THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 THE WILMER COLLECTION 
 
 OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS 
 
 PRESENTED BY 
 
 RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. 
 
 
 
 
 
jVlLMEft COLLECIU 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/johnholdenunioniOOdele 
 
John Holden, Unionist, 
 
 A Romance of the Days of Destruction 
 and Reconstruction 
 
 T. C. DE LEON 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "yUNY, OR ONLY ONE OCTOROON'S STORY," "FOUR YEARS IN 
 
 REBEL CAPITALS," "CREOLE AND PURITAN," 
 
 "the puritan's DAUGHTER," 
 
 ETC. 
 
 IN COLLABORATION WITH ERWIN LEDYARD 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 ST. PAUL 
 
 The Price-McGill Company 
 
 455-473 CEDAR STREET 
 
 \^'V) 
 
Copyrighted 1893 
 
 BY 
 
 THE PRlCE-McGILL CO. 
 
 PRINTED AND PLATED BY 
 
 THE PRICE-McGILL COMPANY 
 
 ST. PAUL MINN. 
 
In 'Memory of 
 THAT DEAD PAST 
 Whose Children were Sword and Fire; Whose living- Prog- 
 eny are present Peace and future Hope, these pages 
 
 WERE WRITTEN. 
 
 602808 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 "Well done, sir! " - --..-- Frontispiece 
 "That be'nt no use! " ------- Page 33 
 
 ''Ritn, my man! Run fur yer life ! " - - - - " 53 
 
 " Lize, ar' he plum gone ? " - - - - - "97 
 
 "Hush! — His wife!" - - - . . . . " 113 
 
 " Cursid be j-^er! " - - - - - - . - " 145 
 
 Taking the bridle himself, he strode carefulh^ away, " 177 
 
 "Now, Mr. Storekeeper, what are your proofs against 
 
 this spy?" - - " 225 
 
 It was a noteworthy couple, ----- " 273 
 
 " Them ez ther Lord hezjined — no man shell hinder ! " " 321 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAP. PAGE 
 
 I— On the Deserters' Trail, 11 
 
 II— A Latter-Day Tory, 22 
 
 III— Father and Son, 37 
 
 IV— Hunting the Big Game, 46 
 
 V — A Mountain Daisj', 58 
 
 VI— The Shot in the Dark, ----... 73 
 
 VII— In the Outlaw's Nest, 84 
 
 VIII— Widowed! 99 
 
 IX— A Misadventure, - 109 
 
 X — Convalescent Symptoms, - 124 
 
 XI — Over the Hills and Far Away! ----- 140 
 
 XII— A Night's Surprises, 153 
 
 XIII— A Ruse and its Result, - 165 
 
 XIV— In Southern Woman's Way, 173 
 
 XV— The Captured War Horse, 188 
 
 XVI— Into the Jaws of Death, 199 
 
 XVII— Parting, - 209 
 
 XVIII — An Interrupted Lynching, ------ 217 
 
 XIX— Woman and Girl, 234 
 
 XX — Reconstruction Days, - 248 
 
 XXI — Charges and Confession, - 259 
 
 XXII— "A Knot of Ribbon Blue," 275 
 
 XXIII— A President, by Pistol-shot, 285 
 
 XIV— After Long Years, 297 
 
 XXV— A Sudden Coup, 312 
 
 XXVI— "Hank hezther Right!" 327 
 
SOME WORDS PREFATORY. 
 
 In writinj^ that series of Tales of the Border, during the 
 late war between the states, — of which Creole and Puritan, 
 its sequel. The Puritan's Daughter, and A Fair Blockade 
 Breaker are a part, I have often been tempted toward a 
 wholl}' new and untrodden field that lay near; and one 
 promising rich reward to the gleaning by the proper and 
 fearless hand. 
 
 But to work that field demanded more scope and space 
 than the limits of a minor modern novel afibrds; and the 
 harvest — such as it might be— has been again and again 
 delayed ; until the desire for its experiment grew so domi- 
 nant as to push aside all engagement for, or profit from, 
 the smaller crop; and to force the essay of the present. 
 
 In the wild and almost inaccessible mountain fastnesses of 
 the three tangent states — Georgia, Alabama and Ten- 
 nessee — lurked in hiding an irregular array of "bush- 
 whackers," deserters from the Southern army, and strag- 
 gling skulkers from Union raids. Totally unorganized, 3'et 
 banded together in some sort for purposes of self-protection, 
 of plunder, or of nameless deeds of deviltry — these outlaws 
 terrorized all non-combatants left at home, and often 
 proved no contemptible opponents for the regular army 
 raiders sent to capture, destroy, or drive them out. Agile, 
 alert, desperate, and hopeless of mercy, they were equally 
 cruel to the unresisting, and fearless of the armed lorces 
 sent for their protection. 
 
 Another outgrowth of the war — glibly mentioned as 
 Loyalists, Unionists, or Scalawags, at the North — are 
 equally misunderstood beyond the borders of the then con- 
 federated South. Some of these were men of means, educa- 
 tion, and good social standing; original "Union-men," 
 from principle or reason, and anti-secessionists who had 
 been submerged b}' the resistless flood of popular opinion 
 about them. Others were the long time bitter opponents 
 of the democratic party of their sections; alwaAS in the 
 minority, 3'et grimly tenacious of their rights and princi- 
 
Vlll PREFACE. 
 
 pies. Others again were "loyal " from the lower motives 
 of personal safety, or of temporary profit ; but these last 
 ••jvere chary of open expression and carried water — of the 
 bilge description — upon both shoulders, on occasion. 
 
 Both of these products of the war time are equally- 
 unknown to the general reader of to-day, at the South as 
 well as at the North — the very nominis umbrse. The busy 
 rush of action during hostilities— the struggle for bare 
 bread immediately after their close — prevented record by 
 those who were near enough to study either species; and 
 the automatic Chinese wall, reared about the belligerent 
 South, shut out the most curious gaze of the real thinkers 
 beyond it. And, therefore, I have endeavored to portray 
 the Southern Unionist from principle, of the average type; 
 the man who believed he was right and, so believing, 
 became the fanatic through pressure of the very animosi- 
 ties and trials, that his moral isolation itself forced upon 
 him. 
 
 John Hoeden is a concreted portrait; a composition of 
 many features that came under my observation during the 
 war. I have hope that he will be recognized as such, in 
 more localities than the one in which he is here ibund 
 placed. His son. Hank, is more directly the work of the 
 camera. The incident of his eluding capture by the scout- 
 ing squad, is a real one; as is that of the log-hut dance, 
 where his father shoots his supposed hunter. As for the 
 "bushwhackers,"' they are in no line overdrawn. With 
 them I owe recognition to appreciated assistance from 
 Captain Erwin Ledyard, an Alabamian of good old Ten- 
 nessee stock, who served in Sand Mountain camps and 
 scouts, after bringing three leaden souvenirs of Malvern 
 Hill back to his own state. 
 
 Several oftlie other characters of this romance are actual 
 photographs from life, as those who knew General Forrest, 
 Pi-esident "Andj" Johnson, or Judge Joseph Holt, will 
 avouch. In man}' instances, their very words are used; 
 and the interview with the president, while in no sense 
 verbatim, reflects with absolute accuracy his views upon 
 "Reconstruction" and the proper course for the Southern 
 States to pursue; and especially his own estimate of his 
 attitude toward congress, as expressed personally to me in 
 his own ofliice. 
 
 My heroines— if such they be— are not drawn from the 
 silk clad simperers of the society novelist's models. They 
 are photographs, if unnamed ones, of women produced by 
 a "storm-and-stress" period unmatched in histor\' ; a 
 
PREFACE. IX 
 
 period that made courage, daring, endurance and self-sacri- 
 fice almost cheap, through their irequent finding under the 
 young girl's bodice. If I have thrown the glamour of 
 romance about one great act of Aliss Emma Sanson, no 
 addition was needed to illuminate the daring of her deed. 
 That eighteen-3'ear mountain girl sat calmly behind 
 Forrest's saddle, piloting him across the swollen ford of 
 Black Creek, under the galling fire of Streight's sharp- 
 shooters. Not even comment is needed upon her coolness 
 and courage on that occasion, now passed coldly into 
 history. 
 
 Neither have I overdrawn the seething ferment of social 
 and political Washington in days near succedent to the 
 war; nor the close reaction of the social or the business 
 relation upon the political. Reared and educated at the 
 capital, familiar with it in various aspects since — I have 
 never seen there days so uncertain, so illogical, or so filled 
 with smoldering of the dangerous fires of suspicion or of 
 hate. 
 
 The sole aim of this novel is to place before its reader a 
 plain picture of the time embraced by it; to "nothing 
 extenuate, nor set down aught in malice." It was a period 
 replete with doubt, suspicion and danger; but it was 
 ■equalh^ full of heroism, grandeur and romance. 
 
 Finall , more meo, I have sought to avoid manufactur- 
 ing demi-gods out of the Southern — devils out of the 
 Northern — characters of my story. I have tried to write 
 of both, as I did in my more serious work. Four Years in 
 Rebel Capitals, which received its highest meed from 
 Northern sources; believing, as I doconscientiously, that a 
 common race, with common ambitions inborn and devel- 
 oped by common educational systems, must effect much 
 the same results, under similar circumstances. For there 
 is more of philosoph\' than of sentiment in the words, now 
 axiomatic, of the great Englishman: "Good in all, and 
 none all-good ! " 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 Mobile, Ala., February, 1893. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ox THE deserters' TRAIL. 
 
 Evening fell upon the mountain, dreary, damp and 
 dim, with that chill in the air not infrequent, even in 
 summer, on the southern spurs of the great Cumber- 
 land Range, when "the cloud is down upon the 
 mountain," as the "covites" of those localities 
 express it. 
 
 All that day long, a small and measurably dingy 
 column of cavalr\' — or, as Lord Wolseley would have 
 called them, mounted infantrj' — had plodded wearily 
 around the steep and ragged curves of road, ascend- 
 ing Sand Mountain, in North Alabama. Its object- 
 ive point was the county seat of DeKalb county, 
 which its commander had calculated upon reaching 
 by nightfall ; but, in mountain marches, man pro- 
 poses, often to find that God disposes differently. In 
 this case Captain Shelby had found the roads execra- 
 ble, loose, rutted and offering but insecure footing to 
 his not too sure-footed mounts, from the lowlands. 
 Besides, two wide detours from the direct route had 
 
12 JOHN HOLDEN. UNIONIST. 
 
 consumed valuable time; for this column was always 
 making detours. Two wrecks before, it had left Gads- 
 den with orders to scout carefully through every por- 
 tion of the Sand Mountain region; and to arrest 
 every deserter and outlying conscript possible to 
 find. If the deserters could not be caught — and 
 those gentry often proved as slippery as eels in those 
 days, — then it w^as hoped that the column could suc- 
 ceed in driving them across the Tennessee river, into 
 the Federal lines; thus relieving the residents, who 
 were loyal to the Southern flag, from their frequent 
 threats and still more constant depredations. 
 
 The deserter from the Southern army in those days 
 partook largely of the nature and attributes of the 
 latter-day tramp. He left his command carrying a 
 hunger equal to that of Gargantua ; and this grew 
 apace as he lay in hiding in the woods and mountain 
 gorges of the three tangent states, Alabama, Georgia 
 and Tennessee. His code of ethics, moreover, was 
 flexible enough to permit of wade-stretching con- 
 struction as to the modes of gratifying his appetite, 
 and as to differentiation of meum and tuum. Know- 
 ing that w^ild country thoroughly; agile, shrewd, 
 desperate ; and replacing true courage by keen cun- 
 ning and cruelty to the weak, — the skulker was ever 
 hard to trap. So, w^hile this cavalry column's quest 
 had shown no very large "bag" of its human game, 
 it had already had plenty of hunting, and was pretty 
 well tired of the chase. 
 
 Now, as it halted on the crest of a tall spur, over- 
 looking a long, narrow and deep-cupped stretch of 
 cove, — as the mountaineers call those patches of 
 
 il 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 13 
 
 more level vallej^ ever recurrent, — the outlook was 
 not most cheering to the prosaic view of the tired 
 trooper, however picturesque, as a study in grays, it 
 might have proved to the eye of the artist. 
 
 Dipping in abrupt descent, stretched away the pre- 
 cipitous sides of the mountain, as though to bathe 
 its rugged feet in the curving w^ater-courses far 
 below. These, wholly invisible through their screen 
 of heavy woods, might yet be plainh' traced by rising 
 patches of white mist, dense and clearly outlined 
 against the deep shadows of green, yet lifting smoke- 
 like above the tree tops and floating in masses of 
 carded wool. Further off still, loomed heav\' cumuli 
 of dense black cloud, resting low" enough to blend 
 wnth the dim shadow of distant woods, while lighter 
 clouds, advancing like skirmishers, scudded swiftly 
 across the heavens overhead — advance of the storm 
 forces embrasured in the gloomy west. Dead still- 
 ness hung over the scene, broken only b}' irregular 
 plash of moisture, as it condensed and dripped from 
 leaf and bough. Far as eye might reach, not one 
 glimmer of lamp or fire pierced the fast-falling gloom, 
 to hint of habitation or of shelter. 
 
 At the head ot the halted cavalry column sat two 
 figures, advanced be\'ond the rest, but bearing no 
 rank marks on their well-worn fatigue jackets. One 
 was a bluff, jovial faced man of perhaps thirty years, 
 his sturdy", erect frame and the commandful glance of 
 his blue eyes alone marking him from the rest; for 
 his untrimmed hair and beard, no less than his red- 
 rusty boots, evidenced the passage of many weeks 
 since Captain Tennant Shelby had bestowed much 
 
14 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 time upon personal adornment. His companion, 
 taller, slighter, less tanned and far more jaunty in 
 manner as well as uniform, could not have passed his 
 majority many months ; his slight, brown mustache 
 curving into that careful twist which speaks the fre- 
 quency of prideful caress in early manhood. Lieu- 
 tenant Beverly Latham was a truant, although one 
 slight wound had already helped him to celebrate his 
 self-given holiday. He had left the famed Virginia 
 Military Institute two years before to follow the 
 drum, which good fortune had combined with his 
 horse-love and natural tastes to exchange for the 
 bugle. From good old stock of the Old Dominion ; 
 petted at home, as only the only son may be by elder 
 sisters; popular and bright among his classmates, 
 while more quick than studious ; devoted to pleasure 
 and "the German,"— the young soldier had still 
 proved that there was good stuff in him ; and, while 
 scarce fit for active service after his wound, his trans- 
 fer and promotion had come together, bringing him 
 into General Forrest's command. 
 
 "You'll catch your troop yet, Bev.," Shelby, his 
 new captain, had said to him at the camp-fire, after 
 a hot skirmish ; adding in extenuation of prophecy, 
 "Unless a minie ball catches you first!" 
 
 And now it was the junior who first broke the 
 silence, as both men peered earnestly up the 
 unpromising and fast darkening ascent. 
 
 "See here, captain," he queried, cheerily, "how 
 much further do you suppose it is to that blessed 
 town, where we may count upon a feast of ancient 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST, 15 
 
 chicken, leathery dumpling and second-hand corn 
 dodger?" 
 
 "Something like nine mile, I guess," the senior 
 answered ; and with his words came a close, rattling 
 peal of thunder, seemingly at their very ears, as 
 mountain claps often sound. Next instant, the dense 
 cloud was shorn clear across by a flash of ragged 
 lightning, of such vivid yellow as to blind man and 
 beast alike. 
 
 Latham's horse reared upright, coming down per- 
 ilously close to the brink of the chasm, yawning black 
 below. But the practiced hand held him in easy con- 
 trol, and he stood panting and trembling, but still. 
 
 Shelby backed his beast a step or two, as he said 
 shortly : 
 
 "Pretty close, that! It's growing dark, too." 
 
 "Yes," Lathan replied, patting his horse's neck; 
 "Night has 'drawn her sable mantle round;' but, if 
 she have really ' pinned it with a star, ' she carefully 
 conceals that jewel from any marauder's eye. It 
 promises a nasty night, Cap., and not far off, 
 either." 
 
 For sole reply, Shelby gathered his horse and 
 ranged to the column head, with the brief order: 
 "Squad, 'tention ! To the right, by twos — March ! " 
 And promptly the silence w^as broken by regular beat 
 of heavy hoof and the rattle of arms, as the thick- 
 skirting undergrowth caught the troopers, moving 
 in double file. 
 
 "Are there any fords, or broken bridges between 
 here and the town? "the lieutenant asked, as they 
 again caught the dimly-seen trail. 
 
16 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "I believe so ; but to tell the truth, Bev., it is a long^ 
 time since I passed over this road, and not one of my 
 men knows anything about it." 
 
 "Then call me into council of war, Cap., and I'll 
 suggest to send a scout for some place nearer, where 
 we can spend the night and make up time after day- 
 light. I have a foolish objection to breaking my 
 neck in a North Alabama mountain, after being shot 
 in Virginia." 
 
 In answer to this flippant philosophy came the 
 slow patter of great drops upon the leaves, rapidly 
 increasing to a stead\' rain, while the lower descend- 
 ing clouds sent out their menace in dull, rumbling 
 peals. 
 
 "You're right, Bev.," the captain answered ; "tho' 
 I don't think 3'ou were born to have your neck 
 broken — that way. Corporal Haber.sham," he 
 ordered, turning in saddle, "dismount and scout the 
 path ahead for some crossing wagon road. We may 
 find one leading to some sort of farm, or charcoal 
 kiln," he added to Latham, as the trooper threw his 
 bridle to his fellow, slung out of saddle and strode 
 sturdily ahead, the mounted men following at slowest 
 walk of their jaded beasts. 
 
 Suddenly both officers' horses halted, with an 
 abrupt, jolting jerk, planting their forefeet and snort- 
 ing with fear, as they stretched tense necks toward 
 the dense growth skirting the right of the path. 
 Simultaneously a vivid flash lit the mountain side 
 into lurid distinctness. Simultaneously, too, both 
 officers uttered suppressed exclamations, and 
 Latham's right hand went instinctively to the holster 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 17 
 
 on his hip ; but Shelby's firm hand touched his left 
 arm, as it pointed into the wood. Then all was 
 jetty darkness again, and dead stillness, broken only 
 by the click of two revolver locks. 
 
 "Don't shoot! " the captain whispered. "It maj^ 
 not be a man. Wait for the next flash." 
 
 "Did you see him, too? " Latham \vhispered back. 
 
 "I saw a tall, white figure by that jagged chestnut- 
 oak ahead," the senior replied, in the same tone. "It 
 hardly seemed a man; more like a ghost ! " 
 
 "Or a woman," Latham retorted. "Men don't 
 wear white clothes in these parts ; and any reputable 
 ghost v^ould keep indoors such a night ! " 
 
 "Right; keep the spot covered," was the reply. 
 "We'll halt and question her on the next flash." 
 
 *' Bless the sex !" Latham whispered, gaily. " This 
 wandering Venus can have m}^ waterproof, if she'll 
 only direct us to com pone and supper. See! " — He 
 interrupted himself as another flash came. 
 
 The point which both pistols covered was empty 
 but, forty yards awa}- from the chestnut-oak, a white, 
 ghostly-gleaming figure flitted across the road, only 
 to be lost in the deeper darkness quick succeeding. 
 
 "Halt! Who goes there?" The corporal's gruff 
 challenge rang out ahead, as his carbine rattled to a 
 ready ; but only patter of the rain came for an answer, 
 as the cautious stepping horses closed on the dis- 
 mounted scout. 
 
 " What was it, corporal ? " 
 
 "Blest if I know! Cap'n. It seemed either a 
 woman, or a — " 
 
 2 
 
18 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Not a ghost!" Latham broke in. "It was a 
 female angel, in mountaineer form! Wherever 
 -woman is, the kitchen must be near ; and I am as 
 hungry as a wolf! " 
 
 "Which way?" queried the commander, shortly. 
 
 " Crossed to the left, a little ahead, sir," the soldier 
 answered. 
 
 "Forward!" was the command; and a hundred 
 paces brought the party to what had been a broad 
 wagon track, now half overgrown w^ith scrub, from 
 long disuse. The scout remounted, the column 
 turned to the left, moving very slowly and cautiously 
 over the rough road, alter each flash of lightning. 
 But the irrepressible spirits of the lieutenant rose at 
 the prospect of possible supper; and he quoted gaily 
 and glibly : 'Honor to woman! To her it is given 
 to garland dull earth with the roses of heaven ! ' But 
 should she lack the roses. Cap., we'll take commu- 
 tation in kind, in corn pone and bacon, and swear 
 that they ' have been near the rose ; ' eh ? " 
 
 "Look! There it is again! "the captain interrupted 
 suddenly, pointing straight ahead, as the glare of a 
 long-lived flash lit up unusual distance. And, on the 
 very verge of the shadow, the tall white figure flitted 
 swiftly across the cleared space; disappearing into 
 the brush even before the gleam died into inky night 
 once more. 
 
 "A woman, without doubt," the senior said. 
 
 "Right you are, Cap.," his junior answered. "I 
 am no Don Juan myself, but there's no mistake this 
 time. Shade of Epicurus ! but I hope she has been 
 out foraging. No other excuse would warrant her 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 19 
 
 being out in such weather. May the gods of appetite 
 and 'of love combine to bring us to her more, or less, 
 hospitable board !" 
 
 "It cannot be very far," the older campaigner 
 answered. "Even a mountain woman would not 
 risk a long tramp in such a storm. Close up, men ! 
 Forward!" 
 
 Still slowdj^ — still moving carefully through the 
 tough low growth — ^the column advanced along the 
 now curving wa}- ; halting without command, when 
 the flashes were long intervaled. At last the cleared 
 path entered a straight reach ; and suddenly Latham 
 cried : 
 
 "Look! Ha! the roses at last! I smell them 
 through the storm." 
 
 He pointed ahead as he spoke. For an instant a 
 tall red gleam, as of an opening door, showed human 
 habitation probable. But, even with his words, the 
 gleam disappeared and all was black again. A hun- 
 dred yards further brought them into a wider clear- 
 ing; the uncertain lightning showing what might be 
 fields, but fenceless and bare. A single tall chimney 
 pointed to heaven, like an abandoned lighthouse; 
 and round it lay what might be debris of a burned 
 farm-house. Still beyond, the next flash showed the 
 wearied men a low, rough log-house, flanked by a 
 shed-stable, probable outbuildings of the missing 
 mansion. But not one gleam of light showed any- 
 where; and the dead stillness, as the column halted, 
 was broken only by the rattle and tramp of their 
 own movement. No voice of man or of beast wel- 
 comed the wayfarers to hoped-for rest. 
 
20 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Let me reconnoiter, Cap.," Latham volunteered. 
 " There in ay be sleepers in the cabin." 
 
 "Take the sergeant and two men," ordered the 
 more cautious senior. "There may be bushwhackers 
 in the shed, too. Squad, 'tention! Unsling carbines I 
 Lieutenant Latham, you and your men lie down, if 
 fired on ! Men, if there is any shooting from the 
 houses, fire at the flash ! Now^, sir, forward and 
 reconnoiter! " 
 
 As the lightning show^ed, Latham took his bear- 
 ings, dismounted and advanced on foot, followed by 
 two dismounted troopers. All was still and black as 
 the\' reached the log house, and the rain descended 
 now in almost blinding sheets. To his cheery- hail 
 the officer received no response, and he rapped sharply 
 on the door with the butt of his pistol. Still no 
 answer came; and, growing impatient, he fumbled 
 for the latch, onU^ to find that its yielding showed 
 the door barred within. Again he rapped ; this time 
 louder and somewhat angrily, as he called : 
 
 "Open the door! Open, I say! in the name of the 
 Confederate States !" 
 
 No sound came from the house ; and the now irate 
 cavalryman drew back to kick against the door, 
 when there came the creak of rusty iron to his ear 
 from the side of the cabin. Turning quickly at the 
 sound, Latham caught the faint gleam of a light, as 
 though a shutter had opened. If so, it had been as 
 quickly closed, for the supposed glimmer had disap- 
 peared, and all was still. 
 
 "Force the door, men!" he ordered; and the not 
 unwilling troopers threw heawj shoulders against 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 21 
 
 the planks, that shook but did not yield. But the 
 menace brought voice to the inmate at last; for a 
 deep, resonant call came from within : 
 
 "Hold on, thar ! Who be ye, raidin' a home at this 
 yower? " 
 
 "Friends ! " replied Latham. " Open andlet usin ! " 
 
CHAPTER IT. 
 
 A LATTER DAY TORY. 
 
 The gay lieutenant's laughing philosophy had 
 struck the truth. It was no ghost that had startled 
 their horses on the mountain side, but a real woman, 
 of as much flesh and blood as mountain motherhood, 
 wearing anxiety and scant fare had left to her share. 
 Tall, gaunt, and rawboned, she seemed wholly care- 
 less of the storm, although her rain-soaked clothing 
 of coarsest homespun clung to the thin limbs, and a 
 steady rill poured from the faded shawl drawn over 
 her head, its sole protection from the storm. 
 
 But, crouched close against the huge trunk of a 
 spreading chestnut-oak, the woman recked little of 
 the w^arring elements without ; for those within were 
 in fierce struggle, judged from their flitting across her 
 face, as it showed in the transient gleams of light- 
 ning. It was a strong face ; and had perhaps been a 
 pretty one, too ; but the fingers of Time and of Care 
 had passed their acid sponges over it long ago ; and 
 now its parchment — like that of the palimpsest — 
 showed onl^"- deep lines, etched by the mordant of 
 suffering, that furrowed and hardened it into prema- 
 ture age. But, beneath the unkempt yellow hair and 
 the sparse, whitish eyebrows, a pair of green-blue 
 
 22 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 23 
 
 eyes literally blazed out above the sunken cheeks and 
 the pinched lips, giving strong, if weird, character to 
 the face. 
 
 And those eyes never left the column of cavalry as 
 it toiled along the rough roadway ; the woman 
 moving in advance of it, cautious, noiseless, tena- 
 cious as a Fate. But that she was wholly human, 
 and no Will-o'-th'-Wisp leading them to destruction, 
 the vivid play of emotions over her face plainly 
 showed. Cunning and fear, hate and eager curiosity 
 were there, all dominated bv vearning anxietv. 
 When the column had halted, just before the storm, 
 this woman's ej'cs had burned dowm on them in 
 fierce scrutiny from the vantage of a higher ledge of 
 rock. 
 
 " Tha's Johnnies, sho'ly," she muttered to herself 
 "Ef tha'snot ther same lot, et's sum critter cump'ny 
 a-huntin' my man! The're doan be no differ— 
 a-huntin' Hank all th' same! " 
 
 When the line took up its march again, this strange 
 spy lay in hiding until its advance had almost 
 reached her covert ; then gliding a little beyond it, 
 alert, noiseless and sure of foot, but wholly heedless 
 of darkness and of storm. 
 
 At the halt, the click of pistols told the woman that 
 the lightning had betrayed her; and, drawing the 
 drenched shawl closer about her head, she plunged 
 deeper into the thicket, unmindful of the shots likely 
 to follow her. Cutting off the detour, she raced 
 through the gloom of w^oods ; and was running across 
 the wagfon track into the clearing bevond when 
 
24 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Latham caught the second glimpse of his "Mountain 
 Venus," and apostrophized her in Schiller's words. 
 
 As she sped on, cunning and experience alike told 
 the woman that the troopers must stick to the 
 unknown roadway, and await the flashes, while she 
 crossed the disused field and reached the house. Open- 
 ing the door scarce wide enough to admit her slim 
 form, she slammed and bolted it; placed her back 
 against it and, swishing her drenched shawl to the 
 floor, panted out : 
 
 " Tha's a-cummin', paw ! I spied th' critter cump'- 
 ny ! Et's in th' road now — a-cummin' fur Hank ! " 
 
 A glowing bed of coals on the rude hearth cast 
 weird shadows about the rough room, both of its 
 sashless windows being closed with heavy shutters. 
 Two rough bunks and a long plank dresser occupied 
 the sides of the apartment, its furniture completed by 
 aheap of brush fire-wood, and sawed-ofif logs to 
 replace missing chairs. From one of these the sole 
 occupant rose to face the woman; and, standing in 
 the red light of the coals, he had proved fit model for 
 Dore, in his stronger mood. 
 
 Tall, rawboned and angular, the figure still showed 
 signs of uncommon strength, strongly emphasized by 
 the lean, muscular arms, bare to the elbow, and the 
 great brown, knotted hands that terminated them. 
 As he rose erect, the man towered far above the 
 usual height even of mountaineers, spite of a stoop 
 of shoulders that sent forward, in eager-seeming 
 quest, the large square topped and grizzled head. 
 The coarse blue jeans shirt, open at the neck, showed 
 the brawny and hirsute chest ; while the long, lithe 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 25 
 
 legs were firm set and strong, as he stood. The 
 man's face would have been a marked one in any con- 
 gregation of types. The broad, retreating forehead, 
 with long, grizzled locks on either side, was beetled 
 with shaggy, gray eyebrows. Beneath them, out of 
 the shadows of abroad based, aquiline nose, gleamed 
 a pair of very deep-set eyes, greenish hued, as were 
 the woman's, but with a red glare in them which 
 ^dded a singular power to his glance. Very long and 
 thin, but square and firm set, jaws terminated in ears 
 of unusual size, bristling with hair coarse as that of 
 the wild boar; but the whole face was beardless, 
 showing the close, straight set of lips that might be 
 gentle or cruel, as either mood swayed the man. 
 
 Prompth' and firmly as he rose to his feet, there 
 was yet a grave deliberation about the old man, — 
 for he must have well passed sixty years, — and there 
 was measured sonorousness in the hard but deep 
 voice that answered the woman's panting cry: 
 
 " Yer be n't errin', be yer, gell?" The mountaineer 
 of that region ever shows an indirectness in placing a 
 negatived query, even before a statement of fact ; a 
 result of habit, doubtless, in this case, rather than of 
 character. "Yer hain't ben takin' critters fur soljers, 
 hez yer?" 
 
 "Sho' I hain't, paw! Th' critter cump'ny's en th' 
 path now; twenty on 'em, an' two cap'ns !" 
 
 "Whar's Hank?" The old man's eyes glowed; 
 and his bony hand instinctively clutched the long 
 hunting rifle, leaning against the wall, 
 
 "I dunno, paw! Hain't seen my man fur two 
 whole day. He war to be yer tur night ; but reck'n 
 
26 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 he'sla^-in' in th' ole hidin' now. That ben't no use!'^ 
 She touched the rifle as she spoke. "Tha's too 
 many; twenty with guns an' choppin' knives — all 
 arter Hank ! He mus' be warnt." 
 
 An ugHer gleam came from the old man's eyes, as 
 the hard fingers shut closer round the rifle barrel. 
 But he only lilted his right hand above his head, in 
 menacing imprecation, as he growled : 
 
 "Ther Lord's curse on 'em all — root an' branch! 
 Ther bloody, man-huntin' devils!" Then, rapidly yet 
 deliberately, he added: "Yes; he must be warnt! 
 Yer ben't skeert, gell, be yer? Then speed an' warn 
 yer man! No; not by thar," he cautioned, as the 
 woman gathered her drenched shawl and touched 
 the wooden door-bolt. " Git by hither !" 
 
 The soft plash of hoofs upon wet ground, and the 
 low murmur of voices without, reached his ear as he 
 spoke, telling both there was short time for escape, 
 as the man opened the creaking shutter cautiously 
 and only far enough for the frail body of the woman 
 to slip out into the storm once more. But, even as- 
 Latham's quick eye detected the doubtful gleam, all 
 was dark again; and the woman was speeding 
 through the rain straight into the black woods. 
 
 A moment later came the summons at his door; 
 the old man standing grim and defiant facing it, but 
 silent to gain her time. Once more he raised his 
 clinched hand on high ; and once more the evil gleam 
 deepened in his eyes, as his lips moved in wordless 
 curse. Then, at the last rough summons, he spoke^ 
 strode to the door and threw it wide. The gleam of 
 the fire, lighting the misty night into steam, went 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 2T 
 
 out cheerily to the drenched men ; the party advanc- 
 ing rapidly, carbine in hand. 
 
 "Halt!" rang Shelby'-s voice. "Stranger, we need 
 shelter for the night. Can w^e get it ? " 
 
 The motionless man in the doorway measured the 
 group cautiously but deliberateh^ his back to the 
 fire and his face unseen. Then he replied slowly : 
 
 "Course yer kin; an' thet 'thout help 'long o' me. 
 Yer'll tek wot yer need, axin' er t'uther." 
 
 "Are you alone here?" the captain asked. 
 
 "I war 'tell yer 'vaded my place," was the grim 
 reply of the unwilling host. "Them sheds thar be 
 empty. I hain't got no victual, but thar's wood 
 bey ant." 
 
 With prompt decision Shelb}' dismounted ; and the 
 sergeant, with scant ceremony, brushed by the head 
 of the house and seized a blazing stick from the 
 hearth. Soon, with that alacrit^^to utilize the worst 
 circumstances common to the trooper in blue or in 
 gray, each man had his horse under shelter of the not 
 clean shed, had rubbed him with a wisp of the scat- 
 tered straw, and was trying to dry himself at one of 
 the cheerful fires dotting the front. Some, too wearv 
 to care for wet, had stretched beside their beasts, 
 saddle pillowed, and already slept the sleep of the 
 good digestion — albeit with slack exercise for it. 
 
 "Send out one picket each way, sergeant; and. 
 keep one post stable-guard," the captain ordered, 
 adding: "This is a precious night for bushwhackers; 
 and we can't spare one man — or horse ! " 
 
 With this caution, he and Latham turned into the 
 house, each instinctively feeling if his pistol was loose- 
 
'28 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 in holster. Unceremoniously the two officers passed 
 to the fire, placing their backs so near it that a steamy 
 mist rose from their soaked clothing; but their 
 ungracious host still stood in the doorway, facing 
 them, silent and grim. 
 
 "Who are you, my man?" Shelb}' queried, bluntly. 
 
 "I ben't yer man, be I?" was the deliberate 
 response. "I beafreecit'zen ov Alabama state, soljer, 
 an' thet's a mighty differ." 
 
 "Well, then, what are you besides? " 
 
 "I be John Holden; an' I hev farm'd 'roun yere 
 nigh onto forty year, afore this cursid war riz ter 
 distroy ther Ian' ! May the Lord's blight fall on 
 'em ez made it ! " 
 
 Shelby made no reply, only slipping a greasy note- 
 book from an inner pocket and scanning a page by 
 the firelight; but Latham turned sharph^ on the 
 rebellious speaker : 
 
 "You don't speak very loyally for an Alabam- 
 ian!" 
 
 Gravely, but with an ugly glint in his eyes, the old 
 man measured the youth from head to heel ; then 
 answered very slowly and bitterly: 
 
 "I doan' speak loil, doan' I ? I war loil terth'guv'- 
 ment afore yer war born, young soljer; an' I swar 
 I'm too ole ter larn new tricks ! Curse ther war ! " he 
 went on, with deeper voice and raised right hand. 
 " Curse ther spillin' ov blood ter mek breth'rin, the 
 starvin' ov wimmin ter mek peace an' good will! 
 Curse o' th' Lord on ther skulkin' hunters ov po' 
 devils, lyin' out starvin' on ther mounting! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 2&' 
 
 "You talk like a traitor, old man!" Shelby said. 
 
 "Yer talk like a nigger-trader, young soljer," 
 Holden retorted, in the same delibera'te voice ; but the 
 veins swelled out on the hard hand that gripped his 
 gun and his eyes literally blazed. "John Holden 
 talks no differ ez he talked in ther convenshun, wen 
 he stud fur right, an' light, an' God's jestice, 'gin ther 
 whole sesesh ! Tha 'lowed then tha'd hang him fur 
 th' truth; but he ain't hanged yit, air he? John 
 Holden talks under his own roof ez he'll talk at th' 
 bar o' jedgment ; an' he be n't owin' noloilt}" to sech 
 ez ye be ! " 
 
 "Well, 3^ou're safe from us, so long as you only 
 talk," Shelby rejoined, quietly. "We are soldiers, 
 not law\'ers; and we are your guests to-night, 
 besides." 
 
 "An' ov yer own axin', too," was the uncompro- 
 mising retort. 
 
 "All the same, we hope to sample jour salt," 
 Latham put in gaih', "for we're devilish hungry alter 
 our bath. But, all the same, you'll find a less dis- 
 loyal tongue more safe." 
 
 "I'm not a-huntin' ov safety 'long o' ye," the old 
 man answered doggedly. "I tell 3'er agin, this man- 
 huntin' is dirty bizness fer eny soljer; an' a dirty 
 night th' Lord hev sent ye fur it ! John Holden war 
 agin ther war from fust! He'll live an' die agin it! 
 He war reck'n'd good 'nuff an' loil enufif ter send to 
 ther convenshun, an' he stud agin 'em all. But th' 
 Lord's curse was on 'em; an' they row'd an' fit an' 
 'low'd fur standin' out 'gin ther guv'ment; an' none 
 ov'em knowed wh\^, 'cepn' along ovth' niggers! An*" 
 
30 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST 
 
 in the mountings, we hain't own'd no niggers, hez 
 we? An' we never 'spects ter. JohnHoldentole 'em 
 th' Lord's truth then ; an' he hain't larnt ter talk no 
 differ yit! Who ge'en Jeff Davis ther rite ter order 
 me an' my flesh to fight inter th' war? Who ge'en ye 
 ther rite ter 'vade roun'yere, a-skeerin'lone wimmin, 
 an' a-huntin' huming game? Warn't et enuff ter 
 strip th' Ian' o' men an' crops an' critters? Furnow 
 an' fur doomsday, I say, curse ther war ! Curse Jeff 
 Davis an' his hull crew, a-harryin' po' devils in ther 
 mountings! " 
 
 "Shut your treasonous mouth!" Latham began, 
 striding one step toward the staunch old bigot. But 
 Shelby restrained him with the quiet words : 
 
 "Steady, Latham. We have no orders to try 
 traitors. Besides, we are under his roof." 
 
 "An' ther do's open yit, ef yer doan' keer ter stay, 
 young soljer ! " Holden added, grimly. 
 
 "Thanks; but I'll sta}^" Latham replied, with 
 returning good humor. " Better keep a closer tongue, 
 though. You might say what would force the cap- 
 tain to carry you along; and, frankly, I do not think 
 you would be a congenial messmate." 
 
 "He is right, Holden," Shelby said, gravely. "We 
 are not sent here to talk politics ; but I cannot listen 
 to rank treason, even when born of overzeal for your" 
 — ^he paused a moment, then added slowly — "your 
 friends, out in hiding such a night as this !" 
 
 The mountaineer made no reply in words, but the 
 evil red gleam deepened in his eyes at the last words, 
 and his lower jaw set harder against its fellow. He 
 still stood rigid in the open doorway; heedless of the 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 31 
 
 -driving rain and of the lurid flashes that lit his 
 figure into uncann}- seeming of a statued Vengeance. 
 
 "With your permission, mine host," Latham cried, 
 lightly, as he threw on dr^- brush, and both troopers 
 held their wet boots to the blaze. "I'd like to draw 
 mine off, for the first time in thirty-six hours ; but, 
 in such weather and in these parts, I have learned 
 that it is not a man's hat but his boots which fit too 
 tight in the morning. By the way," — he turned 
 cheerily to the motionless figure, — "I'd be glad to 
 loosen my belt, too, ifyou can possibly fill that aching 
 void it parth' coerces. Can 3'ou not give us a bite 
 and some coifee? We'll pay you well for it, old man." 
 
 The mountaineer made no reply for a moment. 
 Over his face the play of flitting emotions told of 
 inward struggle ; then the features settled into quiet 
 with the green-red eyes glinting with a cunning that 
 dominated hate. He leaned his rifle against the 
 wall, closed the door and strode to the fire ere he 
 answered : 
 
 "John Holden hain't a-sellin' grub ter soljers, bov! 
 But it hain't en him ter turn a dog, er a soljer, frum 
 his do', wet an' hungry! Keep yer Comfed'rit rag. 
 Yer be free ter share wot yer likes hev lef ' fur us ter 
 starve on. Ef ye do be agin us, ye shell eat !" 
 
 He raked some glowing coals out on the hearth, 
 with his huge, red brogan ; turned to the dresser and 
 produced platters with corn pone and salted meat ; 
 and placed a blackened coftee-pot upon the coals. 
 Scant ceremony was used by the hungry cavalrvmen ; 
 and, in a moment, altercation was replaced bv the 
 far more congenial working of three pairs of jaw^s. 
 
32 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 For Holden, too, sat on a sawed stump and ate 
 with his unbidden guests. And, though he ate as if 
 food had not passed his lips that day, the furtive 
 gleam of his eyes rested ceaselessly on one or the 
 other of the men, cunning blending with keen calcu- 
 lation, in the gaze. 
 
 Parched corn "coffee" was not nectar. Neither 
 could saltless corn pone and fat, rancid bacon replace 
 ambrosia. But never did festive gods on high 
 Olympus quaff or masticate with more eagerness and 
 earnestness, however higher may have soared appre- 
 ciation. But at last, even soldier appetite was 
 appeased ; and it was the younger officer that 
 unslung his canteen, covered with blue cloth, and 
 offered it to his host. 
 
 "Mr. Holden, we maj- not agree on the letter of 
 doctrine," he said saucih', "but we may join in the 
 spirit ! This canteqp should not offend you, for I — 
 hem! — borrowed it from a gentleman of your way of 
 thinking a short while back. There is still enough 
 in it lor two; will 3^ou join me?" He drew the 
 stopper, wiping the nozzle with his sleeve, as he 
 proffered the vessel to the old man. 
 
 " Nun ov thet fur me, j-oung man," Holden replied, 
 graveh" ; and his voice softened strangeh' as he 
 added: "I hain't never techt et sence my 'ooman 
 died. I ge'en her th' promis' as she war a-goin', an' 
 hev kep' ther wurd ! " 
 
 "Well, you can join me," Shelby put in, gazing 
 curiously at Holden. He drew a black briar pipe and 
 an India rubber bag from his damp pocket, as he 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 33 
 
 added: "This is genuine Lynchburg, and drives 
 away the blue devils." 
 
 "I hain't never pestered by th' devil," Holden 
 answered, gravely, "but I doan' puff nuthin', 
 nuther. Wen John Holden did git drunk, it were 
 alwa\'s on rale mounting licker. Sence he quit, he 
 ain't never keared ter pisin' himse'f on smoke. Light 
 yer owns; none on it fur me," and he turned quietly 
 to the dresser, with the now nearly emptied platters. 
 
 "He seems a regular old Arab as to his salt," 
 Latham whispered to his senior, "but more of a 
 Wahabee about rum and tobacco. He would shoot 
 either of us on the mountain side as a pleasant epi- 
 sode; but considers a sip and a cloud a crime! I 
 doubt if Mr. Holden has really read Monckton 
 Milnes ; but he is a Wahabee." 
 
 Both officers filled their pipes and puffed in silence 
 a while, Holden sitting grim and motionless between 
 the pair. Ever and again, as a horse nickered with- 
 out, his head bent further forward, as tho' in eager 
 listening ; and once, at the changed sentry's challenge, 
 he started to rise, in dread lest they had indeed 
 caught his boy. But, at last, Latham's pipe dropped 
 from his lips, as he dozed contentedly; and Shelby 
 knocked the ashes from his briar root, as he rose and 
 called cheerily : 
 
 "Taps ! Wake up, Bev. ! It's time to go to bed." 
 
 Holden pointed silently to the bunks, without 
 
 rising from his seat; and both officers spreading their 
 
 still damp coats over the logs, laid their w^aterproofs 
 
 and blankets on the hard board and prepared for 
 
34 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 soldier sleep. At his bunk, Shelby faced suddenly, 
 asking Holden : 
 
 ''Where is your son?" 
 Accustomed as he was to sudden surprises in his 
 mountain life, even the iron nerves of John Holden 
 nearly betrayed him. It was only for one instant 
 that he gave a slight start, and that his lips moved 
 without sound, in reply. The next, the face grew 
 stolid as before ; but the eyes, that shone with evil 
 gleam, were averted from Shelby's scrutiny, as he 
 answered, slow^ly : 
 
 "I 'low he's with his reege'm'nt. Hank war a 
 soljer, 'long o' you'uns, 'gin his pawn's wall." 
 
 "When did you see him last," Shelby again queried. 
 
 The lie, that personal peril had never w^rung from 
 
 the fanatical mountaineer, came glib and swift to 
 
 the father's fear ; and the voice was still unshaken 
 
 and slow that replied : 
 
 "Not sence he rid aw^ay ter jine ther critter cump'- 
 ny, a year cum nex' munth." 
 
 "Was he married ? " The querist was persistent. 
 One lurid gleam shot from the old man's eyes 
 into the calm soldier's. Then they fell again ; and the 
 voice was lower that answ^ered : 
 
 " Yes ; he war marrit ! " 
 
 "Had he children?" 
 
 "Hehed. One gell an' one peart boy. Ther kid 
 war named fur his gren'paw% John Holden." The 
 voice softened strangely and shook a trifle now, as it 
 added : "An' we berrit him jes five week gone ! " 
 
 "And his father never saw him? " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 35 
 
 No answer had been needed, more than the deadly 
 hate that glinted in the e\'es Holden turned upon his 
 questioner, as the black nails dug into his clinched 
 hands. But the soldier's e^'es — under strain of dis- 
 tasteful duty — were turned awa\^; and a supreme 
 effort once more controlled the old man, so that he 
 lied loyally : 
 
 "Naw; his daddy never seen 'im! " 
 
 "That was sad, indeed," the captain answered. 
 "Then there must be some error in this ? " He fixed 
 his eyes full upon the mountaineer's, again drew the 
 memorandum book from his pocket, and, never look- 
 ing at it, read from memorj^ : " ' Hank Holden, private 
 troop B, — th Alabama Cavalry ; six feet tall ; stoops ; 
 sandy hair; pock-marked. Deserted June 6, 1863;' 
 last seen near his home July 2, 1863'. — This cannot 
 be your son ? " 
 
 For as long as one might count fifty, the two men 
 stood, looking in each other's eyes ; those of the 
 officer stead}" and calm, \vhile the mountaineer's 
 deepened until their red gleam was fierce and wolfish. 
 Then John Holden rose from his seat, erect, defiant ; 
 and, raising his right hand high above his head, he 
 spoke deliberateh", but fiercely and with desperate 
 menace in his tone : 
 
 "Man, yer be tryin' ter trap me! John Holden be 
 known these parts roun'. He hain't never tole a lie 
 afore this cursid war ! He hain't a-lyin' now, wen he 
 tells yer this ; he hain't yit turned back ter no enimy, 
 er never went back on er frien' ! He hain't agoin' ter 
 lie agin, 'bout his boy ! Hank Holden — my boy— all 
 yer've lefF me now! Hank is a-lvin' out on ther 
 
36 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 mounting ter night; a-laidin' frum th' hunters his 
 paw's a-keepin' dry an' warm ! I hain't afeard tertell 
 ye; he's a-hidin thar, whar yer'U not fin' him, an' I'll 
 help him, ef God jedges me ! Ketch Hank, ef yer kin ! 
 Thet's wot JefiP Davis pays yer fur! Pays yer ter 
 keep th' conscrip' frum his starvin' wife — frum his 
 dyin' chile! Ketch Hank Holden, ef yer kin ; butheer 
 me now: ef yer harm one har of his head — ef yer 
 shoot my boy ! then I swar God's yoath ! " — his form 
 seemed to dilate and tower taller in the flickering 
 light, and the roof pole rang under his vibrant voice 
 —"1 swar thet I'll foller ye boath ter th' end o' th' 
 3^earth, but wot I'll do ter ye wot ye hevdone ter my 
 boy ! As sure as thar's a God up thar, or a devil in 
 hell I'll do jest that!" 
 
 The old man's voice — strident, yet solemn as a 
 curse — was still. Dead silence fell upon the trio ; and 
 the soldiers felt a thrill pass through them, from the 
 magnetic will of the resolute fanatic. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 FATHER AND SON. 
 
 Without, the rain still pattered on the leaves, but 
 with lighter fall; the growl of the thunder rolled 
 sullen but more distant, and the wild wail of the 
 storm wind fell into a dull moan. 
 
 Through the sounds of warring nature, suddenly 
 cut clear and sharp the ring of a distant shot. With 
 one impulse, the three men turned, listening; but, 
 before either could move, a second report rang out, 
 clearer and more near. Holden's lips moved, but no 
 word came Irom them, as he rushed to the door and 
 threw it wide. The others followed, but recoiled at 
 the threshold, as a vivid, blue flash of lightning 
 almost blinded them. Next instant, all three were 
 standing eagerly, bareheaded in the storm. 
 
 "Carbine firing," Latham said, peering under his 
 hand into the gloomy be3'ond. 
 
 "The last shot, yes," Shelby answered. "The first 
 shot was a rifle." 
 
 As the head of Holden towered behind them, his 
 thin lips formed the wordless prayer: "God help my 
 boy!" 
 
 The sergeant ran up soon, to report, hand to cap: 
 
 37 
 
38 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST'. 
 
 "A skulker about the nortli picket post, sir. Chal- 
 lenged, he fired at us; and our man answered." 
 
 "Was the picket hit, sergeant ? " 
 
 "No, sir; but the bullet cut his cape. The bush- 
 whacker fired at his flash." 
 
 "And got away, as usual," Latham added. 
 
 "Yes, sir. It's hard shooting in a night like this, 
 sir," the sergeant replied, apologeticalh'. 
 
 "An' he warn't born on ther mounting, ter be 
 killed b\^ hired hunters ! Ther Lord'll guard him on 
 his own groun'! " 
 
 Holden's voice was sonorous with conviction but 
 full of contemptuous hate ; and the captain turned 
 quick upon him : 
 
 "So you planned this !" 
 
 "Et ben't likely, be it?" was the calm rejoinder. 
 "You'uns warn't 'vited 3'ere, war 3'e? An' sence 
 yer've cum, I hain't leff ye, hev T ? But I do jedge as 
 ther man \vot \'er hunters driv off were mere comin' 
 ter his own right, under his paw's roof!" 
 
 "Your son!" Latham's tone showed his amaze 
 at the man's cool audacity. 
 
 "Like'r'n no, I jedge. En he hed er right ter cum. 
 He is in ther han's ov ther Lord, bo}' ! His time hev 
 got ter cum, but it hain't cum \'it, 3'er see. Untel et 
 shell, yer bullets — an' ther bullets ov ther hull Bragg 
 arm\' — hain't no pow'r ter harm Hank. He's en ther 
 Lord's hands ! Let him be !" 
 
 With these words the mountaineer raised his bared 
 head solemnly to the black vault above, standing 
 one moment still as though carved in stone. The 
 next, he turned deliberateh', moved back to the fire; 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 39 
 
 and, seating himself upon a log, seemed wrapped in 
 thought and wholly forgetful of his unbidden guests. 
 
 "He's mad as a March hare!" Latham whispered 
 to his senior, at the door. " Of course, though, he is 
 lying, to throw us off the track." 
 
 "Of course not," the captain answered. "It does 
 not surprise me that the deserter was trjang to meet 
 his'paw'; and you knowwewere not expected here." 
 
 "I suppose you are right," the junior responded. 
 "We must do some close beating of the bush about 
 here, to-morrow." 
 
 "We must, indeed. Sergeant, have the men ready 
 to move at first dawn. Double your picket, and 
 keep your eyes open." 
 
