than the little crooked body. 
 There were lines around the mouth and about 
 the white face which might have been worn by 
 years or only by suffering. The bed-ridden 
 
 354 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 body was that of a child of ten or twelve. The 
 arms and long hands looked as the face did — 
 older— and as she lay in her narrow bed she 
 might have been any moderate age. Her sandy 
 hair was straight and faded; her dark eyes 
 were large and sad. She was known to Mrs. 
 O'Meath and the few people who knew her at 
 all as "Molly." If she had any other name, it 
 was not known. She had no father or mother, 
 and was supposed by the lodgers to be some 
 relative, perhaps a niece, of Mrs. 'Meath. She 
 had never known her father. Her mother she 
 remembered dimly, or thought she did ; she was 
 not sure. It was a dim memory of a great 
 brightness in the shape of a young woman who 
 was good to her and who seemed very beauti- 
 ful, and it was all connected with green trees 
 and grass, and blue skies, and birds flying 
 about. The only other memory was of a part- 
 ing, the lady covering her with kisses, and then 
 of a great loneliness, when she did not come 
 back, and then of a woman dropping her down 
 the stairs— and ever since then she had been 
 lying in bed. At least, that was her belief ; she 
 was not sure that the memory was not a dream. 
 At least, all but the bed, that was real. 
 Ever since she knew anything she had been 
 355 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 lying a prisoner in bed, in that room or some 
 other. She did not know how she got there. 
 She must belong in some way to Mrs. O 'Meath, 
 for Mrs. O'Meath looked after her and kept 
 others away. It was not much ' ' looking after, ' ' 
 at best. Mrs. O'Meath used to bring her her 
 food, such as it was— it was not very much— 
 and attend to her wants, and bring her things 
 to sew, and make her sew them. MoUy suffered 
 sometimes, for she could not walk; she had 
 never walked— at least, unless that vague rec- 
 ollection was true. She had once or twice 
 asked Mrs. O'Meath about her mother, but she 
 had soon stopped it. It always made Mrs. 
 O'Meath angry, and she generally got drunk 
 after it and was cross with her. 
 
 Sometimes when Mrs. O'Meath got drunk she 
 did not come up-stairs at all during the day. 
 She was always kinder to her next day, how- 
 ever, and explained, with much regret, that she 
 had been sick— too sick to get a mouthful for 
 herself even ; but other people who lived in the 
 house told Molly that she was "just drunk," 
 and Molly soon got to know the signs. Mrs. 
 'Meath would be cross and ugly and made her 
 sew hard. Sometimes she used to threaten her 
 with the Poorhouse. Molly did not know what 
 
 356 
 
TWO PRISONEES 
 
 that was ; she just knew it was something dread- 
 ful (like a prison, she thought). She could not 
 complain, however, for she knew very well that 
 what Mrs. O'Meath did was out of charity for 
 her and because she had promised some one to 
 look after her. The little sewing Molly was able 
 to do for her was not anything, she knew. Mrs. 
 O'Meath often told her so. And it made her 
 back ache so to sit up. 
 
 The rest of the people in the house were so 
 busy they did not have time to trouble them- 
 selves about the child, and Mrs. O'Meath was 
 cross with them if they came "poking about," 
 as she called it. 
 
 Molly's companions were two books, or parts 
 of books— one a torn copy of the "Pilgrim's 
 Progress," the other a copy of the "Arabian 
 Nights' Entertainment." Neither of them was 
 complete, but what remained she knew by heart. 
 She used to question the women in the house, 
 when they would stop at the door, about things 
 outside; but they knew only about their neigh- 
 bors and their quarrels and misfortunes — who 
 got drunk; who had a new sofa or frock; who 
 had been arrested or threatened by the police, 
 and who had been refused a drink at the bar. 
 Molly's questions about the fairies and great 
 357 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 ladies simply set lier down with them as a half 
 crazy thing. So Molly was left to her own 
 thoughts. Her little bed was fortunately right 
 by the window, and she could look out over the 
 houses. The pigeons which circled about or 
 walked upon the roofs, pluming themselves and 
 coquetting, and the little brown sparrows which 
 flew around and quarrelled and complained, 
 were her chief companions, and she used to 
 make up stories about them. She soon learned 
 to know them individually, even at a distance, 
 and knew where they belonged. She learned 
 their habits and observed their life. She knew 
 which of them were quiet, and which were blus- 
 tering; which were shy, and which greedy — 
 most of them were this — and she used to feed 
 them with crumbs on the window-siU. She gave 
 them names out of her books and made up 
 stories about them to herself. They were fairies 
 or genii, and lived under spells ; they saw things 
 hidden from the eyes of men, and heard strange 
 music which the ears of men could not catch. 
 One bird, however, interested her more than all 
 the others. It was a bird in a cage, which used 
 to hang outside of the back window of a house 
 not far from hers, but on another street. This 
 bird Molly watched more closely than aU the 
 
 358 
 
TWO PEISONEBS 
 
 rest, and had more feeling for it. Shut up within 
 the wire bars, whilst all the other birds were 
 flying so free and joyous, it reminded her of 
 herself. It had not been there very long. It 
 was a mocking-bird, and sometimes it used to 
 sing so that she could hear its notes clear and 
 ringing. She felt how miserable it must be, 
 confined behind its bars, when there was the 
 whole sky outside for it to spread its wings 
 under. (It used to sing almost fiercely at 
 times. Molly was sure that it was a prince or 
 princess imprisoned in that form.) Shortly 
 after it first came it sang a great deal, yet 
 Molly knew it was not for joy, but only to the 
 sky and the birds outside ; for it used to flutter 
 and look frightened and angry whenever the 
 woman leaned out of the window; and some- 
 times the birds would go and look at it in a 
 curious, half-pitying way, and it would try to 
 fly, and would strike against the cage and fall 
 down, and then it would stop singing for awhile. 
 Molly would have loved to pet it, and then have 
 turned it loose and seen it flying away singing. 
 She knew what joy would have filled its little 
 heart to see again the woods and the green 
 fields and pastures and streams, for she knew 
 how she would have felt to see them. She had 
 
 359 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 never seen them in all her life, unless she had 
 not dreamed that dream. Maybe, if it were 
 set free, it would come back sometimes and 
 would sing for her and tell her about freedom 
 and the green fields. Or, maybe, it might even 
 go to Heaven and tell her mother about her. 
 
 The bird had not always been in a cage; it 
 had been born in a lilac bush in a great garden, 
 with other lilac bushes and tall hollyhocks of 
 every hue, and rose bushes all around it ; and it 
 had been brought up there, and had foimd its 
 mate in an orchard near by, where there were 
 apple trees white with bloom and a little stream 
 bordered with wUlows, which sometimes looked 
 almost white, too, when the wind blew fresh and 
 lifted the leaves. It had often simg aU night 
 long in the moonlight to its mate ; and one day, 
 when it was getting a breakfast for the young 
 in its nest in the lilacs, it had been caught in a 
 trap with slats to it ; and a man had come and 
 had carried it somewhere in a close basket, and 
 had put it into a thing with bars all around it 
 like a jaU, and with a dirty floor ; and a woman 
 had bought it and had kept it shut up ever since 
 in a cage. It had come near starving to death 
 for a while, for at first it could not eat the seed 
 and stuff which covered the bottom of its cage, 
 they were so stale ; but at last it had to eat, it 
 
 360 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 was so hungry. It grew sick, though, not being 
 used to being shut up in such a close, hot place, 
 with people always moving about. Though its 
 owner was kind to it, and talked to it, and was 
 gentle with it, it could not forget its garden 
 and freedom, and it hoped it would die. The 
 woman used to hang it outside of her window, 
 and after she went away it used to sing, hoping 
 that its mate might hear, and, even if it could 
 not release it, at least might come near enough 
 to sing to it and tell it of its love and loneliness, 
 and of the garden and the lilacs and the orchard 
 and the dew. Then, again, when she did not 
 come, it would grow melancholy, and some- 
 times would try desperately to break out of its 
 prison. Sometimes at night it would dream of 
 the lilacs and would sing. How Molly watched 
 it and listened to it, and how she pitied it and 
 hoped it knew she was there, too ! 
 