 With these words the officers re-entered the cabin, 
 closed the door and cast meaning glances upon the 
 motionless figure of the man at the fire. But he took 
 no note of their entry by word or glance, staring 
 absently into the coals with dreamy, absent gaze. 
 The soldiers exchanged glances, seemed satisfied that 
 their outside guard was sufficient and stretched out 
 on their blankets. Only Latham spoke, in a low 
 whisper, as he pulled his pistol butt well toward his 
 hand: 
 
 "I was right; he's mad as a March hare!" 
 Time passed heavily over the cabin, the night 
 watch of the sitter-up intruded upon by no sound 
 save the soft patter of rain, occasional distant thun- 
 der, and the deep, regular breathing of the sleeping 
 officers. The fire gradually died out, first into a 
 mass of glowing coals, then into the dull gray ash of 
 burnt brush. And then, the old man turned his head 
 
40 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 cautiously, and as in query, toward tlie sleepers. 
 But he only shook it slowly, in negative to his own 
 thought; remaining motionless upon his stump. At 
 last he turned again — the cabin now perfectly dark — 
 and listened intently. Then slowly, so slowly that 
 he scarce seemed to move at all, Holden left his seat, 
 falling upon hands and knees w4th the softness of a 
 cat. Gradually he moved — almost crawling flat 
 upon his face — to the door, pausing to listen at every 
 yard, and finally opening the latch without a sound. 
 Then he lay prone upon the sill; for the moon gave a 
 sickly gleam, that was scarcely light, as it peered for 
 a moment from behind the clouds. But it w-as only 
 for a moment. Then a heavy, dull cloud swept 
 across her face; and when the Goddess of Night next 
 peered down upon the doorway, it was empty and 
 the man was gone. 
 
 Where? Out through darkness, loneliness and 
 storm to find his boy, and warn him of the dangers 
 closing round about him. Crouched in the dense 
 shadows of the cabin, he crept away from stations 
 of the pickets, crossed the open space like a spirit, 
 and gained the deep shadowing woods, beyond the 
 chance of sound traveling upon the damp air. Then 
 he straightened to his full height ; fell into the long, 
 swinging stride of the mountaineer, and rapidlj^ 
 ascended the steepest side of the mountain, pathless 
 but almost bare of growth, save scrub and mountain 
 laurel. Once he stopped upon a ledge, overlooking 
 the fires at his own cabin, now far below him, bared 
 his head and lifted his right hand to the star- 
 less vault above. His lips moved rapidly, but no 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 41 
 
 word left them to shock the attent ear of Night, 
 whether his action was a menace or a vow. 
 
 Then, plunging deeper into the brush, and aided by 
 branch and overhanging stone, he clambered up 
 what might have been a cattle track. But cattle 
 were as scarce as Confederates in the mountains of 
 North Alabama in 1863, and Holden's way was as 
 arduous as it was steep. At last, he reached a nar- 
 row spur of stone, bare and projecting over the pre- 
 cipitous descent to the cove below. Lying flat upon 
 it, he gave a peculiar call, close imitation of the 
 mountain o\vl. Pausing a moment, he repeated it, 
 and then a third time gave the signal. 
 
 Not until then did answer come from beneath the 
 rock ; but soon a head was lifted cautiously over the 
 ledge, in the now fitful moon gleams ; the head was 
 followed by body and legs, laboriously drawn up, 
 and father and son clasped hands in a horny, but 
 meaningful, grip. The latter, a vigorous man just 
 past his early manhood, seemed to tally with 
 Shelby's description. 
 
 " Well, paw," he said, c|uietly, "tha's kind o' sur- 
 prised me, wen I cum ter nite." 
 
 "Wy willyer be so ventursom', Hank?" the old 
 man queried, softly. "Yer mite a-knowed by ther 
 fires—" 
 
 "I hain't 'spectin' cav'ry j^ere, em I, paw ? I hain't 
 seed th' fire 'fore the j)icket shet." 
 
 " Lucky fur thim as miss'd yer. Hank ! Yer paw 
 hev rigesteered a j^oath, son ! Ef 'e'd a shot yer, he'd 
 a had ther blood 'afore dawnin', sho' ez God sets 
 
42 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 thar! But yer shed 'a ben warnt. Lize 'lowd she'd 
 tell 3'er on 'em." 
 
 "'Spect she cum ter th' hidin' wile I war on th' 
 road ter hum, paw. Po' ole gell I She doan' hev 
 much peace 'long 'o me! Paw, Pm a-goin' back! " 
 
 The old man dropped the hand he had held till now 
 and stepped back, staring in amaze. Then he spoke, 
 in a whisper that was almost a hiss : 
 
 "Back! Back ter them as hunts yer fur blood? 
 Back ter Bragg's army, whar yer'll swing like er 
 cattle thief? Yer ben't lune. Hank, be yer? " 
 
 "Naw, I ben't, paw! But I do be sick an' worrit 
 pas' bearin', arter all thes' weeks. I hain't a cat, er 
 skunk, paw; an' I do be worrit' o' ther huntin' me 
 lek sich ! Na'w ! Doan' preach, paw ! I knows wot 
 yer'dsay; but I tell 3^er, et 'ud be- long better fur 
 Lize! Po' gell! she's a-wearin' out body an' soul, 
 watchin' fur me; an' ther mounting's plum full o' 
 cav'r\^ now, 'long er Bragg an' Forres' bein' so clus. 
 Th'll git me j'it ; an' Pll be shet sho ! " 
 
 '•An' ef \'er be, John Holden have swar his yoath 
 ter God, Hank! He'll hev blood fur yourn, sho' ez 
 death!" 
 
 "Thet 'ud n't help me then, pavv! Thet' udn't 
 help Lize, nuther. 'Sides, thet ain't all. Hank ez \^er 
 own son, John Holden; an' he doan' skeer quick. So 
 it hain't only that; but, 'layin all 'lone day an' nite, 
 it hev cum ter me, paw. I hev tb'' right ter go back ; 
 I blongs ter Bragg's arni}^, s'long as I jined free! " 
 
 "Free! Yer jined 'gin 3'er paw's will! not a-mindin' 
 his rightius word! B'long ter Bragg? B'long ter 
 Jeff Davis ? B'long ter them as fights ther guv'ment 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 43 
 
 o' this yere Ian' ? Hank Holden, yer do be lune, sho's 
 sun'll rise! " 
 
 " Tha's no en'mies o' mine, paw. I hev rid 'long o' 
 th'boj^s; I hev fit by 'em, hot an' cole. I hev t/2' 
 right ter go back, paw; an' I'm a-goin' ! " 
 ^ "An' leave yer 'ooman, Hank? Leave yer little gell 
 ter starve? " 
 
 "Naw; jest help 'em, paw! I hain't a-helpin' now; 
 only a-worritin' Lize. Ef I go back, ther's one 
 mouth less ter feed ; an' ther po'gell kin hev sum res', 
 night by day, 'stead ov watchin' 'long ov me, an' 
 starvin' ter feed — th' disarter ! " 
 
 He spoke the word in bitter scorn ; but he drew up 
 to his full height and folded his long arms across his 
 breast, with a rude dignity. 
 
 "Ezthar's a Lord above, yer shell not go, Hank 
 Holden! " the older man cried, with raised hand. 
 
 "Ez ther's a Lord abuv, I'm a-goin' back, paw! " 
 the younger responded firmly. "Itoleyer ez I war 
 yer son, paw; an' wen a man's min' ez sot, by 
 thinkin' et all out under ther sky, 'lone an' by nite, 
 'taint no use ter preach. I be sot; an' I know I do 
 hev ther rite ter go ! " 
 
 "An' be mock tried, 'fore yer be shet, Hank? " 
 
 "Efldo be shet; I'll resk that, paw! An' et 'ull 
 be my own doin,' arter all. I hedn't orter jined, ef I 
 low'd ter quit. Yer shud be 'shamed ov yer son, 
 paw ! — a cow'rd an' disarter ! " 
 
 "Yer cum arter axin' an' prayin', Hank! Yer cum 
 ter yer starvin' wife, ter yer dyin' boy! Th' Lord 
 never hev give Jeff Davis pow'r ter stop flesh an' 
 blood frum feelin', boy! I say yer sheW not go back!" 
 
44- JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 *' But I shell go, paw ! My niin' is sot ! " 
 
 "An' leave yer 'ooman ? " 
 
 "She's better off 'thout me!" the deserter 
 answered; but his voice trembled and grew very 
 gentle as he went on: "Po' Lize! She'll git mo' sleep 
 — mo' grub 'thout her man ter watch fur! An' th' 
 po' dead Johnnie! Wot good war my comin', any- 
 way ? It hain't saved him ! Don't tell my 'ooman, 
 paw. She'd only fret an' pra}^ an' cry. But, sho' ez 
 sun do rise, I'm a-goin' ter see her one mo' time. I'm 
 a-goin' ter see little Johnnie's grave one mo' time, 
 and then — " again his voice rang resolute, and he 
 stood erect, defiant — "then, paw, I'm a-goin back! " 
 
 The pale moon looked down through fleec\^ veil of 
 clouds upon the strange pair, so strangely wrangling 
 in the solitude of night. For a full minute the men 
 stood motionless, looking into each other's eyes. The 
 soft light seemed to smile on the rough, resolute 
 features of the son ; but the shadows deepened over 
 the father's face, as the thin lips set in harder line 
 and the red gleam blazed from his eyes. Suddenly he 
 raised his right hand, in habitual menace ; speaking 
 slowly and deliberately, but in a hard dry tone : 
 
 "Hank Holden, yer war my son! Yer he v ben yer 
 paw's hope — all that's leff him, now. Wen j^er jined 
 'gin his will, yer near 1 ruck his heart. Now, arterall 
 yer hev stud, arter all ther grief ther cursid war hev 
 cause, arter yer hev seenA'er dead boy an' yerstarvin' 
 wife — now, ef yer do go back — " the long, bony hand 
 above his head trembled as the man paused ; he 
 gnipea aown sometnmg that stopped his speech, anci 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 45 
 
 went on more rapidly: "Then may th' Lord sen' 
 his—" 
 
 "Stop! Doan' ver say et! Paw, I say — stopP^ 
 The 3'oung man's voice rang out, clear and command- 
 ful, cutting the curse that trembled on his father's 
 lips; and, as he spoke, his strong right arm went 
 out, his hand grasped the raised one of his sire, 
 bringing it doAvn with sudden twist and holding it 
 firmly in the cover of his two. 
 
 "Doan' yer saj^ et, paw! Wen Hank Holden hev 
 divSgrace his paw, et'ull be time 'nuff ter cuss him ! 
 Now, he hev got ther rite ter go ; paw, let 'im go en 
 peace!" 
 
 The distant rumbling thunder, echoing up the cove 
 beneath them, sounded as in salute. The moon 
 cleared her face of cloud-veil and smiled softK' down ; 
 and at the instant, clear and sharp across the dis- 
 tance, rang the reveille from the bugle of the cavalry. 
 
 The old mountaineer's great head bowed further 
 forward; his arms relaxed, but his trembling lips 
 formed no word, as his horny hand grasped his 
 boy's. And that boy, hearing the bugle call, drew 
 himself to full stature, standing at attention, as his 
 free hand went to his forehead, at salute. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 HUNTING THE BIG GAME. 
 
 Da"V on the mountain broke, after the storm, in all 
 its fresh grandeur, and with a calm that hinted 
 nothing of war and her attendant trials. The thun- 
 der-cleansed atmosphere was redolent of shrub- 
 scents and mountain laurel, as the first streaks of 
 dawn appeared, seemingly in their suddenness as in 
 answer to the reveille of Shelby's bugle. 
 
 Quickly the men had saddled ; had munched the 
 last remaining crumbs of "tack " in their lean haver- 
 sacks ; and had tightened a hole each, the girths of 
 their unfed horses. The trooper who was happy 
 possessor of a fragment of black "niggerhead," was 
 as enviable and as quickly surrounded as is a new 
 millionaire "on change." 
 
 Shelby showed no surprise at the open door and 
 absence of the mountaineer, when he opened his eyes 
 promptly at bugle call. But Latham, glancing at 
 the long rifle leaning against the wall, grumbled, as 
 he buckled his belt and stamped the stiffness out of 
 his dried boots : 
 
 "The pestilent old traitor! Why isn't he here to 
 give us some coffee ? Um ! Guess he's gone to warn 
 that precious skulker we shot at last night." 
 
 46 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 47 
 
 ''Natural enougli," Shelbj- responded. "You'd do 
 the same, wouldn't you?" 
 
 "I don't know, Cap. 'You'd scarce expect one of 
 my age, to speak in public ' of the feelings of a father. 
 But I would like a drop of coffee — though it was as 
 bitter as the old devil's own language! I'll try it 
 cold, anyway," and the reckless ^^oungster dived 
 under the dresser and found the coffee pot, helping 
 himself to a sip that twisted his face comically. 
 
 "None for me, after last night," Shelby said. "I'll 
 stick to the canteen, rather." He took a gulp ot 
 rum; stuffed some cornbread in his mouth and left 
 the cabin. When the lieutenant joined him at the 
 head of the ready column, there was a new odor 
 added to the morning air scents ; and the sub was 
 tw^isting his mustache fiercely. 
 
 "Ah! Bev.,you double-teamed on the commanding 
 officer," Shelb\^ cried. 
 
 "Guilty; mercy of the court," the junior laughed. 
 "Extenuation found in any old copy-book : 'Exam- 
 ples move when coffee fails !' " 
 
 The column, quickly mounted, w^as soon on the 
 march over singularly dry paths, for Nature's engi- 
 neering had proved its worth. Her unapproached 
 sewerage of shed and gully, had run surplus water 
 off the abrupt descents, and the only moisture was 
 that on leaf and stunted grass. As thej^ rounded a 
 high, precipitous crag and faced the east, the officers 
 drew rein; and Shelby, pointing over the valley, 
 cried : 
 - "Look ! What a gorgeous sunrise !" 
 
48 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Grand! Perfect!" Latham gushed. "The poet 
 must have seen a mountain morning, when he wrote: 
 
 'Forth from the curtain of clouds, from the tent of 
 
 purple and scarlet, 
 Issued the Sun, the great High Priest, in garments 
 
 resplendent; 
 Holiness unto the Lord! in letters of light on his 
 
 forehead ; 
 Round the hem of his robe, the golden bells and 
 
 pomegranates!' 
 
 And, see, Cap., how prettily that picturesque little 
 home, way down in the valley, grows under the 
 light." 
 
 He pointed almost straight below, to where the 
 red, open space of a small farm-plat cut the gray- 
 greens of the mountain side, at the head of a small 
 cove or valley ; near it a little stream winding like a 
 silver snake between the brush-grown banks. 
 
 "Picturesque enough," the older soldier answered, 
 as he touched his horse with the spur; "but when 
 you get near it — as we will, later in the da\^ — you'll 
 find that dirt and squalor have borrowed largely 
 from distance for their enchantment." 
 
 "Some poor devil conscript's home, perhaps," 
 Latham replied. "I always feel sorry for these poor 
 women and children, left helpless by the drain of 
 men ; but I never realized what dirt and starvation 
 meant, Cap., until I came on this mountain service. 
 Hanged if I like it, either!" 
 
 "I shouldn't select it, myself," Shelby answered. 
 "I never find man-hunting pleasant; and it is least 
 so of all in this section, where almost all the peoplq 
 
JOHN HOLUEN, UNIONIST. 49 
 
 are Balf-starved, and when half of them are 
 unfriendly, if not open enemies." 
 
 " It is not Virginia," Latham said, ruefully. "Well, 
 I presume we may possibh' strike a farm-house some- 
 where, with a larder in it for a breakfast." 
 
 "And a girl?" the captain queried, with a laugh. 
 
 "With freckles, red hair, dirty sunbonnet and a pug 
 nose?" the junior responded. "No, thank you! 
 That last one killed my aspirations for mountain 
 flirtation, 'lor three years or the war.' " 
 
 "There are some clever and respectable families 
 still left in the hill country," Shelby replied. "But 
 here is a level stretch. A trot may sharpen your 
 appetite both for breakfast and the girl." 
 
 He gave the order, and the column moved briskly 
 forward, in direction opposite that taken the night 
 before. The certain presence of deserters, and the 
 audacious attack of Hank Holden the previous night 
 determined the commander to make a wide detour 
 before again striking for the Fort Payne road. 
 
 Meanwhile, the picturesque home that Latham had 
 noticed was showing anything but comfort and 
 peace to its two occupants. It was really only one 
 of the many small clearings, that dotted the sides of 
 Sand Mountain in those trying war days, and it 
 showed the havoc that war's drain on men and 
 means made, even with such humble homes. The 
 scanty corn patch showed evidence of scantiest cul- 
 tivation, with rude implements ; the trailing squash 
 and melon vines were partly trodden down ; the 
 absent fence left rare reminders of its pristine snaked 
 rails ; and only the light smoke of brush curled froni 
 
 4 
 
50 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 the chimney of the rude, low thatched log cabin, with 
 its two rooms and ^de passage-way between, used 
 as kitchen, sitting room and wash house, as need 
 prompted. A board shoved between the logs sufficed 
 for shelf-room in such days of empty larder ; and a 
 sickly vine, trailing feebly against the post, was sole 
 evidence that any thought of the inmates went 
 beyond the most pressing and sordid needs of life. 
 
 Just skirting the clearing was a dense thicket of 
 laurel and scrub oak ; and through this flowed a deep 
 and narrow stream, with great shadowed holes 
 where mountain trout leaped in audacity of certain 
 peace. For, while "ther crick" was laundry, lava- 
 tory and well for the inmates of the cabin, all in one, 
 the inhabitants of Sand Mountain in 1863 had little 
 time to think of fishing. For the most part, they 
 were divided into hunters and hunted; and "the big 
 game" was indeed plentiful. 
 
 Early as it was when the troopers spied the cabin, 
 a rough table in the living room was spread for such 
 breakfast as "the home" offered — hard corn bread, 
 fat bacon and potato coffee. On the bench by it sat 
 the tall, pale woman of the previous night's tramp; 
 and an elfish, yellow-skinned child of some seven 
 years, in frock that seemed her sole garment. It was 
 torn and outgrown, too, though not as dirty as 
 common with small mountain "gells." The little 
 arms that went too far through the sleeves, and the 
 long, kildee-like legs that were but half-hidden by 
 skirt, told by their color that the girl was no stranger 
 to "ager," and equally that she was never well-fed 
 enough to resist it, from their thinness. Now the 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 51 
 
 child ate the rough fare ravenously, her hunger keener 
 from lack of maternal care on the previous day, 
 which had left her dinnerless and supperless as well. 
 
 But the mother ate nothing, sipping absently the 
 thick coffee from her yellow mug. One hand sup- 
 ported her head, that looked more hay-like and wan 
 in the clear light of day, and that showed, too, that 
 the green-blue eyes were deep sunken and dim while 
 at rest, with heavy black rings beneath them, invad- 
 ing the sunken, yello\v cheeks. There was a furtive 
 action frequent to those eyes, as if the woman were 
 ever expectant of danger, or some sudden demand 
 upon her nerves. None looking on her premature 
 age and poverty-stamped aspect, had guessed that 
 Lize Holden had been the belle and the beautA'of Sand 
 Mountain, when Hank had gained theenmity of men 
 for himself, and the env\' of all girls for her, by bring- 
 ing his bride to this clearing ! 
 
 Yet she was one only of the million results of the 
 war, to this date equally tr3ang to man and woman, 
 yet only in light presage so far of the dire stress, suf- 
 fering and agony to come to both ! 
 
 "Cum, Sis, git 'long with yer feedin', can't yer?" 
 the mother said, not ungenth^ as she waked out of a 
 half day-dream with a heavy sigh. ' ' Yer'U hev ter skip 
 'cross ter yer grenpaw's; fur I missed yer dad at th' 
 hidin' las' nite, an' I'm smeart worrittid 'long o'thet 
 critter cump'ny ! " 
 
 The child, thus hurried, ceased the loud sups at her 
 cracked, yellow coffee mug, and soon she rose in a 
 little-old-womanly way and began arranging corn- 
 bread and bacon strips in a homely sandwich, 
 
52 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Dad mus' be smeart hungry, ef he miss'd yer, 
 mamm}'. Like I'll meet 'im reound 'bout grenpaw's. 
 Shen't I tote this 3'ere grub ? " 
 
 "Sho'yer shell, Sis," the mother answered with 
 another sigh. "Et'sjesth' lass' crum', but we'uns 
 kin git mo' easier'n yer dad. Skip 'long, Sis, 'fore it 
 gits hot b' sun." 
 
 The child gravely rolled up the food in an old 
 checked apron, twitched from a peg a huge sunbon- 
 net, and looked more a Brownie than ever, as its 
 ample frill enveloped neck and shoulders; but she 
 started up the steep and rocky path at a brisker pace 
 than her slim legs and bare feet seemed to promise, 
 and was soon lost to view bej^ond the clearing. 
 
 Leaning against the roof post, the mother stood 
 long and qmetU', looking alter her under the hand 
 that shaded her e\'es from the sunlight, and when the 
 hand fell, it carried the corner of her sleeve back 
 quickK' to dry the unaccustomed tears. Then, with 
 a heavy sigh, the woman turned to a bench near by, 
 on which stood a dingy washtub, and \vent wearily 
 about her slim week's washing. 
 
 "The labor we delight in physics pain," Macbeth 
 tells us ; but Lize Holden'stask seemed to carry with 
 it little joy and less medicament to the spirit. Often 
 the thin hands were still, and the now dull eyes 
 stared vacantly across space, seeing nothing, for 
 their vision seemed turned inward ; and as the day 
 grew brighter, the 3'ellow hue of her face seemed 
 deeper and more dull, taking that ashy ochre tint 
 that has earned most Southern mountaineers the 
 more or less baseless title of "clay-eaters." But 
 
•1^-1 - 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 53 
 
 Time never stops, however leaden shod seem his feet; 
 and it was well approaching noon — and the small 
 wash was not even well under way — when the rustle 
 of bushes and the patter of small feet startled the 
 woman from a deep da^^-dream. Turning, she saw^ 
 Sis running down the path, breathless and swinging 
 the sunbonnet as a signal, though not of peace. 
 
 "Mammy! Tha's a-cummin'!" the elfish courier 
 cried, while still at a distance. "Th' critter cump'- 
 ny's a-cummin'! I seen 'em ez I streck th' path !" 
 
 "Did yer see yer dad. Sis?" the mother asked 
 eagerly. " Did yer git ter grenpaw's ?" 
 
 "Naw ! Them soljers cum theat a-way ; an' I cum 
 back ter warn yer. Mammy!" — the midget stood 
 erect and shook her little fist toward the unseen 
 enemy, — "I wish I wuz er man! I'd tek er gun an' 
 bushwheck ther critter cump'ny wot's a-chasin' 
 dad!" 
 
 Scarcely were the words spoken, when a man tore 
 down the path at top speed. Coatless, hatless and 
 nearly barefoot, he ran with the vigor of despera- 
 tion, not turning to one of the many gaps in the 
 broken fence, but taking the low rails before him in 
 his stride. At sight of him, the woman gave a low 
 scream; pressing both hands to her breast as she 
 cried : 
 
 "Hank, ther soljers be clus by! Run, my man! 
 Run fur yer life !" 
 
 Next moment his arms were about her, straining 
 her close to his heart, as he panted : 
 
 "I know't, Lize! I ben a-dodgin' all day, tryin' 
 ter git home. But, wen Ifoun'myself so clus' ter ye, 
 
54 JOHN HOLDEN. UNIONIST. ' 
 
 I cuddn't help reskin' one mo' look at j^er, gell! 
 En' ther little 'un, too!" he added, with a little 
 tremor in the voice, as one hard, brown hand rested 
 gently on the red-straw of the head, which the girl 
 hid in the scant skirts of her mother, to which she 
 clung, sobbing. 
 
 "Run an' hide. Hank!" cried the terror-stricken 
 wife, as the distant tramp of rapid-moving hoofs 
 caught her ear. " For Gawd's sake ! run, my man !" 
 and she struggled to disengage herself from the 
 strong arm that still held her close. 
 
 "I will run an' hide, jess' this wunst," the man 
 answered, coolly. "I'll do't fur yer sake, Lize. I 
 jes'll fool 'em wunst mo', an' then — arter one look at 
 th' kid's grave — I'm dun o'hidin', wunst for all!" 
 
 With one kiss, almost fierce in its farewell, the 
 hunted man released the trembling woman. Little 
 time he had to spare, as he darted into the thickest 
 brush, for the sound of hoofs advancing at brisk 
 trot was close at hand, and the noise of shout and 
 laughter were borne plainly to her ear. An instant 
 more and the column passed down the pathway, 
 trotting round the remnants of fence and drawing 
 up before the cabin. 
 
 "Wot be you'uns a wantin' yere?" asked Lize Hol- 
 den, as she stood on the porch, trembling with 
 excitement, but showing no lear. "Yer ben't fitin' 
 wimmin en gells, be ye?" 
 
 "Don't be afraid, my good woman," Shelby 
 answered, touching his cap. "We do not mean to 
 harm vou." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 55 
 
 "Fear'd' o' wot?" she answered, with a dismal 
 failure at a laugh. " Wj shud I be fear'd? We'uns 
 hez seed critter cump'nys of n nufF, ter git kind 'o 
 us't ter 'em!" 
 
 "I'm glad of that," Shelby answered, scanning her 
 closely. 
 
 "That's a pretty little girl of yours," Latham 
 added, as if for something to say. 
 
 "Glad yer think so, "the woman answered, grimly, 
 but glad to gain time for her man. "Mos'ly ez 3'er 
 hain't seed 'er face. Ef she wuz er boy, I 'sposeyer'd 
 ca'ay her 'long ter camp an' mek her fite fur 
 you'uns?" 
 
 "Perhaps," the lieutenant rejoined. ** 'Nonebutthe 
 brave deserve the fair,' however!" 
 
 "Do you know one Hank Holden, who lives herea- 
 bouts?" Shelby asked suddenly, with his eyes fixed 
 on the woman's face. He thought the yellow of her 
 cheeks grew a shade lighter, but she answered quietly 
 and promptly : 
 
 "Naw; never heer'd on enysech name!" 
 
 "But his 'paw,' who lives over yonder, told us we'd 
 find his place somewhere near here," the trooper 
 answered quickly. But the trap failed to spring, 
 and the woman made no sign ; only turning a shade 
 whiter, as she bent over the child, now clinging 
 closer to her with a great sob. 
 
 "There's no use asking questions here," Latham 
 ventured to his senior. "We're only losing time, if 
 the deserter has dared to come home." 
 
 "Right; we will beat every bush about this clear- 
 ing," Shelby answered, "Squad, dismount; car- 
 
56 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 bines, ready ! Sergeant, divide the squads and 
 search both banks of the creek!" 
 
 The men obeyed promptly, every three throwing 
 their bridles to the fourth trooper; then dividing 
 and plunging into the brush, carbine in hand. 
 
 "I respect your pluck, madam," the captain said 
 bluntly, lifting his cap as he turned to follow. "If 
 we catch your husband we'll bring him back this way 
 before we carry him off." 
 
 The troo]3ers searched through the clearing, and 
 soon were heard on either side of the creek ; shout 
 and oath resounding through the wood, until the 
 sounds of search died into distance. Then the woman 
 who had stood still and firm as a figure in yellow 
 clay, sank on her knees, lilting her drawn face to 
 heaven in mute supplication, while the danger-aged 
 girl stood by, listening intently for shot or signal. 
 Neither came; and, after some minutes, the mother 
 rose and broke the dead silence. 
 
 "Sneak down. Sis," she whispered, "en watch out 
 fur yer dad. He may be clus' by yit, ef he hev fool'd 
 'em agin ! Be ca'lul, gell, en not too bresh ! " 
 
 The child only nodded, creeping toward the thicket 
 and pausing often to watch and to listen. At length 
 she parted the brush and stood warily on the very 
 edge of the stream. The only sounds coming from 
 the woods beyond were pipe of bird and hum of 
 insect, no longer drowned by hint of "man's inhu- 
 manity to man." Nature, in her gentlest mood, 
 seemed bent on erasing all memory of her recent 
 tnvasion. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 57 
 
 Yet the child moves but slowly up the bank, paus- 
 ing to listen ever}' few paces ; for some spy might yet 
 be lurking in the cover. But, after careful search con- 
 vinces her none is near, she leans over the stream 
 and gives the same owl-cry signal used by her grand- 
 sire on the night before. Before the echo dies away 
 a fiurr\" of water comes from a rusty old log, h'ing 
 near the opposite bank. Then the log moves, and 
 from the water beneath it, appears the head of Hank 
 Holden, dripping like that of a water-god. Skilled 
 in the art elusive, by long practice and close escape, 
 he had sunk to his neck in water and thrust his head 
 into the convenient — and well remembered — hollow 
 
 log! 
 
 "Lor', dad! Tharyerbe!" cries the midget, with 
 as near approach to a dance of triumph as she 
 could compass, "en' yer've fooled 'em wunst mo' ! " 
 
 "Yes, m' little gell," replies the cheery voice, as the 
 man wades out and shakes himself like a New-found- 
 land dog. "Yer've got a dad yit, s'longez he lasts! " 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 A MOUNTAIN DAISY. 
 
 A COMFORTABLE looking farm house in any of the 
 picturesque coves of Sand Mountain, at the j)eriod of 
 this chronicle, presented marked contrast to the war- 
 harried region about it; and the cheery home on 
 which the afternoon sun now slanted its rays, seemed 
 a veritable oasis in the dinnerless desert to the eyes 
 of weary beholders. 
 
 The farm — seated in a pleasant, red-soiled nook that 
 nestled comfortably under the gray hill-crest protect- 
 ing it from the north — showed evidences of careful 
 and modern cultivation, while the barns and out- 
 houses spoke of industrious thrift. The main dwel- 
 ing was surrounded on all sides by ample and roofed 
 porch; above it peered the peaked gables of the upper 
 story, from the windows of which the mountain 
 breeze flapped faultless dimity curtains, like long 
 white flags of peace. But, dominating the roof, was 
 an odd structure, which a first glance might have 
 mistaken for a rack to dry clothes. 
 
 Closer inspection, however, had convinced the 
 observer that it was intended for a lookout station, 
 as the stripling son of the lord of the manor was 
 stretclied upon the roofed bench, horn in hand, to 
 
 58 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 59 
 
 sound the note of warning were man or woman seen 
 approaching the house. For Farmer Freeman was a 
 staunch rebel, and by entertainment of her' soldiery 
 and staunch devotion to the cause of the South, had 
 made himself an object of no little enmity to deserter 
 and bushwhacker, as well as to the less openly and 
 practically pronounced adherents ot the old flag. He 
 lived in constant expectation of attack; kept a well 
 supplied arsenal in his house ; and his farm hands — 
 all reliable, but aged or disabled men — and his strip- 
 ling boy were ever ready to respond to a call to 
 arms. 
 
 But on this perfect summer afternoon, the peaceful 
 visitor to Freeman Farm would have found all as 
 quiet and orderly as though war had not visited the 
 land. The old farmer and all hands are busy in the 
 fields, while the lowing of cattle and the soft clucking 
 of motherly hens, \vatching pridefully the incursions 
 of ambitious broods into new loraging territory, 
 alone break the stillness. One other sound comes 
 from time to time ; the pleasant one of a clear, girl- 
 ish voice, cr^ang: 
 
 "Chick, chick! Here chick! Ducky, duckj^, here!" 
 Hens and chickens, ducks and ducklings, respond 
 quickly to this call, while even the lordly rooster and 
 self-sufficient turkey-cock drop their tails, and their 
 dignity at the same time, all centering about the 
 graceful figure of the farmer's daughter. 
 
 Jen Freeman, as she stands with one hand scat- 
 tering dampened meal and the other supporting on 
 her shapely hip a great, yellow^ crock, may not seem 
 a beauty, save on the trite basis of "handsome is as 
 
60 John holden, unioxist. 
 
 handsome does." Far less is there anvthing of the 
 heroine about the girl; but, in that summer of 1863, 
 the North Alabama farmer was indeed fortunate, 
 whose barnyard was unstripped of poultry ; and this 
 particular farmer's daughter is thankful enough to 
 have something for them to eat. And feeding 
 chickens, \vhile perhaps a less romantic avocation 
 than caring for canaries, may yet be deemed far more 
 useful. 
 
 And Jen Freeman — so all who know her avouch — 
 is a useful and very practical ^^oung ^voman. 
 Brought up on the home farm, save a few years of 
 "finishing" at a seminary of Nashville, life has 
 brought her so far no illusions; more happily still, 
 none of what is misnamed "romance." Boys she 
 had known and liked, as boj^s, romping, riding and 
 — be not shocked! — bird-nesting with them ; but such 
 intercourse had developed healthful muscle rather 
 than unhealthful sentimentalit\' ; and her lungs and 
 her conscience are both rarely sound. 
 
 Novels she had read ; but they Avere of the innocu- 
 ous school chosen by a careful father, bereft of his 
 helpmeet during the young girl's childhood. Well 
 thumbed, and equally well remembered, copies of 
 Maria Edgeworth, Mrs. Southworth and Washing- 
 ton Irving still flank "the Waverly," under the neat 
 checked curtain of the book-shelves in her sitting 
 room. "Marmion," Mrs. Hemans, and especially 
 Longfellow's earlier poems, were her ideals of that 
 divine art; nor was she ignorant of Campbell and 
 Gray's "Eleg\\" But Jen Freeman had no preten- 
 sion to being well-read, if indeed she knew that much 
 
JOHN H OLDEN, UNIONIST. 61 
 
 abused term. She had only read well what books 
 good fortune had placed in her hands; digesting at 
 leisure all she swallowed, and remaining wholU' Iree 
 from even a soupcon of mental dyspepsia. 
 
 Does this indicate that she was a vara avis? Then 
 were the Southern hills of that day productive of 
 many a "sable swan." Through her practical and 
 prosaic life of farm-house duty — later deeply under- 
 scored by war's privations and alarms — day-dreams 
 had doubtless come to her ; and through them may 
 have shone, half understood, gleams of 
 
 "The light that never was on sea, or land." 
 
 What girl of eighteen, in healthful country air, or city 
 forcing-house, but has built her castles in the air? 
 Jen Freeman's were of that card-house structure 
 which toppled down, turret and foundation, at the 
 first touch of matter-of-fact realism ; and no gloomy 
 regrets hung about their ruins. There are few Prince 
 Charmings in North Alabama mountains at their 
 best, and now, all of them had ridden away to 
 the war. So, as yet, the moimtain daisy only knew 
 that she possessed a heart b}- its quicker palpitation 
 after a run, or on the approach of the blue-coated 
 raiders. 
 
 That she is pretty, — indeed, possessed of large pos- 
 sibilities of beauty, — her white draped mirror tells 
 her each time those shy, brown eyes look from it 
 honestly into her own ; while short, clustering curls 
 of ruddy gold — red in the sun, brown in the shadow — 
 shade her rosy cheeks and her nose, a trifle turned 
 up. Nor is it "tip-tilted, like the petal of a flower;" 
 
62 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 for truly that piquant and expressive feature is some- 
 what browned by mountain sun, and not wholly 
 unsplashed with freckles by the health-giving breeze. 
 
 Dainty and attractive, even in her simple frock and 
 stout shoes, she is the more attractive from uncon- 
 sciousness of both ; and the refinement of movement 
 and gesture — showing as the brown, but small, hands 
 nimbly ply their useful work — is that born solely of 
 pure, womanly nature. There is no hint of that 
 meretricious substitute — mock-turtle soup of manner 
 — too often produced by the finishing school, and 
 made consomme by society conventionality. 
 
 But, to come back to farm-yard reality, Jen Free- 
 man is feeding her chickens, innocent of thought that 
 any possible Prince Charming is riding down to 
 meet her; that the blind goddess — who truly should 
 have been the mother of Master Cupid — is throwing 
 two young people into that propinquity which is so 
 apt to do the rest. For, let poets sing what the}^ may 
 of Master Cupid, the true torch-bearers to the Hymen 
 of to-day are named Propinquity and Chance! 
 
 Suddenly, from the roof lookout, comes a horn 
 blast more sonorous than musical; and Jen — 
 stopping with fear-arrested hand still full of meal — 
 turns 'ler bright face curiously to the sound, as she 
 calls : 
 
 "What is it, Will? Yanks?" 
 
 "Soldiers ! Our'n, I think ! " responded the youth- 
 ful warder. "Yes, they're gray, sho'!" 
 
 The girl ran to a little knoll beyond, commanding 
 equal view of fields and road, seized a little white 
 flag and waved it high over her head. Her act 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 63 
 
 arrested the flurry of the \vorking men, each of whom 
 had dropped his hoe and turned toward the house. 
 The\^ quietly resumed work, only the master of the 
 place coming on toward the knoll, whence his daugh- 
 ter now peered eagerly up the curving descent of the 
 steep hillside. 
 
 Ere he joined her, the column hove in sight round 
 the turn nearest the great gate ; the farmer went 
 straight toward it, and Miss Jen discreetly returned 
 to her chickens — whether counting them prematurely, 
 or not, some pretended judge of woman may divine. 
 
 The horsemen moved slowly down ; jaded, unfed 
 beast and weary man alike seeming unfit for rapid 
 movement. But revived by the peaceful and inviting 
 aspect of the farm, and by that hope of supper which 
 springs eternal in the young cavalryman's breast, 
 Mr. Beverly Latham gathered his horse, resettled 
 himself in saddle and grew blithe again, as he 
 remarked : 
 
 "An oasis — or a mirage ! But unless you assure me, 
 Cap., that this farmer is a sound old reb, hanged if I 
 don't 'dissart' and join our slippery friend, Hank 
 Holden, in hiding!" 
 
 "The Confed. need not lose — sha'n't lose you yet, 
 Bev.," his senior answered. "Farmer Freeman is not 
 only a staunch patriot, but a personal friend of mine ; 
 and his daughter's kitchen — " 
 
 "Jephthah of old — " the lieutenant interrupted his 
 senior, only to interrupt himself, as the farmer swung 
 the great gate wide and ran out into the sandy 
 avenue they had just reached. 
 
64« JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Welcome! Ride in, boys!" he cried, heartily, as 
 the column halted. "How are you, Shelby? Glad 
 am I to see ye'! The sight of the gray is good for 
 sore eyes in this God-forsaken country ! Ride in an' 
 'light ! " He reached out a brown hand and warmly 
 shook the captain's, as he added: "But the beasts 
 look 'bout done up. Care for your horses, men, and 
 then I'll care for you. Ride right in — your boys 
 know, Shelby; the well-^^ard, to the right! " 
 
 "Thank \'Ou, Mr. Freeman," Shelby answered 
 returning the hand shake cordially. "You are as 
 whole-souled and true hearted as ever, I see. Let me 
 introduce mj- lieutenant, a new officer in these parts ; 
 Mr. Latham, ot Virginia." 
 
 "Glad to welcome you, leftenant, for your gray 
 coat and true heart under it," the farmer responded. 
 "Stillmore glad, as you're a Virginian! Great state, 
 sir; mother of presidents! But, 'light, gentlemen; 
 Jerr\% here, '11 care for your horses, while the men feed 
 theirs. Come into the house, and have a wash and 
 a drop of apple jack ! " 
 
 Soon — the stains of a hard day 's march removed and 
 a long day's hungerfresh-edgedby anipof goodapple 
 brandy — the officers followed their host to the well- 
 vard. Brief inspection was needed. The well-rubbed 
 beasts were already munching contentedly such 
 provender as was rare to their tastes; and the men, 
 ranged on the long benches, were eating with true 
 soldiers' appetite the inviting combread and clean, 
 crisp meat, promptly ordered to them by Aliss Jen's 
 forethought. Laughter and chaff resounded, not 
 stopped, under lax discipline of those days, by the 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 65 
 
 officers' approach; for tlie Confederate scouters 
 thereabout who could stop at Freeman Farm all 
 kne^^ that the lines had to them fallen in pleasant 
 places. 
 
 "You certainly are a trump, Mr. Freeman ! " Shelby 
 exclaimed. "You'd give your last crumb to the 
 boys." 
 
 "Well, I hope never to be put to that test," the 
 farmer rejoined, heartily. "But, 'tell then, they're 
 welcome to share v^hat I have." 
 
 " And, really, those fellows seem awfully hungry, 
 Mr. Freeman," Latham remarked, with a sly tug at 
 his belt buckle. " One might guess that the beggars 
 had eaten no breakfast ! " 
 
 "By gum ! I forgot," the old man rejoined, with a 
 jovial laugh. " Shelby told me he hadn't 'fed for a 
 week,' so come back to the house. Jen '11 row me 
 anyway, if her supper gets cold ! " 
 
 Briskly the hungry officers followed their host back 
 to the house, crossingthe broad porch into the quaint 
 sittingroom,with its stiff legged, horse-hair sofas and 
 chairs, prim book shelves and impossible portraits. 
 But the touches of a tasteful woman's hand modern- 
 ized its general aspect, setting a fancy cushion here, a 
 potted plant there, and looping back the faultlessly 
 white curtains with jaunty bows of blue ribbon. 
 Against the wall stood a stiff, spindle shanked piano 
 — an upright, of uncertain age, with yellow keys sug- 
 gestive of quavering tone. But it stood open ; and 
 music on the rack showed that its mistress kept it for 
 use rather than ornament. 
 
66 JOHN HOLDEN,- UNIONIST. 
 
 And that mistress stood attheopen porch window, 
 fresh, simple, and smiling cordial welcome, with the 
 natural grace of her slim figure enhanced bj hospita- 
 ble haste to feed the hungry. 
 
 "Jen, my dear, you know Cap'n Shelby. Let me 
 introduce Leftenant Latham, — of Virginia,— a new- 
 comer, but mighty welcome. This is my little house- 
 keeper, sir ; the apple of my eye and the best little 
 girl — if I do say it myself^'tween the Gulf of Mexico 
 and Tennessee river! " 
 
 The smiling face turned to the captain, and. the 
 extended hand that had warmly ^velcomed him, 
 turned at the father's overfond praise toward the 
 stranger. On the face the flush of health and pleasure 
 deepened a shade, and the han^ fell, giving place to 
 a pretty courtesy, as the girl's eyes met those of the 
 younger soldier. In them was a look of w^ondering 
 inquiry, plainly dominated by warm admiration. For 
 Beverly Latham's thoughts had been more intent 
 upon the cravings of his stomach than of his heart; 
 and any stray speculation about another girl — "with 
 freckles, red-hair, pug nose and a dirty sunbonnet — " 
 had promptly fled from his brain when the farmer 
 mentioned the long-craved supjDcr. The nose before 
 him now was perh^J^ a pug ; but its owner was 
 plainly a lady, and a graceful, Vv'insome one, besides. 
 So the young trooper stared with rather plain sur- 
 prise, as he made his best bow ; and — for the instant 
 — even thought of supper fled. 
 
 "I am cordially glad to see you, too, Mr. Latham," 
 the girl said frankly and simply, but the gratified 
 curving of the youth's mustache halted in mid-twist, 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 67 
 
 as she added nai'veh^.: *'for you wear the gray 
 jacket, so dear, while so rare, among us. We must 
 shake hands, too, for I welcome 3'ou as a friend — 
 although a stranger." 
 
 Nothing could have been neater than the girl's 
 manner and her words, as she extended her hand 
 frankly. But, society- had not yet tempered the 
 youth's bearing into full discretion ; and surprised 
 pleasure caused so warm a pressure of the tanned, 
 but slim, fingers, that Miss Jen's color deepened a 
 bit, as she hastily withdrew them from his reluctant 
 clasp. 
 
 "Come, papa," she said, promptly moving forward 
 with Shelby, "your supper will be cold, and I pre- 
 sume 3'our guests are hungry." 
 
 "We are not, Miss Freeman!" Latham cried, 
 recovering from the gaucherie of surprise. "We are 
 simph' ravenous ! I admit it in advance, to warn 
 \'ou of what your own penetration would soon dis- 
 cover. Captain Shelby has already told your father 
 that we have not had what our men call *a square 
 meal' for a week!" 
 
 The girl showed even, w^hite teeth between the red 
 lips that threw him the repl^^ over her shoulder : 
 
 "I'm so glad, Mr. Latham! Then you will not 
 criticise m}' shortcomings as a housekeeper." 
 
 For many a week the troopers had not sat down 
 to so neat a table, or so lavishly spread with every 
 luxury possible to that isolated region, in those days 
 of privation to all and of penury to the many. And 
 to one of them the zest of healthy appetite, long 
 unsatisfied, was added to no little by the frank and 
 
68 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 cordial talk of both father and daughter, aided by 
 the winning smile and quietly sweet voice of the 
 latter. 
 
 Under the warmth of their welcome and the com- 
 fort of that home, the soldiers forgot war and trial; 
 gathering, while they might, the roses that Fortune 
 strewed in their path. 
 
 "I really envy you, Mr. Freeman," Latham said, 
 after masticatory silence and writh a mouth not 
 wholly empty, as he passed his plate for a third half 
 of a fried chicken. "You make us forget there is a 
 war, your home is so happy and peaceful." 
 
 "Not so peaceful as you might suppose," Jen 
 answered, brightly. " Don't you know that we have 
 been attacked several times by bushwhackers ; and 
 that papa keeps a standing army of his own?" 
 
 "Yes; but my little girl won't hear to leaving me, 
 leftenant," the proud parent answered. "Even w^hen 
 her aunt in Wilmington writes to urge her to pay a 
 long visit." 
 
 "How could I go?" the girl cried, growing grave 
 at once. "I'm not one bit afraid here, Captain 
 Shelby; but, were I away from papa, I should have 
 constant dread of his meeting the fate of our poor 
 neighbor, old Simpson." 
 
 "And what did the bloody rascals do to him?" 
 Shelby asked, soldiery coming back after hunger was 
 appeased. 
 
 "I will tell 3^ou over our pipes, on the gallery," the 
 host replied, as they rose from table and moved 
 toward the sitting room. There Miss Jen lit the oil 
 lamp, not accepting proffered assistance from 
 
JOllN riOLDEN. UNIONIST. 65 
 
 Latham, and her father took corncob pipes from the 
 mantel, filHng them from a fat tobacco jar. Soon 
 two pipes glowed on the gallerj^, under the fast-fall- 
 ing darkness, as their perfume wafted out into the 
 leaf scented air of night. 
 
 But the junior officer lingered within, turning the 
 music on the piano rack, by way of a talk motor, as 
 he said : 
 
 "I hope I am not detaining you from household 
 duties, Miss Freeman. If I am, give me marching 
 orders for the galler^^ ; but — you sing, do you not?" 
 
 "A little; and I just love to!" the girl answered, 
 frankly. "Of course, I am pretty busy alter supper 
 awhile; but I'll try and amuse you with a song, 
 first — if you wish." 
 
 "I certainly do wish," the youth answered, wnth 
 emphasis, and not without a long look of evident 
 admiration at the girl's face. "I, too, love music; 
 and something tells me that we are congenial." 
 
 But the mountain girl, busy over her music, never 
 caught the meaning in his glance ; and, if she noticed 
 that in the tone he used, she showed no desire to accept 
 its challenge to quick flirtation. She calmly arranged 
 the leaves, ran her brown fingers easily across the 
 keys ; then sang, in a full and pleasant, but quite 
 untrained, soprano, "When the dew is on the 
 blossom." Then, unasked and naturally, she broke 
 into "Wild roved an Indian Maid, bright Alfarata," 
 giving the whole biography and habitat of that 
 dusky maiden, while the young soldier kept time 
 with his unlit pipe, and his eyes showed more admi- 
 
70 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST, 
 
 ration of the girl's graceful figure, than delight at her 
 music. 
 
 "That young woman had found 'roving' rather 
 ri.sky hereabouts, just now," he said, as she finished. 
 It was the perfunctory speech of the listener, expected 
 to say something ; for the man's own taste was not 
 uncultivated; and his sister at home was a real 
 musician. 
 
 "You don't like my songs! " The girl looked up 
 at him frankly, a smile oil her lips and dancing in her 
 brown eyes. "I find they go more nicely with most 
 visitors than my own kind of music. — Oh ! how mean 
 of you!" she cried, suddenly, flushing as she spoke. 
 "You ought to have told me you were a musician ! " 
 
 "I came from George Washington's state; and 'I 
 cannot tell a' — thumper like that," Latham laughed 
 back. "I love music; but I onW hum a little." 
 
 "Sit right down, then," Miss Jen ordered, saucily, 
 "and 'hum a little' for me! Now, don't be mean 
 again— p /ease .^" she added as she rose and pointed 
 to the horse-hair music-stool. 
 
 "But I cannot play," he protested, shaking his 
 head. "I do not know a note." 
 
 "If they're simple, maybe I know the accom- 
 paniments," Jen said, doubtfully. "What do you 
 sing? Honor bright, Mr. Latham, or you're mean." 
 
 "'Beloved Star,' — or 'Eveline,' — perhaps — " 
 
 ' ' I know them both ! What key ? " Miss Jen broke 
 in, clapping her hands ; and soon the youth's rich, 
 mellow baritone trolled out all about, "Thou art so 
 near and yet so far ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST, 71 
 
 The girl listened with flushed cheeks and sparkling 
 ej^es, to a different voice and more tasteful method 
 than any she recalled. Then, asking no permission, 
 she played the prelude of "Eveline," then so popular 
 in Virginia. 
 
 The grassy mound has long rested on well-loved 
 lips that made that song familiar, round artillery 
 camp fires of the mother state ; brave lips and tender, 
 that thundered the command in hottest flashes of 
 the battle, or softened to plaint in the wooing notes 
 of song. Better music they may write and sing 
 to-day; none better worth recalling, when coupled 
 with the ever-svsreet memory of the gallant soldier, 
 sleeping so well after life's fitful fever ! 
 
 And now, his j^oung namesake sang, with more 
 expression than before; and Jen Freeman's face 
 flushed deeper at the words : 
 
 "Could affection make election — 
 Could my heart but choose its queen; 
 One maid alone should hold the throne, 
 And her sweet name is — Eveline!" 
 
 *' Oh, thank you ! " she cried, with sparkling eyes as 
 his voice died away. ' ' You sing so well, Mr. Latham. 
 Please try another." 
 
 "I fear you have exhausted my repertoire," he 
 answered, "unless you know — " He named several 
 songs, that had not found their way to this moun- 
 tain nook; so the girl shook her head dolefully, at 
 each. 
 
 "But to show I do thank you, I'll sing you my 
 pet song," she said, naturally; adding with a smile: 
 "No, it's not another ' Lorena ' ; it was mamma's 
 
72 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 favorite, the only one I remember hearing her sing. 
 You must know it." 
 
 Her face grew graver, as she played the prelude. 
 Then, in better voice than before, with far more 
 feeling and delicacy than he had suspected, she sang 
 Schubert's "Last Greeting." Then she rose, half 
 reluctantly. 
 
 "I must send you out to papa now," she said. 
 "You know I am housekeeper; but I'll join you 
 gentlemen as soon as I can." 
 
 "It will seem long to me, however you hasten 
 those duties," Latham began, in his best city man- 
 ner. But the lithe figure of the girl was already 
 moving about the table beyond, and the clatter of 
 dishes was the sole response. With a smile at him- 
 self and a loving twist of his mustache, the cavalry- 
 man sauntered out on the gallery, and lit his long- 
 forgotten pipe. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A SHOT IN THE DARK. 
 