 One other thing that interested Molly greatly 
 was the great gray house over beyond the other 
 houses. She supposed it was a palace. There 
 she could see a little girl walking about in the 
 long upper gallery— sometimes alone and some- 
 times with a colored woman, her nurse. Molly 
 had very keen eyes and could see clearly a long 
 distance; but she could not, of course, see the 
 features of the little girl. She could only tell 
 361 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 that she had long brown hair, and wore beauti- 
 ful dresses, sometimes white, sometimes blue, 
 sometimes pink. She knew she must be beauti- 
 ful, and wondered if she were a princess. She 
 always pictured her so, and she was always on 
 the watch for her. At times she came out with 
 something in her arms, which MoUy knew was 
 a doll, and MoUy used to fancy how the doll 
 looked; it must have golden ringlets, and blue 
 eyes, and piifk cheeks, and look like a princess. 
 Molly felt sure that the little girl must be a 
 princess. The doll would be dressed in silk 
 and embroidery. She set to work, and with her 
 scraps, left from the pieces Mrs. O'Meath 
 brought her, made a dress and a whole suit of 
 clothes for it, such as she thought it ought to 
 have. The dress was nothing but a little piece 
 of shiny cambric, trimmed with her silk bits, 
 and the underclothes were only cotton; but she 
 flounced the dress with ends of colored thread 
 and embroidered it beautifully, and folded it 
 up in a piece of paper and stuck it away under 
 the mattress where she kept her treasures. 
 
 One day she saw the little girl on the gallery 
 playing with something that was not a doll; it 
 ran around after her and hung on to her skirt. 
 At first Molly could not see it well; but pres- 
 
 362 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 ently the little girl lifted it up in her arms, and 
 Molly saw that it was a little dog, a fat, grayish- 
 yellow puppy. For several days it used to 
 come out and play with its little mistress, or 
 she would play with it, lifting it, carrying it, 
 feeding it, hugging and kissing it. Molly 
 sighed. Oh, how she would have liked to have 
 a little dog like that! Her little room looked 
 darker and gloomier than ever. She turned 
 over and fried to sleep, but coujd not. She was 
 so lonely. She had nothing ; she had never had 
 anything. She could not ever hope to have a 
 doll, but, oh, if she had a puppy! Next day she 
 thought of it more than ever, and every day 
 afterwards she thought of it. 
 
 She even dreamed about it at night: a beau- 
 tiful, fat, yellow puppy came and got up by her 
 on the bed and cuddled up against her and went 
 to sleep. She felt its breathing. She actually 
 saved some of her dinner, her bones, next day, 
 and hid them, to feel that she had some food for 
 it, though she was hungry herself. No puppy 
 came, however, and she had to give it up and 
 content herself with looking out for the puppy 
 on the white gallery under the elm beyond the 
 housetops. 
 
 363 
 
II 
 
 THE big house, the back of which, with its 
 double porticos and great white pillars, 
 Molly could see away up on the hill across the 
 intervening squares, was almost as different 
 from the rickety tenement iu which the little 
 cripple lay as daylight is from darkness. It 
 was on one of the highest points in the best 
 part of the city, and was set back in grounds 
 laid off with flower beds and surrounded by a 
 high iron fence. In front it looked out on a 
 handsome park, where fountains played, and 
 at the back, while it looked over a very poor 
 part of the town, filled with small, wretched- 
 looking houses, they were so far beneath it that 
 they were almost as much separated from it as 
 though they had been in another city. A high 
 wall and a hedge quite shut off everything in 
 that direction, and it was only from the upper 
 veranda that one knew there was any part of 
 the town on that side. Here, however, Mildred, 
 the little girl that Molly saw with her doll and 
 puppy, liked best to play. 
 
 364 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 Mildred was the daughter of Mr. Grlendale, 
 one of the leading men in the city, and she lived 
 in this house in the winter. In the summer she 
 lived in the country, in another house, quite as 
 large as this, but very different. The city house 
 was taller than that in the country, and had 
 finer rooms and handsomer things. But, some- 
 how, Mildred liked the place in the country 
 best. The house in the country was long and 
 had many rooms and curious corners with 
 rambling passages leading to them. It was in 
 a great yard with trees and shrubbery and 
 flowers in it, with gardens about it fiUed with 
 lilacs and rosebushes, and an orchard beyond, 
 full of fruit trees. Green fields stretched all 
 about it, where lambs and colts and calves 
 played. And when in the country Mildred 
 played out of doors all day long. 
 
 The city Mildred did not like. She was a 
 little lame and had to wear braces; but the 
 doctors had always said she must be kept out 
 of doors, and she would become strong and out- 
 grow her lameness. Thus she had been brought 
 up in the country, and knew every corner and 
 cranny there. She knew where the robias and 
 mocking-birds nested ; the posts where the blue- 
 birds made their homes and brought up their 
 
 365 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 young, and the hollow locusts where the brown 
 Jenny Wrens kept house, with doors so tiny 
 that Mildred could not have gotten her hand in 
 them. In town she felt constrained. There she 
 had to be dressed up and taken to walk by her 
 mammy. In the country she never thought of 
 her lameness ; but in town she could not help it. 
 It was hard not to be able to run about and play 
 games like the other children. Eough boys, too, 
 would talk about the braces she had to wear, 
 and sometimes would even laugh at her. So 
 she was shy, and often thought herself very 
 wretched. Her mother and her mammy used to 
 tell her that she was better off than most little 
 girls, but Mildred could not think so. At least, 
 they did not have to wear braces, and could run 
 about where they pleased and play games and 
 slide down hills without any one scolding them 
 for ruining their dresses or not being a lady. 
 Mildred often wished she were not a lady, and, 
 though efforts were made to satisfy her least 
 whim, she was dissatisfied and unhappy. 
 
 A large playroom was set apart for her ia 
 town ; and it was fitted up with everything that 
 could be thought of. After the first few days 
 it ceased to give her pleasure. The trouble was 
 that it was all "fixed," her playthings were all 
 
 366 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 "made playthings." She had to play accord- 
 ing to rule ; she could not do as she pleased. In 
 the country she was free; she could run about 
 the yard or garden, and play with the young 
 birds and chickens and "Hve" things. One 
 "live" thing was, in Mildred's eyes, worth all 
 the "made" ones in the world; and if it was 
 sick or crippled, she just loved it. A lame 
 chicken that could not keep up with the rest of 
 the brood, or a bird that had broken its wing 
 falling out of the nest, was her pet and care. 
 Her playroom in town was filled with dolls and 
 toys of every size and kind, and in every condi- 
 tion, for a doll's condition is different from 
 that of people; it depends not on the house it 
 lives in and the wealth it has, but on the state 
 of its body and features. Mildred's playhouse 
 in the country was a corner of a closet, under 
 the roof. There she used to have war with her 
 mammy, for Mammy was very strict, and had 
 severe ideas. So whenever a sick chicken or 
 lame duck was found crying and tucked up in 
 some of the doll's best dresses, there was a 
 battle. "I don't want dolls," Mildred would 
 say. "It don't hurt a doll to break it; they 
 don't care; and it don't help them to mend 
 them; they can't grow. I want something I 
 367 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 can get well and feed." Indeed, tMs was what 
 her heart hungered for. What she wanted was 
 company. She felt it more in the city than in 
 the coimtry. In town she had nothing but dolls. 
 She used to think, "Oh, if I just had a chicken 
 or a bird to pet and to love— something young 
 and sweet!" The only place in town where 
 she could do as she pleased was the upper back 
 veranda. Thus she came to like it better than 
 any other spot, and was oftenest there. 
 