 "The blood-thirsty devils!" Shelby was saying. 
 "I'd like to catch them at such a game once! Latham, 
 Mr. Freeman is telling me about a hideous outrage 
 near here." 
 
 "Yes," the farmer answered, removing the pipe 
 from his mouth, "old man Simpson lived about ten 
 miles from here, on the Guntersville road. He was a 
 quiet, hard-working old fellow, minded his own 
 business and never pestered his neighbors about 
 politics. One day he caught a mean cuss that 
 worked round his place stealing his meat, and sent 
 him about his business. Just for revenge, that skunk 
 started the rumor that Simpson had gold buried 
 under his house. You know, of course, captain, that 
 the deserters and bushwackers round this section 
 are banded together in a sort of irregular army, 
 under an outlaw named Hess, that they call gen- 
 eral." 
 
 "Yes, I have a description of Hess," Shelby 
 answered, "and I propose hunting up his headquar- 
 ters, soon." 
 
 "And I needn't remind you," Freeman resumed, 
 "what cruel and relentless devils these bushwackers 
 
74 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 are. They'd btirn a house they had plundered for 
 very wantonness; and they'd shoot a man from the 
 bush— Confed., or Federal, alike— for the chance of 
 getting his hat or his shoes. They respect neither 
 friend nor foe, and only necessity of personal safety 
 holds them together." 
 
 "And the fact that they have nothing to steal," 
 Latham added. "Else they'd bushwhack one 
 another, just to keep their hands in." 
 
 "I know the gentry pretty well," the captain said, 
 quietly, from behind a cloud of smoke. "They are of 
 the same breed, all along the Cumberland range. I 
 ran their gauntlet last year m3'self " 
 
 "How? We never heard you speak of that," 
 Latham said, with interested curiosity. 
 
 " No, it was only one of a hundred cases, and before 
 you joined," the captain answered. "I was captured 
 and carried to Southern Ohio. Prisoners were in the 
 way; meat was scarce ; and drumhead court-martial 
 w^as the easiest solution of the problem. Several of 
 our men had been reported hung as spies — or 'lost' 
 on the road. I was tried by a trumped-up court, a,nd 
 the verdict was a foregone certainty. I did not care 
 to w^ait for hearing it, and that night I w^as fortu- 
 nate enough to escape. In hiding the next day, a rel- 
 ative gave me a horse, a splendid Kentucky thor- 
 oughbred, and by night I dodged the pickets and rode 
 into Kentucky. But the bushwhackers were thicker 
 in Southern Kentucky than the Federals, arid they 
 were even more dangerous to meet'. I dared not 
 show on any road by day. I'd have been shot from 
 the bush, for the sake of my horse, to a dead cer- 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 75 
 
 tainty. So, I hid all day, and that night I rode a full 
 hundred miles, 'twixt dusk and dawn, straight 
 through the hornet's nest ! " 
 
 " By gum I that was splendid ! " cried the host. 
 
 "Hardly— for the horse!" the trooper replied, 
 drily. 
 
 " What became of him ? " Latham asked. 
 
 "I signaled Morgan's pickets at the river," Shelby 
 answered. "They sent a boat across, and I had 
 scarcely boarded her, when one of the men bantered 
 me for a trade. His beast was a sorr}^, half-starved 
 one, but I closed at once, as he was stuck on mine." 
 
 "That was very grateful of you!" the farmer 
 cried. 
 
 "Very — indeed," Shelby returned, slowly; and he 
 blew a long, blue cloud, and watched it rise, as he 
 added, meditatively : "We swapped while my horse 
 was warm. I guess he was stiff as bar iron, next 
 day ; but I — was at headquarters then." "••' 
 
 Farmer Freeman only gave a significant grunt, as 
 he refilled his pipe. Then he resumed : 
 
 "Well, Hess and his gang got hold of the gold 
 rumor. They attacked Simpson's house one night, 
 seized the old man and tied him up by the thumbs, 
 demanding his gold. In vain the poor old fellow 
 swore that he had none. Them scoundrels, under 
 orders of their head-devil, Hess, set fire to the house 
 and rode away, leaving Simpson tied at his own 
 door ! He was literally roasted alive ! " 
 
 " Great heavens ! " the lieutenant exclaimed. "What 
 devils incarnate these outlaws must be ! " 
 
 ''Fact; the escape, ride and trade of a Confederate captain. 
 
76 John holden, tJNioNis't. 
 
 "Not all of them," the farmer answered, "but a 
 right smart sprinklin' of 'em, anyway." 
 
 "I hope, Cap., that we'll get a chance at this Gen- 
 eral Hess before we're ordered to rejoin," the junior 
 officer said. " Nothing would please me better than 
 giving him a show of his own tactics ! " 
 
 "Have you any positive facts, Mr. Freeman, as to 
 the present whereabouts of Hess and his gang? " the 
 captain asked. 
 
 As the w^ords came, a flash was seen in the darkness 
 in front of them ; and simultaneously a bullet buried 
 itself in the boards, just between the farmer's head 
 and that of the speaker. 
 
 "Seems to me," Freeman answered coolly, as he 
 rose from his chair, "that some o' the gang ain't so 
 very far away from here ! " 
 
 A rush of men from the well-yard toward the sound 
 followed the shot ; the woods about the house were 
 carefully beaten, but no trace of an enemy could be 
 found, and the soldiers were recalled. At the porch, 
 as they returned, the officers found Miss Jen, quiet 
 and unflurried as though no unusual excitement had 
 arisen. 
 
 "I hope 3'ou were not much frightened. Miss Free- 
 man," Latham called, before the other could speak. 
 
 "I was not frightened at all," the girl answered 
 simply. "The house has been shot at twice before, 
 but papa says it is only wantonness. But to-night, 
 it must have been a chance passer, or he would have 
 known we were better protected than ever." 
 
 "You should be a soldier. Miss Jen," Shelby said, 
 gallantly. "Your coolness would shame many a 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 77 
 
 trooper's. But to-morro-w we will visit the head- 
 quarters of this late-moving general. We must move 
 early — so, good-night, Miss Jen." 
 
 "I will be up when you wake," the girl answered, 
 as she lit a home-made candle, in an old time china 
 stick, and handed it to her father. " Papa will show 
 you your room ; pleasant dreams." 
 
 "Dovou induls^e in dreams. Miss Freeman?" the 
 lieutenant asked, pausing in the window, near her. 
 He had been out in the darkness of the porch, seem- 
 ingly examining the hole made by the bullet. 
 
 "Not often, Mr. Latham," she answered, naturally. 
 "I work so hard, after rising so early, that I gener- 
 ally sleep too soundly for dreams." 
 
 "So do I," the youth replied, gaily. "Either my 
 conscience is too good, or I have none at all ; so the 
 people of air whisk by me unnoted. But perhaps I 
 will dream — to-night." 
 
 "Of what?" she asked, innocently. "Of General 
 Hess?" 
 
 "Of a far more dangerous theme — to me!" the 
 youth replied, with w^hat he supposed an intense 
 glance, but not forgetting a dainty twirl of his mus- 
 tache. "Can you not imagine reason for my 
 dreams? " 
 
 "Indeed, I cannot," she began, naively, "unless it 
 was your — " She stopped, blushing, looking down 
 in some confusion. 
 
 "Go on! Please finish! Unless it was my — 
 what?" Lieutenant Latham urged, with more 
 earnestness than the occasion seemed to warrant. 
 ^^ Please finish your sentence! I beg it as a favor." 
 
78 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "I cannot! Don't ask me! " Jen retorted, growing 
 deeper red and holding out her hand — "Good-night! 
 — and p!easant dreams, if any." 
 
 "Good-night, then." Latham took the out- 
 stretched hand deferentially, and held it while he 
 added: "You might gratify my wish and tell me 
 the word you omitted. You will not ? Then good- 
 night. I will see you to say good-bj^e." 
 
 He moved toward the stairs, following the others. 
 And Jen Freeman, absently arranging the music and 
 closing the piano, heaved a rather petulant sigh, as 
 she said to herself: 
 
 "I'm just too awkward for anj^thing! I never 
 will have what aunty calls tact! Oh! I do wonder 
 if he guessed? And besides, poor fellow — it wasn't 
 so bad. He hadn't eaten before, all da3^" 
 
 In their room — good-nights spoken and the farmer's 
 firm tread echoing down the stair — the future troop 
 commander remarked : 
 
 "Rather nice people. Cap., these friends of yours. 
 And his daughter — " 
 
 "Has a pug nose, and wears freckles and a sun- 
 bonnet," the senior cut in, as he kicked off his long, 
 rusty boots. "But let's turn in, Bev. We must 
 start early to catch General Hess at home." 
 
 "Cap., I rather imagine we should look for our 
 bad marksman of to-night nearer than Hess' ranch," 
 the youngster said, suddenh'. 
 
 "Why, what do you mean, Bev.? " 
 
 "Only that the Holden family owe us a return 
 visit in ordinary courtesy, Cap. I dug this out of 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 79 
 
 the plank," — lie rolled a flattened bullet on the floor 
 toward his chief, — " and it fits a hunting rifle ! " 
 
 "By Jove! you're right, my boy," the captain said, 
 examining his sub's trophy. "We'll keep our eyes 
 on the 'loyalist,' too. Thanks for the hint." 
 
 But it did not affect the captain's nerves, for in 
 five minutes he was snoring with the regularity, and 
 with much the rattle, too, of file-firing. But not so 
 Mr. Latham. Half disrobed, he moved to the win- 
 dow^, watching the moon as her pale yellow disc 
 popped over the north acclivity, as yet only silvering 
 the tallest of the tree tops. 
 
 Possibly to the discredit of his soldierly zeal it w^as, 
 that he rather regretted the good condition of the 
 rested and well-fed horses he had examined after the 
 bootless hunt just passed. Nor is it wholly flatter- 
 ing to his sentiment that memories of the late sup- 
 per mingled with those of Jen Freeman's pleasant 
 face and unmarred naturalness, as swift changes 
 followed each other in his brain. Then came mem- 
 ories of other faces, dark and fair, haught\^ or 
 pleading — which had come into his brief experience 
 of society while a cadet at Lexington, or had glided 
 momentarily across his busy path in two j^ears of 
 service. But none had left very clear negatives 
 before his "snap shot" camera; and flirtation, with 
 him, had been merely preliminary skirmish before 
 that serious battle of feelfng which comes to every 
 man, soon or late. He might have been grazed more 
 than once; but, never seriously wounded, he bore no 
 scar from conflict and w^as ever eag^er to enter it 
 
80 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 again. Handsome, jaunty and brave, Bev. Latliam 
 had ever been a favorite Avitb women, and was the 
 idol of the grand old mother and the brilliant sister, 
 now thinking so fondly of their boy at the far-away 
 homestead. And then, quick movement of unbridled 
 thought bore him across the stirring scenes of com- 
 bat and of skirmish. His first ordeal of fire passed 
 before him ; he recalled the strangeness of sensation 
 — which was scarcely fear, but was very far from 
 exhilaration — as the first volley of Minies passed with 
 ugly whir, and uglier thud as they met resisting 
 flesh. Again he felt the hot thirst of fever, as he lay 
 w^ounded before the crescent of Malvern Hill, so 
 yearning for one sip of muddy water as to be careless 
 of the balls that ploughed the field about him. That 
 brought thought of the gallant comrades he had left 
 in Virginia ; some still battling for the loved soil — 
 others so still beneath it ! And, once more, he felt 
 the ennui o{ the camp of instruction; to which dis- 
 tasteful duty convalescence sent him, before his 
 transfer to cavalry and to duty in a distant state, 
 more active but scarcely less distasteful. And was 
 this hunting of starved deserters — this arresting of 
 wretched conscripts, dodging duty — to be the end of 
 bright hopes and high ambitions that had lured 
 him, school boy as he was, into the ranks? 
 
 "I'm hanged if I like this hunting of men," he 
 grumbled to himself "No soldier ought to like it; 
 and none who do not see the misery and the tempta- 
 tion to desert could really understand it. But, it's 
 all right, I suppose, so long as it is duty; but I'd 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 81 
 
 rather be at the front, all the same— especially, with 
 the A. N. V. But, what's the use of grumbling 
 here?" he added, with a yawn. "I'd better sleep 
 and enjoy Miss Jen's good breakfast. It will be 
 long enough before I get another. Pretty girl, too ; 
 and so natural. Don't suppose that girl ever had a 
 lover in her life. Pity to waste her, up here, too. 
 She seems purity itself and— Hello ! what's that ? " 
 
 He interrupted himself suddenly, reaching instinct- 
 ively for his pistol, lying on the bureau. Then he 
 drew back into the shadow of the white curtain, 
 watching intently the broad, open space before the 
 house. The moon was riding higher above the trees 
 now, throwing broad gleam against his window, 
 but leaving the yard below still in shadow, where 
 dark objects would be invisible. But from the 
 shadow of the house there glided a white-clad form 
 slowly and noiselessly across the shadow, and seem- 
 ingly stopping to listen every few steps, and to 
 watch the windows of the house intently. 
 
 Instinctively the soldier dropped his pistol on the 
 moving figure, covering its every motion. Twice it 
 stopped, hesitant ; then approached the house again, 
 as if undecided. Then, with seeming conquest of 
 indecision, it turned and moved toward the gate — still 
 carefully and noiselessly, but with swifter motion. 
 
 "There's no sort of doubt!" Latham muttered. 
 " It is a woman ! What in the deuce can she be doing 
 out at this hour ? It must be after midnight ; it can't 
 be a robber, and — by Jove! " he added, suddenly, "it 
 can't be Jen Freeman!" 
 
82 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 He turned from the window and rapidly drew on 
 his boots and coat, muttering as lie started for the 
 stairway : 
 
 "It's strange enough to w^arrant, anyway. I'll do 
 a little volunteer scouting on my own hook." 
 
 He descended the stairs softly and turned into the 
 sitting room. The porch- window was open, and the 
 moon, just touching the roofs edge now, shed a 
 weird half-light into the room. Pausing in the dark 
 hall, the man again thumbed his pistol hammer; 
 peering into the half-light for any intruder, confeder- 
 ate of the one outside. Dead silence reigned, nor 
 could he see form or movement in the barely furnished 
 room ; so the ardent young soldier — his ardor piqued 
 by novelty of adventure — moved cautiously into the 
 room and made for the open window. 
 
 As he reached it, a white robed figure faced him, 
 coming from the porch, and a soft voice — quickly ris- 
 ing into comical terror — called : 
 
 "Is that you, papa? Did you hear him — Oh! Mr. 
 Latham ! do n't come out here ! I'm not dre — I'm sure 
 I didn't expect— P/ease.' go up stairs ! " 
 
 "Certainly, Miss Freeman," the soldier answered, 
 executing a quick right-about. " But can I be of any 
 use ? Was there any alarm ? " 
 
 "No— nothing! Go to bed, please! I don't want 
 anything! Please go \ And— Mr. Latham," the girl 
 added pleadingly from the darkness without—' ' Please 
 don't mention this to papa! It's no use, you know. 
 Good-night, again." 
 
 Without reply, Beverly Latham tipped back 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 83 
 
 Upstairs, drew off his boots, for the second time, and 
 threw himself softly on the bed. He lay perfectly 
 still for many minutes, stretching his hand instinct- 
 ively to touch his revolver butt, as he rolled over at 
 last to sleep. But he muttered, as concluding some 
 train of thought : 
 
 "I suppose I made an ass of myself, too! It is 
 none of my business, — but it is devilish odd, all the 
 same! " 
 
CHAPTER YII. 
 
 IN THE outlaw's NEST. 
 
 That extremely rare species, the modest youth, ever 
 infrecjuent in the genus man, was more rare than 
 before during the war days ; a result due partly to 
 opportunity^ and somewhat to the prevalence of but- 
 tons and tarnished lace. This is not to be accepted 
 as implication that the species has become more num- 
 erous, in this A. D. 1893; but with the present, this 
 veracious record of the past has naught to do. 
 
 That Lieutenant Latham's diffidence was not his 
 most apparent weak point has, perhaps, been proved 
 already. Yet the Virginian was no fop; for the 
 absorbing vocation he had assumed, with its frequent 
 serious responsibilities, had prevented that sort of 
 self-deification. And, as his nocturnal introspection 
 told, he had not disported as a "lady-killer," even 
 while he had accepted the gage tossed before him by 
 more than one little glove. But he was young, enthu- 
 siastic and easy of speech ; and, while not too sus- 
 ceptible, his judgment of a pretty face or of a piquant 
 manner was perhaps nearly as correct as that of his 
 mount, — natural and educated horseman as he was. 
 So, in the wilds of the mountains, as on the plains of 
 Virginia, Mr. Latham was fairly safe in the gentler 
 
 84 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 85 
 
 trading of sentiment, even while he might have been 
 at disadvantage in the sharp "jockejnng" of fast 
 society. 
 
 But, as he rode awav from Freeman Farm, that 
 bright and fresh-scented July morning, the young sol- 
 dier was unusually quiet. To his senior's surprise, 
 the wonted chaff and nonsense, illustrated by glib 
 and saucily twisted quotation, were wholly absent ; 
 and the pair rode along, with only duty-forced talk 
 as to the road, or the result of the day's march. 
 
 At dawn's first gleam. Freeman had found the lieu- 
 tenant in the well-yard, carefully acting as stable- 
 lieutenant and inspecting the squad. He had 
 thoughtfully ordered omission of bugle call ; so as not 
 to advertise to prowling bushwhackers the move- 
 ment of his troop, w^hich might bring vengeance on 
 the hospitable farm that had sheltered it. But the 
 men were ready mounted, on horses strangely fresh- 
 ened by rest and two good feeds, and soon the cap- 
 tain joined him and the march was taken up once 
 more. Already Miss Jen had dealt out coffee and 
 food to the men ; and the officers had eaten such a 
 breakfast, as might have caused a foolish virgin to 
 doubt her own memory of the previous supper. 
 
 The last adieux had been spoken, and the 3'ounger 
 soldier's clasp had held the slim, brown hand of the 
 girl, rather beyond the bounds of strict convention. 
 Nor had it then been relinquished, without a pres- 
 sure scarcely mistakable. But the frank, brown 
 eyes, looking into his so calmly, never fell ; nor was 
 there any ackowledgment of that fact, by undue 
 haste in the little fingers that withdrew from the 
 
86 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 junior's clasp only to be frankly extended to the 
 older friend. 
 
 "I am so glad you stopped, Captain Shelby," Miss 
 Jen said, "I will not say a real 'good-bye' yet, as 
 you may return this way from your hunt for Hess." 
 
 "Perhaps; and I hope duty will force us to," 
 Shelby answered. " But we never know what detour 
 noon maj^ necessitate when we ride out at dawn." 
 
 "And I hope so too. Miss Freeman," Latham said, 
 earnestly. "To spend another evening with you — 
 and your music — I'd almost swear to bring you 
 General Hess' head 'upon a charger,' or get knocked 
 oft' my own. No; I won't say 'good-bye,' yet. The 
 fellow v^ as a fraud who wrote 'that sweet old word ' 
 — when 'tis so often bitter! " 
 
 Now the column had moved north two hours by 
 sun, entering rougher ascending country, broken by 
 rough defiles and abrupt gorges, scarce leaving any 
 trail visible. 
 
 "What are you dreaming about, Bev?" the cap- 
 tain called suddenly. "A Confederate shinplaster for 
 your thoughts." 
 
 "They are not worth it," the sub answered, 
 quickly recovering. "But I wasn't dreaming; only 
 remembering Farmer Freeman's larder — " 
 
 "And his brown eyed daughter, Bev.?" the other 
 finished for him. "Now, look here, my boy; Miss 
 Jen is a special pet of mine, and I'll have no sort of 
 entanglements of her fresh, young ideas." 
 
 "I don't understand you. Cap.," the youngster 
 replied, gravely. "I don't think I'm a fool — " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 87 
 
 "And I know she isn't!" Shelby again broke in. 
 "I tell you, Be v., that little girl has less idea of 
 flirtation than I have of theology. So be careful, 
 should we ever chance at the farm again." 
 
 "She is a lady, and a very gentle, modest one," the 
 sub replied, still gravely. " She's perfectly safe from 
 any nonsense of mine, Cap. In fact," he added more 
 jauntily, and twisting his mustache airily, "she has 
 hardly 'sabe' enough to make that sort of thing 
 sufficiently piquant. In fact, I was not dreaming of 
 her." 
 
 " Glad of it, " the other retorted, bluntly. " Better 
 not dream of an3d:hing, but keep your eyes well open. 
 This is about the dandiest spot for bushwhackers 
 that I've seen for many a day." 
 
 The road they had followed now took still more 
 abrupt ascent of the mountain side, the footing 
 insecure from loose-washed stones — often round and 
 smooth as marbles, from friction of winter torrents ; 
 and the hoofs of the horses often slipped on them. 
 Huge, beetling boulders overhung the curving way 
 on one hand, while on the other the narrow path- 
 way shore off" abruptly, almost overhanging the 
 precipitous descent into the gloomy gulch below. 
 There the tops of even the nearest and tallest trees 
 were pigmied by the distance ; and from the heights 
 above them, and before them, a dozen determined 
 men might have defied an army. 
 
 "Bad fix we might have been caught in here, had 
 General Hess expected us," the captain said to his 
 junior in a low tone. "But there must be a flat close 
 above. They always break, after a defile like this. 
 
88 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Move up, men! Close up your ranks, sergeant! " he 
 added aloud. 
 
 " Hello ! listen to that," Latham answered. " The 
 general may really be preparing some entertainment 
 for us that we don't 'hanker arter.' This is the 
 devil's own country, anyway!" 
 
 The sounds he noted, though coming from a dis- 
 tance, were clear to all ears now ; the note of horns 
 borne clear and sharp on the noon breeze. They 
 came from all sides — from crest above and cove 
 below ; now seeming to recede and almost die away, 
 then to rise again, vibrant and clear, as if in answer 
 to some call. 
 
 "It's a regular code of signals, eh. Cap ? " Latham 
 said. "The outlaw mvst expect us and have an 
 ambush ready," and the 3'outh quietly drew his 
 pistol and spun the chamber as he examined the 
 caps. "As poor Bee said to his brigade : 'This is a 
 good place to die in ' ! " 
 
 "You've something yet to learn of mountain fight- 
 ing, Bev.," the captain answered, coolly. "That 
 may be a signal — it may be a dinner horn. But it is 
 only one, and echo does the rest." 
 
 "Blessed be the horn, then ! " Latham replied, glibly, 
 himself in an instant. "As the cockney would quote : 
 ' 'Appy the hower w'en th' 'orn of th' 'unter is 'card 
 hon th' 'ill ! ' if it presage dinner. I am as hungry as 
 though Miss Jen Freeman were no cook ! " 
 
 "'Still harping on my daughter!' But look yon- 
 der!" the senior retorted, in his own vein, as he 
 pointed over the abrupt crag straight ahead. 
 
 The sounds had died away. Dead stillness now 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 89 
 
 reigned, asthoiiglino spirit of the mountain had evet 
 commanded : 
 
 Blow, bugle, blow! set the wild echoes flying! 
 
 Blow, bugle, blow! Answer echoes — dying, d3M'ng — dying! 
 
 But, in front of them, a spiral of thin, blue smoke 
 curled over the crest; resting a moment on the breeze 
 and then floating off into nothingness under the sun- 
 shine. 
 
 The horses, responding to spur and hand, clam- 
 bered laboriously up the rougher ascent, scrambling 
 onward to the crest. Fifteen minutes more brought 
 them to the mountain top, stretching away into one 
 of those level plateaus not infrequent after sharpest 
 rises. A clear road showed before them, rock}-, level 
 and broken by no tree or bush. At its end a rude, but 
 striking picture presented itself; a great log house, 
 evidently inhabited by the smoke now pouring from 
 the mud-daubed chimney at its either end. Back of 
 the house the ground broke away precipitously ; and 
 down the mountain side poured a tumbling, foaming 
 torrent of pure water, breaking over the rocks into 
 silvery cascades and miniature waterfalls. For many 
 yards in front of the house the ground was cleared of 
 brush and larger stones ; while a thick, prickly hedge 
 of brush-like growth, which crossed the road, was 
 reinforced by felled trees and unused brush. The 
 house was evidently a dwelling ; but it was a fortress 
 as well, judging by the frequent small loopholes that 
 pierced its log sides. 
 
 But war was not the idea of the garrison, if indeed 
 any were present as the column approached. The 
 
90 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 smoke came from a tra.sh pile, still burning as they 
 trotted briskly on, halting at safe distance, on the 
 captain's command. At a sign Latham spurred for- 
 ward — well covered by twenty carbines at ready, each 
 instant expecting a volley from the abbatis. But 
 none came, and he trotted along its length, only to 
 find no sign of foe, and then to signal the party to 
 advance. 
 
 "What 'ud yer hell-hounds want yere?" was the 
 salutation Shelby received as he led his men through 
 the narrow opening in the hedge. 
 
 The speaker was a woman in seeming; tho' her huge 
 size, fierce features and brutal voice belied her sex, as 
 she stood before the open doorway. She wore a 
 man's hat on the red, unkempt hair that ran into reg- 
 ular whiskers on her heavy jaws ; but her not too 
 neat feet and heavy ankles v^^ere bare. In one hand 
 she held a rusty, ugly-looking shot gun, and the other 
 bore the long tin horn, with which she had lately 
 given either call, or signal. 
 
 "Have I the honor of speaking to Mrs. Hess?" 
 Shelby asked, carrying his hand to his cap mechan- 
 ically. 
 
 "Wot in the devil 'ud ye want?" the Amazon 
 answered, dropping the horn and grasping her gun 
 with both hands. 
 
 "I want to see General Hess," the soldier answered. 
 "I have called, with these gentlemen, to pay my 
 respects." 
 
 "None o' yer palav'rin' with me, ef ye know wot's 
 best fur ye ! " the woman growled, betraying no fear; 
 
JOHN HOLBEN, UNIONIST. 91 . 
 
 and she raised tlie gun to her shoulder as the shaggy 
 red eyebrows knitted menacingly. 
 
 "I'd advise you not to fire! " Shelby said, sternly. 
 "It might be worse for you, though we do not intend 
 to harm you." 
 
 "Harm — who?" the woman growled, but lowering 
 her gun as the carbines came to a "ready," and add- 
 ing: "I know how to take care ov myself, ef my man 
 is away." 
 
 "Nobody could doubt your former statement one 
 moment, madam, after looking at you once, however 
 he mio^ht the second," Latham said, in his sweetest 
 voice. "Does the general really risk leaving you 
 alone up here — quite alone? " 
 
 "Ef he hadn't, ye'dbeenpackin' downth' mounting 
 miles back," the woman answered, gi'imly. 
 
 "That we must convince ourselves," Shelby 
 answ^ered. "You need fear no harm, but duty is duty, 
 Mrs. Hess. Sergeant, dismount the men and search 
 the house and approaches," he added, as he dis- 
 mounted. "Send a corporal and two men back to 
 picket the road behind us." 
 
 "By Jupiter! Cap.," Latham said low to his chief, 
 "she's a mountain Venus, with a vengeance! She'd 
 shoot one of us quick as a wink, if she dared." 
 
 "She's a she-devil in petticoats," Shelby answ^ered. 
 " But I do n't think she's lying. ' Her man ' is off on 
 some devil's mission, or, as she says, we'd never have 
 come up so easily. We'll search the place, as matter 
 of form ; but we can't wait the gang's return, up here, 
 without rations. He may be gone for days." 
 
92 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. . 
 
 "Wish we could take him along," Latham replied, 
 ruefully. 
 
 "I have no orders to arrest him," the senior 
 answered. "I have no special charge against him; 
 but now I know the road and the ranch, we can get 
 him, whenever sent." 
 
 "Well, I'll scout down about this fall," the sub 
 answered. " The scenery is worth looking at, and I 
 may find out some new path." 
 
 So, while the troopers looked through the house and 
 surroundings, they kept close watch on the Amazon ; 
 but she stood stolidly without, not even looking at 
 them. Latham, finding a rough footway, descended 
 the cliff about the fall, and was soon beyond sight 
 of the house, and almost out of hearing of voices of 
 his comrades. The scene was indeed a grand one, as 
 the torrent fretted and leaped down the rock-ribbed 
 cliff; and, standing on a projecting ledge, the youth 
 was soon lost in its contemplation. 
 
 Suddenly his reverie was abruptly broken. He was 
 almost sure he heard a suppressed cough near him. 
 Turning swiftly, pistol in hand, he could see no one, 
 nor any bush or other vantage likely to shelter a sp3^ 
 But soldier instinct urged a search ; and he moved 
 along the ledge, seeking solution of what he could 
 not believe a trick of his imagination. At last he 
 found what appeared to be a narrow fissure in the 
 rock, its mouth hidden from careless observation by 
 sparse-growing bushes. Without a moment's hesita- 
 tion the trooper moved toward the opening, pistol 
 in hand, recking little of the rashness of invading a 
 possible ambush. Full of reliance on himself, he 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 93 
 
 cautiously moved nearer, almost reaching the fissure, 
 when the bushes parted at his side and a hand was 
 laid softly on his arm. Instantly he turned, his 
 cocked pistol raised and pointing full into the 
 browned face of — a woman ! 
 
 "Yer hain't a-goin' ter shoot, ez yer?" she cried, 
 beseechingly, raising her clasped hands. "Yer hain't 
 furgot, hez yer? E'm ther wun yer seen ^-estidd}', 
 wen you'uns war a-chasin' my man." 
 
 "Yes, I remember you," Latham answered quietly, 
 dropping his w^eapon. "I couldn't well forget 3'our 
 face. You are Mrs. Holden? " 
 
 "Yes, E'm hur," the woman replied, nervously. 
 "En e tuk notis o' yourn then, too. Yer hev a good 
 face, soljer, en Lize Holden jess knows yer've got a kin 
 heart." 
 
 "I am obliged for your good opinion," Latham 
 answered, lighth'. "But what are you doing in this 
 wild spot, miles from your home ? Ah ! I see ; that 
 precious husband of yours trains with this outlaw 
 Hess!" 
 
 For an instant the woman hesitated; her face 
 growing a paler yellow under his scrutiny. But it 
 was only for an instant. Then, with the seemingly 
 natural gift of the mountaineer for lying, she 
 answered in a deep whisper, glancing nervously over 
 her shoulder as she spoke : 
 
 "I'll tell yer ther truth, soljer, sho's th' Lord's 
 a-lookin' at me now. Hank Holden hain't never 
 dun' a wrong 'long o' no man, er wumun, 'round 
 yere. He hain't never yit seen Hess, nur nun' er hez 
 gang ! I jes' swar thet, by little Johnnie's grave I " 
 
94 JOHN H OLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 " Then what are you doing here ? " 
 
 "Jess ben' cross ther cove, ter carry grub ter my 
 man! He's a lyin' out on ther mounting, a-tryin' 
 ter git 'cross ter Bragg! " 
 
 "Very likely!" the soldier answered. "And you 
 are helping him to 'git 'cross ter Bragg,' eh? " 
 
 Again the woman hesitated, but only an instant 
 before repl^dng : 
 
 "I wer' plum' worrited out; an' I cum roun' by 
 hither, ter see Miss Hess, an' ax' sum grub, wen I 
 year'd ther dinner horn ! I hev caught er cole, an' 
 ud a got by yer, 'cep'n I hed ter cough, jess now." 
 
 "Oh, that's all, is it?" Latham answered, but 
 half reassured. "Well, my good woman, I am sorry 
 for you, and for that poor devil of yours whom we 
 failed to catch yesterday. "' 
 
 "Wot 'ud Bragg do ter Hank, ef yer hed cotched 
 'im?" the woman asked, eagerly. 
 
 "I suppose he would have him shot," the soldier 
 answered, carelessly. 
 
 "But, ef Hank cud git 'cross? Ef he cud go back 
 out o' his own will, free an' willin' ? " she tirged, 
 eagerly. 
 
 "I'm afraid he'd be tried, all the same, for deserting 
 the service of his country." 
 
 "His kentry ! " the woman whimpered. "Ez 
 Bragg's army his kentry? Ar' ther Cornfed'rits his 
 kentry ? Wot hev Hank got ter do with surces- 
 shun? Th' ole kentry an' th'ole flag war good 'nufif 
 fur him! Hank's paw fit inter ther war with ther 
 Mexerkins, an' he bret up his boy ter luv ther flag. 
 We hain't never hed no niggers, hez w^e ? Ther men 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 95 
 
 -wot owns 'em be tlier tnen wot orter fite fur 'em ! 
 But ther cornscripturs, thej dregged Hank ter ther 
 war. Wen I war ill an' th' boy war a-dyin', th' 
 wurd war sont ter Hank; an' w'en 'e beg't an' 
 pray't, his cap'n fair lafied en his face. 'Course he 
 put out fur home, axin' no man's leave, nor n'uther ! 
 An' now you'uns be huntin' Hank, jes' ez ef he war a 
 cat, out on ther mounting. Ef his kentry's a-doing 
 thet, he'd be a mighty better off ef he hedn't no 
 kentry!" 
 
 The woman spoke rapidly, in high, rasping voice, 
 distinct at some distance. But as she ceased, she 
 buried her face in her hands, sobbing bitterly and 
 shivering as though in a nervous chill. 
 
 Latham stood irresolute and uncomfortable. It is 
 stated — mainly by crusty old bachelors — that married 
 men grow accustomed to female tears, knowing that 
 they may be as readily dried as w^ere those of Juno, 
 when she gained her point with Jove, after his too 
 marked attention to Europa, or some other of his 
 numerous and scantily draped flames. But the 
 bachelor is apt to surrender at discretion, as soon as 
 woman begins to w^eep, and Latham was a young 
 bachelor, and much opposed to anything lugubrious. 
 Devoted as he was to the cause of the South, and 
 fully convinced of its perfect justice, he was still 
 wrought up to deep sympathy with the woman before 
 him. Brief experience among these mountaineers 
 had convinced him how little they had to gain from 
 any change in the government of the country, or, 
 indeed, from any government at all. 
 
96 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Besides, he well knew the difficult}^ of obtaining 
 furlough in the Army of Tennessee, however dire the 
 strait of him who sought it. So, with blending of 
 contradictory feelings, he said to the sobbing 
 woman : 
 
 "Your case is a pretty hard one, Mrs. Holden. I 
 don't see how it could well be worse. But you 
 should not judge the great struggle we are making 
 for independence by what you suffer on these moun- 
 tains. I am deeply sorry for you, but your husband 
 should not have made your case harder by running 
 away from his dut3^ Officers cannot A'ield to all 
 tales of sick wives and starving families ; but now 
 that I know the facts I will do all I can for 3'our 
 husband. Go and tell him to come in and surrender, 
 and I'll do all I can to have him pardoned and 
 returned to duty. I am only a lieutenant, but I have 
 friends at Bragg's headquarters." 
 
 "Bless yer kin' face an' yer kin' words," the 
 woman whined, with a half-sob and half-grin that 
 showed her unbrushed teeth. "I'll min' yer fur 'em 
 fur menu}' er day ! ' ' 
 
 She paused an instant, snivelling but toying with 
 the dirty folds of her dress. Then she drew nearer, 
 with a cunning gleam in her greenish eyes, as she 
 looked uneasily over her shoulder, ere she whispered 
 very low : 
 
 " Yer ben't sot on ther farmer's gell, be ye? I 'low 
 yer be, tho', ez yer be a-singin' o' songs 'long o' her." 
 
 "What in the devil do\'Oumean? " Latham blurted 
 out, surprised beyond deference to sex. But the 
 woman only grinned another 3'ellowish grin, nodding 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 97 
 
 her head with sickly efibrt at archness. Disgusted 
 and angry with himseh', for so much parley, the 
 trooper turned away abruptly, striding toward the 
 steep acclivity. Reaching it, he turned and said, 
 abrupth' : 
 
 "You'd better keep your tongue still, to warn that 
 husband of yours. His onlj^ chance is to come in and 
 surrender." Then he clambered up the ascent, soon 
 regaining the crests. 
 
 Scarcely had he reached it, when the woman 
 coughed once more; and, as though in answer, came 
 a cough from the fissured rock. Then the head of 
 Hank Holden appeared through the bushes, as he 
 whispered : 
 
 " Lize, ar' he plum gone ? " '. 
 
 " Yes, Hank, he ar plum gone ! " 
 
 "It war well fur 'im, ez yer techt 'ini, Lize," the 
 deserter said ; and he emerged from the cover, gi asp- 
 ing a long, keen knife in his bony hand. 
 
 " But, Hank, he ar' friendin' yer now, my man. Ef 
 ye'll gie up to 'em, he's swore ter help 3'er." 
 
 "Gie up ter they?" The man's face set hard and 
 stern, and his voice hardened. "Not s'long ez tha's 
 a huntin' Hank Holden, same ez er cat ! Wen I do 
 go back, Lize, ut'll be 'cos I knows I hez th' rite ter 
 go ! I shan't be druv, gell ; an' et's lucky fur 'm yer 
 stopt th' hunter whar yer did ! " 
 
 He clinched the knife firmer, as he raised his arm 
 with ugly menace, but the woman laid her hand 
 upon it, repeating: 
 
 "But, Hank, he ar' friendin' ^xr, now! " 
 7 
 
98 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 He only shook his head grimly, as he muttered 
 stolidly : 
 
 "I shed a-het ter dun it, Lize, but I'd a hed ter! I 
 won't never be tuk ! " 
 
 And Beverly Latham, — his good humor restored, as 
 he approached the squad, — strode gaily across the 
 clearing. As he went he hummed — 
 
 No! there's nothing half so sweet in life, 
 As love's 3'oung dream ! 
 
 little dreaming that he had been nearer to death, 
 that bright noon, than at any moment since he ran 
 away from the old V. M. I. 
 
CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 \VID0Y7ED. 
 
 Afternoon, once more, at Freeman Farm. The 
 lengthening shadows of the tall clifif make twilight 
 on the cleared space, fronting the wide porch on 
 which Miss Jen sits, her slim brown hands lying list- 
 lessly on the coarse fabric, now neglected upon her 
 lap. The red glow^ of the setting sun still steals 
 warm up the western sky, gilding the crest of the 
 spur ; but the girl's eyes — ^turned full upon this even- 
 ing coronet — take little note of it, to judge by the far 
 away and absent gleam within them. 
 
 Jen Freeman has been sewing steadily on the tough 
 cloth, all the afternoon ; for, in the days of '63 South- 
 ern girls not only did their own sewing, but held 
 themselves fortunate indeed, when they found the 
 wherewith to sew. Not only was material too often 
 lacking for bonnet, or gown, or other portion of 
 apparel, but the needs of loved ones, far away from 
 home and shelter, had well nigh exhausted every 
 effort. Yet, the Southern women had not yet reached 
 the thither end of their makeshift resources, when 
 that dire struggle finally closed ; and their bloodless 
 victories over adverse circumstances should scarcely 
 
 99 
 
100 
 
 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 be ranked second to those of their sires, or husbands, 
 or sweethearts, won upon the held. 
 
 For during every day of those unmatched four 
 3'ears, those steadfast, tireless women wrought un- 
 ceasingly for their absent loved ones. Those much- 
 sung sisters of theirs, v.-ho gave their hair to string 
 the war-bows, made lightest sacrifice compared to 
 that of comfort, as well as of heart, brain and soul — 
 offered on the altar of Trust and Faith by the daugh- 
 ters of the Southland. 
 
 In man^' a quiet nook in which the rattle of con- 
 flict never entered, heroic deeds of self-sacrifice were 
 done; the tears that stained some coarse garment 
 their only eulog\% — their sole record the A^earning 
 tenderness stitched into each seam, by the sore fingers 
 of these veritable Sisters of Mercy. Each one of 
 them, 
 
 With no one but her secret God 
 
 To know the pain that weighed vipon her, 
 
 Shed holy blood as e'er the sod 
 
 Received on Freedom's field of honor! 
 
 What the homely task that Jen Freeman's fingers 
 had plied upon matters nothing, for they had moved 
 briskh' for hours. But now they rested, anticipatory 
 of the "blind man's holiday," w^hile her eyes saw 
 nothing in the space they fixed upon. For the girl 
 was enjoying one of her rare day-dreams, its nebu- 
 lous territory peopled with not unpleasant shapes, 
 from the half smile that played about her lips from 
 time to time. Then would come a little sigh ; and a 
 flush, seen even in the fading evening light, would 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 101 
 
 gleam through the tan upon her soft, childish 
 cheek. 
 
 What the matter of her thought may not be pried 
 into more properly than what she sewed upon. If it 
 touched the novel experience of the previous night it 
 would not be unnatural; for a handsome young 
 lieutenant, with world-smoothed manners, a well 
 managed voice and scars of honorable winning, was 
 not an ever^'day visitor to the isolated girl. So, if 
 fancy brought him again careering through her 
 thoughts, — if she compared him with the rough, 
 unlettered rustics only seen of late, — what wonder? 
 But surely she is not in love, nor does she mistake a 
 pleasant fancy for that state of doubtful bliss. Her 
 healthful little body enshrines a healthful common 
 sense; and her simple naturalness is built upon a firm 
 basis of self respec^t. Jen Freeman is not the sort of 
 girl who gives her heart before she knows full well 
 that it is asked ; or then, without sound cause to know 
 and to value the one who asks. 
 
 Yet, she may find basis for the little sigh in the half- 
 formed vf ish that farm life \vere not quite so monoto- 
 nous ; for the blush in some involuntary- wish that 
 there were more pleasant visitors, like Captain 
 Shelb}^ — or his lieutenant — for example. But visions 
 of the unreal scud away, and the girl wakes to every- 
 day reality, at the sudden note of the warder's horn ; 
 and, raising her eyes, she sees someone approaching 
 the house through the gloaming. 
 
 The figure of this unbidden visitor is a woman, and 
 she is met at the great gate by Farmer Freeman him- 
 self, returning from a warm and long day in the 
 
102 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 fields. After a few words he turns toward the well- 
 yard, and the woman slowl\% and with uncertain 
 step, approaches the gallery. And, as she draws 
 nearer, Jen notes that she is barefoot, poorly clad, 
 and limping with fatigue and soreness of foot. So 
 the warm hearted girl la^^s down her smoothly 
 folded work, advancing to w^elcome the visitor, who 
 reaches the low gallery only to sink upon its edge 
 with a weary sigh that is half a sob. 
 
 Looking upon the pinched features and trembling 
 limbs wnth tender compassion, Jen takes the grimy 
 hands in hers, lifting the woman, as she exclaims : 
 
 "Sit in this easy chair, you poor, tired thing ! No ! 
 Don't try to talk until I get you a drink." 
 
 Then she runs to the shelf near by, that supports a 
 huge bucket of cold, mountain well water, hurrying 
 back with the ample gourd filled. 
 
 "Ye're smeart kind ter me, Miss Freeman," the 
 woman said, after greedy' gulping of the fluid, as she 
 wiped her mouth on her soiled sleeve. "Mebbe ver 
 wud n't a-ben so, ef yer'd a-knowed I war th' wife ov 
 er disarter, wud jer?" 
 
 "Why not ?" the girl responded, frankly. "I could 
 sympathize all the more with you, for that added 
 sorrow. But don't try to talk. You seem worn 
 out." 
 
 "I em plum tired, sho'," the woman answered. 
 "We 'uns hez been on ther mounting yan', a- 
 trampin' fur two whole da}'. But I tho't as how 
 3'ou an' yer paw wud n't refuse er bite an' er sup ter 
 a po' wumun, ef her man war er disarter." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 103 
 
 " Of course we would n't ! "Jen cried, her face glow- 
 ing with sympathy and pity. "Wait a moment, 
 and don't you stir!" she added, as she ran into the 
 house. 
 
 The woman shook her head wearily, as she looked 
 after her wistfully; and then her dull eye bright- 
 ened into a cunning gleam, as it furtively sought the 
 bullet hole, in the plank above her head. But soon 
 the girl ran out, with a platter of food and a bowl of 
 foaming, fresh milk, which she placed before the 
 wanderer, watching her as she ate greedily and to 
 the last crumb. Then she gave a sigh of relief, and 
 said: 
 
 "Bless yer fur them kin' words an' fur yer pretty 
 face, more'n fur yer grub, Miss Freeman. The're do 
 be sum good en ther wurld, arter all !" 
 
 "I hope so," Jen said, simply. "But I believe I 
 remember you, my good woman." 
 
 "I 'low I be n't er good 'ooman," the other 
 answered grimly. "I 'low ez e'm po'wful baad. But 
 Lize Holden kin do yer good, mebbe, 'fo' et's too 
 late." 
 
 "I was right, then," Jen answered. "You are the 
 ■woman w^hose husband was chased by the troopers, 
 yesterday? " 
 
 "I be n't lyin' 'bout it, be I ? " the woman retorted ; 
 adding with a gleam of weak triumph in her eyes : 
 "But tha's not cotcht 'im, is tha? Tha's not got 
 Hank yit, hez tha' ? But jes' arter he foolt 'em agin, 
 wurd war sont frum Miss Hess, 'lowin' he'd better 
 cum yan, ef he'd git 'way. So we'uns trampt 'cross 
 cove an' hill ter her place, all night long! " 
 
104 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 ** You must be worn out ! " Jen said. 
 
 "Smeart wore out," the woman answered. "But 
 me an' my man cum by yere jess as moon riz, and I 
 tried ter stop an' speak yer, ter liev yer warnt." 
 
 "Last night? At moon rise? " Jen asked, quickly. 
 
 "Jess 'bout, I 'low. But th' house war dark, an' I 
 heer'd th' critter cump'ny roostin' yan; so I hed ter 
 git, 'thout no speech o' yer." 
 
 A gleam of light broke over Jen's face ; but even 
 sympathy could not restrain a broad smile, as she 
 recalled the comical rencontre at that very window, 
 the previous midnight. 
 
 "An' I hed watcht long arter yer hed quit a-singin' 
 'long OY yer yung man," the woman resumed; and 
 Miss Jen's smile died suddenh^, at the appropriative 
 title. 
 
 " Where is your man now ? " she asked, quietly. 
 
 "Safe an' soun',beyant," the woman replied, with a 
 cunning gleam in her eyes. But it suddenl}^ changed 
 to a yearning one, as she added : " I do ble'eve I kin 
 trus' yer, Miss Freeman. Hank 'lowed ez he wudn't 
 jine. He jess up an' tole Miss Hess he hain't never 
 outlaw^'d yit. He jess' d'sartid ter cum ter me an' 
 po' Johnnie; an' he's plum sot ter go back ! He jess 
 'lows he's got th' rite ter go back ! So, we'uns up 
 an' trampt back, sence noon, cuttin' cross coves, an' 
 a-dodgin' ther critter cump'ny." 
 
 "They are returning this way?" Jen asked, 
 quickly. 
 
 "Reck'n!" was the brief reply; but the woman 
 nodded her head and grinned knowingly. "Yer 
 yung man '11 see yer 'fo' long. Miss ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 105 
 
 "You didn't come all this way, out of your road, 
 to tell me that ! " Jen retorted, sharply. 
 
 "Sho'I didn't," the woman answered, with a wary 
 look around her. "But I plum' loss' it, tell now. 
 Miss Freemun, them cap'ns ov ther critter cump'ny's 
 ater my man. Tha's hard men ; but A'er yung man 
 hez a kin' heart I " 
 
 Jen flushed deeply, if unconsciously ; but she did 
 not reprove the speaker. Laying no claim to the 
 trooper, even unacknowledged, she still found his 
 praises pleasant, though coming from such humble 
 source. So she made no reply; and Lize Holden's 
 cunning noting the flush, she went on : 
 
 " Well, I haint sed no harm, hez I ? Then, ef yer be 
 a fren' o' hisn, thet yung soljer — an' ther Cap'n 
 Shelb}^ too, shed be warn't I " 
 
 "About Hess? " Jen queried, quickl}'. 
 
 "Naw! 'bout my man's paw, John Holden I Paw 
 ar' a dang'sum man, wen he's sot ; an' yestiddy he 
 hear't as how Hank war shot by th' soljers. Then 
 he swar his yoath ter Gawd, ez he'd shoot them two 
 soljers. Sencst he hev larnt Hank war n't shot, paw 
 sez ez how he hain't rid o' thet A'oath, 'cepen he do 
 shoot one on 'em — " 
 
 "And he fired that shot last night! " Jen broke in. 
 **The coward! " 
 
 "I hain't sed he did, hez I ? " Lize Holden answered. 
 ''But paw ben't no cow'ud, sho'. He hez sware his 
 yoath. Miss, an' he be bound ter keep't ef he kin. So 
 yer yung man 'ud better be warn't! He hed bess' 
 git 'way frum yere, 'fo' paw shell fin 'im ! " 
 
106 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "You are talking nonsense, Mrs. Holden!" Jen 
 said, angrily. "And you must stop speaking of Mr. 
 Latham as my — " she hesitated a moment, then went 
 on bravely — "as my S^oung man.' I never saw him 
 until last evening, in all my life ! But you must be 
 ignorant of a Confederate soldier's bravery, and of 
 his duty, if you suppose he could care for the threats 
 of a dreadful old bushwhacker like John Holden ! I 
 u'/y/ warn Captain Shelby; but it will be to arrest 
 this disloyal old wretch, who shoots at us out of the 
 darkness! " 
 
 "I 'low I war doin' fur ther bes', Miss Freeman,'* 
 the other replied, beginning to whimper. "But paw 
 ar' might'ly sot again them two cap'ns. He do 'low- 
 as he can't brek his yoath ; but I don' want ther 
 yung man shot, sho '; an' I don' wan' no mo' 
 trouble, th' Lord knows ! Ef I kin git Hank ter hear 
 reasing, he'll cum in an' gie himself up; an' Mistur 
 Lathum 'lows he's a-friendin' 'im now. So, 1 don' 
 keer ter hev Mistur Lathum hurtid , not by paw nur 
 n'uther!" 
 
 Before Jen could frame any reply to this speech, 
 that caused mingled emotions of pity, interest and 
 alarm in her gentle bosom, the signal horn sounded 
 once more. 
 
 Dusk had now fallen over the cove, but clear twi- 
 light still lingered about the crest. Through it rose a 
 cloud of dust, seeming to move in their direction 
 rapidlv ; and to Jen's keen perception — forewarned by 
 the woman — it betokened the return of the cavalry. 
 Suddenly, just as the dust cloud was halfway dow^n 
 the path, and as the dim figures of horsemen became 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. lOT 
 
 distinguishable througH it, confusion seemed to occur 
 in the ranks. 
 
 Three men galloped out rapidly ; then a flash cut 
 the dusk; and, simultaneously, a clear report of 
 carbine rang among the echoing cliffs. Then all was 
 still; the squad halted, the men sitting their horses 
 like gray statues against the dying light. Then a. 
 single horseman left their ranks, spunriug toward the 
 house at a rapid gallop. 
 
 The farmer ran to the gate to meet him, and Jen — 
 forgetting the woman, in her anxious fear, sudden 
 and all absorbing now — saw that it \vas Captain 
 Shelby. Then, with parted lips and quick throbbing 
 heart, Jen waited while her father spoke briefly to the 
 captain, the two approaching the porch on foot. The 
 trooper's rein was looped over his left arm ; and the 
 girl noted that his manner was serious and his voice 
 grave, as he said : 
 
 "Yes; two of your men, with pickaxe and shovel 
 -will do, Mr. Freeman. But it is a bad business, any- 
 way." 
 
 " You have bad news. Captain Shelby ? " Jen forced 
 herself to ask. But her usually red lips were white,, 
 and her voice dry and hard. 
 