 368 
 
m 
 
 ONE day when Mildred had been dressed 
 up by her mammy and taken out to walk, 
 as she stopped on the edge of the park to rest, 
 a fat, fawn-colored puppy, as soft as a ball of 
 wool aad as awkward as a baby, came wad- 
 dling up to her on the street ; pulled at her dress ; 
 rolled over her feet, and would not let her alone. 
 Mildred was delighted with it. It was quite 
 lame in one of its legs. She played with it, and 
 hugged it, and fed it with a biscuit; and it 
 licked her hands and pinched her with its little 
 white, tack-like teeth. After a while Mammy 
 tried to drive it away, but it would not go, it had 
 taken too great a fancy to its new found play- 
 mate to leave her, and, though Mammy slapped 
 at it and scolded it, and took a switch and beat 
 it, it just ran off a little way and then turned 
 around when they moved on and followed them 
 again, coming up to them in the most cajoling 
 and enticing way. When they reached home 
 Mammy shut it out of the gate; but it stayed 
 there and cried, and finally squeezed through 
 
 369 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 the fence, scraping its little fat sides against 
 the pickets, and, running up to the porch after 
 them, slipped into the house, and actually ran 
 and hid itself from Mammy under some fur- 
 niture in the drawing-room. 
 
 Mildred begged her father to let her keep the 
 dog. He said she might, until they could find 
 the owner, but that it was a beautiful puppy 
 and the owner would probably want him. Mil- 
 dred took him to her veranda and played with 
 him, and. that night she actually smuggled him 
 into her bed ; but Mammy f otmd him and turned 
 him out of so snug a retreat, and Mildred was 
 glad to compromise on having him safely shut 
 up in a box in the kitchen. Her father put an 
 advertisement in the papers and every effort 
 was made to find the owner, but he never ap- 
 peared, which was perhaps due to Mildred's 
 fervent prayers that he might not be found. 
 She prayed hard that he might not come after 
 Eoy, as she named him, even if he had to die 
 not to do so. 
 
 From that time Mildred found a new life in 
 the city. The two were always together, play- 
 ing and romping. Roy was the most adorable 
 of puppies, and was always doing the most 
 comical and unexpected things. At times he 
 
 370 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 would act like a baby, and at otber times would 
 be as full of mischief as a boy. 
 
 The upper gallery was Mildred's favorite 
 place. Her mother had given it up to her. 
 There she could run about, without having 
 Mammy scold her for letting Roy scratch up 
 the floor. Eoy made havoc in her playroom; 
 he appeared to have a special fondness for doll 
 babies, and would chew their feet off reck- 
 lessly. He did not have a wholly easy time, how- 
 ever, for Mildred used to insist on dressing him 
 up and making him sleep in her doll's carriage, 
 and, as Eoy had the bad iaste not to appreciate 
 these honors, he had to be trained. Mammy 
 had been strict enough with Mildred to give her 
 very sound ideas of discipline, so sometimes 
 Mildred used to coerce Eoy till he rebelled with 
 whines. It was all due to affection, however, 
 and Eoy used to whine more over the huggings 
 his little mistress gave him. than anything else. 
 
 "What you squeezin' dat dog so for? Stop 
 dat ! Don ' you heah him crying ? ' ' Mammy used 
 to say. 
 
 " 'T ain' any use havin' a dog if you carn't 
 squeeze him," Mildred would reply. 
 
 Whenever they went out Eoy used to go 
 along. Eoy was a most inquisitive dog. Curi- 
 
 371 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 osity was Ms besetting sin. It got him into 
 more trouble than anything else. He used to 
 chew up lace curtains, and taste the silk of the 
 chair covers in the parlors just to try them, 
 though anything else would have done just as 
 well; and once or twice he actually tried the 
 bottom of Mammy's dress. This was a dread- 
 ful mistake for him to make, as he found out, 
 for Mammy allowed no liberties to be taken 
 with her. 
 
 "Ain't you got no better sense 'n to be chaw- 
 ing my frock, dog?" she used to say. "Ef you 
 ain't, I gwine teach you better." And she did. 
 
 When he went out to walk he carried his 
 curiosity to great limits; indeed, as it proved, 
 to a disastrous length. He had grown some- 
 what and could run about without tripping up 
 over himself every few steps ; and as he grew a 
 little older he was always poking into strange 
 yards or around new corners. Once or twice he 
 had come near getting into serious trouble, for 
 large dogs suddenly bounded up from door- 
 mats and out of unnoticed corners and ap- 
 peared very curious to know what business he, 
 a little, fat puppy, had coming into their prem- 
 ises uninvited. In such cases Roy always took 
 out as hard as his little fat legs could carry 
 
 372 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 him; or, if they ran after him, he just curled 
 over on his back, holding up his feet in the 
 most supplicating way, till no dog would have 
 had the heart to hurt him. 
 
 At last one day he disappeared, and no efforts 
 could find him. He was hunted for high and 
 low; advertisements were put in the papers; a 
 reward was offered, and every exertion was 
 made to find him ; but in vaia. The last that had 
 been seen of him he was playing out in the 
 street in front of the house, and had gone down 
 a side street. It was in the direction of the 
 worst part of the town, and, after he did not 
 turn up, there was no doubt that he was stolen, 
 or maybe killed. Mildred was inconsolable. 
 She cried herself almost sick. Her father of- 
 fered to get her another puppy just like Roy; 
 but it did no good; it would not be Roy, she 
 said; it would not be lame. The sight of the 
 dolls which Roy had so often chewed with so 
 much pleasure made her cry afresh. She 
 prayed that he might come back to her. 
 
 373 
 
IV 
 
 THAT very afternoon on which Koy disap- 
 peared Molly had just got her dinner— 
 a little soup, with a knuckle-bone in it, and a 
 piece of bread— and she was thinking what a 
 pity the bone was so large, as she was hungry, 
 when she heard something on the staircase out- 
 side. The door had been left slightly open by 
 the woman who had brought the dinner, and 
 the sound was quite distinct; it sounded like 
 something dragging up the steps. She thought 
 it was a rat, for there were a great many of 
 them about, and she was wishing the door was 
 shut, for she did not want it to come into her 
 room, and, besides, it was cold. But as she 
 could not reach the door, she was about to be- 
 gin on her dinner. Just as she started, how- 
 ever, she heard a soft and low step at her door, 
 and she looked up. There came a dear, fat, yel- 
 low-gray puppy, with a black nose, walking in 
 just as straight and solemnly as if he were a 
 doctor and had a visit to pay. She did not dare 
 to move for fear he would be frightened and go 
 
 374 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 out; but he did not trouble himself. WalMng 
 straight on, he took a glance around as if to as- 
 sure himself that this was the place he wanted, 
 and then, looking at her, he gave a queer little 
 switch of his tail, which twisted half his body in 
 the funniest way, and, quickening his pace, 
 came trotting up to her bed and reared up to 
 try and climb up on it. Molly put her hand over 
 on it, and he began to lick it rapidly and whim- 
 per in his efforts to get up. She gave a little 
 cry of delight and, catching him, pulled him up 
 on the bed. He immediately began to walk 
 over her and lick her face. It was the first time 
 she had ever been kissed in her life that she re- 
 membered. The next thing he did was to poke 
 his little head into her soup bucket, and begin 
 to eat it as if it belonged to him. He finished 
 the soup and began at the bone. This gave him 
 the greatest delight. He licked and nibbled and 
 chewed it ; got his fat paws in, and worked over 
 it. Molly, too, got the greatest pleasure out of 
 it. She forgot that she was hungry. 
 
 Suddenly he lay down and went fast asleep 
 snuggled up against her. Molly felt as if he 
 were a little fat baby curled up in her arm. 
 Her life seemed suddenly to have opened. The 
 only trouble was the fear that Mrs. O'Meath 
 375 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 might take him away and drive him out. To 
 prevent this was her dream. She thought of 
 hiding him, but this was difficult; besides, she 
 wanted to tell Mrs. O'Meath about Mm. 
 
 The puppy stayed with her that night, sleep- 
 ing beside her, and snuggling up against her hke 
 a little child. Molly had never spent so happy 
 a night. 
 
 Next morning by light he was awake hunting 
 for his knuckle-bone, and when he got it went 
 to work at it. In the midst of MoUy's reflec- 
 tions Mrs. O'Meath walked in. Her eye fell 
 on Boy, and Molly's heart sank. 
 
 "What 's that dirty dog doin' in this room?" 
 
 Eoy answered for himself. The hair on his 
 back rose and he began to bark. MoUy tried to 
 check him. 
 
 "Where did ye git him?" 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. O'Meath, please, madam, let me 
 keep him. He came from heaven. I have n't 
 anything, and I want him so. Hush ! You must 
 not bark at Mrs. O'Meath. Hush, sir!" 
 
 But Eoy just pulled loose, and, standing 
 astride of Molly, barked worse than ever. 
 
 "Not I, indeed. Out he goes. 'Ave I to be 
 slavin' meself to death for the two of you? It 
 
 376 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 is n't enough for the wan of you, and him bark- 
 in' at me like that." 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. O'Meath, please, madam! I will 
 sew for you all my life, and do everything you 
 want me to do," cried Molly. "0 God, don't 
 let her take him away from me!" she prayed. 
 
 Whether it was that Mrs. O'Meath was 
 troubled by the great, anxious eyes of the little 
 girl, and did not have the heart to tear the dog 
 away from her, or whether she thought that 
 perhaps Roy was a piece of property worth 
 preserving, she did not take him away. She 
 simply contented herself with abusing him for 
 "a loud-mouthed little baste," and threatening 
 to "teach him manners by choking the red, 
 noisy tongue out his empty head." She ac- 
 tually brought him a new knuckle-bone at din- 
 ner-time, which greatly modified his hostility. 
 No puppy can resist a knuckle-bone. 
 
 Roy had been with Molly four days, and they 
 had been the sweetest days of the crippled girl's 
 life. He had got so that he would play with his 
 bones on the floor, rolling th^m as a child does 
 a ball. He would come when Molly called him, 
 and would play with her, and he slept on her 
 bed beside her. One day he walked out of the 
 
 377 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 room and went down the steps, Molly called 
 and called, but to no purpose. He had disap- 
 peared; he was gone. MoUy's heart was almost 
 broken. Her room suddenly became a prison; 
 her life was too dark to bear. 
 
 MUdred had prayed and prayed in vain that 
 Eoy might come back to her, and had at length 
 confided to Mammy that she did not believe he 
 was coming, and she was not going to pray any 
 more. She was sure now that she was the most 
 wretched child in the world. She took no pleas- 
 ure in anything, even in the finest new doll she 
 had ever seen. However, she was playing with 
 her doll on the front portico that morning when 
 Roy came walking up the steps as deliberately 
 as if he had just gone out. She gave a little 
 shriek of delight, and ran forward. Seeing her, 
 he came trotting up, twisting himself as he al- 
 ways did when he was pleased. She called her 
 mother. There was a great welcoming, and 
 Eoy was petted like the returned prodigal, 
 Mildred determined never again to let him get 
 out of her sight. 
 
 Looking out of her little window next day 
 Molly saw her little girl on the white gallery 
 romping with a dog, and her heart was bitter 
 with envy. She glanced down at the cage be- 
 
 378 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 low her, and the mocking-bird, which, whilst she 
 had the puppy she had almost forgotten, was 
 drooping on his perch. 
 
 MUdred, however, though she watched Eoy 
 closely, did not have a wholly easy time. After 
 this Koy had a wandering fever. One day he 
 was playing in the yard with Mildred, who was 
 about to give him a roll she had. Near where 
 they were playing stood a rose-bush covered 
 with great red roses. Mildred thought it would 
 be great fun to take a rose and tease Eoy with 
 it. So she turned and broke off from the bush 
 one of the finest. It took some little time, and 
 when she turned back, Eoy, whether offended at 
 being neglected or struck by some recollection, 
 had squeezed through the fence, and started 
 down the street. Mildred called after him, but 
 he paid no attention to her. She opened the 
 gate and ran after him. 
 
 "Eoy, Eoy!" she called. "Here, Eoy, come 
 here." 
 
 But Eoy took no heed of her ; he just trotted 
 on. When she ran faster he ran, too, just as 
 if she were a stranger. He turned into an- 
 other street and then another. She had to 
 hurry after him for fear she might lose him. 
 He reached a dirty little narrow street and 
 379 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 turned in. She was not far behind him, and she 
 saw the door he went into. She ran to it. He 
 was going up the stairs, climbing steadily one 
 after another. As she did not see anybody to 
 catch him she went on up after him. She saw 
 him enter a door that was slightly ajar, and 
 when she reached it she started to follow htm 
 in, but at the sight that caught her eye she 
 stopped on the threshold. There was Eoy up 
 on a bed licking the face of a little girl, and 
 acting as if he were wild with joy. 
 
 380 
 
MOLLY'S day had been very dark. It was 
 dark without and within. She had suf- 
 fered a great deal. She had seen the little girl 
 on the gallery playing with her puppy and run- 
 ning about, and her own life had seemed very 
 wretched. Mrs. O'Meath was drunk and had 
 threatened her with the Poorhouse, and she 
 had not got any breakfast; she was very un- 
 happy. 
 
 It seemed to her that she and the bird in the 
 cage outside the window were the most 
 wretched things in the world. She thought of 
 her mother, and wondered if she should go to 
 Heaven if she would know her. Perhaps, she 
 would not want her. She lay back and looked 
 around her little dark room, and then shut her 
 eyes and began to pray very hard. It was not 
 much of a prayer, just a fragment, beginning, 
 "Our Father, who art in Heaven" — ^which had 
 somehow stuck in her memory, and which she 
 always used when she wanted anything. Just 
 then she heard a noise outside on the steps. It 
 381 
 
TWO PRISONERS 
 
 came pulling up step by step, and Roy trotted 
 in at the open door and came bouncing and 
 twisting over toward the bed. In an instant 
 she had him on the bed, and he was licking her 
 face and walking over her. She heard a noise 
 at the door and was aware that some one was 
 there, and, looking up, she saw standing in the 
 door the most beautiful creature she had ever 
 beheld— a little girl with brown curls and big 
 brown eyes. She was bareheaded and beauti- 
 fully dressed, and her eyes were wide open 
 with surprise. In her hand she held a small 
 green bough, with a wonderful red thing on the 
 end. Molly thought she must be a fairy or an 
 angel. 
 
 Mildred had stopped for a moment and was 
 looking at Molly. 
 
 In her sympathy for the poor little thing 
 lying there she forgot all about Roy. Her eyes 
 were full of pity. 
 
 "How do you do?" she said, coming softly to 
 the bedside. 
 
 ' ' Oh, very well, thank you, ' ' said Molly. ' * My 
 dog has come back." 
 
 "Why, is he your dog, too? He 's my dog," 
 said Mildred. 
 
 382 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 The face of the crippled child fell. 
 
 "Is he? I thought he was mine. I hoped he 
 was. He came in one day, and I did n't know 
 he belonged to anybody but me. I had been 
 lying here so long I hoped he would always stay 
 with me." 
 