 "Yes, quite bad news, Miss Jen," the trooper 
 replied. "I left Mr. Latham in charge of the squad, 
 and came in person to ask your father's assistance." 
 
 Jen grasped the column for srippoii: and drew a 
 long, deep breath at these words. The color came 
 back to her lips and cheeks ; but she herself could not 
 have explained the booming sound in her ears, which 
 
T.08 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 seemed to give great distance to Shelby's voice, as lie 
 went on rapidly : 
 
 "You see, Mr. Freeman, we must push on for Fort 
 Payne to-night. The cavalry are massing across the 
 river, and I judge the general expects a Federal 
 advance. A scout overtook us before sunset, with 
 news that suggests action soon." 
 
 "But that is not the bad news you meant?" Jen 
 asked, doubtfully. 
 
 "Oh, no; not that," Shelby answered, bluntly as 
 he ever- did, w^hen intent on duty. "I don't mind 
 catching deserters, Miss Jen, for that is what I was 
 ordered to the mountains to do; but I hate to be 
 compelled to shoot them ! " 
 
 "And you have done so ! " the girl cried. 
 
 "Yes; we found a desperate outlaw, worn out on 
 the crest beyond. Resisting fiercely, he was captured 
 and warned not to attempt escape. Just at the turn 
 there, he broke away, and the trooper guarding him 
 ^was forced to shoot." 
 
 " And killed him ! " Jen again cried. 
 
 "Yes," \vas the blunt reply. "But it was just as 
 -weW. Nothing could have saved so desperate an out- 
 law as Hank Holden ! " 
 
 There \vas a dull, heavy thud upon the floor of the 
 porch ; and, recalled to sudden memory, Jen turned 
 and bent over the stiff, cold form of the fainting 
 woman. And her lips formed only three words : 
 
 " Hush !— His wife ! " 
 Then, in the calm evening hush, the soldier and the 
 farmer simultaneously bared their heads ; standing 
 silent in the presence of a great grief. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A MISADVENTURE. 
 
 Weeks have passed since the deserter was sent tO' 
 his final Judgment, before that of the lower court to 
 which he was doggedh' striving to "go back," nerved 
 by the feeling that he "had the right to go." 
 
 Shelb}' is scouting along the river line, miles away 
 from the scene of that not unusual tragedy, now 
 almost forgotten in the welcomed rush of more active 
 duty; and with him are all his command except a cor- 
 poral and ten men, left with Latham. The latter has 
 strict instructions to Avatch the lower shore, in case 
 the Federal advance should cross the Tennessee river 
 and make a raid in the direction of the East Tennes- 
 see, Virginia and Georgia railroad, a transportation 
 artery so vital as to warrant closest and most watch- 
 ful care. The compliment to the young cavalrjmian's 
 coolness and sagacity is great, indeed, for he is pretty 
 well bej'ond communication with the main bod\', 
 and must rely wholly upon his own resources and 
 military instincts ; but it irks him none the less to lie 
 out in perfect safety of the mountain fastnesses, while 
 his comrades may at any moment be called into the- 
 hot excitement of that battle which, alas I he may- 
 only "sniff afar off." 
 
110 JOHN IIOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 The camp of tlie squad is at the intersection of two 
 roads ; one leading direct to the Tennessee river, the 
 other the main thoroughfare of that section of the 
 countr_y. Their quarters are measurably comfort- 
 able, — for such season in those days, — consisting of 
 the remains of a dilapidated loghouse and such brush 
 "shelters" as the men construct; picturesque to the 
 eye and sufficient to protect from sun and ordinary 
 rain. Each night, after the pickets are set, the 
 bivouac makes a quaint and novel scene ; the hardy 
 and brov^ned fellows grouped about their fire — for it 
 is ever cool at night in the high region — cooking v^hat 
 rations they have foraged for during the day, smok- 
 ing their pipes and swapping rather highly-colored 
 yarns of past adventures, mingled with frequent, and 
 not uninteUigent, speculation as to the possible 
 movements of the foe they watch for. But that foe 
 never appears across the river to the eager eye of the 
 picket; and days pass in a life of the far niente, more 
 or less susceptible of the prefix, dolce. But the men 
 are content; sleeping and smoking away most of 
 their days, and devoting much less time to profane 
 objurgation as to "ther commersary," than do their 
 more ill-fed comrades with the main forces. 
 
 But not so with their impatient young commander. 
 Inwardly chafing at being "stuck away in such an 
 out of God's sight cranny," as he writes Shelby, in 
 postscript to a report about nothing, Latham chafes 
 and frets in a thick boredom, which may be felt ; and, 
 spite of active exercise and constant hunting for 
 game he cannot find, spite of quoting poetry and 
 even some effort to write it, comes nearer to an 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. Ill 
 
 attack of the blue devils than ever before in his 
 sunny and cheerful life. His panacea for them, how- 
 ever, is the hope which never sleeps, that the Federal 
 cavalry — ^known to be massing heavily beyond it — 
 mav cross the river in his front, and that he may be 
 the first to meet them. But even rumors of this pos- 
 sibility at last die out, from reports of passing scouts 
 and couriers ; and Latham's existence now becomes 
 one of boredom almost unbearable. 
 
 If it be verity that "an idle man's brain is the 
 devil's workshop," it certainly is equally true that 
 Master Cupid sometimes tarries in it, at least to 
 watch, if not prevent, the busy labors of his coad- 
 jutor from the nether realms. So it is but natural 
 that wandering thoughts of the j^oung soldier often 
 reverted to Freeman Farm, recalling pictures of its 
 homely comfort and cjuiet refinement. And, central 
 figure in all of them, of course, stood the farmer's 
 daughter— now feeding her chicks, again preparing a 
 savory supper ; more often singing her favorite songs 
 simply and sweetly. And more than once, as he lay 
 under the stars — his sole companions these thoughts 
 and his brier pipe — Latham recalled the midnight 
 rencontre, when Miss Jen had ordered him back to 
 bed so peremptorily. 
 
 He never failed to repeat, mentally, the remark 
 made just before sleep that night — that he was "an 
 ass," and that it w^as none of his business. But, 
 spite of both averments, he confessed full curiosity 
 about the strange absence of the girl from bed at 
 suchanhour; and magnified her request not to speak 
 of it to her father into a thousand vague, but vary- 
 
112 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 ing, shapes through the kaleidoscope of the "idle 
 man's brain." Ignorant of the physical and staunch 
 moral nature of mountaineers in some cases, the 
 3^outh never once dreamed of the presence of another 
 woman ; and, even had the memory of Lize Holden 
 crossed his mind, or had the grim oath of the Union- 
 ist, hanging above him like the fabled Grecian's 
 sword, been known to him, the appearance of Miss 
 Jen in scant costume came so pat as to make his 
 wonder all the more natural. 
 
 But Latham had known w^omen only to respect 
 them, and he held for them those "High erected 
 thoughts, seated in the heart of courtes}^," which 
 come in such connection ever, to the true gentleman. 
 And when such a one recalls venerated mother and 
 idolized sisters of his own, unsubstantial doubts fade 
 from his mind, as the mountain mists dissipate at 
 noon. So, while curious query sometimes cut his 
 memories of the girl and her surroundings, the 
 soldier never doubted the perfect right of Miss Jen 
 to have gone upon her strangely-timed errand, even — 
 as he once permitted himself to vaguely wonder — if 
 it had been to meet some visitor, unknown to her 
 sire. 
 
 But the one visit to Freeman Farm had left so 
 many pleasant recollections that Latham several 
 times thought of repeating it. Now that duty no 
 longer seemed to call so strictly for that price of 
 liberty which must be paid by eternal vigilance, he 
 feels the right to a few hours recreation. This, 
 naturally, takes the shape of an early gallop over 
 the fifteen miles Iving between him and the farm, and 
 
"HUSH!— HIS WIFE!"— Page 108. 
 
JOHxN HOI.DEN, UNIONIST. 113 
 
 a return b\" earlv night, as he cannot leave his com- 
 mand then, even in the dead lull of hostilities about 
 him. 
 
 So, the lieutenant in command gives himself twelve 
 hours furlough, mounts his horse after the morning 
 picket is posted, and rides forth to renew acquaint- 
 ance with the most attractive woman he has met 
 since leaving Virginia. But he does not start with- 
 out some warning of the perils of the way ; for the 
 corporal — after receiving last and very minute 
 instructions — still stands with hand to cap, and 
 ventures : 
 
 " Ther's man\' a d'serter and 'whacker rotnid here 
 yit, leftenant. Shan't I detail ye' an orderly? " 
 
 "Certainly not, corporal. Even if necessary, I 
 could not spare the man," his officer answered 
 promptly ; but his freshly shaved cheek colored deeper 
 under its sun-bronze, at the implied necessit}- ; and at 
 the thought that he was not exactly riding on duty. 
 
 "All right, sir," the man answered. "But \'e'd 
 best keep your eyes wide open, mosth' in the passes 
 with thick brush above 'em. Any o' them skulkers 
 'ud pick off an officer for the glory ; lett'n alone his 
 horse an' his pistols." 
 
 "Thank you all the same for your w^arning, cor- 
 poral, but 'I wasn't born in the woods to be scared 
 by an owl,'" Latham laughed, in that familiarity 
 common between officer and man in the Southern 
 service; but he added with changed manner, as he 
 twnsted his mustache : " I do n't think man\' skulkers 
 would keep near our camp, corporal, but keep sharp 
 lookout. Order the men to forage nearer in, to-day, 
 
 8 
 
114 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 It is the first I have left you in charge, and I'd hate 
 to ride in at picket-change and find you gobbled by 
 General Hess." 
 
 "All right, sir!" the soldier answered, stepping 
 back, with salute. "We'll be here when you come, I 
 guess. No skulkers are reported on the lower road 
 b\' the picket, fi3r four days past." 
 
 "They've been shy, ever since the ugly lesson 
 taught that Holden gang," Latham answered; and 
 with the words he trotted into the clear roadwa\% 
 sitting his horse graceful and erect, the incarnation 
 of youthful pride and hope. But the corporal — a 
 grizzled veteran with scar-seamed cheek — shook his 
 head sagely, as he looked after his commander, 
 remarking half to himself: 
 
 "Splendid youngster, that, but he do have lots to 
 larn 'bout mountain warfare, yit! Wonder where 
 he's off to?" 
 
 "Gal, I s'pose," answered a soldier, "an' small 
 blame t'im, arterthis yerecamp. Wouldn't a-mirded 
 ridin' his ord'ly, ef ther's two on 'em." 
 
 " Ye're a pretty one fur gals, ye 'air," the corporal 
 retorted. "Better git, and forage roun' here, fur ye're 
 fonder o' grub! " 
 
 Meanwhile the discussed superior rides gaily over 
 the mountain road until he strikes a known trail 
 across the country and trots into it; confident of 
 reaching Farmer Freeman's hospitable gate long ere 
 noon, and having ample time for a pleasant dinner 
 and still more pleasant tete-a-tete. And as he goes 
 rapidly along, the man's eyes grow dreamy w^ith the 
 swifter-coming fancies to his brain — the past, his 
 
JOHX HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 115 
 
 home, more recent scouting and Jen Freeman dancing 
 along the "gray matter" in pleasantly unintelligible 
 £gures. 
 
 Suddenly lie comes back to the present, and a 
 quickly tauted rein stops his horse. A well-known 
 mountain stream crosses the road before him, but 
 recent rains have swelled its flood high be\'ond 
 remembered bounds; and, sitting on the top of the 
 steep descent to the familiar bridge, Latham utters 
 something less like a pra\'er than an oath. For the 
 rough planks, lately serving as bridge, are swept 
 away, and the tumbling rush of w^aters above sug- 
 gest small chance of ford in that direction. The 
 banks are too steep there to offer safe descent ; and 
 turning into the w^oods below the bridge-point, he 
 picks his way along the stream, that grew only 
 narrower and deeper as he went. At last he found a 
 point promising a ford; but the horse refused, and 
 the spur and voice were necessary to force him in, 
 with snort and plunge. Next instant he was swim- 
 ming; but the practiced rider, wet nearl}^ to his 
 waist, kept the beast's head up stream until he struck 
 bottom ; then leaving the saddle and urging the tired 
 animal up the steep and slippery bank beyond. In 
 the dense cover of w^ood the rider had lost his bear- 
 ings ; but trifles like that seemed little to the scouter, 
 and he quickly drew off his boots, ran the water out 
 of them by the bucketful; and remounting, struck 
 out for the missing trail. 
 
 Half an hour later, Beverly Latham drew rein, 
 dead beat. Disgustinghim as did the confession come, 
 it had to come. He was lost in the woods ; and, 
 
116 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 human intelligence lacking, he must trust to brute 
 instinct. Giving the horse his head, the man urged 
 him on, and the intelligent animal turned short 
 round and began picking his way slowly through the 
 brush, in direction exactly opposite. 
 
 Lieutenant Latham's boots were perfectly dr\^ 
 and hunger began to gnaw him equally with disgust, 
 when he struck a narrow trail two hours later. 
 Still letting his horse have his head, but touching 
 him with the spur, he trotted briskly on. But this 
 road — circuitous and narro^v as it was — seemed the 
 only hope, and at last the disgusted man emerged 
 into a broader path, though still unknown to him. 
 But the sun was already hastening toward the 
 west, far past meridian. Impatiently the rider urged 
 his steed, for an hour longer riding as near due south 
 as the curves of road permitted. Then came a sud- 
 den break in the horse's stride ; a sudden halt, fol- 
 lo^ved bv a limping eftbrt to gather again. 
 
 That the merciful man is ever merciful to his beast,, 
 is proverbial; but, in those days and in such a 
 countrv, mercy was largely reinforced by necessities 
 of personal safety. Dismounting and examining the 
 foreleg, promptlj^ raised to his touch, Latham found 
 that the horse had picked up a jagged stone, fast 
 imbedded 'twixt shoe and frog. With his knife he 
 carefullv tried the stone, finally using more force and 
 snapping the worn, rusty shoe that had doneso much 
 rough mountain service. The farrier's knife he car- 
 ried removed the fragment ; but the rust-fastened 
 nails held firmlv to the other, and the horse winced 
 and trembled under handling, showing a bad bruise 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 117 
 
 of the frog. So with another glance at the sun, — now 
 less like Joshua's to him than ever, — the man strode 
 ahead, pocketing his knife and followed by the limp- 
 ing beast. 
 
 It is perhaps fortunate that Beverh' Latham did 
 not have the habit of talking to himself; for his 
 words on this occasion might have shocked any 
 listener — had one been possible in that deserted 
 spot — who was in the least acquainted with the 
 church service. But he kept silent for perhaps a 
 mile. Then the horse nickered, pricked up his ears 
 and turned to^vard the wood, stepping more easily 
 and seeming free from pain. Grasping the bit, the 
 soldier paused and listened for the expected neigh in 
 answer; for the brute evidently recognized some 
 equine friend. But no neigh came ; only what seemed, 
 to the ear of the practiced scout, the snap of broken 
 branches and the swish of leaves swept aside. The 
 horse heard, too ; for, raising his head, he neighed clear 
 and loud, pricking his ears for answer. None came; 
 and the master, mounting and rising in his stirrups, 
 peered long and eagerly through the trees, for some 
 sign of life. None rewarded his searching gaze; and 
 with deeper disgust than before, he once more gave 
 the horse his head, not omitting keen watch 
 toward the suspicious sounds, as he carefully 
 inspected his pistol-chamber, to see if his bath had 
 affected the caps. 
 
 Then, after what seemed to him endless delay, the 
 soldier's heart bounded with joy. The horse moved 
 out of the skirt of woods into the very road he had 
 left at the broken bridge, but far below it. But now 
 
lis JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 the sun hung low over the western mountain tops, 
 and a ten mile ride on a lamed horse, lay between 
 him and Farmer Freeman's. Should he turn back? 
 It would be night before he could reach his camp, 
 even could he retrace, in the dusky woods, the path 
 around which his horse had brought him out. 
 Besides, the worn beast might not again swim the 
 swollen creek; and, really there was no pressing mili- 
 tary need for his presence in camp. His situation 
 was most unfortunate, but, in best judgment, the 
 safest way out of it was the way to Freeman Farm ; 
 and, inclination siding with judgment, the decision 
 was carried, nem. con. Latham rode slowly south- 
 ward, the evening closing around him rapidly, and 
 night falling before he had covered half the distance. 
 
 As he passed slowly along, Latham's ears were all 
 at once saluted by the sounds of a fiddle. The tones 
 of this master instrument, if not respondent now to 
 the touch of the master hand, were not the less wel- 
 come to the wayfarer. For they denoted human 
 habitation and possible care for his lame horse ; and 
 the latter also pricked up his ears, as though to 
 prove that the story of Orpheus and his lyre was 
 not founded wholly on fable. 
 
 Staring eagerly ahead, the soldier saw a dim Hght on 
 the wayside ; and riding toward it, soon found him- 
 self before a rough log cabin, from which proceeded 
 the melody of "Old Molly Hare," accompanied by 
 sounds of heavy feet indulging in the double shuffle. 
 So vigorous was the sacrifice to Terpsichore as fairly 
 to shake the frail building. 
 
 "Yer hain't goin' ter pass 'thout 'lightin', be yer. 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 119 
 
 stranger?" cried a rough Toice from the doorway, 
 and Latham saw that it proceeded from a burly 
 striphng of perhaps sixteen years old. "Yer can't 
 git no music fur th' yarmy yere," the boy added, 
 w4th a stare and a grin half malicious and hali 
 admiring. "An' yer can't git no cornscreeps, nuther, 
 fur w^e'uns be all yunder age, sho'. But yer kin have a 
 pow'ful good time, b}' hither, if 3'er'll 'light an' jine !" 
 
 The soldier hesitated a moment, doubting the pru- 
 dence of trusting himself among §trangers holding 
 revel in this wild spot. But he and his horse were 
 both woefulh^ in need of a brief rest, and it flashed 
 into his mind that duty might warrant inspection of 
 the place. If there were no grown skulkers, or 
 deserters, in the house, a hint dropped b^'some of the 
 3'ouths, or women^under intoxicating influence of 
 the dance, if not of more direct stimulant — might be 
 useful for future reference. And, perhaps not least, 
 curiosity impelled him to view the novel scene. So 
 he answered cheerily : 
 
 "My horse is dead lame, stranger, so I will 'light 
 and rest him awhile, if I don't intrude." 
 
 "It be n't like I'd er axed yer, ef yer'd 'trude, stran- 
 ger, be't?" the boy answered. "Ef yer do be a 
 Johnnie, it don't mek no differ." 
 
 So Latham hitched his steed convenient to the door, 
 loosenedhis pistol in holster, and, giving a farewell rub- 
 bing to the lame leg, followed his host into the cabin. 
 
 The scene striking his gaze — albeit far different from 
 a "commencement hop," or a Richmond ball room — 
 \vas still a lively and novel one. Up and down the 
 rough puncheon floor — formed of logs partly 
 
120 JOHN HOLDEN. UNIONIST. 
 
 smoothed on top — were ranged two rows of sturd}^ 
 frowsy mountain girls, few of them fairly respectable 
 looking, and almost every one awkward, unkempt 
 and barefoot. But their freckled faces glowed with 
 pleasure and perspiration; for they had evidently 
 been dancing some sort of Virginia reel, with the few — 
 and seemingly much sought — striplings among them. 
 
 And now, as a tough old sinner of a fiddler scraped 
 his vile instrument faster, those girls who had part- 
 ners, w^ere fiercely striving to dance down their beaux. 
 Fast and furious raged the revel; more moist 
 streamed the faces of the dancers ; and the girls 
 jumped so high, in their eager rivalry, that the fact 
 was soon revealed to the intruder that shoes and 
 stockings were not the only missing garments. But 
 a few minutes of such exercise sufficed to end the 
 dance, the winning couple received rude congratula" 
 tions; and then Latham's guide introduced him wath 
 the frank remark : 
 
 "Look yere, gals an' fellers! I hev axt this yer' 
 Johnnie ter hitch his critter an' jine. — He hev hitched 
 and yere he ar'! " 
 
 The introduction seemed ample ; for the stranger 
 was promptly surrounded by the whole gaping 
 assembly ; and the seeming belles of the ball pressed 
 closer and urged him "ter jine." 
 
 But, pleading fatigue and possibility of stopping 
 only brief space, he sat down by the old fiddler. 
 That descendant of Orpheus scraped his bow 
 promptly again ; and the heavy tread of the revelers 
 again shook the cabin.* 
 
 •Literally accurate description of an actual scene. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 121 
 
 Standing a little way back from the road, the log 
 hut was seated on the crest of a gentle rise; while 
 the thick growth of tree and brush, had been cleared 
 away only from its front and partly at its sides. 
 Behind it the thicket was dense and dark as "the 
 forest primeval"; its gloom enhanced even, by the 
 vague flicker of light that streamed through the 
 open door, toward the road, and filtered, thin- 
 streaked, between the logs, barely touching the 
 leaves and boughs. 
 
 From the thicket comes the chirp of insects, almost 
 drowned by squeak of string and beat of foot. But is 
 that a rustle among the brush ? It might be a rab- 
 bit, changing its lair ; or a snake, stealing awav from 
 unwonted noise. But the rustle is repeated ; the 
 boughs seem to part ; and the dimly traced shadow 
 of the woods seems to lengthen out, projected 
 toward the cabin. Gradually the dark, thin line 
 steals onward, nearer to the house; and now, as a 
 pale flicker strikes it, the shadow rises and becomes 
 a man. And the man has fell purpose in his heart, 
 for he skulks onward, stooping and noiseless ; and he 
 trails a long rifle by his side. Now he reaches the 
 back of the cabin, rises to his full height and peers 
 eagerh' through one of the chinks, between ill-fitting 
 logs. And as the fitful gleam touches his face, the 
 features show drawn and set, with iury, hate and 
 deadly menace. 
 
 Silently as a spirit, the man raises the rifle, places 
 the muzzle in the crack and takes deliberate aim at 
 something within. But another shadow — slim, 
 _gliding and noiseless as his own — has followed swift 
 
122 JOHN HOI.DEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Upon it ; and, just as his relentless finger presses ou 
 the trigger, a lean but strong hand strikes the butt 
 of the rifle from his shoulder. 
 
 The crack of the rifle — the flash into their midst — 
 hold the dancers paralyzed in mid-motion. The fiddle 
 stops, echoless ; and for an instant all is deadly still. 
 But only for an instant. The next, all turn intui- 
 tiveh' to the soldier guest, whose trick they deem it. 
 A rush is made for Latham, at the very moment that 
 he reels from his seat, sinking to the floor in a pool 
 of his own blood ! 
 
 The would-be murderer fled from the crack toward 
 the covering woods. And following swift — and close 
 as Nemesis — fled the companion shadow, through 
 bush and brier and brush. Turning at last the man 
 faced his pursuer ; speaking slowly, deliberately, but 
 without anger — only desperate fixity of purpose in 
 his tone : 
 
 " W^^ hez A^er dun it, Lize? How hez yer dar'd ter 
 cum 'twixt me an' my yoath? " 
 
 " Oh, paw ! " sobbed the woman. "Yer hed n't th' 
 rite ter do't! It war n't him ez kilt my man! He 
 war a-friendin' Hank, all 'long! " 
 
 "Tha's vipers all! " John Holden answered, coldly. 
 " Gawd hez hearn my yoath, gell ; an' He'll not ge'en 
 hit bac' ter me ! Yer may hev save' ther hunter, this 
 wunst — tho' I do hope sholy not; but, ef he ben't 
 dead — thet meks no differ, gell! His tim' hez got ter 
 cum — an' cum et shell! " 
 
 "Oh! yer shan't, paw! Yer shan't go addin' ov 
 murder, top murder ! Gawd knows I luv'd my man, 
 paw! But He knows, too, as th' yung 'un war 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 123" 
 
 a-friendin' Hank, 'long of me ! Let 'a be, paw ! Ef ver 
 nius kill, fur thet yoath — then, paw, I'd a-ruther 
 yer'dkillme!" 
 
 The woman passed before him in the gloom throw- 
 ing wide her thin arms, and facing him in the path. 
 
 "I hed thet en my min', Lize, wen yer streck my 
 gun," the old man answered without one show of 
 emotion ; his voice hard and cold as though repeat- 
 ing a lesson. "Et cum ter me then, gell. But wot 
 good 'ud come o' thet? It war agin them, as I hev 
 swar m\' 3'oath ! " 
 
 Within the cabin confusion and terror soon sub- 
 sided. Those wild people — accustomed to blood and 
 tracas at all times — were hardened now, by trial and 
 constant danger. Boys ran out and beat the brush, 
 swinging rude lanterns and calling to each other ; but 
 soon they ceased the bootless search. 
 
 The girls had lifted Latham and torn open his 
 bloody jacket. Now one of them plugged a small, 
 bleeding wound, \vith fragments of his handkerchief. 
 For the bullet, meant for his heart, had been deflected 
 upward by Lize Holden's blow, and a deep flesh 
 wound in his shoulder was the result of its speeding. 
 
 Soon rough but kindh' hands had borne "ther- 
 Johnnie" outside, had lifted him to his horse, and 
 now steadied him in saddle, as others grasped the bit. 
 
 "Wartu?" asked a kindl^y voice. "Wichwayter 
 go, soljer? " 
 
 And Latham — faint, dizz\^ and reeling in his seat — 
 answered mechanically, as his head sunk on his 
 breast : 
 
 "Farmer — Freeman's! " 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 CONVALESCENT SYMPTOMS. 
 
 "It is a lovely face; so full of brightness and gentle- 
 ness. I would have known your sister Stella was a 
 musician, without your telling me, Mr. Latham. 
 Your mother is a grand woman, too, I can see ; and 
 Miss Stella is like her. But, isn't your mother just a 
 little — proud?" 
 
 Jen Freeman spoke with the frank gentleness 
 natural to her, and the added freedom of ripened 
 acquaintance. But she hesitated an instant before 
 her last word ; and with it the double locket rested 
 on her lap; and her e^-es — not seeking those of the 
 young lieutenant, to whom she spoke — gazed out 
 over the north crest absently, and her lips parted in 
 a half sigh. 
 
 "Well, perhaps— just a little," Latham answered 
 easily. "Not more so, though, than her lineage and 
 life-long surroundings might warrant. But mother 
 has no false or foolish pride about anji:hing. Miss 
 Jen, — except about her children, especially her 
 runaway bo}'." 
 
 " That is ver\^ natural," Jen said, in her simple can- 
 dor, but still staring across the mountain. 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 125- 
 
 The lieutenant stared at her earnestly ; and a grat- 
 ified flush stole into his cheek, as his rather thin hand 
 went to his mustache niechanicall\% in habitual 
 caress of its well-tended ends. He was lounging- idly 
 in a huge rush bottomed chair, looking rather pale 
 and thin, but what a town girl had called "interest- 
 ing." But he seemed scarcely an invalid now; and 
 the bridle arm he carried in a blue ribbon, rested on 
 it lightly and as mere matter of form, apparently. 
 
 Great had been the excitement at Freeman Farm,_ 
 on that midnight three weeks previous, when his 
 rough guides led up Latham's lamed horse, bearing 
 the ^vounded rider. The farmer had first despatched 
 Master Willie to the Gadsden doctor, mounted on 
 his fleetest horse and enjoined to ride and spare not. 
 Then he had showered maledictions — not wholly 
 unprofane and condensed into strength bv repression 
 — on the "cowardh' skunks," who had bushwhacked 
 his pale and bleeding guest. And Miss Jen, mean- 
 time, had moved about, swift and noiseless as a 
 sprite, preparing the best room for instant tenancv; 
 and stripping long-prized linen rags into bandages. 
 
 Pale and Avhite-lipped as the girl was, her hand 
 never shook, nor did any useless moisture rise to the 
 brown eyes, as she helped remove the blood-soaked 
 jacket tenderh', and washed the blood clots from the 
 long, gashed puncture of the bullet. But those eves 
 held eager querj- — so intense as to be painful ; and her 
 father answered to them : 
 
 "No; it's not dangerous — no artery cut; ball seems 
 to have cut out. Cold water '11 do till Preston gets 
 here. He's only faint from loss of blood." 
 
126 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "It's nothing — onl}' scratch — Miss Jen," Latham 
 had muttered, opening his eyes onthegirl, only to close 
 them wearily at once. But Dr. Preston had verified 
 the farmer's diagnosis; the weakness of depletion 
 swiftly passed awa}'; and the handsome young 
 object of interest was soon on his feet, disabled, but 
 last recovering under combined action of close care 
 and a fine constitution. 
 
 Pleasant days had proved those of convalescence. 
 The thunder of war had rolled far av^ay, northward 
 and eastward; Shelby had ridden down to see his 
 sub, reassuring him by his growl that he was "grow- 
 ing sick for a brush," and that everything v^as "dead 
 as a mackerel." Preston had ceased his visits, save 
 a social one for a smoke and a game of cribbage as 
 he passed ; and Latham had taught the m\'steries of 
 "fifteen two, and one for his Nob," to his gentle and 
 tireless nurse. Then, as he had grown stronger, 
 books and music occupied them much ; Jen sitting for 
 hours plying most contentedly her swift needle, as 
 the youth lay on the wide settee propped by pillows, 
 and read romance, essay and poem, not unskillfully. 
 Then, when the sun went down and the cliff deepened 
 the gloaming, the yellow-toothed old upright fairly 
 Tattled with musical laughter; and songs — with 
 some duets he had taught her — occupied the time of 
 the girl and the soldier, if not wholl}^ the thoughts 
 of both. 
 
 For — sewing briskly, darning, or even kneading 
 simple dough, or mixing promising egg-batter in the 
 room near by, as the patient talked, or read— Jen 
 Freeman's mind w^as actively at work First she 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 127 
 
 •wondered much at the strange coming into her quiet 
 life, of this man so difterent from, — yes, so superior 
 to, — anv she had met before. But, womanlike she 
 Yielded to those twin influences, Propinquity and 
 Chance ; and now, that wonder becoming matter of 
 course, she began to grow restive under her own 
 cross-examination ; albeit none the less involuntary 
 than it was vigorous. Nor had she confined it to 
 herself alone ; for, with tact and delicacy, — but with 
 absorbing curiositv, — she had led the voung man to 
 much talk of his home and of himself Stella, his 
 favorite sister and senior by two years, Jen Freeman 
 felt was alreadv a known and liked personality ; and 
 the w-ord-portrait of the stately, dignified grand- 
 dame— tracing her descent back far beyond James- 
 town, and careless whether the sun rose far be\'ond 
 Virginia and went to rest distant from her western 
 slopes or not — was perhaps more clearly visible, 
 through the boy's loving and prideful chatter, than 
 she was in the miniature at which the girl so often 
 gazed. 
 
 And though no whit a fop, as has been said, Bev. 
 Latham still held good opinion of himself and of his 
 own; result, most largely of decided spoiling at 
 home, and next of its continuance at school, and in 
 so much of society as he had seen, under influence of 
 his frank, genial manhood and bright mentality. So 
 the lonely girl knew by rote the salient events of his 
 life; his school escapades, terminating with the 
 truant trip to follow the drum; his "hair breadth 
 'scapes i' th' imminent deadly breach "—modestly 
 told as these were, with no suspicion of vaunt ; his 
 
128 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 first wound; and over and again, his "leading" of 
 that Asian mystery to her, "the German," amid 
 scenes of but haH'-comprehended brilliance and 
 delight. 
 
 Often, as the glib narrator rattled over these 
 themes, — perhaps more intent upon their memory 
 than suspicious of their effect, — Jen Freeman's swiftly- 
 moving fingers would rest a moment in her lap ; the 
 brown eyes would gaze intenth' into nothingness^ 
 growing deeper and more meaning. Then — without 
 a start, but always with a half sigh — the girl would 
 wake from the day-dream of an instant, the fingers 
 seeming bent on more than making up lost time, and 
 the eyes bent steadily upon the fingers. But — ques- 
 tioned on oath, before a jury of her peers — the moun- 
 tain maiden had surely perjured herself, had she 
 attempted plain formulation of the matter of her 
 furtive thought at such moment. 
 
 Propinquity and Chance had doubtless begun 
 their usual work, but its finish was barred by 
 the sound comiuon sense habitant in the sound brain 
 and body of the self-respecting woman ; and while 
 her mind was ever full of her ever-present 
 guest, there came to her ever, likewise, sage and 
 saving reflection. And these, the portraits and his 
 frank talk of places and of people wholly strange, 
 largeh' aided for her safety. His people and his sur- 
 roundings were so different from hers ; luxur}-, refine- 
 ment and higher cultivation, in place of homel}^ com- 
 fort and sterling, self-respecting honesty. So Jen 
 Freeman had committed no perjury — responding to 
 that hinted cross-examining "jury of her peers" — 
 
JOHN HOLUEN, UNIONIST. 129 
 
 had she boldly and simph^ stated she AA'as not in love 
 with Mr. Latham, and that she surely never would be I 
 Did she like him ? Surely, yes ; so frank, honest and 
 brave, yet so considerate and gentle withal. More 
 than an3' man she had met before? Well, yes; and 
 naturally, too, for he was of a different mould, as. 
 w^ell as of a different world, from theirs — and hers. 
 Would she miss him when he rode to the wars again? 
 WofulU', beyond a doubt ; for the companionship 
 had been very interesting, quite improving and very 
 — sweet to her. The days would not glide so swiftly; 
 the evenings with dear old papa would seem a 
 trifle prosy at first ; the well known paths about 
 the inountain would be lonelier then — would lack a 
 something scarce describable. Then the accustomed 
 old life would settle back naturally once more, and a 
 pleasant memory" would be all the result left by this. 
 — episode. 
 
 Much this had been the girl's answer to her jury ; 
 and an honest answer, too. Such was the frequent 
 answer to the silent questioning of that best Mentor, 
 which had borne her safely so far on her unaided path 
 of life — her pure conscience. And satisfying that, 
 Jen Freeman might well have satisfied Mrs. Grundy 
 and "her army with banners" of hint and innuendo ; 
 had, indeed, the name of that ubiquitous feminine 
 free lance yet penetrated the pure echoes of Sand 
 Mountain. 
 
 What the man felt, as the weeks sped on, he him- 
 self never stopped to analyze. That thev were speed- 
 ing pleasanth^ was all he recked, save perhaps that 
 they sped a trifle too fast. Young, ardent and not 
 
 9 
 
130 JOHN HOLUEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 wholly unspoiled as he was, to gather him roses 
 while he might, had ever been Bev. Latham's philo- 
 sophic habit. And, now that time was so swiftly fly- 
 ing, he never stopped to question the result of their 
 plucking. Thorns there would be in plent^^ soon, 
 when he got back to camp dreariness and camp fare; 
 so the ever-indulged hand went out greedih^ for the 
 gathering, taking care of the petals, but leaving 
 the thorns to take care of themselves. Did he love 
 the girl? Asked this question before the jur}^, the 
 man had truly sworn that he had never ^-et asked it of 
 himself! Admire her piquant face and almost per- 
 fect figure he surely did ; more still her loyal, stead- 
 fast honesty of purpose and of speech, her bright 
 intelligent naturalness, that had made her attract- 
 ive as she was, spite of circumstance and surround- 
 ing. But deeper than this, the mental probe had 
 not gone into the spirit ; and the probing process 
 being a bore, and Bev. hating boredom in its everv 
 form, he had tossed aside the useful, if sometimes 
 painful, instrument, reliant upon Nature to effect a 
 cure of any "v^^ound of her ov^^n making. 
 
 Bev. Latham had never been really in love, as far 
 as he understood that phrase and himself. At nine- 
 teen he had been ' ' engaged " to a brunette beauty, who 
 had accepted the offer of a trip to Europe should she 
 give up her girlish folly; but who had forgotten to 
 return his handsome solitaire, and many another 
 "token." But — to his shame, possibly — the man had 
 forgotten her, too ; so they were quits, he would have 
 reasoned, had he remembered. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 131 
 
 And as for Jen Freeman, she never once even won- 
 dered at his feeHng for her. PanopHed in the purity 
 of her womanhood, — safely intrenched behind her 
 proper self-respect, — she could well await the possible 
 shock of that onset, which intuition whispers to 
 most female hearts must come, ere the battle of life 
 be fully joined! But faintest hint even, to herself, 
 that this man placed her in his heart above another, 
 had shocked the girl's innate delicac^^; and so the 
 slight tumult in her bosom was wholly introspective 
 when it came, challenging her own feelings, perhaps, 
 but his — never ! 
 
 "What makes you think mother proud, Miss Jen," 
 Latham queried, taking up her question again, and 
 fixing his eyes steadily upon her. "I am sure her let- 
 ter, thanking you all, did not suggest it." 
 
 "It was a lovely — dear letter," the girl answered 
 simply. "And so was your sister's; but they both 
 said so much more than we deserved. I'm sure, Mr. 
 Latham, papa and I would have done quite as much 
 for anybody! " 
 
 "For anybody? ^^ He echoed her words with some 
 feeling in the tone, but certainly with some surprise ; 
 and his cheek flushed under some strong emotion. 
 
 "For anyone -who wears the gray," Jen corrected 
 herself, quietly, " and who was wounded fighting for 
 us. You knew I meant that." 
 
 "Yes, I fear I did," he answered, never dropping his 
 eyes, now fixed so eagerly on hers that they fell once 
 more upon her busy fingers. 
 
 There was a little pause, which she broke: 
 
132 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "But my question was a rude one, for it inter- 
 rupted your reading. Go on, please — if you are not 
 tired." 
 
 "I am not tired," he answered, promptly; but he 
 closed the book -with a snap, laying it on his knee. 
 "But first I want to ask you something. Will you 
 answer me frankU- ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, — if I can." She hesitated almost impercepti- 
 bly, but her voice was very quiet. 
 
 "And I know you can," he went on hastily. "Am 
 I just the same to you, as — 'anybody'? When I 
 leave you this week and ride away again, will you 
 have no memory of me but as a passing acquaint- 
 ance? Will 3'ou forget me as you would — an}-- 
 body?" 
 
 " Why, certainly not ! " the girl began, with a frank 
 smile, as she flashed one glance of her great, brown 
 eyes into his. But something she saw there — scarce 
 comprehended — dropped hers quickly ; and she added, 
 more reservedh': "For we are — friends, Mr. 
 Latham. We have both said so, and I meant it. I 
 do not give m^^ friendship lightU^, and I do not for- 
 get mv friends." 
 
 "Thank you for that, you dear, honest girl!" he 
 cried eagerly, "even if that be — all ! " 
 
 She made no reply ; to her there seemed none to 
 make ; but, after a moment, he blurted out : 
 
 "What is friendship ? " 
 
 To that abtruse proposition, which has puzzled 
 
 the sages from the da^'s of David dovk'n through 
 
 those of Damon and Dean Swift, — even to those 
 
 nearer ones of George Eliot and Freda Ward, — the 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 133 
 
 clear head and pure heart of the mountain girl simply 
 answered : 
 
 "The feeling of two people who respect each other 
 and are congenial." 
 
 "No; but I mean personally," he retorted eagerly 
 and a trifle petulantly. " Do you believe it can exist 
 between — a — man and a woman? " 
 
 "Why, Mr. Latham!" Again the brown eyes 
 raised to his, no fear, but some wonder in them. "I 
 have said I was yourfriend. Of course I believe so ! " 
 
 "But, I mean alwa\'s? Can it remain constant — 
 unchanged — and be only friendship? The poet was 
 right : — 
 
 'Oh! call it by some other name, 
 For Friendship is too cold ; 
 And Love is now an earthly flame, 
 Whose shrine must be of gold ! ' 
 
 You must know that is true ! " 
 
 Jen Freeman's lips formed a half-smile; but some- 
 thing her eyes caught, coming into the man's as he 
 spoke, froze it on them, and she grew paler as she 
 looked at him. On the dark mountain path, she had 
 often noted how clear and plain showed every minute 
 object in the brief flash of the lightning. And now, she 
 felt she had been treading blindly, selfishly along an 
 unknown road ; standing at last on the very verge of 
 the precipice, revealed b^^ the sudden gleam. For Jen 
 Freeman, simple and guileless as she was, read the 
 full meaning of the man's glance ; and, boyish as \vas 
 his speech, and fustian as it had seemed to the young 
 worldling of a dozen ballrooms, to the mountain 
 
ISi JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 
 
 maiden, it was — revelation I Her own e\'es fell and 
 her hands dropped limp in her lap ; but she tittered 
 no word, only grew paler and more grave as the man 
 went on vehemently : 
 
 "You cannot misunderstand me ! You must know 
 that I cannot go away merely as your ' friend ' ! Y'oit 
 must understand that no man could be thrown Avith 
 you, as I have been, and not fed the influence of your 
 gentle, noble nature — of a heart and soul that are 
 peerless among all the Avomen I have ever known! " 
 
 The girl never moved; but the little frill upon her 
 bosom rose and fell, as an anchored skiff upon a 
 wind-swept surf; and a flood of crimson dyed her 
 cheeks, as she found voice to cry : 
 
 " Oh ! stop ! you must not ! " 
 
 "Why must I not ? I am not ashamed — no, not 
 afraid — to say it ! " the youth cried. "Why should I 
 not believe you the noblest — best — dearest Avoman I 
 have met in all my life ? Why should I be aught but 
 proud, to tell you — I love you?" 
 
 It must be recalled that Beverly Latham had scarce 
 passed his majority ; that the girl was still his junior^ 
 by at least two years ; and that no man had yet 
 spoken to her the words her cit}^ sisters hear so often 
 and so early. So, when his hand gently prisoned 
 hers, and held it in a strong and ardent clasp, small 
 wonder is it that the slim, brown fingers trembled ; 
 that the little frill heaved and tossed, as though the 
 storm within v^-ere dangerous ! 
 
 But — softly and not ungently — the little hand 
 slipped from his clasp ; and, while the burning flush 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 135 
 
 still stood Upon her cheek, the voice trembled that 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Oh, hush ! It is wrong — mean, of you ! " 
 
 "Whj- is it wrong? How is it mean?" the boy 
 asked, impetuoush'. "I have loved you, almost ever 
 since that first night ! I have thought of you upon 
 the march — on picket ! And since your gentle, pre- 
 cious tending of me here — oh, Jen, you must have 
 known — you must have seen— " 
 
 "Stop, Mr. Latham! You must!" The red disc 
 still glowed on either cheek, and the lips that formed 
 her brief words trembled. But not one shadow of 
 fear — far less of triumph — dimmed the brave, honest 
 glance of the eyes that Jen Freeman raised to his, 
 "Had I known — had I seen — or even suspected — any- 
 thing of this, I should have been lacking in honesty — 
 in self-respect, to have been as frank and friendly as I 
 have!" 
 
 " But you do believe me, Jen? You know I speak 
 from my heart? " he insisted. 
 
 Again her e\'es fell; again her lips moved, but no 
 sound came from them. Twice the half-formed 
 phrase halted at the threshold of speech ere she could 
 reply : 
 
 "Yes, I believe ! I fear it is true !" 
 He rose above her; standing before her with out- 
 stretched hands, as he pled : 
 
 "And, believing, you will give me no hope — no 
 answer? " 
 
 "How can I?" she said low, her head bowed. 
 
 "Tell me I may hope!" he Avent on impetuously. 
 "Tell me that vou care for no one else; that some 
 
136 JOHN H OLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 day — knowing me better and finding me not all 
 unworthy — you mar care for me ! Tell me that you 
 do not feel to me as to — ' anybody' I " 
 
 And again the woman — still with bowed head, but 
 heart in too gi'eat tumult even for question — 
 answered low : 
 
 "How can I?" 
 
 "What! There is another?" he cried, hotlv. "I 
 have come too late ? It was to meet him — " 
 
 He paused abruptly, the wonder in the eves the 
 girl lifted to him cutting oft" speech. But she rose, 
 too ; quietly, gravely and facing him, with hands 
 lightly crossed before her. Then she spoke quietly 
 and sadly, stopping him by a gesture — or an inflec- 
 tion — when he w^ould have interrupted : 
 
 "I do not understand. There is no 'other.' You 
 are the first who has ever spoken so to me — God for- 
 give me ! if through any fault of mine. But I cannot 
 let your fancy carry you away like this ; for — almost 
 strangers as we are — I respect you — I like you — too 
 well!" 
 
 "Then you do not despise me!" he cried, again 
 seizing her hands in a clasp that resisted her woman's 
 strength. "You at least — respect — like me?" 
 
 "I do; beyond anyone I have knowm," the girl 
 answered bravelv, ceasing the bootless struggle to 
 free her hands. "You are so gentle, so brave, so 
 much above me in many ways. I honor you, and 
 prize your friendship, more than I can say." 
 
 "And — there is no one else?" he pleaded, almost 
 piteously. "You will let me hope?" 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 137 
 
 Her eves fell once more. Again the simple little 
 frill fluttered and shook, as though the wind swayed 
 it ; and, spite ol her struggle, the voice trembled that 
 answ^ered : 
 
 "I must not say so. There is no other, but I can- 
 not say so!" Thei:e was little of the meekness of 
 Ruth, in the simple mountain girl ; and, with a deep 
 breath, she went on more calmh-: "Let go ray 
 hands, please I Oh! Mr. Latham, we are so differ- 
 ent ; our people are so different ! You are highborn 
 and polished ; I am humble and simple. This is a 
 fancy." She shook her head sadly, but half smiled, 
 as she raised her free hands in deprecation. "No; I 
 believe you mean it — now! I respect you too much 
 to doubt that you — believe you feel it all. But, now, 
 you are weak — away from friends; and perhaps — " 
 she paused an instant, then went bravely on — "your 
 latitude mistakes. Think how different I am — from 
 women you have known — from them!" 
 
 She held out the locket with faces of his mother 
 and sister, that had not left her hands. And the 
 straightforward honesty of the simple girl went 
 home, as the worldling's tact had never done. 
 Almost mechanicalh" he took the locket ; turning 
 abruptly from her and striding to the other end of 
 the porch. 
 
 For an instant, Jen Freeman watched him with 
 parted lips and heaving bosom ; the color dropping 
 out of her cheeks, till they grew deadly white. One 
 instant her hand pressed close above her heart. 
 Then, quietly, demurely she took her seat again, her 
 nimble finders flashing- the needle through her work. 
 
138 JOHN HOI.DEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 And soon Latham turned and came toward her^ 
 quiet, gentle and with something in his face she had 
 not seen before. 
 
 "Jen, you will forgive me?" he said, gravely but 
 tenderly. "I was selfish — careless of you, dear, to 
 speak as I did. But love is ever selfish, little girl, 
 and I do love you ; not as 3'ou fear, for to-day, but 
 for to-morrow and forever! No, dear, do not stop 
 me now. I will not Aveary you by repeating it. 
 But, Jen, I think I know 3'our heart; I trust you 
 with the bigot's trust in his faith. You will not tell 
 me that I mav ; but — as there is no other — I will 
 hope ! I will believe that some day, when the South 
 is free — when we are both free to think of more than 
 duty — when you have seen them, and learned that 
 they are not 'so different' — then you may question 
 your own heart and find mine not all unworth\' 
 ofit." 
 
 As he spoke, the girl sat still and silent, letting no 
 sigii betrav what feeling swayed her as she listened. 
 But her head bowed lower under its red-brown 
 coronet of hair; and as he ceased it drooped, and the 
 face was hidden by her hands. The man gave a great 
 start, half reaching out his own, to grasp them ; but 
 he paused, shaking his head sadly, as he stooped and 
 raised the fallen volume of Longfellow. Mechanic- 
 ally he opened it and glanced upon the page; the 
 girl still silent, motionless. Then he spoke softly,. 
 with a sad quiet in his words : 
 
 "You have my pledge, Jen. Until we part — so soon 
 now ! — I will embarrass you no more, dear little one, 
 bv such words. You forgive mv selfishness, I know ; 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 139- 
 
 for, Jen, I could not lielp speaking — I felt so keenly 
 this," and in low, but steady voice he read: 
 
 'For there are moments in life, when the heart is so full of 
 
 emotion, 
 That if b^' chance it be shaken, or into its depths, like a 
 
 pebble. 
 Drops some careless word — it overflows, and its secret. 
 Spilt on the ground, like water, may never be gathered 
 
 together!'" 
 
 He closed the book, took her hands gently ; and, 
 bending down, pressed his lips upon them Avith a 
 tenderness that was a benediction. Next moment 
 he turned and strode away into the grounds ; mov- 
 ing rapidly and never looking back. 
 
 Jen Freeman sat still and pale, her hands plying 
 her needle mechanically, her eyes fixed upon some- 
 thing straight before her, but seen of them only. 
 Suddenly she rose, moved swifth^ to her own room, 
 locking the door behind her. Then, the usually calm 
 girl threw herself upon her bed, shivering a moment 
 and bur3'ing her face in the pillow. Then she lay 
 still as though a sculptured form upon a tomb ; but 
 the pure heart was pouring out an earnest prayer for 
 liffht at the foot of the Throne ! 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 OVER THE HILLS AND FAR AWAY. 
 
 A DULL, heavy cloud hung low over the north 
 crest an hour after sunrise, and Farmer Freeman 
 studied it from the gallery with the eye of an expert. 
 In the window Latham leaned languidly, and a 
 trifle paler than his wont ; but his closely buttoned 
 jacket and trim belt showed that he was read\^ for 
 duty, and that the pallor came perhaps from mental, 
 rather than from bodily weakness. And his wander- 
 ing ej'cs, roving over each familiar object in the 
 room, from the prim old mirror — narrow, in tar- 
 nished gilt frame and standing from the wall at an 
 angle of forty-five stiff degrees — to the highh' colored 
 prints of the battles in Mexico, where reckless 
 Charley May careered and Captain Bragg — of greater 
 and more familiar fame, near by — gave them "a little 
 more grape," studied each detail. 
 
 With a slight rustle of drapery, Latham turned 
 and the lately wandering eyes fixed upon Jen 
 Freeman, as she came from the dining room. She 
 was quiet, simple and unconscious, as always, look- 
 ing fresh and pretty in her plain white dress, neat 
 little apron and \vith the bands of glossy hair simply 
 knotted low on her neck. There was a ^ravitv in her 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 141- 
 
 eves, and less brightness in her smile, perhaps, as she 
 advanced and held out her hand in good-morning to 
 her guest; for he was to leave after breakfast and 
 ride a war to — what none might guess. But there 
 was not one shade of reserve or of consciousness in 
 her manner; for Latham had kept faith loyally. In 
 the days intervening since his abrupt confession, he 
 had gone back to the old life, talking, reading and 
 singing with the girl, as though no break had come. 
 Sometimes, especially in mountain rambles, he had 
 grown absent awhile, and his voice had taken ten- 
 derer cadence ; but he had kept his word like a gentle- 
 man and had spoken no hint of love, or even of 
 admiration. But he talked more of his home and 
 his people, of his past ga\' life, and told Jen the full 
 story of his boyish engagement, simply and without 
 reserve; for he seemed to \vish that her memory of 
 him should be photographic in fidelity, holding the 
 blemishes as well as the better points of his career. 
 
 And the girl had listened and talked as before. 
 Sometimes — Avhen he dwelt upon the grandeur of his 
 mother's ideas, or described a peculiarly brilliant 
 scene of society — a dull, vague longing would creep 
 into the well-balanced brain ; but ever to fade before- 
 she analyzed, or even recognized, it. And, when he 
 told the story of his flying fiancee and missing ring, 
 Jen's clear laugh had answered the rueful tale, even 
 before she cried, in pretty disdain : 
 
 " How little and mean of her I I congratulate you, 
 Mr, Latham, on 3'our escape — in time. Such a girl 
 could never have grown worthy of 3'ou — and of 
 yours! " 
 
142 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 So the daj'S had passed, swiftly, still and pain- 
 lessly ; and now the parting was at hand — uncertain 
 ever in the war days, and more so now as rumors 
 came of general movement along Bragg's front. 
 