 The face looked so sad. The large eyes 
 looked wistful, and Mildred was sorry that she 
 had claimed the dog. She thought for a 
 moment. 
 
 "I will give him to you," she said, eagerly. 
 
 Molly's eyes lit up. 
 
 "Oh, will you? Thank you so much." 
 
 "Have you got anything to feed him on?" 
 asked Mildred. 
 
 "Yes, some bones I put away for him." She 
 pulled from under the side of the bed two bones 
 wrapt in paper, and Eoy at once seized them 
 and began to gnaw at them. 
 
 "I have a roll here I will give him," said 
 Mildred. "I shall have my lunch when I get 
 back." 
 
 She held out her roll. Molly's eyes glistened. 
 
 "Can I have a little piece of it?" she asked 
 timidly; "I have n't had any breakfast." 
 
 Mildred's eyes opened wide. 
 383 
 
TWO PRISONEES 
 
 "Have n't had any breakfast, and nearly 
 lunch time! Are you going to wait till 
 luncheon?" 
 
 " 'Luncheon?' What is that?" said Molly. 
 "I get dinner generally; but I am afraid I 
 may n't get any to-day. Mrs. O'Meath is 
 drunk." 
 
 She spoke of it as if it were a matter of 
 course. Mildred's face was a study. The idea 
 of such a thing as not getting enough to eat had 
 never crossed her mind. She could not take 
 it in. 
 
 "Here, take this; eat all of it. I will get my 
 mother to send you some dinner right away, 
 and every day." She took hold of Molly's thin 
 hand and stroked it in a caressing, motherly 
 sort of way. "What is your name?" She 
 leaned over her and stroked her little dry brow, 
 as her mother did hers when she had a head- 
 ache. 
 
 "Molly." 
 
 "Molly what?" 
 
 "I don't believe I 've got any other name," 
 said Molly. "My mother was named Mary." 
 
 "Where is she?" asked Mildred. 
 
 "She 'sdead." 
 
 "And your father?" 
 384 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 "Kilt!" said Molly. " 'T least I reckon he 
 was. Mrs. O'Meatli says lie was. I don't know 
 whether he 's dead or not. ' ' 
 
 Mildred's eyes opened wide. The idea of any 
 one not knowing whether or not her father was 
 living ! 
 
 "Who is Mrs. O'Meath?" she asked. 
 
 "She 's the lady 't takes care of me." 
 
 "Your nurse?" 
 
 "N— I don't know. She ain't my mother." 
 
 "Well, she don't take very good care of you, 
 I think," said Mildred, looking around with an 
 air of disapproval. 
 
 "Oh! she 's drunk to-day," explained Molly, 
 busily eating her bread. 
 
 "Drunk!" Mildred's eyes opened with hor- 
 ror. 
 
 "Yes. She '11 be all right to-morrow." Her 
 eyes, over the fragment of roll yet left, were 
 fastened on the rose which MUdred, in her 
 chase after Eoy, had forgotten all about and 
 still held in her hand. 
 
 "What is that?" she asked, presently. 
 
 "What? This rose?" Mildred held it out 
 to her. 
 
 " A rose ! " The girl 's eyes opened wide with 
 wonder, and she took it in her thin hands as 
 385 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 carefully as if it had been of fragile glass. ' ' Oh I 
 I never saw one before. ' ' 
 
 "Never saw a rose before 1 Why, our gar- 
 den and yard are full of them. I break them 
 all the time." 
 
 "Are you a princess?" asked Molly, gazing 
 at her. 
 
 Mildred burst out into a clear, ringing laugh. 
 
 "No. A princess!" 
 
 Molly was perhaps a little disappointed, or 
 perhaps she did not wholly believe her. She 
 stroked the rose tenderly, and then held it out 
 to Mildred, though her eyes were stUl fastened 
 on it hungrily. 
 
 "You can have it," said Mildred, "for your 
 
 "I 
 
 'Oh! For my own? My very own?" ex- 
 claimed the cripple, her whole face lit up. MU- 
 dred nodded. 
 
 "Oh! I never thought I should have a rose 
 for my own, for my very own," she declared, 
 holding it against her cheek, looking at it, smell- 
 ing it and caressing it all at once, whilst Mil- 
 dred looked on with open-eyed wonder and en- 
 joyment. 
 
 Mildred asked a great many questions, and 
 386 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 Molly told her aU she knew about herself. She 
 had been lying there in that little room for 
 years withont ever going out, and she had 
 never seen the country, Mildred learned all 
 about her life there; about the birds outside 
 and the bird in the cage. Mildred could see it 
 from the window when she climbed upon the 
 bed. She thought of the roses iu her garden 
 and of the birds that sang around her home, 
 flying about among the trees, and to think 
 that Molly had never seen them! Her heart 
 ached. It dawned upon her that maybe she 
 could arrange to have her see it. She asked 
 what she would rather have than anything in 
 the world. 
 
 "In the whole world?" asked MoUy. 
 
 "Yes, in the whole world." 
 
 Molly thought profoundly. "I would rather 
 have that bird out there in the cage, ' ' she said. 
 
 Mildred was surprised and a little disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 "Would you?" she asked, almost in a whis- 
 per. "Well, I will ask my mamma to give me 
 some money to buy it for you. I 've got to go 
 now." 
 
 Eoy, who had been asleep, suddenly opened 
 387 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 his eyes and looked lazily at her. He crawled 
 a little closer up to Molly and went asleep 
 again. 
 
 "Here," said Molly, "take this." 
 
 She pulled out of her little store inside the 
 bed where she kept her treasures concealed a 
 little bundle. It was her doll's wardrobe. Mil- 
 dred opened it. 
 
 "Why, how beautiful! Where did you get 
 it ? It would just fit one of my new dolls. ' ' 
 
 "I made it," said Molly. 
 
 "You did? I wish I could make anything 
 like that," said Mildred, admiring the beauti- 
 ful work. 
 
 "Would you mind something?" Molly asked, 
 timidly. "Would you let me kiss you?" She 
 looked at her pathetically. 
 
 Mildred leaned over and kissed the poor little 
 pale lips. 
 
 "Thank you," said Molly, with a flush on her 
 pale cheeks. 
 
 "Good-bye. I will come again," said Mil- 
 dred, gravely. The eyes of the crippled girl 
 brightened. 
 
 " Oh ! will you I Thank you. ' ' 
 
 Mildred leaned over and kissed her again. 
 
 As she walked down the dark stairs and out 
 388 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 of the narrow damp street into the sunlight she 
 seemed to enter a new world. It came to her 
 how different her lot was, not only from that of 
 the poor little crippled girl lying in that dark 
 prison up that rickety stair, but from many and 
 many others who wanted nearly everything she 
 had in such abundance. She almost trembled 
 to think how ungrateful and complaining she 
 had been, and a new feeling seemed to take 
 possession of her. 
 
 389 
 
VI 
 
 DUEING the hour of Mildred's absence 
 there had been great excitement at her 
 home. They thought she was lost, and they 
 were all hunting for her everywhere when she 
 walked in with her little bundle in her hand. 
 She might ordinarily have been punished for 
 going off without permission, but now they 
 were all too glad to see her back, and she had 
 such a good excuse. Even Mammy confined 
 herself to grumbling just a little. Mildred 
 rushed to her mother's room and told her every- 
 thing about her visit — about Molly and every- 
 thing connected with her. She drew so graphic 
 a picture of the little cripple's condition that 
 her mother at once had a basket of food pre- 
 pared and ordered her carriage. Mildred begged 
 to go with her, so they set out at once. She 
 had taken notice of the house, and, after driving 
 up one or two streets, they found the right one. 
 She asked her mother to let her carry the bas- 
 ket. "When they entered the room Mildred's 
 mother found it even worse than Mildred had 
 
 390 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 pictured it; but a half hour's vigorous work, 
 made a great change, and that night, for the 
 first time in many years, Molly slept in a clean 
 bed and in as much comfort as her poor little 
 broken body would admit. 
 