 "It is needless to speak my regrets at going," the 
 man said grayelj, but releasing the little hand after 
 a not too warm pressure. "Things are so uncertain; 
 and there is no telling how long it may be before I 
 again see my — friend." 
 
 "I hope, and I believe we shall meet again," the 
 girl answered gently, but her ej^es did not meet his. 
 They rested absently on a stiff-haired portrait of 
 Andrew Jackson on the wall beyond ; then seemed to 
 «tudy intently the framed copy of the "Declaration 
 of Independence," almost as sacred to the democrats 
 of the old South as were the Tables of Stone to the 
 Hebrew of eld. 
 
 "And I hope you will not stay here alwaj^s," 
 Latham said absently, as though thinking aloud. 
 "Lovely as is your home, and strangeh^ as you have 
 developed in it, you are really too far superior to 
 your surroundings to be buried in this out-of-the- 
 world nook." 
 
 "It is my home, and I have never longed for the 
 world," she answered simply; but she half sighed as 
 her eyes left the Declaration and rested on the music 
 they had sung the night before. "I never wish to 
 leave papa. He is all that I have in the w-orld ; and, 
 though he urges me often, I will not accept auntie's 
 offer to go to Wilmington— even to Europe, on a 
 blockade-runner, if I wish." 
 
 "I am glad of that!" the man blurted out. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 143 
 
 "Why?" she asked, simply. "Surely, from what 
 you have told me of it, seeing your world would 
 improye a cotmtr}- girl like me." 
 
 "I would not see you improved, if it meant any 
 change of your pure, true nature, "he answered, more 
 earnestly. "It was these that taught me to — to be 
 your — friend ! " 
 
 He ended abruptly, and with a yivid blush. The 
 cynic need not sneer ; lor in that year of grace, A. D. 
 1863, there were still left in the South a few young 
 men, who could blush on proper occasion. Ebeu, 
 temporal Eheu, mores! The species has grown 
 almost as extinct as the Dodo ; and now when the 
 blush does exist, it sometimes mantles tenderly on 
 the tip of the nose! But this particular Dodo pulled 
 himself together promptl}^ coyering his confusion 
 w^ith the commonplace : 
 
 " But this war cannot last foreyer; and then you 
 may care more to see something of society." 
 
 "I should not wish to wait till then, to see some- 
 thing of my friends," Jen said, frankly. 
 
 "Surely not!" he answered, appropriating her 
 thought. "We will meet again. Miss Jen, I feel sure. 
 Did I not, I should be—" 
 
 What that young lieutenant of cavalry imagined 
 he might become, during protracted absence from his 
 companion, must take its place in that limbo of 
 unperformed deeds and of unspoken speeches, which 
 Ariosto declares to exist in the moon. For the 
 farmer turned and strode toward the window, say- 
 insr: 
 
144 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 " Look here, leftenant, these clouds look danger- 
 ous; and a wetting won't help a fresh convalescent. 
 Better stay over till to-morrow." 
 
 Good soldier as Latham was, his heart bounded 
 strangely at the blunt words, and his eves went 
 straight to Jen's, with something of the drowning 
 man's hope in clutching at the straw. But her eyes 
 were turned to her father's, and she only said, very 
 gravely and demurely : 
 
 "Why, papa! Mr. Latham has orders, and the 
 rumors say the enemy is moving. Even I would not 
 ask him — " a little blush came to her cheek as she 
 paused ; but she looked calmly at the discussed sol- 
 dier, finishing a little hastily — "even to dela}^ his 
 breakfast longer. It will be cold ; let us go in." 
 
 "Thank you, very much!" Latham said to the 
 girl ; but whether to her invitation, or to her implied 
 wnllingness to have him go, was left obscure. And 
 he added to the farmer, but looking at her, as he 
 promptly fell into line for the breakfast-room : " Miss 
 Jen is right. I have already w^asted too much time 
 — uselessly. The best thing I can do now is to get 
 back to active duty and find something better 
 to do!" 
 
 "Well, you know best; but you need n't be fretting 
 for fighting. I reckon this war will last long enough 
 to let all of you have a stomach full of fighting, if 
 empty of everything else. Try that piece of chicken. 
 Jen gro wed him ! ' ' 
 
 But even farewell breakfasts will not last forever, 
 and somehow at this one the soldier's unfailing appe- 
 tite did not report for duty. It was not a cheery 
 
"CURSID BE YER!"— Page 151. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 145 
 
 meal, Jen's mind seeming bent on household cares 
 and hospitable duty, and the guest replying some- 
 what at random to Mr. Freeman's talk on politics 
 and his views of the war. So, it was with absolute 
 sense of relief that Latham found himself outside the 
 porch, his horse ready and the small baggage-roll 
 strapped to the saddle. 
 
 The warm, strong grasp of the farmer had released 
 his hand, after hearty Godspeed and urgent request 
 to ride down whenever in distance, and the guest 
 turned a pale, grave face to Jen. She had put on her 
 sunbonnet and held her pail of dampened meal ; and 
 her face,too, w^as grave, but gentle and not pale. 
 
 "My little family must be hungry and wondering," 
 she said, with a transient smile. "I "will v^alk with 
 you as far as the knoll." 
 
 He looped the bridle over hie arm and they moved 
 away in silence, broken only by commonplaces about 
 the coming storm. But Jen passed the knoll, forget- 
 ful of her little family and their hungering, walking 
 on toward the gate. 
 
 There Latham paused, looking yearningly at the 
 downcast face of the girl, gentle but very grave in the 
 sunless daylight. But he was still silent, though his 
 face spoke plainly of deep feeling. And yet — with 
 that incomprehensible working of the mind, which 
 takes cognizance often of veriest trifles in the very 
 crises of life — he noted the tan upon her cheek and the 
 splash of freckles over her piquant nose. Suddenly 
 he thrust his hand into his jacket, holding out the 
 locket : 
 
 10 
 
146 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Mother and Stella know you so well," he said, 
 with a forced smile, "that I would have you say 
 good-bye to them, too." 
 
 She extended her browned hand — now less white 
 than his rest-bleached one — and took the miniatures; 
 looking long and gravely at them. Then she returned 
 them with a little sigh, as she said: " Farewells are 
 so uncertain, in these days, Mr. Latham, that I hate 
 to speak them. I, too, feel almost as if I knew your 
 mother and — Stella. But, gracious ! How carelessly 
 you carry that locket ! You should fasten it in ^^our 
 pocket." 
 
 "I have never thought I could lose it; but you are 
 right. How can I secure it?" he answered. 
 
 "Very simply. Pin it to the lining," she said. 
 Impulsively she pulled off her ungainly sunbonnet, 
 leaving the soft, brown hair uncovered to the breeze 
 that began to breathe out of the dingy clouds. And 
 Latham's cheek flushed, as he noted that their rippling 
 masses held " a knot of ribbon blue," which he recog- 
 nized as the same broad band she had playfully made 
 him wear in place of his discarded sling on the 
 wounded arm. 
 
 " You mean to wear that ribbon ? " he asked hastily; 
 but his eyes gleamed meaningful. 
 
 "Why not?" she answered, wdthout looking up. 
 "It is a nice ribbon, even if aunty does keep me sup- 
 plied from her blockade treasures. And then" — her 
 voice softened a little — "it has been useful to a— 
 friend." 
 
 " Thank you ! I can never forget that ! " he cried. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 147 
 
 She looked gravely at him, with never a blush, as 
 she answered, simply: 
 
 "It is a very little thing to remember, I am sure." 
 Then she undid the ribbon deftly, as she added: 
 "Lend me your knife." 
 
 ~^ The slim fingers quickly severed an end of the blue 
 ribbon,— though with rather jagged edges,— knotted 
 them into the ring of the locket, and skillfully pinned 
 the silk securely in the lining of his pocket, just above 
 his heart. Then they replaced the knot, drew the 
 sunbonnet over it, and held out the knife. 
 
 "And now— but only for the present," she said 
 simply, "we must say. Good-bye! " 
 
 The gate w^as open, the impatient horse was in the 
 road and the man beside him. But he seized the 
 brown little hand in a fervid clasp, as he cried : 
 
 "Is this all you — can say, Jen? " 
 Again she let her ejxs fall ; again a vivid blush swept 
 her cheek; and the voice was very sweet and low that 
 answered him : 
 
 " It is all I must say." 
 
 "And when you feel that I am leaving you, perhaps 
 forever! When you know all that I — " 
 
 " It is because of all I know, ' ' she interrupted gently, 
 "that I must say no more. Good-bv^e ! " 
 
 "And you will not forget me, Jen?" he pleaded, 
 still holding her hand. " Even if I am killed — " 
 
 " Heaven forbid ! and guard you, dear friend ! " she 
 broke in solemnly; and the hand she gently withdrew 
 from his trembled, as she grew a shade more pale. 
 "But I have hope, and high one, for you, Mr. Latham. 
 I will think of you often, as the best and gentlest 
 
148 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 friend I have known. Even if you go back to jour 
 world, after the war and learn to forget Jen Freeman; 
 even if you come to laugh at all the things we have 
 said, — no ! do not stop me, for I mean what I say 
 now,— then I will still be true to my promise— will 
 always be — your friend ! So, good-bye ! " 
 
 Her voice trembled a little as she spoke, but once 
 more she fixed her great, brown eyes bravely on 
 his ; once more she held out firmly her little brown 
 hand. And the man — yielding to the truth and will of 
 her pure womanhood — bent his head over it, pressed 
 his lips upon it, and, vaxdting to saddle without one 
 word, galloped rapidly up the steep path. 
 
 Jen leaned against the gatepost an instant, while 
 swift changes passed over the face she raised to the 
 dusky sky, as a turn shut the rider from her view. 
 Then — forgetful of her little family and of their bucket 
 on the ground near by — she turned and flew toward 
 the house, mounting to Master Willie's perch flushed 
 and breathless, but with sparkling eyes. Once only 
 she spoke — mounting the steep stairs. Then with a 
 gasp, between a sob and ft laugh, she murmured : 
 
 " Oh ! he does love me ! " 
 Taking the old seaman's telescope from the bench, 
 Jen swept the road until it rested on an open stretch 
 beyond ; and, next instant, the rapid riding soldier 
 passed before the glass. As he did so, he checked 
 his horse suddenly, bringing him down to a walk and 
 seeming to speak to some one in the thick bushes 
 just beyond the opening. 
 
 For just there — and as suddenly as though a wood- 
 gnome, springing out of the earth — a strange, bent 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 149 
 
 figure of a man parted the bushes and stood stoop- 
 ing on his staff. Very aged and bent nearly double, 
 the figure had been tall, if walking upright. It was 
 draped in a tattered cloak of coarse gray stuff, and 
 the long locks of hair, and the flowing beard, were 
 snow white, but strangely coarse. A dirty, faded 
 green shade was pulled down over what might be 
 sightless eyes, from the figure's pose ; but the quaver- 
 ing, nasal voice that comes at the rider's approach, 
 suggests that he is seen, from the words : 
 
 "Mornin', sol'jer! Bad wether fur leavin' yer gell, 
 ben'tet?" 
 
 " Who are you ! And what the devil do you mean ? " 
 Latham queried, as he checked his horse. 
 
 "Seen yer," the man answered w4th a senile 
 chuckle and feebly nodding his head. "Seen yer 
 m'sef, by th' gate yan." 
 
 "By the gate!" Latham exclaimed. "You must 
 have devilish good eyes, you old idiot ! ' ' The gate was 
 fully a mile away, by the road; and, even had the 
 cripple crossed country, it seemed impossible he could 
 have come so far. 
 
 " I be n't speakin' 'fense, be I?" the old man qua- 
 vered on. "Hain't I knowed Phil Freeman's gell 
 sence a-bornin' ? An' I sez she ar the nicest gell en 
 fifteen mile! " 
 
 Mollified by this praise, even from such a source, 
 Latham replied good humoredly : 
 
 "Well, Belisarius, you'll find many people to agree 
 with you ! Here ! " He tossed a shin plaster note at 
 the supposed beggar, who clutched it eagerly, but 
 without thanks, as he answered : 
 
150 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST, 
 
 "Menny on 'em! Menny on 'em ; an' erspeshul th' 
 yung man frum Gadsden; an' th' han'sum Yankee 
 cap'n. She hain't never mad' no differ 'twixt 'em — 
 Johnnie, nor nuther." 
 
 "Oh! she hasn't?" Latham checked the horse he 
 had touched with the spur, curious to know what 
 the old man meant, yet half ashamed of his question. 
 " But who are these men you talk of? " 
 
 "I hain't countin' 'em, be I?" the man answered. 
 "Th' Gadsden boy she air sweet on like, dun rid 
 ter th' war, but she year from un reg'lar; an' th' 
 Yank, he rides 'long, 'casshunal, jess fur see'n Jin 
 Freeman." 
 
 Latham stared at the speaker, as C^sar at the 
 soothsayer. But, equall}^ disgusted with himself and 
 his interlocutor, he made no reply, as the other driv- 
 elled on : 
 
 "An' yer be n't 'tuk 'long o' her y' seff, be yer? 
 'Cos I seen yer a bitin' her han' an' a kissin ov — " 
 
 "Shut up! You cursed old liar!" the soldier 
 roared, turning his horse and digging him with the 
 spur, as though to ride down the speaker. But the 
 cripple stood motionless, not seeming to see him; 
 and with a quick change of hand — and with 
 thorough disgust on his face — he turned the brute 
 again and galloped away from the ugly rencontre. 
 
 Scarcely had the sound of his rapid hoofs died 
 away, when the old, bent form stood erect and 
 strong; the cloak was tossed off and the hair and 
 beard removed by a strong hand, revealing the fea- 
 tures of John Holden. Ugly malice and hate gleamed 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 151 
 
 from his eyes, as he raised his hand after the flying 
 man and growled through his teeth : 
 
 ''Cursid be yer, man-hunting varmint! Ef I be 
 n't able ter strike yer body now, 'like I hev 'leff yer 
 soul a-flamin' like hell-fire ! Ef I hev lied ter yer, th' 
 Lord lets his 'n lie ter ther en'my's. The chil'n ov 
 Izrul dercei\'i: ther hethin an' spiled 'em, too ! I dar' 
 not riz ther mounting by killin' yer now, fur thar's 
 gret wurk fur me ter do this day! But yer life's 
 mine! An' I hev ge'en yer wot'll mek it bitter, tell I 
 cum fur it, ez I hev ther right ter come ! I calls down 
 vengence on yer! " 
 
 With flaming eyes and clenched hand raised on 
 high, the fanatic towered grim and fell against the 
 dusk background of closer rolling clouds that now 
 began to pour out their deluge on him. But, scarce 
 noting the rain, Holden turned back, still bareheaded 
 and muttering to himself; ever and again raising his 
 hand in imprecation, as though to direct a bolt from 
 the dense clouds straight on the head of his foe. 
 
 And Jen Freeman, still sweeping the opening with 
 her glass, ssiw the old Unionist pass from the bush ; 
 and noted his strange gesticulations. Could Latham 
 have seen him ? she thought. How strange, if he 
 had, that nothing had happened to either; how 
 strange that Holden should have chanced on the 
 road at that very moment. Could he be v^atching 
 the officer and sprang on his movements? It all 
 seemed so strange to her; but, as she looked, 
 stranger still it grew. For Holden stopped, under 
 the storm, and resumed his disguise. 
 
152 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Utterly baffled — nervous witli undefined dread and 
 worn by the repression of tbe past week, Jen shivers 
 as she lays down the glass and slowly descends to 
 her own room. There — for the second time in many 
 a long month — she again locks the door, throv^s her- 
 self upon the bed and buries her face in the pillov^. 
 But this time overtaxed nature seeks relief in that 
 feminine solace, "a good cry." 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 A night's surprises. 
 
 Thoroughly disgusted at the senile drivel lie had 
 heard, — but more so with himself for having even 
 stopped to hear it, — Latham galloped over the open 
 roadway, careless of the storm that soon drenched 
 him. But swift as moved his fresh steed, swifter 
 came the fast crowding thoughts to his brain, unbid- 
 den, but resistless. He had just faced the first gfeat 
 disappointment of his sunny life, for he felt he loved 
 this woman truly and tenderly. In after years, men 
 may laugh at such early sorrows; but, even then, the 
 laugh too often only masks the truth that the grief, 
 at its time, was keen and real; more keen, because it 
 had to be borne in secret and without the balm of 
 sympathy. For, while it may be true that "all the 
 world loves a lover," it certainly is fact that all the 
 world laughs at a discarded one. 
 
 So, while Jen Freeman's woman's nature sobs out 
 its sorroTv, the man of whom she thinks races 
 through the storm, striving to button tight under 
 his jacket memories that gnaw like the teeth of the 
 hidden fox of Spartan fable. And, not recalling their 
 
 153 
 
154 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 aptness at the moment, lie verifies the lines of the 
 great German: 
 
 From the bounds of truth careering, 
 Man, the wild one, onward sweeps; 
 With each hasty impulse, veering 
 Down to passion's troubled deeps! 
 
 For, spite of will and self-contempt,— spite of coerced 
 dwelling upon her gentleness, her truth, her frank 
 and tender friendship, so well proved, — the man's 
 mind will revert to doubts and bitter queries. 
 Those nebulous rivals, named by his strange inter- 
 viewer, rise above his enforced praises of her worth ; 
 and, strive as he will, the white-robed form he saw" 
 at midnight crossing the farm yard, comes up before 
 him, plain, distinct and with sinister suggestion. In 
 his fondness for twisting quotations, Beverly 
 Latham had often tried to tease his sister with the 
 words — 
 
 "Beware of jealousy! 
 It is a green-eyed lobster which doth eat 
 The meat it feeds us on ! " 
 
 But he did not recall them in his present mood, nor 
 would he have confessed that now, for the first time 
 in his life, the base passion really possessed him ; that 
 he was not only jealous — but of a shadow, barely 
 hinted at by his mind's eye. For inscrutable is that 
 mechanism put in us by the great Artificer; so tre- 
 mendous, so intricate — yet so delicate as to jar from 
 its centers at an airy touch ! 
 
 And one part of the intricate human machine began 
 to correct the errors of the other, ere the long ride 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 155 
 
 was done. For the sufferer had breakfasted lightly, 
 and the rough ride and thorough drenching began to 
 tell upon the more material man, distracting his 
 mind somewhat from less material gnawings. Nor 
 need it seem to his discredit that Lieutenant Latham 
 realized that he was hungry ; for that lord was dis- 
 sective philosopher — if not great poet — who reminded 
 us that civilized man might live without books or 
 lady-love ; but that to him cook and dinner are the 
 very staffs of life. 
 
 So the sighing young lover was, measurably at 
 least, consoled, when he galloped up to his camp and 
 threw his rein to a trooper. For the corporal, 
 expecting his much-missed commander, had made the 
 shanty as comfortable as possible, with a huge fire, 
 and a nosesome odor of unusual camp luxury — fried 
 bacon and eggs. And, dried, dined and refreshed by 
 his pet pipe, the young commander lounged comforL- 
 ably on his camp stool ; dreaming dreams perhaps, 
 but not wholly of the nightmare's breeding. 
 
 Into these post-prandial musings glided the philos- 
 ophy — early learned of men, especially in wartime — 
 that women do not always know their own minds ; 
 and that Miss Jen, not being made of adamant by 
 any means, might yet be made to melt. As for the 
 old beggar, he was doubtless a madman — certainly a 
 liar. For had she not told him — yes, and repeated 
 again — that there was nobody else ? And could he 
 doubt her plighted words, for the drivel of a wayside 
 tramp? To the devil, then, with the young man 
 from Gadsden, who wrote regularly ; and as for a 
 handsome Yankee captain, Jen w^as too loyal a little 
 
156 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 rebel — the farmer too staunch to the cause, for that ! 
 What about the white figure in the moonlight? 
 Nothing ! Had he not said then that he was an ass ? 
 And now he w^as a bigger one — and a tired one too — 
 and — 
 
 And then Lieutenant Latham slept the sleep of the 
 the clear conscience and the good digestion, in spite 
 of the sorrows late so cumulative and so heavy upon 
 him. 
 
 Suddenly he sat bolt upright, brought back from 
 the shores of Lethe by sound of rapid hoofs, quick 
 challenge and hasty reply. Next instant the corporal 
 was at the door, saluting : 
 
 "Leftenant, news from the front!" Then the man 
 went on to say that the river pickets had noticed 
 large bodies of Federal cavalry — supposed to be 
 under command of Colonel Streight and numbering 
 at least five full regiments — massing on the north 
 bank of the Tennessee river. Refugees from the 
 other side, the report concluded, said the command 
 was a heavy one; and was force-marched for the 
 river. 
 
 In one instant, love, doubts, dreams had all fled 
 from Latham's brain; leaving only ambition. The 
 longed-for chance had come to him ; the enemy was 
 in front and he would be the first to meet him. He 
 was no longer the doubting lover ; only the confident 
 soldier. His orders were given promptly and 
 clearly : 
 
 "Send one man, on a fresh horse, to carry this to 
 Gadsden, corporal. Mount and inspect the men, at 
 once. We must ride hard to the river ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 157 
 
 Ten minutes later, ammunition served out and 
 arms inspected, the camp was deserted ; and Beverlj 
 Latham rode at the head of his squad, through the 
 fast closing dusk, straight for the Tennessee, ten 
 miles distant. Nor was it any pleasure jaunt, that 
 splashing through mud and plunging across gullies, 
 under a driving rain ; but the horses were fresh, the 
 men wearied of inactivity, and hailing any excite- 
 ment after long idleness in camp; and, moreover, 
 they had implicit confidence in the pluck and coolness 
 of their young commander. So the squad went for- 
 ward fast and cheerily ; not seldom breaking into 
 song, when tired of chaff and jest. 
 
 Riding alone, at their head, Latham let his fancy 
 have full play, conjuring a thousand chances for 
 some hit that might win him a name, now that he 
 would, indeed, have first chance at the advancing 
 foe. And any thought of Jen Freeman that now ran 
 through his brain was the healthful one that she 
 should find her refusal had left him no milksop ; that 
 she should not have cause to blush for the man who 
 had offered her no craven's heart. 
 
 Darkness had fallen, when the muddy riders trotted 
 down the heavily wooded slopes leading to the river 
 bank. The squad was halted; and Latham rode 
 forward with the corporal to question the picket, 
 who had sent in the glad tidings. He repeated his 
 report that a heavy body of cavalry was massed, 
 just before them, across the river; and it was con- 
 firmed by the long line of camp fires, already gleam- 
 ing for a mile or more, and extending some distance 
 inland. 
 
158 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Moving cautiously alongthe bank, Latham's quick 
 soldierly intuition told him that this must indeed be 
 the long expected column of Colonel Streight; and 
 his estimate placed it even higher in numbers than 
 reported. His instinct told him that the enemj^ 
 expected no resistance, and v^ould cross at leisure, 
 either that night, or at early dawn; believing there 
 w^as no force in their front. The prevalence of camp 
 fires, indicating cooking and bivouac, told him that 
 the chances were all in favor of a halt for the night ; 
 and a safe and leisurely crossing at daylight. But 
 war is a game in which chances must not be taken 
 which skill can possibly replace ; so Latham quickly 
 revolved the means of deceiving the enemy, and of 
 delaying him until news of his movement could reach 
 his superiors in the rear. There was but one way, 
 he concluded, but that w^as worth trying. He remem- 
 bered Magruder's ruse to delay McClellan's advance 
 up the Peninsula, the year before ; and his plan was 
 formed at once. 
 
 Along the southern bank he found large quantities 
 of chopped wood, that had been cut by the fly- 
 ing residents but not hauled away; and there were 
 huge piles of dried brush and refuse from it. Putting 
 his nine men to work at long intervals, and aiding 
 them by brain, hand and ubiquitous encouragement, 
 he needed but a few hours to perfect his plan. The 
 rain had stopped, leaving a dull steamy mist over the 
 stream, which permitted his work to remain 
 unnoticed ; and through it the camp fires opp osite 
 glowed dim, but gigantic, "making the night a 
 steam of fire." 
 
fOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 159 
 
 Before midniglit, the Confederates had built some 
 forty fire piles, ready for lighting; and so placed 
 behind screening bushes that the absence of moving 
 forms about them would not be noticed by a night 
 glass, from across the river. And by that time the 
 opposite camp was still; its fires dying down rap- 
 idly ; the sounds of movement of horse and man less 
 frequent; and plain evidence showing that no move- 
 ment was projected until dawn. Then Latham gave 
 his orders ; and soon, up and down the southern 
 bank camp fires crackled and shot up blazing, — here, 
 there — above, below — rapidly multiplying as though a 
 great force were moving down to camp there, ghost- 
 like and silent as the phantom host at Prague. 
 
 And, as the fires began to burn* the troopers crept 
 down to the river's edge, beyond the glare and close 
 in under the bank. They were stationed fifty yards 
 apart; each man with full instructions. And, almost 
 immediately, motion began in the opposing camp. 
 Horses were heard galloping to and fro; then the 
 assembly sounded, cutting the night clear and shrill, 
 and borne to the gratified ears of the Confederate, as 
 taken up by bugle after bugle. It was plain that Col- 
 onel Streight's force was under arms; probably drawn 
 up in line of battle, awaiting attack of a heavy force 
 supposed to be in front of him. Then came the rum- 
 ble of wheels ; growing clearer and mingled with 
 hoarse command, as horse artillery galloped down 
 to the banks and unlimbered to command the 
 crossing. 
 
 So far, his ruse had succeeded well, and Latham's 
 hopes were high that he might yet delay the crossing 
 
160 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 of the Federals beyond sunrise. His brain was at 
 work, wholly intent on details of his plan, as the 
 corporal passed him at a double quick. Barely paus- 
 ing, and not stopping to salute, the man said, with 
 a gleeful chuckle : 
 
 ''Reckon as how we won't 'tack 'em in force, 
 to-night, leftenunt. 'Pears they sorter outnumber 
 us." 
 
 But the officer was all soldier now, and in no mood 
 for jesting, even if congratulatory. He ansTvered 
 curtly : 
 
 " To your post, sir ! I will do the reckoning for 
 you!" 
 
 The corporal saluted this time; falling at once back 
 into his long, swinging double-quick ; but chuckling 
 good naturedly as he muttered, this time strictly to 
 himself: 
 
 "Darned ef he ain't got his boots on, sure! He'll 
 do — that youngster will! " 
 
 But, intent on still closer calculation of the enemy, 
 the officer crept further along the bank ; beyond his 
 extreme post, and to the point of a curve that jutted 
 into the muddy stream and narrowed the distance' 
 across it. There, moving cautiously along the slip- 
 pery edge, he suddenly stopped, listening intently. 
 Surely he caught a scraping sound, and soft swish of 
 parted brush, as though something were dragged 
 along the ground. Listening with ears acute from 
 habit, and sharpened now by closer peril— he could 
 hear nothing. For seconds he stood motionless and 
 eager ; but dead silence only answered his quest, con- 
 vincing him of error. Thinking it must have been a 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 161 
 
 cat driven from his lair by water, or some other 
 " varmint " roused by the fire and creeping to it, he 
 lowered his ready pistol and once more turned to 
 scan the opposite bank. So, for some minutes, when 
 the sound again reached him, and unmistakably this 
 time. 
 
 A dull, steamy haze, from the fires behind, lit the 
 point into half-twilight, where dark objects were vis- 
 ible ; and, as he parted the brush and stole toward 
 the sounds, Latham again brought his pistol to an 
 aim, ordering sternly : 
 
 "Halt! Throw up your hands!" 
 
 A crouching figure, bent low over some heavy 
 object, was shoving it slowly toward the stream; 
 and, as he peered closer, the soldier saw it was a 
 man, tugging at a skitf just at the water's edge. The 
 figure stood still, not turning toward him, nor rising 
 erect ; but, even in the dim light he felt there was 
 something familiar in the pose, which was confirmed 
 by the quavering, nasal reph' to his challenge : 
 
 "Yer wud n't a-kilt er po' ole man, wud yer? I 
 hez n't done no ^vrong, hez I ? " 
 
 "You! What the devil brought you?" Latham 
 cried, astounded at recognizing the cripple of the 
 morning's rencontre at such a distance from it. " How 
 did you get here ? " 
 
 "Ikem 'cross kentry, sol'jer," the cripple faltered, 
 in thin, nasal key. "I lives cross yan' an' I ken't 
 cross 'cep'n' b}^ hither. Don' yer shoot, sol'jer; my 
 darter an'tw^osick chiller be lyin'yan', an' ther Yanks 
 "11 'vade 'em, 'cep'n' I gits." And with the words, the 
 old man tugged at the skiff, now well nosing the 
 
162 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 water, but "with more strength than his age and 
 frailty seemed to justify. 
 
 "Halt! One more step and I'll blow your brains 
 out!" the youth ordered sternly. "If the Yanks 
 hang every covite in Tennessee, no man shall cross 
 to-night!" 
 
 "Yer hain't got no feelin', hez yer?" whined the 
 other. But he left the boat and crept a step nearer to 
 the soldier. "Et be n't no wrong fur a po' ole man 
 ter git by yan' ter pertec' his wimmin folk, be et ? " 
 
 "Halt, where you are!" Latham again ordered, 
 the meaning of his words underscored by the click of 
 the pistol lock. "I'll take care of you 'by 3^an,' 
 where w^e can talk in a better light. One movement, 
 and I'll scatter your brains ! " 
 
 Both figures stood as rigid as if cast in iron ; but 
 the lieutenant put his left hand to his lips and gave a 
 shrill signal whistle. Then far along the muddy shore 
 came the slump of heavy boots, as the corporal ran 
 to reply, the sounds drawing closer and growing 
 more distinct each instant until just behind them. 
 
 "This way, corporal!" Latham called over his 
 shoulder, half turning his head, to give the order. 
 
 The movement nearly proved fatal. At the instant, 
 the bent figure reared itself, towering close above 
 him ; the bra^vny right hand raised in air, and clutch- 
 ing a deadly knife. With a spring, "like mountain 
 cat who guards her young," the knife descended, 
 aimed straight at Latham's heart. But even in that 
 surprise, coolness and agility saved the young 
 soldier. Lightly shifting one foot, he half turned his 
 body, avoiding the blade; but the heavy arm 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST, 163 
 
 descended on his wounded shoulder with tremendous 
 force, that staggered him. At the same instant the 
 quick right hand swung the heavy pistol, its barrel 
 striking the bony wrist of his assailant, and sending 
 the knife whirling harmless from the paralyzed hand. 
 
 There was a hoarse yell of mingled rage, hate and 
 pain; and the corporal, racing up, found his officer 
 still reeling under the blow, but all alone. 
 
 "After him! Quick!" Latham panted, pointing to 
 the sound of breaking brush beyond, and staggering 
 toward it, "A spy ! Kill him on sight ! " 
 
 Thorough search was made among the bushes of 
 the point, and many a rod inland along the shore ; but 
 the spy had disappeared as mysteriously as he had 
 appeared, and the baffled searchers gave up the 
 chase. Returning, they floated the boat, shoving her 
 well out into the current, and watching her bob and 
 whirl into it, as she drifted rapidly away. 
 
 "Curse him! He'll not 'git by hither,' all the 
 same! " Latham said, grimly. "I was an ass to be 
 deceived. I should have shot him at first. But he 
 did give me a thundering whack ! " 
 
 He stooped among the trampled brush, seeming to 
 search for something; then added, as he held up the 
 knife : 
 
 " Well ! That was better than being carved by this 
 dull affair, all the same! Maybe Shelby is a prophet, 
 after all, and I may get my troop, if I hold 'em off 
 long enough." 
 
 And as the two peril-seasoned men — rough, hardy 
 veteran and society-petted young aristocrat, side by 
 side — trudged back to the outpost, the Virginian's 
 
164 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 hand slipped into his inside pocket, touching the tahs- 
 man locket that told of one pure love — the ribbon 
 knot that spoke of a newer one, but not less pure. 
 And his heart rose in thankfulness to the great 
 Guardian, for recently averted peril ; and not less for 
 the great boon of the love of such pure women, 
 watching for him ceaselessly. And then, there was 
 little doubt mingling with the thoughts that trav- 
 eled swift to the far-away farm ; querying whether 
 the pure innocence he loved so well, felt in her dreams 
 that his loj^al heart was full of her at that dull mid- 
 night ! 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 A RUSE AND ITS RESULTS. 
 
 Perfect quiet reigiied in the camp of tlie Federals 
 on the north bank of the Tennessee, broken onh^ by 
 the neigh of a restive horse, or the challenge of the 
 changed sentries — borne dimly across on the night 
 wind. 
 
 Colonel Streight was a bold, skillful and dashing 
 commander ; but Latham knew him to possess also 
 the prudence and sagacity of a good one. So he felt 
 that his ruse had done good service, so far. For, 
 plainly expecting no attack from the Confederates 
 before momins^, the enemy was evidentU' sleeping on 
 his arms, in read ness to repulse any made at day- 
 light, or- failing an advance upon him — to force his 
 passage of tne river. And, calculating all this rap- 
 idly, the young Confederate felt that his opponent 
 had slept long enough, and determined promptly not 
 to let him fall into habits of sloth. Passing along 
 his scattered line of pickets, Latham gave careful and 
 plain instructions to each man, it being now scarcely 
 an hour before dawn. Then, having replenished the 
 fires with light brush, the little force remained still 
 and silent. 
 
 3 65 
 
166 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Half an hour later, the lieutenant crept down to 
 the bank again, peering eagerly across the dim 
 stream. No sight, nor sound, rewarded his patience, 
 in that "darkest hour before the dawn." All was 
 still and calm in the Federal camp. Then he raised 
 his pistol, aimed at an opposite fire ; and his signal 
 shot rang out. 
 
 Quickly a carbine answered it, from the extreme 
 right, another following from the left, a third near 
 him, until nine shots had echoed through the woods. 
 And each man, after firing, started up the bank, at 
 double-quick, loading as he ran. At fifty paces he 
 halted, fired again, and raced away another fifty; 
 then firing and coming back to post at double quick. 
 
 What effect this firing had — in one way, at least — 
 Latham never knew ; for the distance and darkness 
 were great, and the men aimed only at the smoulder- 
 ing fires. But its main effect was precisely what he 
 hoped; for again the assembly sounded and all 
 was bustle, stir and movement in the Federal camp. 
 Then came the rushing sound of moving squadrons, 
 hastening to the river's edge ; and that suddenly cut 
 by the crack of light artillery, as the guns vomited 
 fire into the night and sent grape shot hurtling 
 among the tree tops, and dropping branches from 
 them, sometimes near the racing rebel shooters. 
 Then a sheeted glare blazed out far on the Federal 
 right; taken up by the next compan}^ and running 
 the whole length of the line, as file-firing began. 
 Faster flew the grape-shot, now in better range; 
 closer and swifter hissed the bullets, thudding with 
 ugly sound against bank, or trunk, or bough. Then, 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 167 
 
 from the center of his position, Latham raced along 
 the bank in one direction, the corporal in the other. 
 Five minutes more — whether known to the enemy, 
 under the roar of his own fire, or not — and the little 
 squad had obeyed the order, "Cease firing"; had 
 raced up the bank, throwing fresh brush on the fires, 
 as they passed ; and every man was squatting safely 
 behind a tree, wiping his carbine carefully and — 
 waiting. 
 
 "Pretty lively firing, corporal," Latham said 
 cheerfully, behind his tree. "Our opposite neighbor 
 is having a pretty hot skirmish — all to himself. 
 Hasn't our range quite, though." 
 
 "Near enough, sir," the non-com. answered to the 
 point. 
 
 "Run back and inspect the mounts, corporal. See 
 if any of them are restive. It wouldn't do to have 
 one break away, from this noise. We must be ready 
 to cut, when he crosses. If he's the soldier I think, 
 he'll force the river, as soon after day as he is con- 
 vinced Vk^e -will not." 
 
 The corporal only saluted, in reply. He fully agreed 
 with his superior's view ; but one reproof in a night 
 was enough for that veteran, and he would "reckon" 
 no more. Double-quicking into the gloom, he was 
 soon out of sight and hearing ; but even then he only 
 relieved his mind, by grumbling as he ran : 
 
 "Yes; he'll do!" 
 Gradually the Federal fire slackened, the small 
 arms silenced, and only the occasional boom of the 
 field artillery broke the silence, as the gray of dawn 
 
168 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 crept into the east and, gradually tlie daily miracle 
 was repeated, under the gentle mandate : 
 
 "Let there be light!" 
 From his lookout, Latham's field glass showed 
 him the \vhole Federal force, drawn up in line of 
 battle. In good position — commanding the crossing 
 and flanked by well-posted batteries, to rake the 
 advancing enemy — the commander awaited the 
 attack. But gradually the light broadened ; and 
 the sun, rising be\^ond the mountains, looked down 
 bright and peaceful upon the motionless array, gild- 
 ing their arms and laughing back in ripples of fire 
 from movement of blade and barrel. 
 
 But still no movement broke the quiet of the 
 southern bank; and after a half-hour of careful 
 watching, Latham almost danced with joy, over the 
 gain of valuable time. For he well knew that, in a 
 cavalry raid like this, every moment counts, and a 
 halt at its very outset has almost the efi'ect of a 
 repulse. And now aides and couriers dashed along 
 the line, and plumed commanders, detaching from 
 its ranks, spurred toward an elevated plateau, 
 whence a finely mounted officer was sweeping the 
 south with his field glass. Closing about him as 
 they saluted, the regimental commanders joined in 
 earnest talk, as it seemed to the watchful Confederate. 
 Yes, there was no doubt about it : Colonel Streight 
 was holding a council-of-war. 
 
 Then the officers galloped back; movement was 
 seen in the line of battle ; the artillery quickened its 
 fire, with closer range ; and, covered by it, a strong 
 force of skirmishers was crossed, Deploj^ed along 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 169 
 
 the shore, they advanced cautioush^ up the slight 
 ascent, reached the now smouldering decoy fires, 
 passed them unresisted, and entered the thicker 
 ^voods be3'ond the rise. Then, to right, left and 
 front of them began a scattering but rapid fire, long 
 intervaled, — as Latham's men repeated their trick cf 
 the night before, — and doing little damage, as the 
 shooters ran from tree to tree. But the fire was 
 promptly returned all along the Federal line; the 
 skirmishers advanced into the woods still more 
 cautiously ; and Colonel Streight himself crossed the 
 river, for closer survey of this obstruction to his 
 well-laid plans. 
 
 By this time — for the sun was now two hours high 
 — the Federal column should have been well on its 
 way to Gadsden, galloping gaily to success, unresisted 
 and unexpected. But still, the Federal had been no 
 soldier to attempt advance — even though the firing 
 had now ceased on the enem3^'s side — until he had 
 brushed aside this force in his front. So he brought 
 over his whole command, artillery and all ; arranged 
 his line of battle on the crest, and deployed a heavy 
 force of skirmishers. But — somewhat to his natural 
 surprise, not one shot disputed his movement ; even 
 when the heavy line of skirmishers entered the 
 woods, moving slowly and firing to feel their way. 
 And very impatiently the Federal sat his horse, at 
 head of the reserve; marveling if the enemy could 
 indeed be luring him into an ambuscade. Another 
 half hour of surprise and impotent fuming, and then 
 a courier from the commander of the skirmish line 
 galloped up. 
 
170 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Colonel!" he said, saluting, "Captain White 
 orders me to report that he can find no enemy in 
 front of him ! " 
 
 Nor was this more surprising than it was true ; for 
 at that instant Beverly Latham was racing down 
 the Gadsden roac\ at the head of his jubilant squad, 
 six good miles away from the scene of his successful 
 ruse. 
 
 But as the racing rebels passed through a rocky 
 defile, heavily wooded on either side, a movement 
 showed alongside of a felled tree ; and cautiously the 
 grim, grizzled head of John Holden reared itself, nod- 
 ding with the movements of a serpent's. And in his 
 red-green eyes blazed a light deadly and venomous 
 with hate ; potent to blast its object, had the fable 
 of the Python been reared on truth's broad basis. 
 
 "Twic't! Twic't ye hev 'scaped me, ye murd'rer!" 
 the old man muttered, rising and shaking his fist 
 toward the flying squad. "Twic't! an' now ter hev 
 no gun! Yer time hev not cum, curse onyer! But 
 it'll cum, ez sur' ez Gawd sits thar!" Again he lifted 
 hand and face on high ; and his lips moved rapidly 
 and his eyes literally blazed with fanatical hate: 
 "He hev ge'en yer into my han', fur Hank's blood! I 
 hev swar th' yoath; and Gawd hev hear'd it — sho ez 
 death!" 
 
 Moodily he ceased ; sitting upon the log and peer- 
 ing up the road for the Federal advance. And, at its 
 approach, Holden strode into the roadway ; halting 
 and facing Captain White. 
 
 "Well, you are a fine guide !" that officer cried, as he 
 recognized the Unionist from a distance. "Why 
 
JOHN H OLDEN, UNIONIST. 171 
 
 were you missing when most needed, Holden?" he 
 added sternh', as he drew rein, nearer. 
 
 "I war en th' hand ov ther Lord!" Holden 
 answered solemnly. "Et war His will, ez stopt me 
 frum crossin', ez I hed ge'en th' wurd." 
 
 "Well, I don't know about you and the Lord, sir," 
 the trooper returned bluntly. "But you'll have the 
 devil's own time satisfying the colonel, unless his 
 present humor's better than I judge." 
 
 "I hevn't axt no favors, hev I?" the mountaineer 
 answered boldly, but deliberately. " You'uns hezn't 
 buy'd John Holden, hez ye? Wen yer pays him fur 
 sarvis', time 'nuff ter sass him. An' wen he talks ter 
 Streight, he'll talk no differ, nuther. Wot I hez 
 promis', I hez dun, I 'low; an' I dun't fur ther cause 
 an' ther flag — an' not fur no man's sa^an' — n'mo'n 
 fur his gold!" 
 
 "Give him a mount, sergeant!" Captain White 
 ordered shortly ; adding to Holden: "I've no time 
 to waste on hedge preachers, Mr. Spy. Mount and 
 await the colonel here." 
 
 He trotted forward without another glance at the 
 old man, standing calm and grim by the side of the 
 strong, spirited and well groomed black the trooper 
 had led out to him. 
 
 Now, to say that Colonel Streight was angry, 
 when Captain White's courier reported no enemy in 
 front, fails wholly to convey that frame of his mind 
 to which his junior alluded to John Holden. That 
 the atmosphere around him was not literally blue, 
 for several seconds, was the fault of natural causes; 
 none Vk^hatever of his own. 
 
172 JOHN HOLDEN. UNIONIST, 
 
 But this Federal was not the man to waste time 
 upon vain regrets, even when his mortified vanity 
 held before his self-esteem the taunt that he had been 
 tricked and duped ; and by no ver^^ novel process at 
 that. 
 
 So, forming his command the colonel rode away, 
 rapidly, as though to escape from the recent unpleas- 
 ant past, and eager to begin that raid which was to 
 become so memorable from the daring and dash of 
 the invaders, and the skill and courage of those who 
 met and foiled them. 
 
 And, by the time the column's head had reached 
 John Holdcn's stand the Federal commander had 
 forgotten his wrath. His mind was busy with plan 
 and combination; and the appearance of this missing 
 guide — or sp\', or what he might be made — came pat 
 to the train of his thought. So, he merely motioned 
 Holden to his side, without a word ; and the moun- 
 taineer — gaining the saddle with agility unsuited to 
 his years — ^rode in alongside the colonel, mute and 
 grave as himself and making neither salutation nor 
 salute. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 IN SOUTHERN WOMAN's WAY. 
 
 The sun has risen only twice since Latham scam- 
 pered from the foe he had fooled at the crossing of the 
 Tennessee; but the day-god has looked, meantime, 
 on busy action of men. Colonel Streight has occu- 
 pied Gadsden — to his credit, be it said, treating the 
 people with courtes}^ and moderation ; and has 
 crossed into Georgia, moving toward Rome. But 
 now he retraces his steps, for he learns that Forrest 
 has heard of his raid, and is force-marching his com- 
 mand to cut him off. This is more than the Federal 
 bargained for; and, brave and adventurous as he is, 
 he has no great desire to try conclusions with "the 
 Flail," — as Forrest, then the terror of the Southwest, 
 was called, — especially as the Confederate force ma}' 
 be larger than his own. 
 
 So evening of the second da}' found Streight in 
 camp near Gadsden, his men and horses worn by 
 forced marches. And, far nearer than he knew, his 
 redoubtable antagonist, Forrest, was straining every 
 nerve to try conclusions with him in the morning. 
 And that same night Latham's little squad lay in 
 the woods — not far from the Federal command and 
 hanging on its flanks, but unable to cut through it 
 
 173 
 
174 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 and join Forrest. And — though no scout nor courier 
 could reach his covert — the youngster had contrived 
 to send couriers with useful information to the col- 
 umn he felt certain was in pursuit. This had reduced 
 his squad to five men, but the ardent young soldier 
 was in high good humor, spite of his precarious 
 position ; and now, not being on strict duty before 
 the enemy, he hobnobbed easily with his recently- 
 suppressed corporal and, lying near the camp fire, he 
 was saying : 
 
 "No, corporal, I don't doubt we can join the gen- 
 eral -and share the glory of the defeat of this raiding 
 party." 
 
 "Darn th' glory, sir!" bluntly answered the 
 veteran non-com. "/don't expect any commish ; 
 but I'd like a hand in lickin' this Yank, jess th' same. 
 This 'ere glory's all hum," the corporal went on. 
 "When I come to 'list, my whole town was riz. The 
 big law'r made us his biggest speech, an' tole us 
 futur' ages were lookin' back on us. The newspaper 
 printed Latin, 'bout it's being sweet to die fo' yer 
 country. But that verse wasn't to my likin', so I 
 went to see my gall, for good-bye. Hanged ef she 
 didn't pin a cockade on mean' spout, ' Go wher' glory 
 waits thee! ' I jess' remarked glory could %vait ; an' 
 I didn't like th' cockade, for mos' every fellow thev 
 was pinned to vamoosed when time come to go to 
 th' front!" 
 
 "But j^ou came, all the same," Latham put in. 
 
 "Oh, yes; an' they presented us a flag an' quoted 
 poetry by the bookful ; an' one scrub tole us to come 
 back with our shields, or on 'em ! What that tune 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 175 
 
 meant, I didn't ask; for the greenhorn next me 
 brought down his gun on my pet corn, and next 
 thing, we were marching away to ' The gall I left ' 
 behin' me ! ' Now, here I am, a corporal, and no 
 chance o' being anj^thing else. But the big lawyer 
 got an exemption, an' the scrub that talked 'bout 
 our shields is a clerk in the quartermaster's office!" 
 
 "Is he? " Latham laughed. "Then he's all right." 
 
 "Is he? I doubt it, smartly!" the corporal 
 retorted, biting oiif a goodly mouthful of "nigger- 
 head " and walking away from the fire. "I doubt it ; 
 for he married — mj^ gall ! " 
 
 That same night Jen Freeman w^as restlessly pacing 
 the broad piazza of Dave Hartley, the foremost 
 merchant of Gadsden. The very day that Latham 
 left her home, Jen had received a note from her old 
 friend and schoolmate, Sis Hartlc}-, urging her to 
 come for a short visit. And Farmer Freeman — ever 
 unselfish where his girl was concerned — had urged her 
 to accept and to recuperate, after the strain and care 
 of nursing their wounded guest. So she had been 
 driven over by Master Willie; and, only after his 
 return, had come the news of the Federals' advance, 
 soon followed by their appearance in the town. 
 
 Naturally the girl had thought much of her conva- 
 lescent — "friend"; but she was too proud to ask. 
 Now, — the homely supper over and Sis busy with 
 household cares, — Mr. Hartley had ridden away to 
 get the latest news of the Federal column, and of the 
 possible truth of rumors that Forrest v^ould over- 
 take it next morning. So Jen — left to her thoughts, 
 and not finding them too pleasant — was pacing the 
 
176 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 piazza and peering vainly for some star in the cloudy 
 canopy above her. Suddenly the girl stopped, cer- 
 tain that she heard her own name spoken. Then, in 
 the dead stillness of the sultry evening, she distinctly 
 heard the repetition : 
 
 " Miss Freem'n ! Miss Jen ! " 
 The girl had lived too long in an atmosphere 
 charged with real danger to be frightened by a 
 shadow ; so she was little startled by the appearance 
 of a white, vaguely defined form, just bej^ond the 
 gallery. Moving rapidly toward it, she found the 
 form w^asthatof a woman, and that it made motions 
 to ^^r&Yn her to silence. Then the w^oman spoke, in a 
 hoarse whisper. 
 
 "Miss Jen," she said rapidly, "I hez cum' thro' 
 dark an' nite', ter warn yer 'bout yer young man! " 
 
 To this abrupt preface, Jen was conscious that she 
 replied only by a vivid blush, unseen in the darkness, 
 as the woman went on : 
 
 "An' yer hez ther rite ter be warnt, fur E'm Lize 
 Holden, yer war good ter, wen my man w^ar kilt! 
 But paw, he ar' jess plum sot agin yer young man, 
 'long ov his yoath ter hev blood ! Paw hev fix't ter 
 lead them blue-coat critters ter night jess w'ere yer 
 young man be lying hit in th' woods, a-shootin' at 
 th' blue-coat critter cump'ny. An' I' jess 'low'd, Miss 
 Jen, ez j^er shud be warnt." 
 
 "Are you sure?" Jen asked, her breath coming 
 quick and gasping. 
 
 "I don' look a-foolin', does I?" the w^oman 
 retorted. "I hev' heer'd paw swar 'ter the cap'n ov 
 
TAKING THE BRIDLE HIMSELF, HE STRODE CAREFULLY 
 AWAY.— Page 184. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 177 
 
 ther critter cump'ny thet he'd show'm th' Johnnie 
 wot fooled 'em at ther crossin' ! " 
 
 Jen reaHzed nothing of what this meant ; her lover's 
 prowess being all unknown to her. But she did 
 realize that this lover's safety hung in the balance, 
 and she asked, quickly : 
 
 *' Do you know where Mr. Latham is to-night ? ' 
 
 "Yer don' think I hev trudged ter yer house an' 
 then 'long ter Gadsding 'thout knowin', does yer?" 
 Mrs. H olden answered promptly. "Ther Johnnies be 
 a lyin' three mile by yan; an' paw's a-goin' ter show 
 ther blue-coats whar, jess at twelve ter night ! " 
 
 "What will happen ! " Jen exclaimed, more to her- 
 self than to her interlocuter. But the latter responded 
 drearily : 
 
 "Hangin', sholy! I heered paw 'low ter thercap'n, 
 ez yer young man an' hisn war spies, inside ther lines ; 
 and ther' blue-coat, he 'lowed ez he hed plenty rope 
 fur stretchin' ov spies' necks, he did ! " 
 
 Then, as by a flash of God's lightning, Jen Free- 
 man's heart was revealed to her. All its resistance 
 to pleading, to absence and to ordinary danger, 
 yielded before this threatened disgraceful ending ol 
 a bright career, plotted b^^ hate she could not com- 
 prehend. But, then and there, the girl knew that 
 her heart had gone out to the young soldier past 
 recall; and that, with her heart, her life was his for 
 any service it might render. But nothing mawkish 
 weakened the truth of Jen's confession to herself; but, 
 rather, she gloried in her new found wealth of love ; 
 and felt it strengthen her for prompt and active use- 
 fulness. Glancing through the window, she saw the 
 
 12 
 
178 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 clock pointing close to ten ; and, quickly deciding her 
 plan, she asked the woman : 
 
 '* Why did you not warn him, instead of coming so. 
 far to speak to me ? " 
 
 "Cos, arter ther shootin' et ther dance," Lize 
 answered prompth^ "paw hev made me swar ei 
 yoath never ter speak ter him agin. He'd a kilt 
 me if I hadn't a sware ; an' I ken't brek my yoath, 
 ken I?" 
 
 "Can you lead me to his camp?" Jen asked, no 
 longer hesitating. 
 
 " Y'er hev n't er critter, hev ye?" Lize answered. 
 
 "Yes; come with me," Jen said, and, stepping from 
 the low piazza, she passed swiftl^^ to the stables. 
 One mule, old and vicious, stood alone by the door. 
 The stalls were empt}', the men and Mr. Hartley 
 having ridden off on everv mount available to learn 
 news of the raiders. Jen leaned against the stable 
 door one instant, pressing her hand to her fast throb- 
 bing heart. But the unwonted dizziness soon 
 passed away, and she said to the woman : 
 
 " Come, show me the way ! We can walk ! " 
 Without one word, Lize Holden drew the faded 
 shawl — which seemed part of her — closer over her 
 head, and struck out in a long swinging gate for the 
 side fence. And long afterwards Jen remembered her 
 glance into the kitchen window, that showed Sis 
 Hartley's buxom arms, dough to the elbow, as she 
 hastened her maid of all work : 
 
 "Hurry up, stupid ! I've left Miss Jen long enough 
 alone. She'll be skipping with some raider, next 
 thing!" 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 179 
 
 But, at the moment, Jen's thoughts centered to but 
 one point — the safet\' of the man who loved her — 
 whom she had discarded, in her pride and folly; 
 w^hom — as she now knew, she loved \vith all the 
 strength of her fresh, pure soul 1 
 
 "Go on, fast as you can I" she whispered to Lize 
 Holden, as she passed the window's gleam. "Get 
 there before them, and ask an^-thing you wish of 
 me!" 
 
 "I hain't arx'tnuthin',hezl? " the woman retorted 
 doggedly, clambering over the lence. "Kin yer 
 tramp? " 
 
 "Yes, go on!" Jen urged. " Go fast as you can ! " 
 Dull drops of rain began to fall occasionalh", and 
 the summer night grew more sultry, under low- 
 hanging clouds. But Jen Freeman drew the light 
 scarf she chanced to wear closely about her head, and 
 — unmindful alike of rain and heat — followed her 
 strange guide along that strange road, through 
 unknown woods and across ravine and rivulet alike. 
 And once she thought she heard a wdld, wondering 
 woman's voice echo through the woods. But she 
 pressed on after her hurrying guide, never recking that 
 Sis Hartley — after search of house and grounds — was 
 hanging over her gate, alone, crying in alarmed 
 anxiety : 
 
 "Jen ! Jen Freeman ! Where are tou ? " 
 So, over the rough road the two women tramped, 
 for what might have been an hour. They were in 
 dense woods now, dark and silent; the rain falling 
 fitfully and the air sultry and close. A narrow path, 
 that might have been a cattle trail once, and only 
 
180 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 distinguishable at night to a born mountaineer, led 
 up a rough steep. Midway on this Lize Holden 
 stopped abruptly. 
 
 " Turn rite inter them bushes," she whispered, "an' 
 go 'long rite erhead! Yer'd better holler, ef tha' 
 hails yer, less'n tha' shoots. Yer yung man's 
 a-lyin' hit right in 'yan." 
 
 "Are you going to leave me?" Jen asked, with a 
 little shiver." 
 
 "Imus' do't. Miss Jen," the widow answered, 
 solemnlv. "Yer young man 'ud speak ter me, an' I 
 hez sware my yoath b' Hank's grave! Yer ben't 
 a-dangerin' now ; only j^er mus' holler ef tha' hails 
 yer, yan ! ' ' 
 
 She paused a moment, hesitant; then added, rap- 
 idly: 
 
 "Yer ben't skeart, be ver ? Yer hain't needin' ter be. 
 Gawd's a-lookin' down on yer, Miss! " 
 
 She seized Jen's hands suddenly in both of her own, 
 pressed her thin lips upon them fervently; then 
 glided away, sprite-like, into the gloom. 
 
 Left alone under that thick darkness and soft fall- 
 ing rain, the girl could hear her own heartbeats 
 drumming in her ears. But she was not made of 
 that stuff which gives way with duty unfulfilled ; so, 
 parting the bushes, Jen turned to the right and 
 groped her way ahead. Suddenly came a gruff voice, 
 accompanied by rattle of a carbine and click of its 
 lock, in the words : 
 
 " Halt ! Who goes there ? ' ' 
 
 "A friend!" Jen answered, bravely. "I want Mr. 
 Latham." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 181 
 
 Latham had chosen as his hiding a Httle pocket in 
 the dense woods, beyond the narrow trail ; the path 
 to it almost overgrown from disuse, and its rear on 
 the very edge of a ravine. Here he was sleeping 
 soundly, under his stretched waterproof, when the 
 corporal touched his shoulder. Sitting bolt upright, 
 he was wade awake in an instant, pistol in hand; 
 and the next was creeping softh^ with the man 
 tow^ard the low challenge of the picket. The sounds 
 were plain of some one's approach ; snapping twig 
 and swash of leaf coming nearer. Latham's cocked 
 pistol and the corporal's carbine went out to cover 
 the sound, the officer w^hispering: 
 
 "There is only one, and he moves very carelessly!" 
 
 "It ain't a he," the veteran whispered back. 
 " Them's wimmin's feet, ef I ever heard 'em in my 
 life!" 
 
 Before Latham could speak, a dim form became 
 half visible in the opening, faltering, then halting and 
 calling piteously : 
 
 " Mr. Latham ! Oh, Mr. Latham !" 
 The corporal scratched his head vigorously, made 
 a swift right-about and strode to the rear. His offi- 
 cer's voice — quivering wdth amazement and doubt 
 replied : 
 
 ' ' Who calls me ? I am here ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh! Thank heaven, I have found you, at last!" 
 Jen cried, rushing forward. And then — woman's 
 weakness asserting itself, when heroism w^as not 
 longer imperative — the girl broke into gasping sobs, 
 trembling in every limb. 
 
182 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 " You, Jen ! Alone and in such a night ! Do n't be 
 frightened! Tell me what this means!" the lover 
 cried in -wonderment profound. But his amazement 
 did not prevent his strong arm passing about the 
 quivering form, supporting it tenderly. 
 
 "I am not frightened," the girl answered, quickly 
 controlling herself. But she withdrev^ gently from 
 the supporting arm, as she added rapidly: "But you 
 are in great danger. At this very moment Yankee 
 cavalry is on the way to surprise and capture you, 
 guided by your old enemy, Holden." 
 
 "Let them come," Latham answered, quietly. 
 "Now that we are warned, we are safe here." 
 
 "You are not safe," the girl replied. "They are 
 too many, and they know your hiding place. His 
 daughter, Lize, warned me and guided me here." 
 
 "You are right," Latham answered. "Good sol- 
 diery tells us to run when fighting is useless, and heels 
 have it. Corporal !" He turned to the waiting sol- 
 dier, gave rapid orders, and then advanced to the 
 girl again, throwing his waterproof tenderly over 
 her wet and still shivering form. But, even in face of 
 imminent peril — now providing for by his soldier 
 instinct — the thought uppermost in Latham's brain 
 was what real feeling had impelled that delicate, 
 womanW nature to risk the solitude and darkness of 
 that lonesome way, to warn him of his danger. 
 
 "I can never, in a whole lifetime, express my grati- 
 tude and deep feeling of jo\'," he said, gravely, "that 
 you have taken such a risk for me I" 
 
 "The chief risk was of taking cold," the girl 
 answered quietly. "But you must not waste time; 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 183 
 
 there is none to spare. Hasten to get away from 
 here!" 
 
 "And leave you?" the man cried, suddenly. "I 
 must see you in safety first, then give them the slip 
 afterward." 
 
 "Impossible!" she answered, decisively. "You 
 cannot! They are coming from Gadsden. Never 
 mind me, Mr. Latham. I can get back some way." 
 But, in vSpite of her brave words, Jen Freeman's heart ° 
 sunk and her voice trembled at the idea of being left 
 wholly alone at such a place and hour. But, loyal to 
 her self-appointed mission to save, she added : "See ; 
 they are ready ; do not lose an instant !" 
 
 As she spoke, gloomy shadows of men, leading 
 their horses carefully, passed across the open space, 
 disappearing down the deep descent to the ravine 
 behind it, and traced by slipping footfall and rolling 
 of displaced stones. 
 
 "If they come from Gadsden, you cannot return 
 that v^ay," Latham answered decisively. "I owe 
 you my life, doubtless, Miss Jen, for I would not be 
 taken prisoner here and now. The least I can do is 
 to protect you from them. I can make a detour and 
 leave you at home, as I join Forrest." 
 
 "You have no extra horse," she hesitated. "One 
 more would hamper you only the more. Go ! Please 
 go ; and I wall get back — safely ! " 
 
 "You cannot,"he answered, half impatientW; "and 
 you certainly shall not attempt it. You are in my 
 command now; and, at such a moment, my expe- 
 rience must outweigh your scruples. As for a horse, 
 
184 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 you shall have one as soon as day breaks. Come, 
 they are ready. Surely you can trust nie,^en ?" 
 
 As he spoke, the picket from the road be^^ond 
 moved noiselessly, but swiftly, toward them. 
 
 "Hoofs sounding on the road below, leftenant," 
 the man said, rapidly. "Seem a full troop, sir, tho' 
 I can't hear plain from the distance." 
 
 "How far off, Bronson," the officer queried. 
 
 "Not over half a mile, I judge, sir." 
 
 "Fall in," was the curt rejoinder. " The corporal 
 has your horse in the ravine. You see, you must 
 come now," Latham added, turning to Jen, and 
 again holding out his hand. "Will you not trust 
 me?" 
 
 For sole reply she put her hand in his, firmly and 
 confidently. Next instant, he was leading her care- 
 fully down the rugged and abrupt descent to what 
 had been a winter torrent's bed, now dry and rough 
 with loose, pebbly sand. There, Latham rapidly 
 wound a twisted blanket about his pommel, lifted 
 the girl to the seat, with but a word of explanation ; 
 and, taking the bridle himself, strode out carefully 
 over the insecure footing. The men, leading their 
 horses, followed in single file, a phantom troop, in 
 seeming, as they toiled silent along their strange 
 way, in deep darkness ; emerging into a broader and 
 more level plateau, only after two hours of weari- 
 some tram 23. 
 
 Nor had the squad been premature in its escape 
 from the confint captdeors. They were not half 
 w-ay through the ravine — though shut out from 
 sight and sound by its abrupt sides — when a squad- 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 185 
 
 ron of cavalry moved quietly up the road beyond 
 the pocket, deployed into wide skirmish line and 
 circled into the woods, to surround and cut off the 
 prize considered certain. 
 
 Captain White led the column ; and by his side rode 
 John Holden, silent, watchful and implacable for 
 vengeance. For he had lied to the Federal about the 
 escapades and duty of the young rebel ; describing 
 his squad as bushwhackers and spies, belonging to 
 no command and fighting only for plunder and for 
 payment for news of the Union movements. 
 
 "You are positive of the place?" Captain White 
 asked, as he piished into the thick cover. 
 
 "I ben't a fool, be I?" Holden answered grimly, 
 dismounting from his fine black steed. "Follerme, 
 an' we hez 'em sho' I I hain't brung yer fur fun, hez 
 I? Them 'wackers '11 sholy hang, by sun! " 
 
 WariW, cautiously the two men pressed on through 
 bush and brier, reaching the open pocket to find it 
 deserted, and soon joined by the closed-in, but empty- 
 handed skirmishers. 
 
 "No captures, lieutenant? " White grimh' asked his 
 sub, as the right party closed in on what had been 
 the camp. "The devil! None on your side, Mr. 
 Baldwin? Holden, what does this mean?" he 
 added, angriW. "Is this the way you make up your 
 broken promise at the river? " 
 
 "I hain't 'splainin', is I?" the mountaineer 
 answered, in voice trembling with baffled hate. 
 "John Holden 'lowed ez how he hed spotted 'em, rite 
 in yere. Ther devil hi'self cud n't a-flew out, 'cep'n 
 we' ims 'ud a seen 'im ! I 'low I do be plum beat ! " 
 
186 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Seizing a lantern from a sergeant, Captain White 
 moved slowW along the open, throwing the light 
 before him. Then he beckoned his lieutenant, pointing, 
 to the wet ground. 
 
 " Hoof prints — fresh, too," he said low. "There! 
 that grass is dry; beaten down. It has been pressed 
 by a blanket," — he stooped and felt the spot, — "and 
 not ver\^ long ago ! The old fellow was not Ij'ing ; 
 but the covey has flushed. He must be a devilish 
 good soldier, anyhow ! " the Federal went on frankly. 
 " If he can slip us like this, when not expected, no use 
 to hunt him — warned and ready — in this darkness. 
 Sound the recall, sir! " 
 
 Swinging his lantern high over the underbrush, the 
 captain turned into the woods toward the horse- 
 holders without. Suddenly he stopped, peered 
 curiously at a branch before him, and then took 
 carefully from it a drenched, but delicate knot of blue 
 ribbon. A moment he stood, examining the trophy ; 
 then he gave a low laugh, that ended in a whistle of 
 humorous amaze. But he put the ribbon in his- 
 pocket, without a \vord, mounted his horse and 
 slowly rode down the road he had come. Suddenl}-^ 
 he turned to Holden, riding on his left grim and silent 
 as a male Sphinx, and asked abruptly : 
 
 "Has this bushwhacker a sweetheart about here? "■ 
 
 "I hain't a-pesterin 'bout gells, be I? " the old man 
 answered, grimly. "But I 'low he do be plum sweet 
 on Freeman's darter." 
 
 "Where does she live? " the captain asked. 
 
 " Twenty mile 'yan ; but she's a-bidin' now 'long er 
 Sis Hartley, in Gadsding," Holden answered. "But 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 187 
 
 wot 'bout her? She hain't no nolledge war her 
 voung- man be ter night. She hain't seen 'im sence he 
 fool't yer at th' Tenn'see! " 
 
 "No, I suppose not," White rephed. "Show me 
 Hartley's house, as we pass through Gadsden." 
 
 "Iben't 'dvisin', be I?" Holden said, dehberately 
 and grimly. "But he ar' a pizen bad rebel — same ez 
 Freeman. Burnin' udn't be too good — " 
 
 "Shut your mouth, you old reprobate!" The 
 Union soldier turned on the Union S3rmpathizer in 
 wrathful scorn. "How dare you hint that to me, 
 sir ! Do you suppose I entered the army to become 
 an incendiarj'? " 
 
 There was no reply to make, so Holden made none; 
 and the part}', entering broader road, as the day 
 broke, took the way to Gadsden at a brisk trot. For 
 the trained ear of the Union soldier caught a sound 
 that thrilled him. Either as a signal gun, or as 
 prelude to a fight, a cannon boomed clear but 
 distant. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 THE CAPTURED WAR HORSE. 
 
 Trotting rapidly through the sandy main street 
 of the town, the Federal cavalry found the Gads- 
 denites awake and active, early as was the hour. 
 They peeped from window, or porch, and hung over 
 gates on every side, peering cautiously and curiously 
 at the blue coats, but asking no question. At the 
 Hartley place, the daughter of the house hung over 
 the gate, wide-eyed and eager for news. Her natural 
 anxiety at cannon-firing, with the Federals in sight, 
 was heightened by the strange absence of her friend ; 
 for no reply had come to her wondering calls of the 
 previous night, and no solution of Jen's sudden dis- 
 appearance offered itself to her simple mind. 
 
 So Sis Hartley was more curious than alarmed, as 
 the troop trotted down the street and halted in 
 front of her ; for Holden — now with his long cloak 
 and white beard and Avig, used to conceal his move- 
 ments irom his simple neighbors — had said briefly to 
 the captain : 
 
 "Hartley's; whar his gell 'bides!" 
 Short time as the cannon shot leaves him. Cap- 
 tain White rides from the front, lifting his cap to the 
 girl as he says, courteously : , 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 189 
 
 "You are no stranger to me, by name, Miss 
 Hartley, 'though I am to you ; so I ask the courtesy 
 of a drink of water. " 
 
 "You're welcome, sir," Sis Hartley answers, with 
 a little tremor; but she never dismounts from the 
 gate, nor lifts the latch, for the enemy. She only 
 calls: "Here, Sal! A bucket an' dipper, quick as 
 you can!" 
 
 The Union soldier smiled quietly, under his mus- 
 tache, at the implied snub; but he threw himself 
 j^om saddle and approached the gate, followed by 
 the keen, but wondering glance of John Holden. 
 Then in a low voice, he said : 
 
 "You are alone, Miss Hartley. Where is your 
 guest, Miss Freeman?" 
 
 Sis Hartley's big blue eyes opened wider at this 
 unexpected query, and the wonder in them was 
 emphasized by that in the tone which cried : "Lor! 
 How did you know ? Have you any idea where she 
 went last night—" But, suddenly recollecting her- 
 self, and to w^hom she spoke, the girl broke oft 
 quickly, finishing with a frigid: "Here's the water, 
 sir! Good-morning." 
 
 • She turned abruptU', as if to walk away; but the 
 trooper put quick hand into his coat, and flaunting 
 the "knot of ribbon blue " before her, answered : 
 
 "How should I have any idea. Miss Hartley? 
 Unless — you know this!" 
 
 Filled with wonder as was fhe Gadsden girl's 
 brain, almost equal indignation ranged up in it and 
 formed alongside. Her eyes sparkled with anger; 
 but a tell-tale flush burned in her cheek as she again 
 
190 JOHN IIOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 turned her back, and strode away without a word. 
 And the captain remounted, well satisfied now about 
 his theory ; for, as he rode awa}^ he said to his lieu- 
 tenant : 
 
 "We did not find the rebel. Skinner, but I have 
 found a pretty mountain romance." 
 
 But Jen Freeman's knot of blue — and her friend's 
 tell-tale blush — were noted by different eyes, and in 
 different seeming. For John Holden — recalling the 
 parting of the pair, which he had spied upon at Free- 
 man Farm, and now noting the ribbon and the Fed- 
 eral's by-pla\^ with it — drew his own conclusions. 
 That the\' were ugly ones w^as certain ; and that he 
 would make ugly use of them if possible, his hate of 
 Freeman, of the girl, and most of all for Latham, 
 guaranteed beyond all doubt. 
 
 * * * * * * * 
 
 And, meanwhile, that gay Confederate ranger had 
 led his men out of the defile, round the plainly noted. 
 fires of Streight's command, and was moving into a 
 lower and open road when day broke. Jen looked 
 wearied, but not "wholly discontented ; and the 
 thought of her lover suggested a halt, and — coffee! 
 A fire soon blazed ; tin cups were rinsed at the spring'; 
 and soon steaming "potato soup " was ready for the 
 squad and its strange guest. 
 
 Then the same cannon Captain White had heard 
 on the Gadsden road boomed clearer and nearer on 
 Latham's ears, arid he stopped his gulping at the 
 hot tin cup, as he cried : 
 
 "That's Forrest! He is striking the enemj', and 
 there'll be hot work to-day ! Ha ! there's infantry 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 191 
 
 iire,"he added, after an instant's eager listening, "far 
 to the right ; I hear it plainh', where the men are 
 uncovered by the woods. Mount!" he ordered, 
 abruptly. "Miss Jen, I'll find j^ou a horse some- 
 where, and our road lies near your home ! But I 
 dare not leave you, in this uncertain movement cf 
 troops. Will you mount behind me; and" — he hesi- 
 tated an instant, adding — "will you trust me still?" 
 
 "I will trust you," the girl answered, firmly, but 
 not letting her eyes meet his. "I would rather take 
 mv chances with jour men than go on alone, now." 
 
 Soon they \vere trotting rapidW along a new road, 
 that cut directly across the Gadsden pike. An hour 
 brought them to a group of wretched hovels, lateh' 
 occupied by charcoal burners, but seemingly deserted 
 now. But in front of one of them was hitched a coal 
 black horse, pawing and nickering as the squad 
 advanced up the sandy trail. "U. S." was stamped 
 on saddle and embroidered on shabrac ; but, though 
 the letters were unseen at distance, "U. S." stood 
 out unmistakably, from sleek skin and rich accoutre- 
 ment of the brute. Small time was needed to "cut 
 out" the prize, and strong hands led him away, 
 around a turn that hid from the hastening party the 
 sight of John Holden rushing to the door of the 
 cabin, v^ith "wrathful eye and hand raised to curse 
 the bold raider who left him afoot on that day of all 
 days. 
 
 Turning from the main road to question one of his 
 Unionist pals as to Forrest's advance, the grim old 
 loyalist had not dreamed of rebel scouts so near. 
 And now, while he fumed in impotent rage and sent 
 
192 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 curses after the robber, Beverly Latham was blan- 
 keting the saddle, a mile below, and helping Jen Free- 
 man to mount the horse of her unknown foe. For 
 the Virginian had said : 
 
 "He's a better beast than mine. Miss Jen, and 
 easier gaited. You are not afraid to ride a Yankee 
 trooper's horse ? " 
 
 ''No, nor any other," the girl had answered, with, 
 a confident smile. " Twist that blanket ' horn ' a little 
 lower, please. Thank you, Mr. Latham." And, set- 
 tling herself in her improvised side-saddle, she had 
 given the black his head, had checked him lightly 
 with the curb, dropping it for the snaffle, and was 
 soon galloping by Latham's side, on excellent terms 
 with her new-found mount. 
 
 But, as they neared the main road, the sound of 
 cannonading grew louder and more continuous; soon 
 mixed with the coUvStant rattle of small arms ; dead- 
 ened by intervening woods one moment, the next 
 striking sharp and clear upon the ear. So Latham 
 knew that Forrest had struck Streight a heavy blow, 
 that bright summer morning; and, never doubting the 
 result of deliberate blow from that master hand, the 
 young lieutenant groaned in spirit that he was not in 
 the melee, yet urged his men forward with every 
 haste possible to soldierly caution. For now the 
 main road was full of Federals, — in parties, or as 
 single stragglers, — hastening to or from the scene 
 of conflict. So the wary scouter kept to the side 
 paths, under cover of the heavy growth, the sounds 
 of the battle his only guide. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 193 
 
 And gradually these rolled into distance, as Forrest 
 drove his enemy; and it was late afternoon before 
 Latham overtook even the rear of the Confederate 
 force; and learned that the hunted Forrest had the 
 hunter, Streight, well in his toils. 
 
 Then, after a few words of encouragement to her, 
 and of careful injunction to the corporal to watch his 
 charge zealously and to hasten for the front, Latham 
 spurred ahead, in the fast falling dusk, to report 
 what he had learned of the Federal disposition. 
 
 He found the general's staff on the banks of a 
 swiftly running stream, high over its bounds now, 
 from recent rains; and the commander, slightly 
 advanced from the rest, examining the still blazing 
 bridge, which the Federals had fired as they crossed it. 
 
 Sitting his heavy but well-bred horse with the 
 native majesty of command, it needed no rank-marks 
 on his worn gray jacket — no plume or gold cord to 
 his dingy slouched hat — to mark the born leader in. 
 Nathan Bedford Forrest. 
 
 His great height — six feet two inches, added to by- 
 erect seat and firm set of broad, sloping shoulders 
 and deep round chest — Forrest's long muscular limbs, 
 close knit and agile, denoted even greater size. And, 
 as Latham drew rein near b^- and saluted, the gen- 
 eral raised his hat and pushed back — with strongs 
 brown hand, on which the veins stood out like cords 
 — the heavy, dark hair from his moist brow. It was 
 a high, broad forehead, too; whiter than the face 
 below, and retreating almost to baldness above 
 either temple. Broad seams, from constant pres- 
 ence of responsibility, or combination, lined this 
 
 13 
 
19 1 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 forehead ; and under its heav^^ dark eyebrows, wide 
 set and well arched, the dark, gray eyes, always 
 bright and searching, now literally blazed as they 
 turned in quer^' to the new comer. The full-based 
 nose, with its broad, generous nostrils, gave rather a 
 heav\^ cast to the sun-browned face; and its high, 
 projecting cheek bones, and thin, firm-set jaws, gave 
 decided Indian cast to the face, save for the black chin 
 whiskers and heavy mustache, that showed the firm 
 lips and 'regular white teeth only when Forrest 
 spoke. 
 
 It was no common face, that of the alreadyfamous 
 cavalry leader ; but neither was it the face of the 
 thinker, or the astute strategist. Dauntless courage, 
 unswerving resolution, tenacity of purpose and 
 indomitable self-reliance, were all stamped upon it ; 
 but the finer and more indefinable character amalgam 
 — which blends all of these and tempers them into 
 the highest forms of greatness — were not so plainly 
 discernible. But there was visible none of that bull- 
 dog viciousness and implacable ferocity, which popu- 
 lar misstatement has caused acceptance of, as a real 
 part of Forrest's character. 
 
 The general listened restlessly to Latham's brief 
 report ; the bullets striking the trees and bank about 
 them, during its making. 
 
 ''So you've scouted over most of this countr^^ 
 eh? " he said, at its close. "Do you know any ford 
 of this stream within a mile ? ' ' 
 
 "None, sir. Never had need for one," the youth 
 answered, briefly. 
 
 "Know any people around here who do? " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 195 
 
 "No, general. Most of the people are disloj'al, 
 and even our own sort have fled from the firing! " 
 
 "Damn 'em! They should be doing some of it!" 
 the cavalry chief said, half to himself; then suddenly: 
 ■"Latham, if I can cross this creek, I'll bag the 
 Yankee ! and, sir, I must cross ! Find me a guide ! " 
 
 A sudden idea leaped into the soldier's eyes. It 
 must have gleamed out of them, even in the dusk; 
 for Forrest's keen glance caught it, as he cried : 
 
 "Ho ! You know him, do you ? " 
 
 "Possibly, general, but not — him!'' Latham 
 faltered out. It had flashed into his brain that Jen 
 Freeman once told him she knew every road and ford 
 and crossing for ten miles round ; and Jen Freeman 
 Avas within hail, so he continued: "If there be a 
 ford an}' where near, it is probably known to the 
 lady!" ' 
 
 "Lady!" the general echoed. "Is she in reach? 
 A true Southern girl, I'd swear! All right, boy! 
 bring her here! " 
 
 "I will, sir!" Latham saluted, touched spur to 
 flank and galloped back toward the rear, through 
 the fast-closing night, leaving Forrest still sitting on 
 the bank, regardless of the pattering bullets and 
 occasional shells about him, as though they had been 
 acorns dropped from the trees above by some play- 
 ful squirrel. 
 
 Suddenly there was a splashing and floundering in 
 the water below him ; the bushes parted and a 
 swarthy, semi-nude figure, dripping like a water-dog, 
 approached the general and saluted. 
 
196 JOHN HOLDEN. UNIONIST. 
 
 "Well, Johnson, you risked it, did you?" tlie cav- 
 alry chief asked eagerh'. 
 
 "Yes, general. I swim thar crik, an' floated down 
 a spell. The Yanks ain't niovin', but ther pickets is 
 thro wed down a mile o' mo'. The' ar a-choppin 
 wood, too; but I couldn't find no ford." 
 
 "That'll do I " Forrest answered briefly. "Here, 
 major," — calling to one of his staff, who promptly 
 spurred forward, — "give Johnson a drink, please. 
 Steady, Johnson; you needn't empty the canteen! 
 Major, the enemy will not move oft' to-night. I will 
 attack him at dawn, if, as I hope, we have found a 
 ford. Order Captain Morton to have his guns read^- 
 to command the crossing by dawn, and the company 
 officers to have every man report to his troop, at 
 once." 
 
 With these w^ords, Forrest had rejoined his staff, 
 trotted a hundred ^^ards into the woods, and dis- 
 mounted under a spreading oak. Throwing his 
 waterproof on the ground, he lay upon it at once, 
 and in an instant was sound asleep. 
 
 The sun had set in clouds and threatening rain; 
 but later the moon rose mistily through them, show- 
 ing forms vagueh^ at some distance. So, when the 
 unusual sight of a tall, graceful girl — galloping upon 
 a coal black war-horse, and escorted by a jaunty 
 young officer — broke upon the eyes of the chief-of- 
 staff, he promptly halted the pair, with graft' inquiry 
 as to their wants. But Forrest, wide awake in an 
 instant, had risen to his feet and now strode for- 
 ward, raising his hat to the girl, as Latham sprang 
 from saddle and saluted, with the introduction: 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 197 
 
 ^'Miss Freeman, General Forrest. The guide, sir!" 
 
 "Miss Freeman, I know you're true grit, or you 
 wouldn't be here," Forrest said, bluntly, extending 
 his hand. "I've driven those Yanks all day; but now 
 they've got this crik between us, and I must cross! 
 If I do, I'll bag them sure! Do you know a ford 
 near here? " 
 
 "Yes, general, I do," the girl answered, calmly. 
 
 "You do! That's a dear, good girl! And do you 
 think you can describe it perfectly to me ? " 
 
 "I can do more than that, sir," she answered, 
 quietly. "I can take you right to it! Come; I'll 
 take 3^ou now ! " * 
 
 "Not just yet, my brave child! " Forrest answered, 
 quietly. "But \'OU shall, just before daylight. Now 
 dismount and rest, as well as you can here. This 
 young man is your friend, I suppose? " 
 
 "Yes, sir, an old friend," Jen faltered; but she felt 
 her cheeks glow in the darkness of the woods. 
 
 "Well, he'll stay with you! Lieutenant Latham, 
 you are appointed special escort to Miss Freeman, 
 and charged with her safety, after we cross ! Good- 
 night, Miss. Try and sleep." 
 
 Forrest held out his hand frankly again; turned 
 away and threw himself once more on the ground, 
 to sleep. And Latham, carrying the girl back well 
 out of chance range across the creek, helped her from 
 saddle, disposed her as comfortably as possible under 
 a tree, and soon had foraged a comfortable supper 
 for herself and him. The situation was certainly a 
 novel one to both ; but there w^as something in it 
 
 *Miss Emma Sanson piloted Forrest across Black Creek Ford, in 
 Streight's raid, 1863. 
 
198 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 that neither would have given up for any possible 
 reward. Yet, neither hinted aught of this to the 
 other; and. supper finished, the man suggested sleep 
 for his charge. 
 
 "You need rest, after last night's excitement and 
 to-day's fatigue," he said, tenderly. "Please trj^ and 
 sleep, on these blankets. I will stand gtiard here." 
 
 But the girl said sleep could not visit her eyes in 
 such exciting and novel scene; so the youth lit his 
 pipe and sat down for a midnight tcte-a-tete. Many 
 things they spoke of, and Jen wondered at her lover's 
 truth and self-control — whether she regretted it or 
 not ; for never once did he approach forbidden 
 ground, or hint in the least at his passion for her, 
 though he spoke freely cind frankly of his debt of 
 gratitude, and of her bravery in her present promise 
 to Forrest. 
 
 "For 3'ou know, of course. Miss Jen, that this 
 promise you have made the general is not entirely 
 free of danger. You may possibh- get under fire." 
 
 "Yes, I understand that," she answered, calmh'. 
 "But lam not in the least afraid. Even should 
 there be great risk, it is for the cause we both love." 
 
 And, gentU" as she spoke the words, there was a 
 ring in their tone that made Latham sure that her 
 eves sparkled and her cheeks glowed, unseen in the 
 dim light. And under that ring, there was some- 
 thing else in the voice, as it framed the last Avords, 
 which made his heart jump into his throat. All his 
 self-command w^as needed, to prevent hot repetition, 
 then and there, of words he had promised not to 
 speak again. 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 INTO THE JAWS OF DEATH. 
 
 Just before dawn the woods were as peaceful and 
 still as though no conflict tore the distracted land, 
 and war had never sprung from sown dragon's teeth 
 of pride, or greed, or hate. And now, \vith the first 
 faint glimmer in the east, comes the soft pipe of matin 
 bird to his mate, the drowsy whirr of early insect, 
 the fresh scent of summer woods — all to speak of 
 peace. But with them come, as quickly, reminders 
 of stern and busy w^arfare, as squadron after squad- 
 ron mounts noiselessly and with no sound of trum- 
 pet; filing shadow-like through the wooded aisles, 
 toward the indicated ford. 
 
 Long preceding them. Captain Morton had moved 
 his artillery down the bank — unlimbered and ready 
 to move by hand, as more noiseless — to command 
 the crossing when the ford was really found. 
 
 Then Forrest rode dow^nthe bank in shadow of the 
 trees, his face stern set and calm, but his lips closely 
 compressed — the nether one projecting slighth' past 
 its fellow. His eyes keen and watchful, but quiet 
 still, scanned the opposite bank for sign of movement, 
 ever and again dropping to the swiftly racing 
 stream, and then rising to the face of Jen Freeman,. 
 
 D99 
 
200 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 who rode by his left side, quiet and unmoved as 
 though on her way to country church. 
 
 Passing the battery, the girl checked the eager and 
 rather restive black she rode; and, pointing to the 
 bank, said quietly: 
 
 "This is the ford, general." 
 Forrest looked keenh' into her face an instant, 
 not dropping his eyes as he asked : 
 
 "Are you certain? Um; I believe you are. How 
 deep is it?" 
 
 "Girth deep, now, I judge, sir," the girl answered 
 calmly, measuring the brush on the steep bank. 
 "But the ford is not straight, general. Inmid-stream 
 it turns sharp to the left, down stream. There are 
 bad holes, there, to the right." 
 
 Forrest bit the end of the tough switch he had 
 broken off, as they rode along. Scanning the racing 
 waters a moment, he muttered, half to himself: 
 
 "Um ! that's bad. How can I be sure of the spot? 
 One misstep might be fatal." 
 
 "I will cross with you, general!" 
 The words were quietly spoken; no bravado in 
 them, only resolute decision. And Forrest's ej^es, 
 flashing a gleam into the girl's, found them calmly 
 bent upon the water, though her face was a trifle 
 paler and the full lips set firm. 
 
 "You! Impossible!" he answered, promptly. 
 " They will open fire on us, as soon as we uncover! " 
 
 "I expect that," Jen answered, still calmly, but a 
 little whiter now. "1 will go over, though. You 
 must not miss the ford." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 201 
 
 "You shall, my brave girl!" The cavalry chief 
 reached out his hard hand and grasped the girl's in 
 real comradeship. "If I had a brigade like you, 
 nothing could hold that bank ! Lieutenant Latham, 
 keep as near her as the water permits. You are 
 attached to my personal staff, sir, for the present; 
 jou cross with us ! " 
 
 Latham answered by a salute only, but his e\-es 
 met Jen's with a world of thankfulness in them, and 
 his cheek flushed warm as he drew closer to her side. 
 
 "I brought 3'ou into this danger," he whispered, as 
 Forrest turned to give some order. " God grant that 
 it may be averted from you, to me ! " 
 
 "God grant that it may harm neither of us," the 
 girl ^^hispered solemnly ; but she never turned her 
 €yes from the water to his face, though her lips 
 moved slowly, as though in mute prayer. 
 
 Dawn began to brighten into a clearer gray, now, 
 as Morton's men shoved his guns silently toward 
 the bank, trained them upon the woods beyond the 
 stream, and primers were shoved home. Behind him 
 the troops massed in the wood ; the front squadrons 
 formed in twos, well down to the guns ; the reserve 
 deplo\nng into cover, right and left, to support them. 
 Then Forrest drew up to the girl's right again, salut- 
 ing her with his switch, as he said, gravely: 
 
 "I am ready. Miss Freeman! I await your com- 
 mand." 
 
 With paler cheeks, but eyes still calmly fixed upon 
 the ford, Jen gripped the reins more firmly in her lit- 
 tle hands, settling herself in the improvised saddle. 
 She made no reply but a brief nod, moving promptly 
 
202 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 beyond the sheltering trees, down the bank and to- 
 the water's edge. 
 
 There, with a fierce and sudden snort, the black 
 refused, planting his fore feet on the slippery mud, 
 shivering. Next instant, he shook his great neck 
 fierceh% reared bolt upright, and tried to bolt short 
 to the left. Latham's right hand shot out swiftly for 
 her bit ; but the girl's low voice checked him, calling 
 rapidly, but coolly : 
 
 "Don't! I can make him ! " 
 And, with the words she jerked the right rein: 
 sharply, and the heay\' chestnut twig she carried came 
 down twice, heavily, over the black's head. Next 
 instant he had taken to the water, trembling but 
 docile, as he picked careful waj' into the deeper flood. 
 
 And still no sound came from the bank beyond; 
 and Forrest's keen eye, scanning the woods behind 
 it, saw no single sign of life. The very leaves slept, 
 still in the breezeless dawn ; not a picket was visible ; 
 and the camp — known to lie beyond — might have 
 been a veritable "Bivouac of the Dead!" But his 
 keen soldier-sense was not misled by this too-appar- 
 ent neglect; and the quick glance backward, over his 
 shoulder, had some uneasiness in it. What it took 
 in promptly reassured him. Steadily, quietly, and in 
 unbroken sweep, his squadrons had moved down the 
 bank, entered the stream and were well on to the 
 turn of the ford ; while, from the bank behind them, 
 the smooth, youthful face of Captain Morton bent 
 on the vacant and silent rise opposite as though each 
 bush were a battalion ; his gunners ready, la.nyard irt 
 hand! 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 203 
 
 The crossing was half made, and was well covered; 
 and the Indian face of the cavalry chief glowed \vith 
 pride in the command he had trusted in so often, and 
 never in vain. 
 
 Suddenly the bushes opposite, far to the right, 
 seemed shorn across by a blade of flame, followed by 
 a light-rising puff of cloud ; and, ere a sound could 
 reach those in mid-ford, a cannister shot hissed high 
 overhead, followed by another, from the extreme lelt. 
 Then as pandemonium were suddenly loosed, field piece 
 after field piece belched from the bank, while lines of 
 sheeted fire zig-zagged through the brush lining the 
 lower shore, speakingit populous with sharpshooters. 
 
 At the first flash, Forrest had risen in his stirrups 
 and half-turned in saddle, waving the chestntit 
 bough he carried, in signal. Then, as Morton's guns 
 bellowed in reply, he stooped to the girl with quickly 
 spoken words, clearly heard above the din : 
 
 "Keep cool, child! Don't lose the ford — now! 
 Forward ! Faster ! " And, striking her horse sharply 
 with his switch, the seasoned fighter touched his own 
 with the spur; keeping close to her side, but a little 
 in advance, between her and the now fast pattering 
 bullets. 
 
 " This way ; keep well to the left ! " Jen cried, turn- 
 ing down stream a few, rods, then sharp to the 
 opposite bank again. 
 
 And still above them boomed Morton's giins • 
 steadier now, and faster — sending tearing, crashing 
 messengers into those woods belching fire on them. 
 Rapidly — solemnly — those deadly iron mouths spoke ; 
 well trained and telling. And, from the woods 
 
^04 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 beliind and beA'ond them, a deadly fire poured into 
 the foe that had deemed himself secure. And then, 
 from mid-stream, too, as each squadron turned, fol- 
 lowing its strange girl guide with the precision of 
 dress parade, carbines came swift to shoulder, to 
 send their compliments to the saucy foe. 
 
 Faster and faster the cannon of the Confederates 
 boomed out ; sharper and heavier rattled the fire of 
 small arms. And, graduall}^, that of the Federals 
 slackened — while close in range and churning the fast- 
 rushing stream into foam. Then his cannon silenced ; 
 and their dull rumble told they were moving back to 
 higher position ; and Forrest — again rising in his stir- 
 rups — waved his switch as signal. The last squad- 
 rons on the bank dashed into the stream ; and, as 
 Jen's now thoroughly excited black struck the bank 
 and scrambled up, the whole command was half 
 crossed, and the ford was won ! 
 
 Then bugles rang, the ralh^ sounded, and in less time 
 than its telling takes the line of battle formed. And, 
 at the moment, the plunging horses, answering to 
 lash and oath, were dragging Morton's guns across 
 the ford. 
 
 Just beyond the river growth spread a broad, level 
 plateau, its edges circled by a heavily timbered rise. 
 And now from this, swept fresh lines of lightning, 
 from cannon mouth and rifle barrel ; their ugly mes- 
 sengers singing through the air above or hissing 
 ominously in the ears of the astounded girl. 
 
 "Tell Morton to hurr\" up the guns!" Forrest 
 roared over the din of battle, as he waved the chest- 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 205- 
 
 nut switcli above his head and glanced down the 
 line. "Now, boys, cAaro-e.' and give them — " 
 
 He paused, his favorite word unuttered. Even at 
 that supreme moment his eye, blazing with the glee 
 of battle, fell upon the girl, and he added: "Quick, 
 Latham ! Carry her into cover ! " 
 
 Next instant he spurred away, leading the squad- 
 rons that thundered on behind him to resistless 
 charge ! But, even ere he spoke, the j-ounger soldier 
 had leaned over his horse's neck, reaching for the 
 black's bit, as he screamed over the roar of guns: 
 
 " Turn, Jen ! This way ; quick ! To the left ! " 
 But the powerful black was on fire now; and^ 
 tossing his head fiercely, he threw out his long, 
 corded neck and took the bit. Then, with a trumpet 
 snort, he launched out his heels once, darting away,. 
 just beyond the man's reach. 
 
 "Hold him! — For God's sake, turii!" Latham 
 again roared, at full power of his lungs. And he dug 
 vicious spurs into his own horse and followed the 
 flying black. And Forrest, a dozen lengths ahead of 
 his line, felt rather than heard the thunder of hoofs 
 close behind ; but ere he could turn and then reach 
 out his hand, the black closed on him — then dashed 
 by; frantic now with battle-rage, ungovernable bj'- 
 the slim hands hanging to him bravely, as he raced 
 into the very core of fire — straight for the Federal 
 lines ! 
 
 But close behind him, plying hand and voice and 
 spur, raced Beverly Latham ; his lips white, but set 
 and stern, his eyes riveted on the slim, erect figure 
 careering so swiftly to capture, or — death ! 
 
206 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Jen Freeman, dizzy but exultant with strange 
 excitement, clung firmly to her seat, steadying the 
 powerful head she could not control. The sounds 
 about her ears were new and awful; "sing" of shot 
 and "whoo!" of shell— cut by the dull "pungi" or 
 sharp, agonizing crj-, as bullets met resisting flesh 
 and bone ! 
 
 But the girl was not afraid. With no time to 
 think, even to recall where she was, her instinct told 
 her that her horse was running away ; that she was 
 in deadly peril each moment ! that death might come 
 the next ! Yet her cheeks glowed and her eyes 
 gleamed, as the\' had not in the cautious passage of 
 the ford ; and a whirling, delirious sense that was a 
 sort of jo\^, mounted to her brain. She was far ahead 
 of the advancing line, her horse gaining at every 
 bound ; but she sat erect upon that rough saddle, 
 clinging to the bit that heobe\'ed not, in very ecstacy 
 of excitement ! 
 
 Suddenly she felt a jolting jar, a break in his stride, 
 as the gallant brute fell to his knees — rose again, 
 quivering — staggered one stride — plunged heavily 
 forward — then rolled over on his side ! But — at the 
 moment — she felt also a rough shock, a violent sweep 
 to one side, a close and almost stifling pressure, that 
 seemed to tear her through the air. 
 
 Then quick revulsion came ; she grew cold, limp, 
 sick, almost losing consciousness. For agonized, 
 remorseful, chilled b3' dread as he was, Beverly 
 Latham still retained the coolness of a mind bent 
 upon one object only. Unmindful of shot and shell — 
 with his e\'es riveted only upon the loved form 
 
JOHN nOLDEN, UNIONIST. 207 
 
 before him flying into the jaws of death, he urged his 
 own horse by voice and knee and cruel use of spur. 
 For a while he hung close to the black's flank ; then, 
 with a heart growing cold from despair, he felt him- 
 self losing ground at every jump. Then his practiced 
 eye, riveted upon the chase, saw the shock that 
 almost halted the black ; the shivering stumble— the 
 supreme eftbrt. He knew a ball had pierced the 
 horse's breast ; and with a gasp he closed his eyes, 
 as he swept on— mechanically driving both spurs 
 fiercely home. 
 
 But, opening them instantly, the intuition of love 
 showed him the girl erect- unhurt ; and setting his 
 teeth and drawing a great breath, he braced himself 
 in saddle — launched out his strong right arm, as he 
 passed in full career— and tore her from the saddle, 
 just in time ! 
 
 Over rolled the great black horse, with shuddering 
 kicks — deadly — terrible ! 
 
 Past swept the pursuing rider ; panting, breathless, 
 straining ever\' nerve ; but with heart bursting with 
 joy. For with him he bore the precious freight of 
 her he loved — as he knew now — better than his own 
 life ; and — saved by him ! 
 
 Quickly he checked his flying horse ; the bullets sing- 
 ing close by his ears, v^hooing shells filling the sky 
 above him with dread ^varnings. 
 
 One supreme effort of strength, and the girl was 
 raised before him, both his arms supporting her upon 
 the pommel, as he wheeled and fled for her life, back 
 to meet the charge. And those thundering squadrons 
 — sweeping do\v^n upon him without break or gap, 
 
208 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 with never a shot breaking the terriffic power of their 
 onset — opened, swept by, and closed again behind 
 him ; a w41d yell — ringing — exulting — terrible to hear^ 
 surging their p«an for his act ! 
 
 And, ere the line had opened, the tall, grim warrior 
 form leading it had dashed by, the gladiator gleam 
 red in his eyes, the chestnut switch lashing the air 
 aloft, the firm lips set in iron rigor. But they 
 opened, even then ; and over shot and shell — over 
 thunder of hoof and above the rebel yell, Latham 
 heard his heart bound as he caught the brief words : 
 
 "Well done, sir!" 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 PARTING. 
 
 The tide of battle swept into the circling woods ; 
 through them — beyond ! Shot and crash and shout 
 resounded fainter now ; almost dying in the distance. 
 And in a little glade aside, protected by thick growth,. 
 Latham stood still ; breathless, with beads of mois- 
 ture on his bare brow, but well content indeed. For^. 
 still resting against his arm, Jen Freeman stood, 
 panting and dizz}^, but with red lips and cheeks still 
 glow^ing with color. 
 
 Dazed and somewhat dizzy, the girl was not of the 
 sort that faints to express its feelings; and, a brief 
 moment after being lifted from his horse, she relieved 
 her escort of her light — and much regTctted — weight. 
 
 "What was it all? " she said, dizzily. "Tell me; I 
 do not understand ! " 
 
 "It was nothing, thank God!" he answered fer- 
 vently. " Your horse — a Yankee capture — ran away.. 
 You were — " 
 
 " Yes ! Now I remember ! " She raised her eyes full 
 to his ; gentle, dim with feeling, but brave and true. 
 "Oh! Mr. Latham, how can I thank you! You 
 saved my life ! ' ' 
 
 14 209 
 
210 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Oh, no! Miss Jen. I only helped you tip when 
 your horse fell," the man tried to say quietly; but 
 his cheeks burned red and his breath came fast and 
 short, under her glance and her tender tone. "It 
 was risky; but, thank Heaven ! you are safe now." 
 
 "Yes; thank Hcciven — and you!'^ she persisted. 
 But this time she did not look at him ; and the c )lor 
 faded out of her cheek. Then, sudden revulsion of 
 feeling played upon her tense strung nerves ; and 
 with a little shudder she cried : 
 
 "Oh ! what have I done ! So bold — so unmaidenl3^ 
 Please, Mr. Latham, get me away from here ! Please 
 take me home! " 
 
 "Surely I will. Miss Jen, just as soon as it is safe," 
 he answered. "But, what have you done? WhyJ 
 the grandest, bravest, truest act a woman ever did ! 
 You are a little hero ! " 
 
 "I have no ambition for that," she answered, 
 again shuddering. "I must seem bold — unwomanly 
 to them and— JO w.' Can we not get away? — get 
 home?" 
 
 "In a little while," he answered, soothingly. 
 "Listen! The bugle sounds the recall! Forrest has 
 driven them ! You led us to victory ! " 
 
 "It was terrible !" was all her answer; and she 
 pressed her hands over her eyes, as though to shut 
 out a suddenly vivid memory. 
 
 Latham made no answer; stepping out into the 
 open and sweeping the field in quest of news. Far, 
 above the fringe of trees a faint blue cloud of smoke 
 hovered, low and light. A bugle cut the stillness, 
 answered from the field beyond him by a groan, or 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 211 
 
 the human cry of a wounded horse; while here and 
 there lay stifif, still forms of what had late been men ; 
 and scattered arms and blankets— hats and canteens 
 dotted the torn and trampled earth. Riderless 
 horses trotted toward him, neighing pitifulh' ; only 
 to dart away at a word, kicking and terrified. And, 
 high above his head, in the clear morning sunshine, 
 floated and sailed dim, circling specks, scarcely recog- 
 nizable. But the soldier knew they were the grim- 
 mest followers of battle; those feathered Valkyrie 
 that scent it afar off, now hastening to their dread- 
 ful feast— spread for them by the hands of man 
 himself ! 
 
 With grave face and set lips the young soldier 
 turned to re-enter the copse ; suddenly checking him- 
 self, and striding into the field again. A riderless 
 horse had begun to graze, and the trooper 
 approached him cautiously. But the beast did not 
 attempt escape ; only nickered and looked up, again 
 dropping his head to graze. And then he saw that 
 the bridle was held by a man, stretched prone upon 
 the field, doubtless badly hurt. Breaking into a run, 
 Latham was soon bending over him ; but the glassy, 
 open eyes stared at the sun unblinking, and the 
 hand that clinched the rein so vise-like was stiff and 
 cold ; for life had swiftly gone out through that gap- 
 ing portal, torn in his chest by fragment of a shell. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" he said, aloud, as he gazed down on 
 the dead man; adding with a sigh: "I wonder which 
 of us is happier! " 
 
 Then he forced open the stiff, resisting fingers, 
 threw the bridle over the horse's neck and, mounting 
 
212 JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 
 
 quickly, trotted toward the cover, just as an officer 
 galloped at speed from the trees beyond. It was a 
 major of Forrest's staff, and he overtook the lieuten- 
 ant and hailed, just as he entered the cover : 
 
 "Are you Lieutenant Latham? Ah, I see. Where 
 is the lad}-?" 
 
 "Just in here, sir," Latham saluted, and led the 
 wa}^, "and perfectly safe, I'm glad to say." 
 
 "Delighted to hear it," the major answered heart- 
 ih', as he alighted near Jen and bared his head. "So 
 \vill the general be. Miss Freeman. He was very 
 anxious about yoti, and bade me ride fast and find 
 you certainly." 
 
 "You are both very good," Jen said, with lowered 
 eyes. "Please thank General Forrest for me." 
 