 That night Mildred could hardly sleep for 
 happiness. She had the money to buy the 
 mocking-bird. Inquiry was made next day on 
 the street where Mildred described the bird as 
 being. It was found that the only bird on the 
 block belonged to a Mrs. Johnson, "a widow 
 lady who took in sewing." She lived in the 
 third story back room of a certain house and 
 had not been there very long, so no one could 
 tell anything about her except that she owned 
 "a mocker." This, however, was all that was 
 needed, and Mildred was promised that next 
 morning the bird should be bought and she 
 should be allowed to take it to Molly with her 
 own hands. She planned just the way in which 
 she would surprise her. 
 
 Next morning a servant was sent around to 
 buy the bird. When he returned Mildred's high 
 hopes were all dashed to the ground. The 
 owner did not wish to sell the bird. The money 
 was doubled and the servant was sent back. 
 The answer came back: "The bird was not for 
 391 
 
TWO PRISONEES 
 
 sale." Mildred was grievously disappoiated. 
 She could not help crying. 
 
 "Send to the dealer's and buy two birds," 
 said her father. 
 
 "Perhaps the bird is a pet," suggested her 
 motlier gently. 
 
 Mildred thought Molly did not want any bird 
 — she wanted that one, though she herself did 
 not understand just why, unless it was that she 
 knew that one could sing. 
 
 "Then Molly is unreasonable," said Mil- 
 dred's father. 
 
 Mildred was unreasonable, too. If Molly 
 did not want any other bird she did not want 
 it either. She persuaded her mammy to walk 
 around through the street where the woman 
 with the mocking-bird lived. She knew the 
 house. Just as she passed it the door opened 
 and a woman came down the steps with a 
 bundle. She was dressed in black and looked 
 very poor, but she also looked very kind, and 
 Mildred, who was gazing at the door as she 
 came out, asked her timidly: — "Do you know 
 Mrs. Johnson?" 
 
 "Why, I am one Mrs. Johnson," she said. 
 "Whom do you mean?" 
 
 392 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 "The lady that has the mocking-bird," said 
 Mildred. 
 
 "I have a mocking-bird." 
 
 "Have you? I mean the lady that has a 
 mocking-bird and won't sell it," said Mildred, 
 sadly. 
 
 The woman looked down at her kindly and 
 for a moment did not answer. Then she said: 
 —"What do you know about it?" 
 
 "I wanted to buy it," said Mildred. 
 
 "I am sorry I could not sell it to you," said 
 Mrs. Johnson kindly. "The bird is all the com- 
 pany I have, and besides I don't think it is 
 well. It has not been singing much lately. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Has n 't it ? " asked Mildred. ' ' I wanted it 
 for Molly. She wants it." 
 
 "Who is Molly?" 
 
 "The little crippled girl that lives aroimd 
 that way." She pointed. "She lies at a win- 
 dow away, way up. You can almost see her out 
 of your window where the cage hangs. She saw 
 the bird from her window where she lies and 
 that 's the reason she wants it." 
 
 The woman looked down at the little girl 
 thoughtfully. The big eyes were gazing up at 
 her with a look of deep trouble in them. 
 
 393 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 "You can have the bird," she said suddenly. 
 "Wait, I will get it." And before Mildred 
 could take in her good fortune she had gone 
 back into the house, and a second later she 
 brought down the cage. 
 
 Mildred had not just understood that it was 
 t0 be brought her then, and a new difficulty 
 presented itself. 
 
 "But I have n't any money," she said, 
 
 "I don't want any money," said the poor 
 lady. 
 
 "But I can send it to you." 
 
 "I don't want &ny; I give it to you." 
 
 Mildred was not sure that she ought to ac- 
 cept the bird this way. "Do you think mamma 
 would mind it?" she asked earnestly. 
 
 "Not if she ever had a crippled child," said 
 the woman. 
 
 ' ' She had. But I 'm well now, ' ' said Mildred. 
 
 She took the cage and bore it down the street, 
 talking to her mammy of the joy Molly would 
 have when she took the bird to her. The poor 
 woman suddenly turned and went back into the 
 house and up the stairs, and a second later was 
 leaning out of the window scanning one by one 
 every window in sight. 
 
 Mildred and her mammy soon found the 
 394 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 rickety house where Molly lived, and as Mil- 
 drfed climbed the stairs to Molly's room, though 
 she walked as softly as she could, her heart was 
 beating so she was afraid Molly might hear it. 
 Curious faces peeped at her as she went up, for 
 the visit to Molly of the day before was known, 
 but Mildred did not mind them. She thought 
 only of Molly and her joy. She reached the 
 door and opened it softly and peeped in. Molly 
 was leaning back on her pillow very white and 
 languid; but she was looking for her, and she 
 smiled eagerly as she caught her eye. Mildred 
 walked in and held up the cage. Molly gave a 
 little scream of delight and reached out her 
 hands. 
 
 "Oh, Mildred, is it—?" She turned and 
 looked out of the window at the place where it 
 used to hang. Yes, it was the same. 
 
 Mildred had a warm sensation about the 
 heart, which was perfect joy. 
 
 "Where shall I put it?" she asked. "He 
 looks droopy, but Mrs. Johnson says he used 
 to sing all the time. He is not hungry, because 
 he has f6ed in the cage. I don't know what is 
 the matter with him. ' ' 
 
 "I do," said Molly, softly. 
 
 She showed where she wanted the cage, and 
 395 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 Mildred climbed up and put it in the open win- 
 dow. Then she propped Molly up. She had 
 never seen Molly's eyes so bright, and her 
 cheeks had two spots of rich color in them. She 
 looked really pretty. She put her arm around 
 the cage caressingly. The frightened bird flut- 
 tered and uttered a little cry of fear. 
 
 "Never mind," murmured Molly, softly, as 
 she pulled at the catch. "It is only a minute 
 more, and there will be the fields and the sky." 
 
 The peg was drawn but and she opened the 
 door wide. The bird did not come out; it just 
 fluttered backwards and forwards. Molly 
 pushed the cage a little further out of the win- 
 dow. The bird got quiet. It turned its head 
 and looked out of the door. Mildred had 
 clasped her hands tightly, and was looking on 
 with speechless surprise. She thought it might 
 be some spell of Molly's. The bird hopi)ed out 
 of the cage on to the window-sill and stood for 
 a second in a patch of sunlight. It craned its 
 neck and gazed all around curiously; turned and 
 looked at the cage, and then fastened its eye 
 steadily on Molly, shook itself in the warm air, 
 gave a little trill, almost a whimper, and sud- 
 denly tore away in the sunlight. 
 
 Mildred gave a little gasp, "Oh!" But 
 396 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 Molly did not move a muscle. Straight away 
 the bird flew, at first up and then on over the 
 black houses and the smoke toward the blue> 
 sky over Mildred's home, his wings beating the 
 fresh spring air, on, on, growing smaller to the 
 sight, flying straight for the open country— a 
 mere speck— till at last he faded from sight. 
 Molly lay motionless, with her gaze still on the 
 fair blue sky where he had disappeared, as if 
 she could still see him. Her lips had been mov- 
 ing, but now were stilled. 
 
 "There!" she said, softly. "At last!" and 
 sank back on the pillow, her eyes closed, her 
 face full of deep content. Mildred sat and 
 gazed at her, at first with a vague wonder and 
 then almost with awe. A new idea seemed to 
 enter her mind. Could Molly be sending the 
 mocking-bird to heaven with a message to her 
 mother? 
 