 "Not at all, miss, "the soldier answered. "Streight 
 has sent in a flag of truce. We have driven him into 
 a corner ; and I think he will surrender. This success 
 the general feels is largely due to your courage and 
 heroism, Miss Freeman. He asks you to ride to 
 headquarters that he may thank you in person, 
 before the troops !" 
 
 " Oh ! no— no ! — no ! " Jen cried, wnth almost a sob. 
 "Oh! I could not'. I have done nothing at all; and 
 I have seen too much of this already I I am heartsick 
 from thinking of the poor killed and \vounded men! 
 Oh, sir! I only wish to get away — to get home! 
 There is a road beyond this which will take me 
 there. Oh ! please let me go ; and tell the general 
 why." 
 
 "Certainly, Miss Freeman, if you wish, "the major 
 said, gallantly. "The loss will be the general's, that 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 213 
 
 I must thank a'OU for liim, cordially— sincerely and 
 in the name of Forrest's corps!" He held out his 
 hand; the trembling girl placed hers in it, with a 
 faint smile on her lips. And the soldier bent his bared 
 head, and pressed his lips upon the sHm brown fin- 
 gers with the same reverence as they had worn the 
 gleaming signet of an empress. 
 
 "Mr. Latham," he" added, "you can escort Miss 
 Freeman home. Report to the general when you 
 have seen her safely there. Good-bye, Miss Freeman. 
 Rest assured that Forrest's men will never forget 
 you!" 
 
 "Heaven grant they may!" the girl cried with 
 more fervor than tact, as a deep blush overspread 
 her face — "Oh! sir, please ask the general never to 
 mention my name to anyone. And please ask the 
 staff ! I so dread being known in this !" 
 
 The soldier's face spoke strong amazement ; but his 
 disciplined lips only formed the words : 
 
 " Your wishes shall be sacred, miss." 
 He again raised his cap, saluted Latham and rode 
 away; and the young man, arranging his saddle as 
 best he could, said : 
 
 "You had better ride my horse, Miss Jen. He is 
 quieter than the dea — the trooper's. When you rest 
 a while, we will start." 
 
 "No, now," the girl said, impatiently. "I am 
 rested, and I long to get away from here — home. 
 Oh ! what a dreadful thing war is ! " 
 
 They rode through the bright, scented woods — 
 vocal with bird songs and chirp of insect — almost in 
 silence for several miles. For Jen seemed lost in 
 
214 JOHN HOLDEN, UXIONIST. 
 
 thought, her head bowed and her e\'es upon her 
 horse's mane; and Latham's heart was too full of 
 her for him to speak on any theme but one — and that 
 one forbidden equally by her mandate and by that 
 of his own self-respect. 
 
 At last they reached the broad highwav; a mile 
 onh^ separating the girl from the haven of her own 
 home, so longed for now. Then she drew rein and 
 said : 
 
 "We must part now, Mr. Latham. I must go 
 home alone, and explain it all as best I can. Oh ! if 
 you could know how ashamed I feel of my bold, 
 unwomanly conduct ! How can I explain to papa 
 my presence in Forrest's army and how — how I got 
 there ! How can I explain to Sis how I left her house 
 — alone and at midnight — to — to — " 
 
 " To do the most heroic thing ! " he broke in impet- 
 uoush'. "To sacrifice your own feelings — to risk 
 your life, to save your — friend! God only knows, 
 Jen Freeman, how I feel the greatness of your deed 
 that night. You know too well what I felt for you 
 before! You know my life was yours before; and 
 now it isk doubly yours ! " 
 
 "Hush! You must not speak so," she said, very 
 low ; her head still bowed and her eyes not raised. 
 "You must go now. Good-bye! I will always 
 remember 3'ou — as m}' friend I " 
 
 "And is that all you will say to me, Jen?" he urged, 
 feeling sweeping his resolve aside. "You know I 
 love you ; we are parting, perhaps forever; you know 
 I owe my life to you, and you will not let my love— 
 my gratitude — " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 215 
 
 "I do not want your gratitude," she answered, 
 more coldl}'. "You owe me nothing but — what you 
 pledged — your friendship I " 
 
 "And that is all you will say ? All you will let me 
 hope?" he pleaded. 
 
 "It is all I can say," she answered, verj^ low, but 
 Terj^ firmly. "It is what a^ou should hope I would 
 sa}'. Let us be friends, Mr. Latham; and God — who 
 spared me to-day — knows I am a true one to you. 
 You yourself said, * This war cannot last always.' 
 When it is over — perhaps long before it is over — you 
 will have forgotten a wish impelled by fancy, or by — 
 gratitude." 
 
 "It is not!" he cried, warmly. "You are the 
 bravest, best woman I have ever known — so different 
 from them all! " 
 
 "So different, indeed !" she said, sadly, her head 
 bowing lower. " Being so now, with all the glamor 
 of the recent past, I would be more different still, 
 when novelty was over and timehad done its work." 
 
 "And vou will not let mv gratitude — " 
 
 "No ! " she broke in ; and for the first time her eyes 
 met his. "I tell j^ou I want no gratitu^le! You 
 deceive yourself, Mr. Latham ; and I will not aid 
 you ! You owe me nothing — but friendship," she fin- 
 ished, more gently. 
 
 "Not when j^ou nursed me back to health? Not 
 when you risked j^our life, in danger and at midnight, 
 to save mine ? ' ' 
 
 Her eyes never left his face, nor did hers grow paler 
 as she spoke; but a something he could not read 
 passed over it as she answered quietly : 
 
21G JOHN HOLDKN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Granting both, one hour ago j^ou saved me from 
 a hideous — unwomanly — death, at deadly peril to 
 yourself. If you insist upon the score of gratitude, 
 Mr. Latham. I am still your debtor." 
 
 "Jen! you vr/7/ say nothing tnore?" 
 
 "I can say nothing more," she repeated, her eyes 
 bent down again. "In a little w^hile, you will thank 
 me that I — did not. And now, God bless and guard 
 you, my friend ! Good-b3^e ! " 
 
 She held out her hand ; not raising her eyes. If he 
 saw the movement, she did not know; for she could 
 not see the color fall out of the man's checks, as he 
 opened his lips to reply. But no word passed them ; 
 an angry flush mounting to his face and an ugly 
 gleam of mortified pride creeping into the eyes that 
 he fixed upon her one instant. The next, he w^heeled 
 his horse abruptly, dug both spurs home, and lifted 
 his cap stiffly, as he bounded away, with the cold 
 farewell : 
 
 " Good-day, Miss Freeman ! " 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 AN INTERRUPTED LYNCHING. 
 
 Sis Hartley was soreh^ perturbed in spirit ; for 
 that young lady \vas a belle in her own right, and 
 was thoroughly spoiled at home besides. In her 
 small mountain flirtations, which were numerous, 
 she had ever taken counsel with Jen Freeman ; not 
 confessing to herself that she looked up to, and relied 
 upon, the stronger character and native dignity of 
 her life-long playmate and late co-graduate in Nash- 
 ville "finish." And in more serious or practical 
 matters she relied wholly on her male parent — 
 *' popper" as she called him; her mother being a 
 w^eakling in spirit and more so in flesh, racked long 
 by mountain rheumatism. 
 
 But in present perturbation, both props were 
 swept from Miss Hartlej^ ; and she floundered help- 
 lessly, and almost hopelessly, in the slough of 
 despond. For the first time in her life, she confessed 
 she "never could make out Jen Freeman;" and now 
 doubt began to creep over incapacity. She had 
 passed a restless night, after at last giving up hope of 
 Jen's return on the eve of the battle ; and late watch 
 — as has been seen — did not prevent her rising with 
 dawn, for its renewal. Creeping down to the 
 
218 JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 
 
 road at earliest hint of daylight, she leaned over 
 the gate to question the first moving passer. Then 
 she saw a weakly toiling woman moving slowly dowrt 
 the way, seemingly worn by a long tramp, but ever 
 glancing furtively behind her, as in fear of some 
 dreaded object in pursuit. The woman shuffled on 
 hastily, not raising her head until Sis hailed her, just 
 at the gate. Then she started guiltily, looked cau- 
 tiously behind and around her, mumbling only the 
 one word : " 'Morn'n' ! " as she passed. 
 
 "Why, Lize Holden ! " the other cried. "You're 
 out early, to look so tired. Stop a while and rest.'' 
 
 "I hez no time ter rest," the widow whined, nerv- 
 ously. "I mus' git hum — er he'll know't ! " 
 
 She started off again, just as the signal cannon 
 broke the dawn's stillness, its echo halting her and 
 forcing the cry : 
 
 "Gawd help 'er! I du hope. Miss Jen be n't thar 
 yit!" 
 
 "Jen Freeman ? What do you know of her ? Where 
 is she, Lize? " the girl cried, running after the woman 
 and seizing her arm. 
 
 "I hezn't sed as I knowed, hez I?" was the indi- 
 rect reply. "But I low she ar' safe 'long ov 'im !" 
 
 "Him!" Sis echoed the pronoun personal, wide- 
 eyed with wonder. But the woman, nodding her 
 head and giving her yellow smile, suddenly broke 
 away from Sis and started to run feebly down the 
 road. Her terror-quickened sense caught, before the 
 girl's, the tramp of coming hoofs ; and the first law 
 of nature impelled her to flight and hiding firom 
 "paw." 
 
JOHN HOI.UEN, UNIONIST. 219 
 
 "StopI" Sis cried. " Where is Jen ? " 
 But Lize fled away, crying over her shoulder : 
 
 "She ben't dangerin' none, 'long ov her yung man! 
 Th' soljer '11 look out fur his gell ! " 
 
 And she plunged into the woods, as the hoofs 
 sounded nearer; leaving Sis, dismayed and wonder- 
 ing, to re-enter her gate and mount guard upon it. 
 Nor did the quick following colloquy with the Federal 
 captain aid solution of the now deep mystery; and 
 all that day wonder about it divided her interest 
 in the battle, raging long and loud within hearing- 
 distance. For, to her many confidences Jen had 
 never responded in kind, having none to give. And 
 Sis had onh^ known casually that a wounded Confed- 
 erate had been nursed at Freeman ; Farm but had 
 suspected no romance. And it could not be he, she 
 reasoned ; for the Federal captain had the ribbon Jen 
 had worn w^hen she disappeared. A good looking 
 Yank, too ; with very pleasant manners — a perfect 
 gentleman. Sis paused to recall. But, even her 
 romantic nature could not connect so loyal a rebel — 
 so modest and sensible a woman — as Jen Freeman in 
 clandestine flirtation with a foe to her country and 
 her race ! So Sis thought so steadih' that unaccus- 
 tomed strain made her head ache; that made her 
 seek solace in the feminine panacea, a flood of tears ; 
 but finding the solace lacking there, Sis closed her 
 swollen eyes to think again — falling sound asleep in 
 five minutes. 
 
 Later she silenced her father's query for Jen by an 
 oracular, but positive, reply that, "She's safe all 
 right." But her own wonder grew ; and the doubts 
 
220 JOHN HOLDHN. UNIONIST, 
 
 began to grow with them. A messenger sent to 
 Freeman Farm, the morning after the battle, returned 
 with a verbal message that Jen was safe at home, 
 but not 3'et awake after her long journey around the 
 lighting of the previous day. So Sis, still wondering, 
 — still bravely fighting doubts, — resolved loyally to 
 give her friend all benefit of them, until she had "a 
 good, long talk," and that at the earliest oppor- 
 tunity. 
 
 And Jen Freeman's gentle spirit, too, was racked 
 by doubts and forebodings ; based on better grounds, 
 perhaps, than those of her friend. For the first time 
 in her life, she had a feeling unshared by her idolized 
 father ; and, worse, a secret that must be kept from 
 him, at all hazards. And, to the truthful nature, 
 evasion ever seems the suggestion of untruth ; often- 
 times forced — by circumstances of its own creation — 
 to seek refuge behind a silence that is but prevarica- 
 tion. And to this girl's nature — truthful, frank and 
 open beyond most women's — the present need of 
 caution and of watchful mood grew almost unbear- 
 able from the first hour it was recognized. But she 
 suffered in silence, more for her father's sake than her 
 own; praying ceaselessly — hoping almost against 
 hope and reason — that the unexpected might happen, 
 and relieve her of fast-growing self contempt. 
 
 Reaching her own gate, after the fight she had led, 
 Jen was welcomed by no horn-blast ; for her father, 
 young brother and everj'- whole man on the place, were 
 absent. The one-legged veteran at the gate told her 
 briefly of the morning's fight, following that of the 
 previous day so close to the farm ; and that all hands 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 22 L 
 
 were in the bottom, hiding stock and meat from Con- 
 federate stragglers, or possible Federal victors. And, 
 for once in her life, the girl felt deep relief at her 
 father's absence. It gave her more time to collect her 
 surprised senses, and to formulate her course ol 
 action, under new and bitter conditions now arisen ; 
 so, seeking her own room, she vainly tried to sleep 
 and rest from the wearing strain of the two past 
 days. Exhausted nature had conquered at last ; and 
 Jen was in feverish and fitful sleep, when her father's 
 kiss aroused her suddenh'. 
 
 "God bless vou, my child I " the farmer said, fer- 
 ventlv. "I thought you safe at Hartlej-'s ; but, since 
 Forrest is driving them that wa}-, you are better at 
 home. But how in the world did you get back ? 
 I saw the strange horse at the barn ; tell me all 
 about it." 
 
 Brieflv, but with burning cheeks, Jen narrated the 
 bare facts of her eager desire to reach home ; of a stray 
 horse, given her by a trooper ; of her weariness and 
 need of rest, before further details. The farmer kissed 
 her — so tenderly that the girl turned away, sobbing 
 with compunction — as he answered : 
 
 "Yes, my little girl. You are worn out. Go to 
 sleep now ; and, soon as Willie comes, I'll send word 
 to Hartley. The^^ must be anxious for your safety ; 
 but I wonder he let you come alone, in such danger- 
 ous times! " 
 
 " He was absent from home, papa! " Jen answered 
 hastily. "Please never breathe one ^vord to him 
 about it! Promise me, papa! and I will write ta 
 Sis myself! " 
 
222 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Of course the farmer promised ; Jen scribbled a brief 
 line to Sis , that she was at home and safe ; and the 
 trusting parent sent the note. 
 
 She had broken the ice, Jen felt, but she shivered as 
 she saw that the water beyond was dark and strange 
 and of unknown depth. For two days, she moved 
 about the house like a guilty thing, really avoiding 
 her father — who, fortunately, was very bus\' return- 
 ing his stock and stores from their hiding places. 
 She made constant work for herself, striving to force 
 busy hands to ease the too-bus}- brain ; and — hating 
 herself the w^hile — she fulh^ resolved that her father 
 should never know. For, — even while his pride and 
 patriotism might condone the rash boldness of her 
 escapade with Forrest, — how could she ever exj^lain 
 the midnight jaunt which alone could excuse her pres- 
 ence there? And, trusting her father's great love as 
 she really did, something deep in her heart shrunk 
 from the baring of itself, even to his eye ; and she 
 vainly strove to hide it even from herself No! She 
 could not — would not explain! Papa must be con- 
 tent with what vague tale she had told ; must trust 
 her still, through love, as she felt he would. 
 
 But, through that very love, the father's eyes grew 
 clearer, and their ceaseless, while furtive, watch of 
 his darling's face told him that some hidden sorrow 
 weighed upon her ; that, for the first time, a secret 
 had risen between them. But the tenderness of that 
 love, and the perfection of his confidence in her, for- 
 bade question as to what was not spontaneously 
 given him ; and the farmer only shook his head and 
 sighed, as he puft'ed his evening pipe alone upon 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 223 
 
 the gallery, while Jen's self-imposed duties kept her 
 yvithin. If his loyal affection caused suspicion that 
 her changed manner, absent moodiness and evident 
 effort to be her old self were born of memory of the 
 absent young soldier, no such hint ever escaped lips 
 that the sturdy old man coerced from barest allusion 
 ±o any topic, save the few that Jen now broached to 
 iim, of her own will. 
 
 Rumor, whom the ancients pictured with a hundred 
 tongues, should have been limbed with quite as many 
 legs as well. For— now as in those primitive days — 
 evil report runs with a swiftness that contradiction 
 may never overtake ; and, once started on its course, 
 willing tongues and attent ears aid its rapid route to 
 mischief and to ruin ! Nor was the primitive neigh- 
 iDorhood of Freeman Farm exempt from germs of this 
 all-pervading scourge ; and now vague hints began 
 to fly through its pure air; soon clinging to some 
 slender fiber of fact and growing rapidly in evil, 
 dangerous bulk. 
 
 It was yet too early — and the pursuit by Forrest of 
 his flying foe had been too swift and too far beyond 
 — for an}^ truth of his girl-guide's heroism to have 
 reached the quiet farm. But gossips had flocked into 
 Gadsden, eager for news and ready to barter all sorts 
 and qualities of that commodity ; and Squire Hart- 
 lej^'s store — the largest and most popular there — was 
 favorite '"Change" for this traffic. And there, 
 already a subject of frequent guess and query, was 
 the fact of a young w^oman's riding through the 
 soldier-crowded roads, along with a Confederate 
 force; and country quid-nuncs were all agog to know 
 
224 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 if they were one and the same person, when at last 
 the story of the ford — and of the decisive charge — 
 began to float back from the now triumphant army^ 
 and to take somewhat the actual form of truth. 
 
 Cautious, taciturn, but keener than ever in his 
 relentless and malignant hate^ohn Holden fanned 
 the rising flame of curious query by chance-dropped 
 word of his own; more by grave hint and ugly 
 innuendo, through such secret emissaries as he used — 
 either because of their lo^^alty to the Union, or from 
 personal fear of himself— to gather and to carry the 
 more serious news of his self-imposed vocation. For 
 now, in the lull of battle — and while its eastern cur- 
 rent had drawn away all of his armed enemies and 
 well-watched foes — the old man's venom rusted in 
 its sheath, growing more acid and eating out on the 
 smaller means of harassing and hurting those placed 
 under his far reaching ban. 
 
 To what was ingrained principle, recent defeat and 
 disappointment added personal spite ; and — perhaps 
 dominating both — ever rose in his heart the bitter, 
 stern cry for vengeance in Hank's name; the iteration 
 of that oath for blood and ruin on them all, seared 
 into his hard soul, by failure so far, only the deeper 
 and more ineffaceable ! 
 
 From his disguise at Hartley's gate the old man 
 had watched White's interview with Sis ; had heard 
 his mention of Jen Freeman's name; had seen the 
 blue ribbon and quickly recognized — from rarit}^ of 
 such luxuries then — the one he had seen Jen divide 
 with her rebel lover. Habit, rather than expected 
 usefulness, had made him note these seeming trifles ; 
 
JOHN HOLOEN, UNIONIST. 225 
 
 but — when the rumors of a woman raider grew rife; 
 when the story of the girl-guide began to float back 
 from the army — then Holden patched his broken web 
 anew; cementing it by spied-for certainty that the 
 girl had left Hartley's house mysteriously, and had 
 ridden home alone. So, within a w^eek from Jen's 
 disappearance and Sis Hartley's wild cries through 
 the night, rumor was rife on the mountain, that the 
 farmer's envied daughter had done some terrible 
 thing; but, "what it was few took pains to ask — fewer 
 still cared to know — as all nodded, and winked, and 
 hinted that it was more hideous than any fact could 
 possibly have been. And John Holden's tireless hate 
 softly drew together the fibers of his mesh, ready to 
 catch the fair fame of the girl, should it '"scape 
 calumny." 
 
 "I be n't a saint, be I? Tha's his en'mies an' mine, 
 no differ! " he growled to himself, as he strode over 
 the Gadsden pike, his head thrust forward and his 
 green e\^es glowing red, as he brooded on his wrongs, 
 "I hezn't kep' m' yoath ter full yit; but I 'low I will,, 
 jes' ez sho' ez ther Lord sets thar! Them ole Jews; 
 had ther right, w'en tha' sed, ' Eye fur eye, tooth fur 
 tooth an' blood fur blood ! ' John Holden kin wait ; 
 but he hain't shed ov his yoath, s' long ez tha's 
 peaceful an' content, yan ! " — He halted, raising his 
 hand in malediction toward Freeman Farm. — "A nice 
 gell ! A fine darter fur thet proud rebel ! ter be ridin' 
 roun' th' critter camps an' spendin' nights frum 
 home! I hed ter lie ter thet soljer, 'bout her doins' 
 afore; but I lied fur ther Lord's work, ter smite his 
 foes ! But, nex' time, ther' '11 be no need ter lie, fur 
 
 35 
 
226 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 th' truth are wust — wust ! Now ther blow '11 fall an' 
 strike dad an' darter and sweet 'art, all ter wunst I " 
 
 And, again raising his hand with fanatic hate, the 
 Unionist strode faster to the town, and through it 
 to Hartley's store. This was w^hat is still known, in 
 Southern interior towns, as a " general merchandise " 
 store. Now furnishing a little of anything that 
 promises a profit — from a paper of tacks to a j^low ; 
 a paper collar to a set of harness ; a single egg to a 
 cask of bacon; or a sometimes surreptitious black 
 bottle — the "general store" of the w^ar days, had 
 added usefulness of arms, ammunition and household 
 needs, of every variety possible to the commerce of 
 the blockade, or of the country-side. And, not least, 
 it was the gathering place for gossips far and near ; 
 especially those male ones, w^ho — in primitive coun- 
 try, no less than busy citj^ — can give the long odds, 
 and then win, from their sisters in social sin! 
 
 This chanced to be a "field day" at Hartley's store, 
 and an unusual crowd had gathered. Mainly com- 
 posed of old men, disabled "dischargers" and 
 loutish youths under age, there were also several 
 soldiers in gray, hurt slightly in the recent fights and 
 left to follow on foot, as best they might, to relieve 
 the ambulances in forced march. And the theme of 
 every tongue was the victory ; of course, not omitting 
 that mysterious appearance of a mountain Jeanne 
 d' Arc, to pilot Forrest. 
 
 "I swar ter grayshus! et do beat all!" The 
 orator was a florid and flabbj' citizen, exempt by 
 grace of surgeon's certificate. "But thet air gell 
 cert'ly did hev spunk !" 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 227 
 
 *'She cert'ly lied it, sho !" murmured a chorus. 
 
 "She hed spunk, sho," reiterated a soldier, with a 
 fresh patch across his cheek. "Them bullets hev 
 flew thick'r'n guats." 
 
 "I hez n't seed her," confirmed an apparently- 
 whole comrade, squirting a dark stream of tobacco 
 juice beyond the doorsill, "but I do 'low she hed 
 spunk!" 
 
 "Pre'ps she hev hed mo' ov spunk then she war 
 modis', Joe," a venerable old man piped. "Ef she 
 w'ar layin' roun' camps, I 'low she hain't got no dis- 
 screshun." 
 
 "It don' mek no differ, do it?" John Holden put 
 in, grimly. " Menn\^er gell hea'bouts gits 'long po'ful 
 well 'thout no disscreshun." 
 
 * ' Hole up, par dner, ' ' the tall soldier retorted. ' ' En 
 Nor' Klina, we 'uns doan' jaw 'gin our 'oomen!" 
 
 "Naw; nur en Gorgie, nuther!" added a second. 
 
 "She helpt ter lick ther Yanks, an' yer hed 'orter 
 shame ter 'buse 'er!" added a third. 
 
 "Pre'ps John Holden hain't thenkin' her fur thet," 
 piped the old man; going with the turn of the tide in 
 natural fashion. 
 
 "I hez n't 'bused 'er, hez I?" Holden answered, 
 grimly. "Ef I be thankin' er, don' mek no differ. I 
 'low mabbe she bez dun no mo' than other gells, 
 'roun yere! " 
 
 Grave, deliberate and cool, the speaker dropped his 
 words slowly — sending the four last full at Hartley, 
 as he turned from nailing a box, hatchet in hand. 
 
 "What in the devil do you mean? "the squire asked, 
 gruffly. He never had liked Holden, knowing his 
 
228 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Union sentiments, and more than half suspecting the 
 nefarious use he made of them at times. "A man of 
 3'our age can do better things than slander his coun- 
 try women! " 
 
 A growl of approving assent came from the crowd ; 
 but Holden — not moving a muscle — kept his eyes full 
 on Hartley's face, though he spoke to the others : 
 
 "I hez heer'd that a yung 'ooman, you 'uns all 
 know,hev been a-ridin' ther same critter ez a j-oung 
 soljer, 'roun yere; an' thet 'fore morn war broke, 
 too." 
 
 A murmur of dissenting quer\'ran round the group, 
 the tall soldier saying to his mate : 
 
 "That trooper hed pie, sho'. But this yer ole 
 devvle's tongue's bitter 'r'n 'simmons 'fore fross'!" 
 
 "Le'ss we 'uns shet up his darn'd ole head, Joe!" 
 responded his mate, reaching for a near axe-helve; 
 but Hartley's voice broke in angrily: 
 
 "Holden, you must stop this kind o' talk, under 
 m\' roof ! You've gone far enough. Damn! you're 
 bad as any old v^-oman at her dip ! " 
 
 A grim twitch — that was an\'thing but a smile — 
 contorted the old man's lips, and an ugly, menacing 
 gleam rose in the e^-es, still fixed on Hartley. But, 
 for sole answer, he folded his long arms across his 
 breast, strode out of the store across the road, to a 
 great chestnut-oak standing there; and placed his 
 broad back against it : 
 
 "It don' mek no differ whar ther truth ez spoke,'^ 
 he then said, slowly, deliberately, but with the evil 
 glint growing in his e^-es. "An' tha' do say, Squire 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 229 
 
 Hartley, thet yer own gell knows th^t ar yung 
 'oonian well ! " 
 
 "You lie! 3'oii venomous old traitor!" the irate 
 father cried, rushing to the street with the hatchet 
 raised in his hand. But some one grasped it and the 
 crowd surged between, as he went on : "You deserve 
 to be killed — Wing about women ! " 
 
 Holden stood calm and erect, never blenching under 
 the now hostile looks of them all, as he answered, 
 slowly : 
 
 "Squire Hartley, ef I be a-lyin', axe A-er own dar- 
 ter!" 
 
 "You lie ! I say," Hartley shouted, struggling to get 
 free. "No wonder you lie about w^omen, you old 
 traitor ! I believe you spy on our army ! You deserve 
 to be hung! " 
 
 Again the twitch came to Holden's lips one instant; 
 the next the\' set hard and sneering as he cried : 
 
 "Hung, ez it? Tha's 'low'd thet 'afore! Thet's 
 v^ot ther sesesh 'lowed in therComvenshun nigh three 
 A'car gone! But John Holden hain't heng 3'it, hez 
 he ? Wot he sed then, he'll say no differ now ! He'll 
 stan' by 's word ! " 
 
 "Y^ou double traitor! " yelled the struggling squire. 
 *' He'd ought 'er be l^-nched ! Had n't he, boj^s ? " 
 
 A crowed of excited men is ever strangely sensitive, 
 sw^aying from one impulse to its opposite, often with- 
 out any cause. But now there was cause enough; 
 and Hartley's cr}' lit to full blaze the smouldering 
 fire, already gaining headway among those half- 
 savage natures. 
 
230 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST, 
 
 "Lynch him!" "The damned traitor!" "Hang 
 the spy !" echoed from them ; and — ever prompt in 
 suiting ugly action to evil word — the mountaineers 
 grasped axe-helve, gun, hatchet, as was nearest at 
 hand, surging out into the road. The soldier, Joe, 
 reaching his long arm for a coil of cotton rope, 
 was coolly loosing its end as he went. And still — 
 with back against the tree, arms folded and his eyes 
 the only moving thing about him — John Holden 
 stood as quietU' as though at prayer-meeting. 
 
 "Gie us th' word, squire, an' w^e'll hist him, quick- 
 er 'n wink ! " Joe said, in business-like w^a}^ and eject- 
 ing another flood of tobacco-juice. 
 
 "Kill the spy! "—"Hang him!"— "Come, boys!" 
 growded the crowd, moving to mid-road, ready for a 
 rush. And still Holden stood motionless ; but now 
 he spoke in deep, deliberate voice, but vibrant with 
 contempt : 
 
 " Gie th' wurd. Bill Hartley— ef yer' dar ! Liff han' 
 ter tech John Holden, ef yer hez ther spunk, ye^ 
 barkin' cur-dogs ! Like he do be ole, but he haint 
 a-fearin' ther hull of sech ez 3'ou 'uns ! He kin 'low 
 ther's spunk en ther rebels wot fights ter ther frunt ! 
 But he jes' spits on sech ez hangs 'hind, an' sicks 'em 
 on!" He raised his hand high above his head; no 
 menace, only full conviction in the gesture, as he 
 added: "John Holden laffs at you 'uns! He's in 
 ther han' ov ther Lord ! " 
 
 An ugly growl, rising into a fierce yell, ran along 
 the crowed, as Hartley broke through and headed the 
 now blood-hungry crew. But, just as it crouched for 
 fatal spring upon the quarry, hoofs beat the road- 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 231 
 
 way and a galloping horse dashed into the space 
 between. 
 
 ' ' Halt ! Stand ready, men ! Drop your hands, you 
 cowardly skulkers ! " rang the voice of habitual com- 
 mand. And the rider threw his horse almost on his 
 haunches, as the ready revolver clicked, in the sudden 
 stillness. 
 
 With the instinct of discipline, the soldiers — \vhole 
 men and crippled alike — dropped hands and stood at 
 "attention!" And the civilians — following example 
 of the flabby exempt — essayed to slip back into the 
 store. But they halted at the order: 
 
 "Steady! As you w^ere, till I find the cause of this 
 disturbance." 
 
 "Cause enough, soldier!" gruffly answered 
 Hartley, the only one who stood his ground. 
 " Defaming our women, by that spy there ! Who are 
 you, anywa}^ ordering us 'round?" 
 
 "Captain Beverly Latham, of General Forrest's 
 staff, sent to the rear to hurry up all stragglers," 
 was the airy reply. "It seems I am fortunate, here. 
 Men, move to your commands at once ! The one 
 who is in town to-night, without surgeon's certifi- 
 cate, will answer for it ! Now, Mr. Storekeeper, what 
 are 3'our proofs against this spy? Where is he?" 
 He turned in saddle as he spoke, and a low whistle of 
 surprise escaped his lips, ere they added lightly : 
 "You? mj^ venerable Arab! By Jove! the Yanks 
 pick old ones for such active service! Why, man, 
 your neighbors seem to relish your Union preaching 
 less than I did. But, I was in time, luckily." He 
 turned to Hartley, with changed manner: "Well, 
 
232 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 sir, have you an^^ specific charges against this man, 
 Holden? Any proofs that he is a spy ?" 
 
 A grumbling assent came from the civihans, 
 already deserted by the soldier element ; but Hartley 
 — once more himself, and rather ashamed of his ugly 
 situation — answered that there was no proof; and 
 no charge, further than the man's openly avowed 
 Union sentiments. 
 
 " I scarcely think the general would approve your 
 hanginga non-combatant for that,"LathaiTi replied. 
 
 "But, captain, he villified our wives and daughters ; 
 some of them, I believe, known to j^ou," Hartley 
 urged in extenuation. 
 
 If Latham caught the hint, he showed not sign, 
 even to the watchful eye of Holden, eagerly noting 
 the words of one of his enemies to the other. He 
 only turned, saying lightly : 
 
 "That is most ungallant, Mr. Holden, even for a 
 man of your years. I believe I have saved your 
 precious neck a stretching this time ; so we're quits 
 on the salt question, till — next time! So, you'd bet- 
 ter pack off home, before I recall your bad marks- 
 manship, a certain night not long ago ! " He turned 
 to the others; the smile dying on lips, that set in 
 stern command: "For the rest of you, sta^'-at- 
 homes, — remember! We'll do the fighting for 3'ou; 
 but General Forrest can take care of his rear, and hold 
 his own courts-martial. Another disgraceful scene 
 like this may be bad for your town. You are Mr. 
 Bill Hartley'? Verv well; you seem to lead these 
 men. The general will hold you responsible for their 
 future conduct ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 233 
 
 He dropped his pistol back in holster; gathered 
 his horse and trotted away; twirling his mustache 
 with his freed hand. And Holden — never moving 
 from the tree, seemed to forget more recent and dan- 
 gerous foes ; his stare riveted on the young officer 
 from his first word — turned his face to follow him ; 
 
 And his eyes had aU the seeming 
 Of a demon's that is dreaming, 
 
 as their red glow deepened under the blast of a hate, 
 only hotter for dela}^ in the ordained accomplish- 
 ment of its undying purpose. Still standing, lone 
 and motionless, after the crowd had scattered and 
 disappeared, John Holden seemed suddenly to awake, 
 with a start. Then, taking a deep breath, he strode 
 slowlv awav, not casting one glance at the lair of his 
 late assailants. But his head was bent forward and 
 his lips were forming the words: 
 
 "His time hez not yit cum; but it'ull cum, sho'. I 
 hed rether'r a-resked 'em all, than ter hed 'em 'fear'd 
 'long ov him! But, I'll pay him fur this too, wen his 
 time shell cum; fur he ar' in ther han's ov ther 
 Lord, — an' He hev heer'd my yoath ! " 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 "WOMAN AND GIRL. 
 
 "You grand, brave, misunderstood dear! I'll stand 
 up for you, if the whole world turned against us! 
 But, you're right, Jen ; you canH tell your popper! '^ 
 
 And with these staunch, but somewhat conflicting 
 words. Sis Hartley threw her arms about her friend 
 and gave her a genuine, old-fashioned hug. The two 
 girls were closeted in Jen Freeman's room, the morning 
 succeeding the baffled attempt at lynching; Miss 
 Hartley's advent having been preceded by a brief, 
 but alarming note, the evening previous. The 
 farmer had ridden away, happily thus giving no 
 cause for entangling explanations ; and, promptly 
 led into Jen's own apartment, Sis had said, bluntly: 
 
 "Guess you know, Jen, that folks are mighty busy 
 talking about us, don't you?" 
 
 "Not about you. Sis; but I fear they are talking 
 somewhat about me." 
 
 "Somewhat ? Well, a little !" Sis replied, with fine 
 irony. "But I just tell 3'ou, Jen, that I don't know 
 what you've really done, but I'm just sure you had 
 good reason for it."- 
 
 "Thank you, Sis, I believe I had," Jen answered, 
 
 234 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 235 
 
 quietly; but Her eves grew moist as she leaned over 
 a.nd kissed her friend gratefully. 
 
 "Well, I've got lots to tell you," Sis went on, hur- 
 rying over her unpleasant, but self-imposed duty. 
 "And I've some things to ask you, which you can 
 answer or let alone, as you please." 
 
 "Go on," Jen answered, rather faintly. 
 
 "Well, dear, you must know that some nasty busy- 
 body — though I can't for the life of me see why you 
 should have an enemy in all the world — has been 
 spreading reports to hurt your reputation ! " 
 
 "My reputation!" Jen started up with cheeks 
 aflame. 
 
 Sis nodded, decisively: "But don't worry, Jen! 
 I'll stand by 3'ou. I don't want to hurt you, dear, 
 but it's best you should know. Isn't it?" 
 
 "Go on, I trust you, Sis!" Jen sat down on the 
 little white bed again, slipping her hand into the 
 other girl's. "You will believe me, when I say I 
 have done nothing that would justify — that! " 
 
 "I believe you, Jen, dear! But two heads are 
 better than one," the other answered; and she went 
 on — "not wisely but too well," perhaps — to detail 
 the strange, vague talk, the condensation of vapory 
 hints into solid report ; and the culmination of the 
 previous day at her father's store; finishing with the 
 urgence : 
 
 "Now, dear girl, tell me that there is not one word 
 of truth in the whole thing ! ' ' 
 
 "How can I?" Jen cried, turning away. "And if 
 I did — how could I be sure that even you would 
 
236 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 believe me — that anyone else would trust me one 
 instant?" 
 
 "I've said I would, Jen," Miss Hartley replied 
 loyally, but illogically. " The rest of the world can 
 go hang itself! " 
 
 "Well, Sis, you have the right to know," Jen 
 answered, bravely. "I have been imprudent— by 
 circumstances I could not control placed in false posi- 
 tion. Listen, and then tell me franklv if you would 
 have acted differently," and Jen went on, detailing 
 her whole adventure, from the visit of Lize Holden; 
 but reserving all mention of anj^ feeling but friend- 
 ship between herself and Latham. Sis hstened, with 
 only brief ejaculations of surprise and admiration ; 
 but at the end of the recital she kissed Jen with a 
 loud smack, her face glowing with enthusiasm as 
 she cried : 
 
 "Lor! Jen, what a heroine you are, though! 
 "Wouldn't I give just lots to have done all that ! " 
 
 "But think of the result, Sis! Even could I tell 
 this story of bold, unwomanh^ adventure, how could 
 I excuse it ? And, even then, would people believe it ! 
 And, Oh! Sis, I don't mind all the rest, but I dare 
 not tell even papa ! " 
 
 The glow faded from Sis Hartley's prett\' face; and 
 she shook her head sadly : 
 
 "No; you daren't tell him. Poppers are mightv 
 good to us, Jen ; but sometimes it 's so hard to make 
 'em understand ! But cheer up, girl ; maybe this talk 
 will all die away before he ever hears any of it." 
 
 "I fear he has had hints of it already," Jen 
 answered, ruefullv. " Good and generous as he is, he 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 237 
 
 has never asked any explanation of my strange 
 return; but sometimes I can just /ec/ his eyes fixed 
 on me so sadly — so reproachfidly ! " 
 
 "There's one person can prove it, Jen!" Sis cried 
 suddenh', clapping her hands. "Lize Holden! and I 
 saw her coming back, myself, that very dawn." 
 
 "She dare not! She has sworn against Mr. 
 Latham," Jen objected; "and besides, she knows 
 that vile old creature, Holden, would murder her." 
 
 "Guess you're right," Sis answered, musing. "And 
 the Yankee captain was captured and sent — " 
 
 "Yankee captain! How could he know?" Jen 
 broke in, wide-eyed. • 
 
 "He found your ribbon, Jen ; stopped b}' my gate^ 
 after you dodged them, and pretended he wanted a 
 drink. But he stopped to show me that ribbon and 
 to ask where you were." 
 
 Jen was wholly mystified. How could the pursu- 
 ing oflicer have known to whom the lost ribbon 
 belonged? Who could have told him her name? Not 
 Lize, surely ; for that poor creature, as Sis told her, 
 had fled from him. Suddenh' the memory that John 
 Holden led them, coupled with the talk that nearly 
 cost his life, pointed to him ; but how could that 
 grim old man have guessed ? No : it was mystery 
 impenetrable ; but she asked : 
 
 "What was the Yankee captain's name? " 
 
 "Jen PVeeman, you'll lose all respect for me, I'm 
 sure I " Sis Hartley responded, solemnly. " But, good 
 looking as he was — a perfect gentleman, too, I was 
 too surprised and too mad to find out his name! 
 But" — this suddenly — "what stupids we both are. 
 
238 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 There's no trouble about proof! How silly, I'm 
 sure!" And the girl's musical laugh rang out 
 clearly. 
 
 "Who can j)rove it ? " Jen queried, eagerly. 
 
 "Latham! He's the fellow got you in the scrape. 
 He's a poor goat if he can't get you out by one word. 
 Then when General Forrest — " 
 
 "Hush! Not so loud!" Jen cried." "Iwouldnot 
 have papa — no ; nor anyone — know that I was that 
 bold, unmaidenly thing, who rode in the charge with 
 men ! I made the general promise to kee]3 my name 
 a secret ; and he shall, Sis ! " 
 
 The other girl stared blankly, at this avowal of 
 voluntary hiding from fame. She only faltered : 
 
 "Why in the world?" 
 
 "Why ? Can you not see ? If papa knew, he would 
 have to know how I came there — why I left your 
 house! Papa is proud of me, Sis; he must not 
 become ashamed of me! " 
 
 "But, Jen, Mr. Latham himself can — " 
 
 "He is far awa3% too," Jen broke in nervously. 
 
 "Far away ? What a stupid I am ! " Miss Hartley 
 replied. "Jen, in all my haste, I forgot to say that 
 the officer who stopped the lynching was Mr. 
 Latham himself! " 
 
 "Mr, Latham! He in Gadsden and not — Did 
 he hear all this of me ? Oh ! Sis, I cannot bear this 
 slander ! " Her cheeks, brow and neck were all swept 
 by the crimson flood of feeling, or of shame; but her 
 eyes would not meet the searching gaze that queried 
 them. But Sis Hartley rose and went to her gently, 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 239 
 
 taking both the unwilling hands in hers, as she 
 soothed : 
 
 "It's all new to jou, Jen. You've never had it 
 before. But I have, dear— often ! You won't mind, 
 after awhile. Jen, you love that man ! " 
 
 "I do not !" Jen cried, tearing aw^ayher hands and 
 going to the window. "I tell you, Sis Hartley-— I do 
 not even like him ! " 
 
 Sis stared. Then she sat on the bed again, sigh- 
 ing. "Then I don't know the signs, I guess," she 
 said. "But I suppose I must be wrong." 
 
 "You certainly are wrong !" Jen turned and faced 
 her calmlv ; her cheeks quite pale now. "I not only 
 do not love him ; but I do not feel that I would ask a 
 courtesy — far less a favor — at his hands. I should 
 lack self-respect if I did !" 
 
 And, in the depths of her own heart, the pure, 
 untried girl felt that she spoke nothing but the truth; 
 even though she did not speak all the truth. For, in 
 her secret brooding over her troubles, she had lived 
 over a hundred times the w^hole intercourse between 
 the soldier and herself. She had over and again 
 held before her strong common sense, the wide differ- 
 ences of family, of association and of taste that 
 separated them. And these, having caused her first 
 conquest of her own heart, in its early rebellion 
 against her pride, seemed doubly cogent now. When 
 the pebble had first dropped into his, causing it to 
 overflow and its secret to spill on the ground, like 
 w^ater — she had stopped him honestly. She liked him 
 well, — ^too well, perhaps she felt ; but she did not love 
 him, as a pure woman must love, for the first time, 
 
240 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 before confessing it to herself. When he spoke once 
 more at parting, there rose between them a great 
 gulf of convenance, peopled with strange shapes 
 and brilliant forms, all unknown to her; and the 
 healthy common sense had once more stifled the 
 infant Hercules of feeling. Then — while Latham was 
 doing his best to win a name at the crossing, think- 
 ing only of her and of duty— Jen wrestled bravely 
 with the baby giant in her heart, daily growing 
 greater, yet only half-recognized. But when she 
 walked through the midnight rain — when she hesi- 
 tated not to cast aside reserve, habit, even delicacy, 
 to save him from ignominious death, the girl failed 
 to convince herself that she would have done as 
 much for any other hero who wore the gray. When 
 she rested in his arms that one instant — even before 
 she was so tenderh^ raised to the horse he led, 
 Jen Freeman knew that she loved this man. And, 
 knowing it, she felt that she had not only sent him 
 from her forever, but that she had been wise — that 
 she had been true to herself and to him — in doing 
 that. But Hercules — falsely called Cupid though he 
 sometimes be — was stronger than this simple girl; 
 and w^hen they rode side by side into the jaws of 
 death ; when his coolness and strength bore her to 
 safety — then, in that wooded covert, Jen Freeman 
 could have fallen at his feet and worshiped him, as 
 next to her God ! 
 
 In her heart of hearts she felt this; nor did she 
 blush to feel it. Pure love is ever brave enough to 
 stand the light of conscience ; ever brave enough ta 
 bear the brunt of sacrifice. And, at the very moment 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. ■ 241 
 
 of confession to herself, came new resolve to keep the 
 faith she had plighted, equally to her own self- 
 respect, as to what she knew must be the future 
 happiness of both. Then, at their final parting, 
 Avhen he so pleaded for hope ; when her own heart 
 joined his in urgence, until she almost wavered in her 
 truth to both, — then a chance word had steeled her 
 resolution and recalled that she was, in very fact, 
 "so different " from those he had known and had 
 loved before. 
 
 But woman's heart is ever a riddle, ten thousand 
 times offered every day, yet still insoluble as that 
 of the Sphinx. And Jen Freeman — strong, brave and 
 proud as she believed herself, and not without good 
 cause — 3'et felt shocked, aggrieved and frozen by his 
 acceptance of her fiat. With his curt farewell — the 
 failure to touch her hand — the cold "Good-day, Miss 
 Freeman!" — came revulsion as sudden as severe 1 
 With no analysis of what she felt, Jen was shocked 
 and hurt beyond comprehension. To herself she 
 groaned that the man had played upon her, winning 
 her love for sport, as did those in his "so different "^ 
 world ; and then and there she swore — sick, dizzy and 
 cruelly wounded as she was ! — that she would tear 
 him from her heart, if it broke in the effort ! And 
 she rode home dazed ; crept to her chamber full of 
 other sorrow, she believed, and not realizing that 
 this greatest one it was, which so numbed and para- 
 lyzed her efforts to be herself once more. Then came 
 those long and heavy days of doubt and secrecy and 
 insincerity ; and last those creeping rumors — coming 
 
 16 
 
242 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 as the wind comes, and felt rather than heard — 
 which brimmed the bitter cup to very overflowing. 
 
 And so — alone, unaided and untaught — this child 
 wrestled secretly with Hercules ; realizing now the 
 giant strength, yet praying and believing she might 
 conquer still ! 
 
 Bitter, cruel as it was, Jen Freeman hugged to her 
 heart the belief that her love had been won only in 
 sport; and in her hidden agony, she moaned that loss 
 of self-respect — her bold adventure, now looked back 
 ■upon with loathing — estrangement from her doting 
 father — the detestable double-face she was forced to 
 wear — that these, one and all, were Latham's work; 
 and his work only for a petty triumph which she 
 must despise — which she devoutly thanked her God 
 she had never let him see, even at the end. 
 
 She had lost respect for this man she had so pedes- 
 talled above his fellows, she knew ; and she convinced 
 herself of that sad fallacy — so swiftly accepted, 
 often to one's sorrow — that with respect all love 
 must die ! 
 
 All this Jen had lived over every day, almost every 
 hour, of that dreadful week since Latham had 
 spurred away with that curt farewell. And all this 
 she lived over when her friend spoke; believing in 
 her very soul that her reply was gospel truth. But 
 its living took no tithe of the time to tell it ; and Sis 
 Hartley — with her best prop knocked ruthlessly 
 away — could onl}^ stare and murmur: 
 
 "Well! I do declare!" 
 But the two girls talked long and fully over the 
 "Ugly situation ; Sis vowing loyally to stand by her 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 243 
 
 friend— to fight calumny to the death, though reft of 
 sword and buckler both, and to keep her friend's 
 secret, come what might. And, as she mounted her 
 horse, and Jen kissed her clingingly, loth to part 
 with her one comforter, Sis cried, with strangely 
 mixed emotions : 
 
 " I do hate to leave you in your sorrow, Jen ! But 
 — gracious, girl ! you are a heroine, though ! God help 
 and keep j'ou, dear! " 
 
 * rr * * * * * 
 
 It was to a rather distant settlement that Farmer 
 Freeman rode that day, while the two girls discussed 
 Jen's troubles. Homeward bound, he stopped at the 
 house of an humble family whom he had long 
 befriended. The widow had two daughters ; one of 
 them a notably giddy girl, even in that not precise 
 and decorous region; and — to her mother's plaint 
 about some recent escapade, more outrageous than 
 usual — the farmer ventured on some mild reproach. 
 In reply, the girl turned upon him insolently, wath 
 the words ; 
 
 " Yer hed n't need ter cum so fur, farmer, hed yer ? I 
 'low ez I hain't been seen a-ridin' roun' o' nights 
 'long o' soljers — nur on ther same critter, nuther! 
 Ax yer own gell, ef she be n't no better 'n I be ! " 
 
 Shocked more than angered, at this new and hid- 
 eous phase of rumors he had feared — rather than 
 heard direct — Mr. Freeman sternly questioned the 
 girl. So did her mother; but both in vain. She 
 stolidly refused reply to question or to threat; cov- 
 ering her head with her skirt, rocking to and fro, and 
 sobbing loudly; a favorite refuge with mountain 
 
244 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 femininity, when closely pressed by inconYenient 
 question. 
 
 So the saddened father rode home in deep and 
 troubled thought. Never once did faintest doubt of 
 his darling cross his mind ; but these rumors must 
 have some foundation, however trifling in fact. 
 They must be stopped, if practicable, without appar- 
 ent effort ; but he felt that Jen would not speak of 
 what was plainly weighing on her mind. And, to 
 his delicate love and trust, it seemed that not to 
 wait her voluntary confidence — delay it as she might 
 — would imply suspicion foreign to all their past, 
 wrongful now in her hidden sorrow. 
 
 Jen met him at the gate, tarrying to \vatch for him 
 after Sis rode off; and she thought his face was 
 sadder — while his kiss was even more tender — than at 
 an}^ moment since the "cloud had come down" 
 between them. 
 
 "Papa, dear," she said, stealing behind his chair, 
 as he smoked alone that night, and pressing her lips 
 on his forehead; "dear, gentle papa, you have 
 heard something said about ^^our little girl ! " 
 
 The farmer removed his pipe from his lips ; and 
 something very like a sob followed it. But Jen came 
 round in front of him, taking both his hands in hers, 
 and looked full in his eyes. 
 
 "Answer, dear, dear papa. I am not afraid for 
 you to speak." 
 
 " Damn their talk ! " the farmer blurted out. "I 
 haven't heard anything, my child! And I don't 
 believe one word of it, either ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 245 
 
 "I know that, papa," Jen answered, more like her 
 old self. "But, dear, I w^ant to say just one thing. 
 Whatever you have heard — whatever you may hear, 
 your daughter has never done one thing of which 
 you need feel ashamed. No ; do n't answer me, dear 
 papa. We understand each other now, and soon I 
 may tell you — everything! " 
 
 From that night, father and daughter were always 
 together, and much in the same old wa\\ Ever 
 watchful for the other's lightest wish, each avoided 
 naturally any allusion to the recent past ; and if— 
 deep in his secret heart — the father suspected that the 
 absent officer had some connection with the gentle 
 sadness his child could not conceal, his absolute trust 
 and intuitive delicacy forebore even mental query 
 further. She had said she w^ould speak — sometime. 
 He could wait, and trust, meantime. 
 
 So the sweet old life might have come back wholly, 
 had each not known — and, knowing, wondered if the 
 other also knew — that secret enemies were still at 
 work, to mar a perfect peace they could not compre- 
 hend. 
 
 And so the wrecks wore away; months passed, and 
 the unuttered compact between father and daughter 
 was unbroken, as though engrossed on parchment 
 and sealed with gravest signet. The tide of w^ar had 
 rolled far away from their home; onh' its distant 
 boom and — now more rareU' — its broken and shat- 
 tered human w^recks — reached the hidden mountain 
 nooks. But that warfare — 
 
 The viler as underhand, not openly, bearing the sword — 
 
246 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Mvas still waged with the deadU' missiles of hint and 
 sneer, and wink, and nod of head, when the farm 
 folks chanced to be the theme of better class neigh- 
 bors. And, little by little, Jen grew paler and thinner 
 in body, nervous in mind and morbid in spirit. She 
 "was fighting her good fight bravely, with what 
 means she had ; but, like her beloved Southland, she 
 was fighting single handed, shut in from commujiica- 
 tion with her only sympathizer and possible ally, and 
 hemmed by unseen foes whose numbers she could 
 only guess by their seeming omnipresence. 
 