 397 
 
VII 
 
 THE poor lady who had given Mildred the 
 bird was still leaning out of her window 
 studying the backs of the houses on the other 
 street down below hers in the direction the little 
 girl had gone, when at the top window of one 
 of the oldest and most tumbled-down houses 
 there was a movement, and a flash of sunlight 
 on something caught her eye. Yes, that was 
 the place. Looking hard, she could make out 
 what was going on. She could see the cage set 
 on the window-sill and two little figures on the 
 bed at the open window. It was a flash of sun- 
 shine on the cage which had reached her. She 
 knew now where the bird would hang, and if it 
 ever sang again she would be able to hear it 
 faintly. In the distant past she had heard birds 
 singing at least that far off. She was watchiag 
 intently, when to her astonishment she saw the 
 bird step out on the sill into the sunlight, and 
 the next second it dashed away. It had 
 escaped! With a gasp she watched it until it 
 
 398 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 rose above the housetops and disappeared far 
 away in the depths of the blue sky. 
 
 When it had quite disappeared she looked 
 back at the window. The two little figures were 
 there as still as ever. There was no excitement. 
 Could they have set the bird free on purpose? 
 She gazed at them long and earnestly, then 
 turned and looked back at the sky where the 
 bird had faded from her view. It was deep and 
 fathomless, without a speck. Her thoughts fol- 
 lowed the lost bird — away over the housetops 
 into the country, into the past, into the illimit- 
 able heavens. Her life was all spread out be- 
 fore her like a panorama. She saw a beautiful 
 country of green fields, where lambs skipped 
 and played; gardens filled with flowers, and 
 orchards with clouds of bloom, where bees 
 hummed all day long and birds sang in the 
 leafy coverts. A little girl was playing there 
 as free as the birds ; as joyous as the lambs. In 
 time the little girl grew to be a big girl. And 
 one day a lad came up the country road and 
 stopped at the gate and looked across at her. 
 He was shy, but pleasant looking, and after a 
 moment he opened the gate and came straight 
 up to her and asked for lodging. He was un- 
 399 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 like any one else she had ever known. He had 
 come from a State far away. He looked into 
 her eyes, and she felt a sudden fear lest her 
 father would not take him in. He was, how- 
 ever, given lodging, and he stayed on and on, 
 and helped her father on the farm. He knew 
 more than any one she had ever seen, and he 
 bought her books and taught her. The girl's 
 whole life seemed to open up under his in- 
 fluence, and in his presence. She used to wan- 
 der with him through the pleasant woods; 
 among the blossoms; in the moonlight; read- 
 ing with him the books he brought her; find- 
 ing new realms of which she had never dreamed. 
 Then one evening he had leaned over, and put 
 his arm around her and begun to speak as he 
 had never spoken before. Her happiness was 
 almost a pain, and yet it was only such pain as 
 the bud must feel when the warm sun imfolds 
 its petals and with its deep eyes seeks its fra- 
 grant heart. The young girl's life suddenly 
 opened as that rose opens; and for a time she 
 seemed to walk in paradise. Then clouds had 
 gathered ; talk of war disturbed the peace of her 
 quiet life. Her lover was on one side, her father 
 on the other. One day the storm burst. War 
 came. Her husband felt that he must go. Her 
 
 400 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 father said that if she went with him she could 
 never more come back. Her heart was torn 
 asunder and yet she could not hesitate. Her place 
 was with her husband. So she had parted from 
 her father; she, half fainting with sorrow, he, 
 white and broken, yet both sustained by the 
 sense of duty. For a time there had been great 
 happiness in a baby girl, who, though feeble, 
 was the light of her eyes. The doctors said if 
 she were taken care of she would outgrow her 
 trouble. Then came a bitterer parting than the 
 first; her husband went off to the war, leaving 
 her a stranger in a strange land, with only her 
 baby. Even this was not the worst. Shortly 
 came the terrible tidings that her husband had 
 been desperately wounded and left in the en- 
 emy's hands. She must go to him. She learned 
 at the last moment that she could not take her 
 child with her. Yet it was life or death. She 
 must go. Then Providence had seemed to open 
 the way. Unexpectedly she met an old friend; 
 a woman who had been a servant of her moth- 
 er's in the old days back at her old home. 
 Though she had one weakness, one fault, she 
 was good and kind, and she had always been 
 devoted to her. She would take care of her 
 child. So she left the little girl with her, to- 
 401 
 
TWO PRISONEES 
 
 gether with the few pieces of jewelry she pos- 
 sessed. She herself set off to go through the 
 lines to her husband. It was a long journey. 
 In time she arrived at the place where he had 
 been. But it was too late. He was gone. All 
 that was left was an unmarked mound in a field 
 of mounds. Since that time there had been for 
 her nothing but graves. Just then the lines 
 were closely drawn, and before she could get 
 back through them she had heard from the 
 woman that her child was dead of a pestilence 
 that had broken out, and she herself dying. So 
 she was left. In her loneliness she had turned 
 to her father. She could go to him. He, too, 
 was dead. The war had killed him. His prop- 
 erty had melted away. The old home had 
 passed from his hands and he himself had gone, 
 one of the unnamed and unnumbered victims. 
 
 When at length the war had closed the 
 widowed and childless woman had gone back to 
 where she had left her child, to find at least its 
 grave. But even this was denied her. There 
 had been a pestilence, and in war so many are 
 falling that a child's death makes no difference 
 except to those who love it. The mother could 
 not find even the grave to put a flower on. 
 
 Since that time she had lived alone— always 
 402 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 alone except for the memories of the past. Her 
 gift with her needle enabled her to make enough 
 to keep body and soul together. But her heart 
 hungered for that it had lost. 
 
 Of late her memories had gone back much 
 to her girlhood; when she had walked among 
 the fruit trees with the lambs frisking and the 
 birds singing about her. She had bought the 
 mocking-bird to sing to her. It bore her back to 
 the time when her lover had walked beside her ; 
 and there had been no thought of war, with its 
 blood and its graves. She tried to blot out that 
 dreadful time; to obliterate it from her mem- 
 ory; to bridge it over, except for the memory of 
 her child— with its touch, its voice, its presence. 
 Always that called her, and she prayed — if she 
 only might find its grave. 
 
 For this she had come back once more to the 
 place where she had left it, and where she knew 
 its grave was. She had not found it; but had 
 put flowers on many unmarked little mounds; 
 and had blessed with her tender eyes many un- 
 known little crippled children. 
 
 The mention of the crippled girl had opened 
 
 her heart. And now when she lifted her head 
 
 she was ra some sort comforted. She rose and 
 
 took up her bundle, and once more went down 
 
 403 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 into the street. She determined to go and see 
 the little crippled child who had let her bird go. 
 She could not go, however, till next day, and 
 when she went she learned that the child had 
 been taken away by a rich lady and sent to a 
 hospital. This was all the people she saw knew. 
 She did not see Mrs. O'Meath. 
 
 404 
 
vm 
 
 As soon as Molly could Be moved she was 
 taken from the hospital out to Mildred's 
 country home. She had pined so to see tie coun- 
 try that the doctors said it might start her to- 
 wards recovery and would certainly do her 
 good. So Mildred's mother had closed her 
 town house earlier than usual and moved out 
 before Easter. 
 
 From the very beginning it seemed to do her 
 good. The fresh air and sunshine; the trees 
 just putting on their spring apparel ; the tender 
 green grass ; the flowers, and the orchards filled 
 with bloom, all entranced her and invigorated 
 her. She loved to be out of doors, to lie and 
 look at the blue sky, with the great, white clouds 
 sailing away up in it (she said they were great 
 snow islands that floated about in the blue air), 
 and to listen to the songs of the birds flitting 
 about in the shrubbery and trees. She said she 
 felt just as that mocking-bird must have done 
 that day when he stood in the warm sunshine 
 405 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 and saw the blue sky above him when he got out 
 of prison. Mildred used to take her playthings 
 and stay with her, and read to her out of her 
 story books, whilst Eoy would lie around and 
 look lazy and contented. There was no place 
 where he loved to sleep so well as on Molly's 
 couch, snuggled up against her. 
 
 One afternoon she was lying on her couch out 
 in the yard. Mildred was sitting by her, and 
 Eoy was asleep against her arm. It was Easter 
 Sunday, and everything was unusually quiet 
 and peaceful. There had been a good deal of 
 talk about Easter. Molly did not know what 
 Easter was, and she had been wondering all 
 day. Mildred herself had mentioned it several 
 times. She had a beautiful new dress, and Mrs. 
 Johnson, the lady who had given her the mock- 
 ing-bird, and for whom her mother had gotten 
 a place, had made it. StUl to Molly's mind this 
 was not all that Easter meant. Molly had heard 
 something about somebody coming back from 
 the dead. This had set her to thinkiag all day. 
 She knew about Sunday, because that day 
 people did not go to work as on other days; 
 and could not go into the barroom by the front 
 door, and some of them went to church. But 
 Easter was different. Something strange was 
 
 406 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 to happen. But nothing had happened. Mil- 
 dred had been to church with her mother; but 
 no one had come. Even the poor lady who had 
 made Mildred's dress, and who had been in- 
 vited to come out to the country and spend 
 Easter, had not appeared ; and had written that 
 she could not come until the evening, if she could 
 get off at all. So Molly was puzzled and a little 
 disappointed. She had waited all day and no 
 one had come. She must have misunderstood 
 or else they had told her a lie. Now Mildred 
 was sitting by her. 
 
 "Mildred," she said, Mildred leaned over 
 her. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" 
 
 "Do you think my mother will know me 
 when I get to Heaven? I was so little when 
 she went away." 
 
 Mildred told her that a mother would know 
 her child always. "Just so." This seemed to 
 satisfy her. 
 
 A mocking-bird on a lilac bush began to sing. 
 It sang until the air seemed to be filled with 
 music. 
 
 "Molly," said Mildred, "I wonder if that is 
 not your mocking-bird?" Molly's eyes turned 
 slowly in that direction. 
 407 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 "I think maybe he went to Heaven that day, 
 to my mother," she said, softly. 
 
 "And told your mother that you set him 
 free?" 
 
 Suddenly Molly spoke, slowly and softly. 
 
 "Mildred, I am very happy," she said. "If 
 I had all the money in the world, do you know 
 what I would do with it?" 
 
 "No, What?" Mildred took her hand and 
 leaned over her. She did not answer immedi- 
 ately. She was looking at the far away horizon 
 beyond the blue hills, where the softly fading 
 light was turning the sunset sky into a land of 
 purple and gold. Presently she said : — 
 
 "I would buy up all the birds in the world 
 that are in cages— every one— and set them 
 free." Mildred looked at her in vague wonder. 
 
 "Mildred, what is Easter?" she asked sud- 
 denly. Mildred was astonished. The idea of 
 any one not knowing what Easter was ! 
 
 "Why, Easter was the time when—" She 
 paused to find just the word she wanted, and as 
 it did not come to her miad she began to think 
 what Easter really was. It was harder to ex- 
 plain than she had thought. Of course, she 
 knew; but she just could not remember exactly 
 all about it. "Oh! Yes- 
 
 408 
 
TWO PEISONERS 
 
 "Why, Easter is tlie time when you have nice, 
 things— a new dress and don't have to give up 
 butter or candy, or any thing you want to eat — 
 don 't you know ? " 
 
 This was beyond Molly's experience. She 
 did not know. Mildred was not satisfied with, 
 her explanation. She added to it. "Why, it 's 
 the day Christ rose from the dead— Don't you 
 know?" 
 
 "Is that a fairy tale?" asked Molly. 
 
 * ' No, of course not ; it 's the truth. ' ' Mildred 
 looked much shocked. Molly looked a little dis- 
 appointed. 
 
 "Oh! I was in hopes it was a fairy tale. 
 Tell me about it." 
 
 Mildred began, and told the story; at first in 
 vague sentences merely to recall it to Molly's 
 memory, and then as she saw the interest of her 
 hearer, in full detail with the graphic force of 
 her own absolute belief. She had herself never 
 before felt the reality of the story as she did 
 now, with Molly's eager eyes fastened on her 
 face; her white face filled with wonder and 
 earnestness, her thin hand holding hers, and at 
 times clutching it until it almost hurt her. She 
 began with the birth in the manger and ended 
 with the rising in the garden. 
 409 
 
TWO PRISONEES 
 
 "And did he sure 'nough come back— what 
 you call rise again?" said Molly presently. 
 Mildred nodded. She was still under the spell 
 of Molly's vivid realization of it. 
 
 "And where is He now?" 
 
 "He went back up to Heaven," Mildred 
 looked up in the sky. Molly too looked up and 
 scanned the pale blue cloudless depths. 
 
 "Can He send back anybody he wants?" 
 
 Mildred thought so. 
 
 "Then I 'm going to ask Him to send back 
 my mother to me," she said. "I did not know 
 about Him. I always asked God; but I never 
 thought He would do it. I always thought He 
 had too much to do to think about a poor little 
 thing like me— except once. I asked Him not to 
 let Mrs. 'Meath take Eoy and He did n't. But 
 I never asked that other one. Maybe that 's the 
 reason He never did it before. He '11 know 
 about it and maybe He '11 do it, because He was 
 a little child too once, and He must know how 
 bad I want her." She ducked her head down, 
 squeezed her eyes tightly, and remained sc 
 about two minutes. 
 
 This was a little too complicated for Mil- 
 dred's simple theology. She was puzzled; but 
 she watched Molly with a vague, curious inter- 
 
 410 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 est. Molly opened her eyes and gazed up to the 
 skies with an air of deep relief, not unmingled 
 with curiosity. 
 
 "Now, I 'm going to see if He '11 do it," she 
 said. "I 've asked Him real hard three times, 
 and if He won't do it for that I ain't ever goin' 
 to ask Him no more." Mildred felt shocked, 
 but somehow Molly's eagerness impressed her, 
 and she too followed Molly's gaze up into the 
 deep ether, and sat in silence. Eoy moved his 
 head a little and licked Molly's hand gently. 
 The mocking-bird sang sweetly in the soften- 
 ing light. The only other sound was that of 
 footsteps coming softly across the grass. Mil- 
 dred, half turning, could see from where she 
 sat. Her mother and another person, who, as 
 she came near, Mildred saw was Mrs. John- 
 son, the poor woman who had given her the 
 mocking-bird, were coming together. As they 
 came nearer Mildred's mother was just saying: 
 
 "This is the little girl who turned the bird 
 loose." 
 
 Molly was still watching the far off skies, too 
 earnest to hear the new comers. Mrs. Johnson's 
 eyes fell on her. She stopped; started on 
 again ; stopped again, and drew her hand across 
 her forehead, as if she were dreaming and try- 
 411 
 
TWO PEISONEES 
 
 ing to awake. The next second with a cry she 
 was down on her knees beside Molly's lounge, 
 her arms around her. 
 
 ''My baby— !" 
 
 The cripple lay quite still, gazing into her 
 eyes with vague wonder. Then a sudden light 
 seemed to fall across her face. 
 
 "Mother?" she whispered, with an awed in- 
 quiry in her tone. Then as she caught the look 
 in the eyes fastened on hers the inquiry passed 
 away and a deeper light seemed to illumiae her 
 face. 
 
 "Mother!" she cried. 
 
 THE END 
 
 412