 And Farmer Freeman, noting the fading spirits 
 and the paling cheek, raged in his secret soul and 
 longed with a fierce longing for some tangible affront 
 from man or woman. But only the nebulous, misty 
 vapor of evil report seemed to float as thistle-down, 
 toward them, making the petty martyrdom of gnat- 
 stings far less bearable than, had been the open trial 
 of the stake. And then one da\' a letter came. 
 
 Army experts had been testing mineral deposits on 
 outlying tracts of Farmer Freeman's land ; and he 
 was summoned to Richmond for immediate conference, 
 and offered control of works the Ordnance Depart- 
 ment would at once erect. The ofler, to the farmer's 
 patriotic sense, bore full force of a mandate; but the 
 works were far awaj' from home and Jen could not 
 be left alone. Conference between the two confirmed 
 his idea that he could not refuse; and Jen — ruefully 
 but bravely, and with conflicting feelings she could 
 not analyze — consented to accept, at last, her aunt's 
 •urgence and go to Wilmington. But as 3'et she 
 would not consent to any proposition for breaking 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 247 
 
 the blockade, on one of her uncle's swift little "ocean 
 grayhounds; " and she was sincere in the belief that 
 her tear-dimmed eyes were taking but temporary 
 farewell of "life-long souvenirs of the only place she 
 could ever call home, that last night she was to sleep 
 beneath the loved and venerated roof. 
 
 To father and to daughter both, had come the 
 thought that movement — however necessary now, 
 however long delayed — might seem flight from the 
 intangible enmity that had followed them so long. 
 But the thought remained unspoken; each deemingit 
 injustice to the other's faith and truth to believe that 
 it could have come to the other. And, kneeling by 
 the little bed, in that sweet little room, which had 
 been her world, Jen Freeman poured out her full heart 
 at the feet of the One Consoler; praying with the 
 strength of her pure soul for guidance and for light; 
 praying too for full forgiveness of him who was — as 
 she believed — the cause of all her sorrows; whom she 
 acknowledged only to the All-Knowing that she still 
 loved ! 
 
CHAPTER XX. 
 
 RECONSTRUCTION DAYS. 
 
 The night of actual and of open warfare was done, 
 and the gray dawn of a misnamed peace had risen 
 over the East. Fighting, in the field, between the 
 brethren of the states was over forever; and "Recon- 
 struction" had well begun its slow and wearying 
 process of pulling down v^hat little still stood in the 
 conquered section. 
 
 No more did tales of siege and battle light the col- 
 umns of the dulled newspapers ; and already men 
 famed for generalship began erasure of their glow- 
 ing records, by fatal movements on that more danger- 
 ous field of statecraft. 
 
 The one shot — more fatal to the welfare of the 
 entire country than had been all the volleys of Gettys- 
 burg and Appomattox — had sped from the pistol of 
 the dramatic madman ; and its echo had sounded on 
 the northernmost boundaries of the republic, reviving 
 the bitterest feelings of flagrant war on the very 
 threshold of the miscalled Peace ! The universal surge 
 of a nation's grief had subsided to the restless 
 groundswell of a sullen sorrow, that upbore the 
 debris of a lately found quiet. 
 
 248 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 2*& 
 
 Abraham Lincoln was dead; and with him had 
 been buried the last hope of just and speedy settle- 
 ment of existent dangers, through his methods of 
 vigorous honesty in statecraft. For people dwelling 
 far remote from fields of actual conflict— with all its 
 trials, hardships and compensations of excitement- 
 had already been embittered by long doubt and mis- 
 information. And these— absolutely ignorant of the 
 nature of the Southern people, and of the temper of 
 their leaders — were quick to accept wild theories of a 
 far-reaching conspiracy, bom in the distorted womb 
 of sensation, and to connect with it names of the 
 best and purest among the vanquished contestants. 
 
 Swift Vengeance — following fullest investigation, 
 yet reaching her iron hand even about the throat of 
 innocent womanhood, for judicial murder — had not 
 allayed popular distrust; and, at the nation's capital, 
 men still looked upon one another with furtive eyes, 
 believing "Treason" ready to raise her "^a ira!" at 
 any moment, and whirl her mad Carmagnole up the 
 avenue to the very gates of the White House I For 
 small indeed, at that day, was the clear-headed 
 minority which knew that treason was crushed for- 
 ever; that no provocation and no misgovernment 
 could again lead to arbitrament of arms ; that the 
 shackled South was sitting, like her of Scripture, in 
 the ashes of her desolation, and that only 
 
 The voice of Rachel, for her children crying, 
 Will not be comforted ! 
 
 Fewer still realized, as A'ct, that, out of those ashes, 
 the South would soon rise above errors and malice 
 
250 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 alike, to take her place in the more perfect union of 
 the real reconstruction ; that she would water her 
 waste places, re-erect her own shattered resources, 
 and lead her late family foes in a national advance 
 that would astound the world! And, at that 
 moment, none dreamed that livid bitterness of sec- 
 tional hate could earU^ die — North, as well as South ; 
 and that, out of its still green grave, would spring 
 the fresh shoots of a common nationality^ more 
 vigorous — more indestructible than that of the scarce 
 cold cadaver. 
 
 For, in these da3's close post helium, personal pov- 
 erty and the gloom of recent reminiscence hung as a 
 pall over the conquered South; while restlessness and 
 doubt had swiftly moved into the places of effort and 
 of exultation, throughout the victorious North. The 
 Union had been saved, indeed ; but the problem that 
 caused broad brows to knit in as yet unfruitful 
 thought, was what to do with the prostrate South ; 
 how to set her once more upon her feet, and to send 
 fresh blood through depleted arteries of commerce 
 and stagnant veins of production — to the health of a 
 new and living body politic. 
 
 And another problem — equally weighty, but as yet 
 touching the North alone — was that far-reaching 
 corruption, ever following expenditure of vast pub- 
 lic treasure; an evil now already loathsome in every 
 great center of population, but festering to far more 
 prunnellent peril at the capital of the nation. And 
 that capital, having just seen the tragic and aimless 
 sacrifice of one chief executive, was in the throes of 
 preparation for sacrifice of his jaistol-promoted 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 251 
 
 successor, at the hands of the highest legislative 
 tribunal of the land. So, strange indeed were the 
 monsters cast up b\' the groundswell of that vast 
 upheaval which had, for four dark and dreadful 
 years, toppled down usage and tradition throughout 
 the seemingly doomed country. 
 
 Nor was Washington City herself yet free from 
 external marks of the vStruggle, during which she 
 had been more than once the pivotal point of defense. 
 Her people recalled their quivering suspense, after 
 Bull Run; their tardy tidings from Jackson's "Italian 
 campaign" in the valley; their dread before and dur- 
 ing the days of Gettysburg; and the echo their own 
 hearts gave to Early's guns at Silver Spring. For 
 the fortifications thrown up to meet these dangers, 
 still bristled onever}^ strategic point; while uniforms, 
 of every arm and rank, were the rule, rather than 
 the exception, at every gathering in public or in 
 private. And — though- contract and lavish favor- 
 itism had already rubbed Aladdin's lamp, briskly and 
 to purpose — the city of post helium da\'s did not sit, 
 as now, high above her sisters in queenship of civic 
 beauty. The ^vork now so grandly finished had 
 been begun, stimulating national pride and specula- 
 tive pocket in almost equal degree. But "the Ameri- 
 can Haussmann," as 3^et, had merely hinted his per- 
 fected imitation of strategic Paris, which — no\v 
 glorious and beautiful in days of perfect peace — 
 might still advantage best in those of civil strife. 
 
 The national capital was ever full of strangers 
 from every section, in days succedent to the peace; 
 and those preachers who, on ever\' sabbath morning,. 
 
252 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 offered up praj'er for "All sorts and conditions of 
 men," assuredly petitioned for these strangers within 
 her gates. And their most varied sorts and ill condi- 
 tions were from the South ; some seeking pardon, to 
 recover lost property ; others political rehabilitation 
 for usefulness at home; the majority hungry for those 
 flesh-pots of Egypt, so attractive and so nosesome to 
 their long-starved sense. And these last were easily 
 recognizable, even among the visiting Southerners. 
 For politics, at that day, of course had but one 
 complexion ; and he who hungered — however many 
 inches thick he might essay to paint his face — needs 
 must come to this at last, or taste not. Nor was 
 there manifest reticence to take the prevailing tint ; 
 while there was recognizable greed about those 
 Avho yearned for humble pie, however strongly 
 flavored with the taint of their own stale principles. 
 
 Most readily recognizable — most obtrusive of self 
 and paramount claim — were the hordes of blatant 
 *' Southern loyalists;" ever vaunting the sacrifices 
 made and perils passed for devotion to the Old Flag, 
 yet ever whining for payment in coin, for services 
 claimed to have been given to principle. For it was 
 a rule — proved past dispute since then — that those 
 Southern Unionists who suffered aught from loyal 
 adherence to their cause, made the least vaunt of 
 their loyalty at close of the war. 
 
 On a bright, crisp morning of spring a. notable 
 figure strides down Penns^dvania avenue, the bulk 
 of papers in his bony, brown hands showing his 
 objective point to be some department of the West 
 End. Tall, stalwart and stooping somewhat— but 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 253 
 
 more from habit than weight of evident years upon 
 his silvered head — the man is ill at ease in his long 
 frock coat of shinj^ black, and often raises his silk 
 hat, as though it hurt him. 
 
 Suddenly he meets a well-dressed officer, with 
 eagles upon his buff shoulder straps; and, with a 
 gleam in his deep set e\'es, and what tries to be a 
 smile, advances \vith broad hand outstretched : 
 
 "Yer hain't furgot ole fren's, hez yer, Cap'n 
 Wite?" he sa^-s, gravely. "I 'low e'm glad ter 
 meet!" 
 
 The neat officer stares coolly past the speaker, as 
 he says, quietly : 
 
 "Really, sir, 3'ou seem to have the advantage 
 of me." 
 
 "Yer ben't jok'n', be yer! I 'low, cap'n, er gin'ral, 
 ez yer mebbe, we 'tms went a-raidin' nigh ter Gads- 
 ding, in '63 ; an' JohnHolden hain't growed no differ, 
 hez he?" 
 
 "Really, Mr. Holden," the officer replied, coldly, "I 
 might recall such an occurrence, or such an individ- 
 ual ; but, for the life of me, I can remember nothing 
 in it especially to my credit, or — to jours! War, like 
 poverty, makes strange bed fellows ; but it is one of 
 the best blessings of peace, that we may change our 
 linen. Good-morning, sir ! " 
 
 And, passing around the statue-like figure, not 
 noting the still outstretched hand, Colonel White 
 moved on ; in time to receive a gracious smile and 
 bow from the coupe of the minister from San Carlo. 
 
 Holden stood, dazed and with darkened face, his 
 only gesture to raise the outstretched hand, grasping 
 
254 JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 
 
 his beaver fiercely and rear it — oriflamme-like — to the 
 mbrning sun, as he muttered : 
 
 " Ther skunk whelp ! ter use me 'gin m' own people 
 an' then turn 'gin me! But ther Lord hez jestis', an' 
 I 'low thar's good a-waitin' fur His instermunts, 
 w'en tha's kick't by ther heels ov asses! These" — 
 he gripped his papers vengefully — "be like ter mek a 
 bigger man'n thet hark ter John Holden ! " 
 
 Unmindful of wondering stare, or amused smile of 
 passers at his strange pantomime, the Unionist strode 
 rapidly away, toward the Department of Justice. 
 He had put in earl}' claim, not letting the wax cool 
 upon the letter of peace, and had been rewarded with 
 a small office, under the inilitarj^ government of 
 Alabama; but, aiming higher, he was now seeking a 
 collectorship of Internal Revenue, that Ultima Thtile 
 of Southern political aspiration. Nor had he found 
 his path to it rose-strewn ; for demand of the "scala- 
 wags," as Southern Unionists were called, already 
 clashed with those of that hungry' horde of "carpet- 
 bag" adventurers, swooping down upon the South 
 for spoils, so soon as it was no longer dangerous to 
 attempt that section "by assault." 
 
 At the department, he seemed a familiar figure to 
 ihe messengers, who exchanged meaning — if not 
 respectful — glances on his advent. The chief was 
 "busy with a senator," so Holden waited long and 
 patiently for an audience. His meeting with Colonel 
 White had wakened man\' a bitter memory that slept 
 while he tried to circumvent political foes ; and with 
 them awoke all the old hatred for the slayers of his 
 boy, and vivid memory of his still unfulfilled oath. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 255 
 
 He thought, too, how Farmer Freeman had pros- 
 pered, spite of being an "unreconstructed rebel" still, 
 ^nd of secret information laid against him locally. 
 For the unskilled government use of Freeman's min- 
 eral lands, during last years of the war, had merely 
 hinted the vastness of their resources under skilled 
 development ; and keen - nosed speculators were 
 already in treaty to capitalize and work their pre- 
 cious substrata. 
 
 ' ' But I 'low I kin tech him sore ! ' ' Holden muttered, 
 half aloud. "I kin swar him outen parding sho' ; 
 an' tha's not a-dangerin' ther gold, a-vestin' 'thout 
 no skewr'ty. I'll drap er hint ter ther jedge an' 
 he'll-" 
 
 A clerk broke into his musing to say that the chief 
 would see him now; and the Alabamaloyalist strode 
 gi'imly into the presence of perhaps the most noted — 
 w^hile probably the least popular — of the ultra lead- 
 ers of the day. 
 
 The judge's personality was anything but a win- 
 ning one, spite of pronounced marks of power, cul- 
 ture and high breeding in his face, gesture and 
 address. There was habitual gloom adding to his 
 natural reticence ; and, even then, his face had the trick 
 of losing consciousness, for the moment, of matters 
 nearer — seeming to reflect ugly pictures of the past. 
 If there had ever been any magnetism about him, it 
 had now shifted from the positive to the negative 
 pole of the human battery ; repelling, not attracting. 
 He took Holden's outstretched hand as coldly as 
 barest courtesy permitted, letting its broad bulk 
 slip through his unclosed fingers, with the touch per- 
 
256 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 functory, but none of "the personal touch." Doubt- 
 less, this noted official was disgusted— if not with 
 "greatness thrust upon him" by his lurid public 
 career, at least with its uncongenial following. 
 This could but contrast strangely — in bitter revenge 
 of time's whirligig— with the cherished pursuits of a 
 long Hfetime; more strangely still with those home 
 surroundings, impressed by stately quiet and name- 
 less charm — once known, never to be forgotten — of 
 one of the grand women of her day. For never had 
 the social opulence of the Blue Grass state lent to 
 the "ReiDublican Court" of later days three repre- 
 sentatives more gifted, more gracious, or more lav- 
 ishly dowered by nature than those sisters — of whom 
 one was his true and loyal helpmate, in darkest 
 shadow as in broadest sunshine. 
 
 So now, the official's face wore its introspective 
 mask ; and he stood absentW, as Holden sat down, 
 placed his hat upon the floor and ostentatiously 
 thrust his papers into it, sa^ang : 
 
 "I 'low ye're look'n' well, jedge, an' now — " 
 
 "Your papers have been carefully examined, Mr. 
 — Holden," the judge said, absent^, glancing at the 
 scrawled card on his desk. "But nothing in them 
 belongs to this department. Your appointment 
 rests solely with Mr. Secretary of the Treasury." 
 
 "An' ther lab'rer ben't v^uth his hire, ben't he?" 
 was the grim retort. "Wen er man hez resked life 
 an' lim' fur ther Un'in fur fo' long year, he hain't got 
 no claim, hez he? " 
 
 "Your claims will doubtless be carefully considered. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 257 
 
 along with others filed for the same position," the 
 official said, vagueh'. 
 
 "But, ef I kin pint outer new cornspir'cy," Holden 
 answered, keenly watching effect ot his words; "ef I 
 cud name ther hed an' boss ov them Ku-Klux ter 
 hum, wot 'ud thet help ? " 
 
 A gleam crept into the dull eyes of the chief, ordi- 
 narily looking inward, as at some bitter memory. 
 And Holden noted it, though the answer was wary: 
 
 "Any proofs you could give, Mr. Holden; any 
 names — accompanied by provable facts — w^ould 
 doubtless be considered valuable service." 
 
 "S'pos'n' I ge'en ther name ov Phil Freeman, ez 
 ther hed ov 'em roun' my neighbor'd ? Yer set thet 
 down ter w^unst, an' yere be er list ov lan's an' sech 
 ez he owns. You 'uns hed orter cornfiskate 'em all; 
 fur he w^ar sho' a pizen bad rebul afore he riz ther 
 Ku-Klux, yan! " 
 
 The great man took the eagerly extended papers; 
 casting his eye carelessly on them, as though already 
 weary of his visitor. But something seemed to inter- 
 est him suddenly ; for he began to read rapidly, turn- 
 ing page after page with professional speed. 
 
 Holden's stealtjiy gaze followed him, as a cat's the 
 mouse well within reach ; and triumph began to 
 glow red in his eyes, as he felt he had played a trump 
 card, and a big one, too. But the judge quietly 
 refolded the documents ; and — as the other stretched 
 his great hand for them — placed a heavy paper 
 weight upon them. And his face was as hard and 
 inscrutable as that of the Sphinx, as he sad: 
 
 17 
 
258 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "I regret to hasten you, Mr. Holden; but I have 
 an engagement at this hour. No ; — you can leave 
 these papers. They are filed now, and cannot be 
 "withdrawn ; but will be used as best fits your case. 
 Good-morning, Mr. Holden." 
 
 The official bowed coldly as his visitor walked 
 out; but, quickly seating himself, he reopened the 
 papers, scanning them wnth close and eager scrutiny. 
 Then he struck his desk-gong sharply ; saying to the 
 clerk who answered — but without looking up : 
 
 "In m J private file, McFadden, in the M's; letters 
 of Middktown & Screws, New York, with maps of 
 North Alabama and plats of lands! Strange," he 
 added to himself, as the clerk withdrew, "but, per- 
 haps it was only a coincidence. In any case, the old 
 traitor is doubtless lying! " 
 
CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 CHARGES AND CONFESSIONS. 
 
 John Holden passed swiftly through the ante- 
 room to the corridor, his silk hat pushed far back 
 from his corrugated forehead ; and his lips working 
 as though repeating the judge's word. But, at the 
 stair head, he halted abruptly and moved up the cor- 
 ridor, turning his back on the man ascending. But 
 the other — grave, earnest and absorbed — took no 
 note of him ; passing on to the anteroom and closing 
 its door behind him. 
 
 "I hain't a-doubtin',be I?" Holden muttered, star- 
 ing at the closed door. " Et ar' him, sho' ez ther Lord 
 sets thar! An' he do seem a-prosperin', ef he w^ar 
 ther wus' rebul ov ther lot! Wot kin ther sesesh 
 want 'long ov ther jedge ? I 'low I kin fin' out, fur 
 ther cuss is on him, ef I hez plum furgot my yoath ! 
 Mebbe ther time hez cum w'en I kin strike mo' sho' 
 fur waitin'. I hez jes' streck w^un; I 'low I kin wait 
 fur 'tuther, an' watch for ven'gince! " 
 
 He drew back into a closed doorway; his green 
 eyes gleaming on the one Beverly Latham had just 
 entered. That whilom giddy trooper had changed 
 little outwardly, since he saved from the noose the 
 watcher on him now. But graver and filled with 
 
 259 
 
260 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 plans for aiding his own people, higher aspirations 
 had placed their stamp upon his still handsome face. 
 Appomattox found him colonel of a regiment under 
 Hampton; Forrest's promotion on the field leading, 
 step by step, to the head of the corps in which he got 
 his troop. On parole at his loved home — happily 
 showing little of war's devastating drain, in the 
 more direct paths of battle — Latham at once went to 
 w^ork for family first, and neighbors next. His ever 
 idolizing mother and sisters now worshiped him as 
 a veritable hero ; never wearying of question as to 
 minutest detail of his army life. And he answered 
 honestly — while modestly, ever — in all matters save 
 one ; for those proud w^omen only learned that For- 
 rest had promoted, "for service;" and no mention of 
 Jen Freeman — far less allusion to their j^ast — ever left 
 his lips, even to Stella. 
 
 And where she was, he himself could only surmise; 
 ignorant if she were married or single. Active duty 
 had prevented close quest ; and two letters to Shelby 
 • — ostensibly on business of their service together — 
 brought no mention of her name, in his brief replies. 
 So Latham must fain believe that Jen Freeman 
 meant her words ; that she had forgotten him, and 
 he should never see her again. 
 
 Absorbed in the work of rehabilitating his state, 
 the man found little time for sentimental regrets ; 
 yet, often, in long, solitary rides, he would live over 
 the scenes of that summer; would take from his 
 breast the camp- worn locket and gaze long and wist- 
 fully at the faded blue ribbon, which he refused to let 
 sisterU^ fingers replace by a fresher one. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 261 
 
 Business, for himself, or others, often carried 
 Latham to Washington ; and he was already known 
 to many bureau chiefs— and to men in that congress 
 to which the whole South now looked so anxiously 
 —as a man of decided strength of courage for his 
 rights, and of larsre influence at home besides. So, it 
 was no strange name that McFadden announced to 
 the judge, when he tendered the papers of Middle- 
 town & Screws, from his private file. 
 
 "I am busy for five minutes," he said, hastily open- 
 ing the papers handed him. "Then, admit him." 
 
 When the Virginian entered, the judge coldly, but 
 courteously, motioned him to a seat; but Latham 
 stood quietly, saying : 
 
 "I have but a moment to stay, sir. I merely called 
 again to ask if those papers, filed in Mr. Preston's 
 case, have been passed upon." 
 
 "They have been examined," was the cold reph', 
 ^'but I have not made any endorsement upon them." 
 
 "May I ask why?" Latham replied. "Are not all 
 the statements they contain verified by proof? " 
 
 "I believe that is the case," the judge admitted. 
 
 "Then, sir, there is no justice in delaying action. 
 The old gentleman needs these papers; without 
 them, he is at the mercy of enemies and sharpers." 
 
 "It does not appear that he has taken the oath." 
 
 "There was no necessity," Latham answered, 
 quickly. "He was over age, a non-combatant and 
 never a politician. There was nothing for him to 
 ywear." 
 
 "He was a warm rebel sympathizer, though." 
 
262 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "He is a native Virginian, sir," Latham replied. 
 "He was a good citizen of his state, as he new is of 
 the Union!" 
 
 The official looked gravely at the speaker ; then he 
 retorted sharply : 
 
 "Yet, you took the oath, Mr. Latham!" 
 
 "I did sir. When I surrendered my sword, the war 
 had ended — on our side. You have been an officer, 
 sir, and must know that a soldier's parole is his 
 bond. After that, the oath of allegiance was a mere 
 form, because I meant to keep my faith with the 
 victors. And, by taking it, I could be of more prac- 
 tical use to my people than by sulking at home over 
 vain regrets. But, sir, for Mr. Preston's case, even 
 a rebel sympathizer is said to have some legal rights. 
 Those papers should be endorsed by you to the Treas- 
 ury Department." 
 
 "You seem emphatic, Mr. Latham," the judge 
 answered coldly. "But should they not be 
 endorsed — " 
 
 "I should appeal in person to President Johnson, 
 in that case," Latham replied, quick]3^ "The mat- 
 ter is too plain for even quibble to — " 
 
 He stopped suddenly. His eye, chancing to fall 
 upon the card K'ing near, mechanically read the 
 name of John Holden. And the official's cold eye fol- 
 lowing his, suddenly lit with an idea, and his lips 
 changed the words, already formed upon them, to 
 the bland reply : 
 
 "You are right, Mr. Latham; and this department 
 never deals in quibbles. It is perhaps rather grace, 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 263 
 
 than strict justice, to forego the oath ; but I will 
 refer the Preston case favorably." 
 
 "I am glad of your decision, sir," Latham said, 
 intentionally avoiding thanks for what he claimed as 
 a right ; and he turned to go. 
 
 " One moment, if you please, " the other said. "I 
 believe you served in Alabama; in that mountain 
 region where loyalty was least dangerous." 
 
 "Yes, sir; I served once in North Alabama." 
 
 "You knew a family of Freemans?" 
 The question was shot at him suddenl}r ; and to 
 his disgust, Latham felt his face flush hot, as he 
 answered : 
 
 "If you mean Philip Freeman, a farmer, I knew 
 him. I was once ill at his house." 
 
 "A blatant politician ? A popular leader, is he?" 
 In spite of his surprise, Latham smiled at the idea 
 the question raised, as he answered : 
 
 "Least so of any man I can recall. But what of 
 him ? I hope he is in no trouble." 
 
 His eyes, following swift flash of thought, fell on 
 John Holden's card again ; and the judge's e3"es fol- 
 lowed his, as he answered, guardedh' : 
 
 "No; not exactly trouble; but it is well for an v 
 man, in these times, to be vouched for" — he rose 
 gravely, bowing gracefully — "b\' one we respect and 
 rely upon, though we differ with him on many 
 points. I presume, Mr. Latham, that should need 
 come, this man can prove quiet, loyal life ?" 
 
 "If any man in the South can convince your 
 department of that, sir, I should say Farmer Freeman 
 could. But, good-day, sir," said Latham, recollect- 
 
264 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 ing himself. "I shall call at the Treasur_v Depart- 
 ment, in the morning?" 
 
 "The papers will be there, Mr. Latham," the 
 official replied ; and the Virginian left the room, pass- 
 ing into the corridor. Just at the stair-head, he met 
 John Holden, face to face. 
 
 "I 'low yer hezn't furgot me," he said. 
 
 "No, I have not forgotten 3'oti," was the cool 
 answer. "Unpleasant memories hang b\' us. Good- 
 morning." 
 
 " But Holden — lowering as his look grew under the 
 taunt — htmg close to his side, as he passed dowm the 
 steps, coming straight to his point. 
 
 "Yer mind ther las' time we met, yung soljer?" 
 
 "Unfortunately, it was not the 'last time '. I w^as 
 silly enough to prevent their hanging j^ou," Latham 
 replied. 
 
 "Tha' hedn't no cause, hed tha'?" Holden con- 
 doned the affront, intent on his object, and, fixing his 
 eyes keenly on the other's face, added: "I hedn't 
 sed nuthin' 'cep'n w^ot ther whole mounting hez sed 
 sence. I 'low Freeman's gell did hev her larks ov 
 nights, 'long ov her yung men!" 
 
 Latham stopped on the stair, his cheeks burning 
 and his eyes ablaze, as he turned on the speaker. But 
 he controlled his voice to calm contempt, as he 
 answered slowly : 
 
 "I thought then I w^as wrong to save your neck ! 
 Traitor to your section and your neighbors as you 
 are, I presume you have come hereto grovel for blood 
 money; but I cannot see how you can hope to help 
 your case, by Ij'ing about w^omen." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 265 
 
 John Ilolden's face darkened still more, and his 
 eyes gleamed redder, as his foe spoke; his hand 
 clutching tremblingly, as for a weapon. But strong 
 will controlled him ; and the gleam of hate in his 
 eyes changed to a leer of cunning, as he answered : 
 
 " Yer hezn't loss yer spunk, hez yer? But thet don' 
 mek no differ. Ther gell hez gone, an' ther bad name 
 she lefif' hezn't. She'd orter a-know'd she war 
 a-dangerin', meetin' ov Johnny an' ov Yank, late o' 
 nights. But I 'low ez 3'er hain't a-keerin' ter lissen, 
 an' ther's no need nuther — " 
 
 Had the Unionist been his satanic majesty himself, 
 horns, hoofs and tail, Beverly Latham could not 
 have restrained the exclamation : 
 
 ' ' Gone ! Is she — dead ? ' ' 
 
 "Live and peart, I 'low!" the Unionist chuckled, 
 with an ill-suppressed gleam of triumph in his eyes. 
 '' Her pav^ hez druv her oft, 'long ov nim ov ther gells 
 choosin' ter notis her. Tha's a reckulus lot, but tha' 
 ken't Stan' too much!" 
 
 Through the rush of conflicting emotions, the man 
 heard these words plainly ; but he himself could never 
 have told what they brought to him. Memory, sur- 
 prise, sorrow and self-contempt warred for mastery 
 of his brain. Ph\'sical impulse urged him to lay at 
 his feet the traducer of the woman he had loved ; but 
 something more potent still impelled an outward 
 calm, as he turned full on Holden, saying: 
 
 "I have known you onh^ as a traitor and spy, at 
 home. You cannot expect I will be seen in the street 
 ■with a known scalawag! Don't follow me! " 
 
266 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 He strode into the street, followed by Holden's 
 eyes, gleaming with triumphant malice, as he stood 
 within the doorway muttering : 
 
 "He hez spunk, sho' ! But I hez streck him sore, 
 fur he do b'l'eveit! Curses on 'em all! But ther 
 Lord's work ar' doin', fur ther trap ez laid fur ther 
 dad, an' ther hunter hez turn'd 'gin his gell ! His 
 tim' hez cum at las' ! " 
 
 The garish daylight galled Latham's dizzy sense ; 
 the crowded streets seemed to clog and dam the cur- 
 rent of his swift -rushing thought. Mechanically he 
 turned into the White House grounds ; striding rap- 
 idl}^ toward the lonesome monument south of them. 
 Unable to reason, under the sudden blow, intuition 
 vainh^ strove to repel the statements w^hich memory 
 would raise up, in some sort, to confirm. Yet mem- 
 ory, at the same time, would raise pictures of those 
 peaceful, happy summer days ; of the pure life and 
 gentle womanhood of her, w^ho had nursed him back 
 to health — had taught him to love her by sheer force 
 of gentleness and truth ! Why should he weigh the 
 word of that vile traitor, instead of taking train for 
 Alabama, to disprove — 
 
 But the girl had gone ! That could not be a lie. 
 And where had she fled — and why? For memory 
 emphasized her strong aversion to leaving her father, 
 even at his and her aunt's urgence ! So there must 
 be cogent reason, w^hen she did so ; and then, clear 
 and sharp before him, rose that midnight, when that 
 creeping white form — hesitant, fearful, and in guise 
 he should not see — had slipped from the house, mov- 
 ing guiltily toward the gate. And there — in the 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 267' 
 
 noonday of tlie busy city — he could hear the tremor 
 in her voice, urging him "not to tell papa!" Then, 
 clear as in judgment, came to his ear the quavering 
 voice of the old cripple, meeting him in the roadway 
 as he galloped off with her blue ribbon, and driveling 
 of rebel lover from Gadsden, and of another in 
 the Federal ranks! Doubtless the old wretch lied. 
 But, if others knew of these reports — spoke of them 
 openly ; if, knowing this, Jen had left home rather 
 than meet and disprove them — what then ? 
 
 Once more, in thought, he rode behind her into the 
 charge; felt the agon\^ of terror and suspense — the 
 thrill of joy that paid for all as he swept her from 
 saddle, bearing her to safetj^ in his arms ! How could 
 a woman with one impure taint have acted thus ? 
 But, even then — parting with him, perhaps for ever — 
 she had shrunk away because she was "so dift'erent" 
 from his people, — from Stella! So his brain whirled 
 with its sudden transition from doubt to trust — from 
 love to suspicion ; and, still striding on, seeing no 
 one — forgetful of the business and social demands of 
 the present under pressure of the past — Beverly 
 Latham was near the government gardens when he 
 heard : 
 
 "Why, Colonel Latham! Glad to see you! When 
 did you get here?" And Colonel White extended a 
 cordial hand. 
 
 "In 1863 — a — only this morning," Latham 
 answered, pulling himself together bravely; but tak- 
 ing the other's hand rather absently. " Business for 
 some of my people; and Stella wrote she needed me, 
 as her visit is nearing its end." 
 
268 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "I regretted much, when she told me so," White 
 answered, gravely. "I have had the privilege of see- 
 ing so much of Miss Latham, colonel, that I will miss 
 her, in common with all Washington — at least, all of 
 it that she will permit to know her." 
 
 ''Naturally all Virginia ladies must make election, 
 just now," Latham replied. "Faces and families in 
 Washington are new to us now ; and it is the exception 
 when we meet courtesy and greeting, like yours, for 
 instance. But, of course, we cannot expect — nor 
 seek them." 
 
 "I understand that," White said, quietly. "You 
 Virginians have so much pride." 
 
 "Only in assertion of our rights," was the reply. 
 "But in social matters we do not come in iorma 
 pauperis.^' 
 
 "Which w^ay were you \valking so fast?" White 
 asked, shifting to the safer ground. 
 
 "To — a — the Treasury Department," Latham 
 answered, looking at his Avatch; "but it is rather 
 late, so I'll go to my cousin's — Mrs. Dandridge's." 
 
 "If you don't mind five minutes, I'll w^alk with 
 you," White answered, quickh-. "I was onh' going 
 to order a basket for Miss Latham. I have a green- 
 house permit, and I know she is fond of flowers." 
 
 Latham nodded assent, looking keenly into the 
 frank, handsome face of his late foe. Stella, his 
 favorite sister, had paid several visits to her cousin 
 and schoolmate, Betty Dandridge; and she had 
 written, and spoken, very kindly of Colonel White. 
 Both had met him, on Latham's first visit after the 
 :surrender; and his courteous, but frank, views of 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 269 
 
 "the situation" had caused them to "take to" him 
 more than to any other habitue of Mrs. Dandridge's 
 somewhat piebald receptions. A small wondering 
 query crept into Latham's mind, as they walked 
 toward that lady's ; but at her door, he asked cor- 
 dially: 
 
 "Shall we have the pleasure of seeing you 
 to-night?" 
 
 "I hope so, if I am not too late. I have an engage- 
 ment in — By the wa}', she is one ' of you ' ; a fair 
 Confederate with a wealth of accomplishments and 
 mineral lands ; and a horsewoman to shame Di 
 Vernon's self! " 
 
 "A Virginian?" Latham asked, absently. His 
 mind went straight back to that ride, so freighted 
 wath bitter memories now, w^hen another woman 
 had ridden like Di Vernon. 
 
 "No; from the far South," the colonel answered. 
 " What your people call 'of the Paris Confederacy.' 
 She has just returned from a European visit of years; 
 full of music and languages, and is visiting Mrs. 
 Craig, in that small rebeldom, Georgetown. I have 
 an idea that I may unearth a small romance — 
 Hello ! there's my car. Hope to see you to-night ; 
 au revoir !" and the officer ran to board his car. 
 
 Latham found the ladies out calling; and, loung- 
 ing into Mrs. Dandridge's handsome librarv, he 
 picked up the afternoon paper and — began to think 
 again. More coolly, his mind went over the same 
 ground it had covered in feverish haste that morn- 
 ing; but, strive as he would, he could decide nothing, 
 and wearied matter finally triumphed over wearied 
 
270 JOHN HOJ.DEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 mind. When lie awoke — sitting bolt upright, at 
 once, from camp habit — a tall, beautiful woman 
 stood beside him ; the gleaming arms and low cor- 
 sage of dinner dress telling the hour, and a sauc}- 
 pout still on the full lips that had waked him wdth a 
 kiss. 
 
 "You runaway!" those lips said. "Betty and I 
 w^aited a full hour. Now you're sleeping as though 
 you had lunched at Harvey's ! " 
 
 "But I've had no lunch, Stella dear," he answered. 
 "I was detained by business — " 
 
 "Of course! You're as ready as a married man! 
 Next time I get a new brother, he shall be no business 
 man. But, you poor, dear boy," she went on, sitting 
 by him and passing her grand arm about him, "you 
 do look tired. Go up and bathe your red ej^es, before 
 Betty comes down to dinner." 
 
 " An}' company ? " he asked, wearily. "No ? Then 
 I'll talk to you instead of beautifying. Stella, 
 Colonel White may drop in this evening." 
 
 "I hope so," Miss Latham answ^ered. "Then I 
 can thank him for that basket of rare flowers I 
 found waiting my return. Bud — " her eyes came 
 quickly back to him, from the bouquet — "I'm so glad 
 we are going back home ! " 
 
 "Why, Stella! I thought you wrote you were 
 having ' a lovely time ? ' " 
 
 "I was, Bev. ; but I'm tired now of being received 
 l)y the truly good and loyal, only on sufferance." 
 
 "Sufferance — not suffrage — is the badge of all our 
 -tribe," he paraphrased in his old fashion. 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 271 
 
 "I don't vote," she answered, saucily. **Why! 
 what do YOU think a fearful creature, with red hair 
 and a squint, asked me this morning? " 
 
 "Almost anything, from such a source," he 
 laughed. 
 
 "She asked if all Southern women did not feel like 
 wearing sackcloth and ashes, for urging our men to 
 fight against 'the flag ! ' " 
 
 "Well; you should," he answered, lightly. 
 
 "I told her we did not object to ashes— of roses," 
 the woman returned saucily, "and that I'd rather 
 wear sackcloth — tailor made— than some of the mon- 
 strous toilettes I saw in Washington. I saw her 
 glance at the mirror, for she wore a perfect terror ! 
 But, poor things! How should the wives and 
 daughters of men, suddenly rich on government 
 swindling, know how to dress? " 
 
 "But, sister mine, do all your Washington friends 
 receive you on sufferance? Buds from the govern- 
 ment greenhouse do not say so ! " 
 
 "Colonel White is — a gentleman," Stella said, 
 briefly, but her e^^es left her brother's and rested on 
 the handsome basket. 
 
 "And a scholar," the man finished for her. "No, 
 don't pout, Stella! I like and respect him, if he is a 
 — Union ofiicer who fought against us ! " 
 
 "He was right! Colonel White is a New Yorker, 
 bom and reared; a graduate of West Point," the 
 Yirginia girl retorted warmly. "And, had he not 
 fought for his flag, he would be a — scalawag! " 
 
 "Certainly; and no man respects honest opposi- 
 tion more than I," her brother answered, frankly. 
 
272 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Colonel White, and thousands like him, could have 
 done nothing else and -won our respect." 
 
 "I knew that, you grand old boy!" she cried. 
 "That was the reason you stopped their lynching 
 that old scalawag in Alabama, like — " 
 
 "The ass that I was ! " he finished, rising from the 
 sofa and striding awa_y. Her chance word recalled 
 the morning's meeting too sharply; but he controlled 
 himself, sitting quietly by her again. 
 
 "Sister, you are a \voman, and a clever one," he 
 said gravely. "I am j-our junior, and not a society 
 man now; but I have learned too well that sudden 
 intimacies bring w^oful results, sometimes." 
 
 Stella Latham slipped her slim, patrician hand 
 trustfully into his, as she answered : 
 
 "Do not be alarmed, bud. The Lathams are not 
 given to social indiscretion; and I will not need a 
 caution, until there is more ground for it than any- 
 thing that — that Colonel White has yet said to me. 
 But," she added more lightly, as she turned her 
 flushed face full to him, "you are such an ingrained, 
 old business bachelor now, you will never let me have 
 a chance at 3"ou, as I used to. Just wait until you — 
 meet jour fate ! " 
 
 "Perhaps I have met her, Stella! " 
 The tone, rather than the words, made the girl 
 turn and stare at her darling, as she exclaimed: 
 ' ' Be V, I really believe you are in earnest ! And you 
 never told mamma, or me ? Are you serious ? " 
 
 "If I ever was in my life, dear! Hush ! here comes 
 Betty. After coffee, I'll tell you all about it, Stella. 
 No^v, I must talk chaff to her! " 
 
IT WAS A NOTEWORTHY COUPLE.— Page 281. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 273 
 
 He smoothed the frown from his forehead; and 
 the voice was quiet and easy that bartered common- 
 place and badinage with the others. But the elab- 
 orate dinner seemed unusually long to Stella Latham ; 
 her deep love for her brother stimulated by woman's 
 curiosit3\ So she dragged him from Mr. Dandridge's 
 "Cabanas, "back to the Hbrary,to hear his romance. 
 Franklj^, in detail, and not without sense of relief, 
 Latham poured his full heart into her sympathetic 
 one. Yet— loyal and true, alike to himself and to 
 memory— he uttered no word of the doubt that had 
 arisen ; lauded the good, pure and high traits he had 
 loved in Jen Freeman, and onl}' said that she had 
 twice refused him. 
 
 "And you love her still, my brother? " Stella's lips 
 trembled, as she pressed them on his forehead. 
 
 "I believe — I fear I will love her always ! And yet, 
 I never wish to look upon her face again ! " 
 
 As he spoke, the brilliant drawing room changed to 
 a mountain cove, under the full moon ; and, through 
 its tree-sifted beams, he saw a white figure gliding 
 stealthiK' — to what ? 
 
 "But you never spoke her name, Bev.," Stella said, 
 softly. "No, bud! Don't! I was silly!" 
 
 "It is a simple name, sister; Jen Freeman." 
 
 "Freeman ? " she echoed. " What a strange coinci- 
 dence! " 
 
 "What do you mean ? " He stared now. 
 
 "Nothing; but that is the name of the girl Colonel 
 White — ^raves about; his 'romance,' as he calls her, 
 though he never will explain ! " 
 
 18 
 
274 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST, 
 
 "It is not an unusual name," Latham answered, 
 graYeh^ " But the lady he spoke of to me must be a 
 very different woman from the pure mountain maid 
 I learned to love." 
 
 "I hope so," Stella answered absently; her eyes 
 fixed upon White's basket. "She must have been a 
 dangerous woman for an}^ true man to meet ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXII. 
 "a knot of ribbon blue." 
 
 It was a luxurious office of tlie War Department 
 that Beverly Latham entered, to be warmly greeted 
 bv Colonel White, on the morning after his confes- 
 sion. 
 
 "Delighted to see you, colonel," the officer said^ 
 cordially grasping his hand. "You know Captain 
 Darrell, I believe ? Sit dowm and have a cigar. Was 
 very sorry not to call last night ; but I could not get 
 off from Georgetown early enough. Mrs. Craig had 
 an impromptu musicale. You know Mrs. Craig, of 
 
 course 
 
 ?" 
 
 "No, it w^as before my day that Mr. Craig was a 
 a Southern leader in the senate, " Latham explained. 
 "But the fame of his brilliant wife penetrated even 
 to the V. M. I.; and she was a friend of my mother's. 
 But I did not know- that she w^as living here." 
 
 "No, but she has been here all winter, using her 
 vast acquaintance and resistless social power for 
 w^hat you w^ould call 'the good cause. ' " 
 
 "It is a good cause," the Southerner answered, 
 gravely, "to uphold right against might. But, par- 
 don my broaching politics to you. " 
 
 275 
 
276 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "You need not," Captain Darrell broke in. "I do n't 
 think that either White or I need conversion. We 
 are so much in Hne with the president's present 
 views that, if not 'disloj^al,' we are about as near 
 'copperheads ' as men may be, who wear these ! " and 
 he laughed, as he touched his shoulder straps. 
 
 "Darrell was with the general on the Potomac," 
 White said, frankly ; "and I was with Sherman at 
 the wind-up. Like all men at the front, we believe 
 that matters would have rested on the basis of the 
 surrender, had Mr. Lincoln been spared to us." 
 
 "To the country, you might say," Latham replied- 
 "We of the South — even more than you can — realize 
 a national calamity in the madman's act. But I 
 rejoice that Mrs. Craig is using her great influence 
 for good. " 
 
 "She is," White answered. "She is a splendid 
 woman in every way. She has quite captured me! " 
 
 " Love me, love m}^ aunt I " Darrell laughed ; but his 
 senior quickly, and rather uneasih', cried : 
 
 "What nonsense you talk, Fred! I have onh-^ seen 
 Mrs. Craig's niece three times ! " 
 
 "Selfdefense is half accusation! " thejunior retorted. 
 "Is it not, Colonel Latham? But he is excusable. 
 I onlv wish ' Phil Sheridan ' were my horse, and I 
 w^ere to ride with her this evening. I'm half jealous 
 of my chief, as it is. " 
 
 "But, Darrell," White protested, "Colonel Latham 
 does not know Miss Freeman. " 
 
 At the name, Latham felt the blood surge to his 
 face ; and he looked far, through the windows, across 
 the Potomac, as he answered : 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UiNIONIST. 277 
 
 "No, but her name recalled that of friends, when I 
 served in Alabama. " 
 
 ' ' Alabama ! Why I thought you served in Virginia ! " 
 White cried, suddenly ; and his hand mechanically 
 went toward a half opened drawer. 
 
 "I did, mostly; but one summer I hunted deserters 
 about Sand Mountain, while I served under General 
 Forrest. " 
 
 A strange expression passed across White's face, 
 now turned steadily to the speaker. Then he said 
 slowly, and as though hj accident : 
 
 "I was with Colonel Streight, when Forrest gob- 
 bled us. Were you opposite us when we crossed the 
 Tennessee? " 
 
 "If you will swear not to hang me, I'll confess," 
 the Southerner answered, laughing. "I held that 
 crossing by dummy fires, and by running the legs 
 nearl}^ off m^- nine men, — playing army in front! " 
 
 White sprang up, extending his hand: "Shake! 
 No other man ever so deceived Streight ; ever made 
 such an ass of an advance commander ! No ! I know, 
 I guess; I led it! " 
 
 The late foes shook hands warmly, laughing over 
 the incident; but Latham grew grave again. Once 
 more his gaze wandered out over the Potomac ; as 
 memory recalled another night, when she had come 
 through dark and rain, and those wild days succeed- 
 ing. Once more his heart grew chill with dread, then 
 bounded with joy and pride unspeakable, as he 
 strained her to it, and Forrest's voice, high over hoof 
 and cannon, called : "Well done, sir ! " 
 
278 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 But he came back to the present suddenly ; for 
 White was staring at him keenh^ as he said : 
 
 "Mrs. Senator Craig is an Alabamian. Perhaps 
 those Freemans you knew were also relatives of 
 hers?" 
 
 " Impossible ; they w^ere plain countrj^ people," 
 Latham answered. The idea that had sprung into 
 his mind when Stella called the name had been dis- 
 missed from it. But he wondered at the strange 
 expression in White's ej-es, as he added: "I am all 
 the prouder to call you my friend now. White; for, as 
 Colonel Damas sa\'s: 'We never know how much 
 we like a man, until we have fought him ! ' " 
 
 "This makes romance of the war number two, 
 White," laughed Darrell; and, spite of the other's 
 warning glance, he went on: "The other, 'tenderer 
 far to tell,' w^as in that same raid, where you plaj^ed 
 him off so! " 
 
 '^You had a romance there?" Latham cried, sud- 
 denly' . 
 
 "Scarcely that; only an odd adventure," White 
 replied uneasily, "not worthy of that name." 
 
 "Wasn't it? What would j^ou call it. Colonel 
 Latham," the inveterate chaffer ran on glibh% "if 
 a fellow carried through the war a scrap of ribbon, 
 once blue, but now tri-color from camp dirt ? " 
 
 Latham colored to the very roots of his hair; but 
 feeling White's inquisitorial glance, though he could 
 comprehend no reason for it — he answered, gravely : 
 
 "Not a romance, necessarily, captain. I did that; 
 but " — he drew the dented locket from his breast — "it 
 was on the portraits of mother and sister." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 279 
 
 " May I see them ? " White asked, eagerly extending 
 his hand ; and now his face was the one that flushed 
 as Stella's pictured eyes met his. Yet, his left them^ 
 gazing on that frayed' and faded knot of blue; and 
 again his hand wandered to the half opened drawer, 
 just as the clock chimed the quarter to noon. 
 
 Discipline bowled out sentiment. The soldier 
 sprang up, handing back the locket with a parting 
 glance at Stella's face, as he said : 
 
 "I must leave you with Darrell now. Pardon 
 want of ceremony, but the general wants me at 
 noon." 
 
 "No, I will walk with you," Latham answered. 
 "I have an engagement at that hour, and with even 
 a bigger man than General Grant ! ' ' 
 
 "Treason again!" Darrell laughed. "And in the 
 very Department of War! By Jove! you Virginians 
 do beat the world ! " he added glancing at the square, 
 plain-enveloped card Latham had extended : "Listen ! 
 'The president will receive Mr. Latham of Virginia, 
 at twelve o'clock this day ' !" 
 
 "You forget, Virginia is the mother of presidents," 
 White answered. 
 
 "Rather, the grandmother, now," Latham 
 retorted. "And not of all presidents. She has not 
 yet adopted Andy Johnson. But he can be of infi- 
 nite good to my suffering compatriots ; and I am 
 grateful for this opportunity he gives me to speak 
 for them, to him ! " 
 
 White had buttoned his coat and taken his hat, 
 ready to move ; but suddenly, missing some paper, 
 he opened the drawer and hastily pulled out several. 
 
280 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 As he did so — nnnoted by him — a faded strip of blue 
 ribbon fell fluttering to the floor. But Latham's 
 eyes w^ere riveted upon it ; his face flushed hotly, then 
 grew deadly pale. As in a flash of lightning, the 
 midnight figure at the farm stood before him. Like 
 a knell the words of the old cripple sounded in his 
 ears! For this trifle "light as air" was to his mor- 
 bid brooding "confirmation strong" of his most 
 horrible suspicion. There was no doiibt now of 
 Jen's falsity to herself, if not to him ; for he could 
 have sworn to that ribbon, its jagged end severed by 
 his own knife ! 
 
 This was White's romance! The knot of ribbon 
 had been gage of love from — her. White was the 
 Yankee rival, of whom the doting cripple had 
 wrarned him ! But White, busy on his search, noted 
 neither Latham's tell-tale face, nor the loss of his 
 trophy. But Darrell, stooping for it, cried gaily : 
 
 "You'll lose your romance ribbon, recreant 
 knight!" 
 
 White turned quickly, took the ribbon and thrust 
 it hastih^ in his breast ; then said to Latham: 
 
 "I am at 3'our service now." 
 Neither spoke until they reached the dividing gate 
 of the W^hite House grounds, about to separate. 
 Then, after brief "good-morning," White stared after 
 the other, saying to himself: 
 
 "By Jove! but the world is very small. iJe cer- 
 tainly is the man; but can she be Miss Hartley's 
 friend? Pshaw! 'tis only odd coincidence; but I will 
 find out this afternoon." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 281 
 
 It was a noteworthy- couple that galloped across 
 the Georgetown bridge, a while before sunset ; both 
 sitting their fine horses like masters of that exercise 
 which witches worlds. The lady's tailor-made habit 
 plainly spoke its Paris fashioning; adding to the 
 perfection of her perfectly developed figure, lissome 
 and natural as that of a wood nymph. The coiled 
 masses of her hair flushed warm to the kiss of the 
 declining sun ; and the slim, gauntletted hands con- 
 trolled "Phil Sheridan's" fretful head with graceful 
 ease. And, not without pride. Colonel White noted 
 the glances of admiration that followed the pair, as 
 the^^ passed around the White House grounds and 
 struck for the Arlington bridge. 
 
 But only the pleasant chatter of societ\' — picked 
 out by the woman's keen dissection of composite 
 architecture, or quick criticism of not wholh' artistic 
 statuary — occupied them, as they crossed the broad 
 Potomac, now cool after the kiss of the sun, that 
 only paused to gild the heights of Arlington. From 
 them, as the horses rested, both looked back over 
 wdde-reaching panorama of street and dome and 
 spire, fronted by wide-parked public grounds, and 
 already showing long vistas of blinking lights. 
 Then the man said, suddenU' : 
 
 ** Travel broadens one greatly. Miss Freeman." 
 
 "An accepted truism, colonel," she answered with 
 her frank smile. " But what called it up just then ? " 
 
 "Your clever comment, as we rode up here," he 
 said, simpU', "coupled with some wonder as to what 
 you would have said of all this in — well — say, in 
 August, 1863." 
 
282 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "I should have been struck dumb with wonder 
 then," she answered. "I was a simple countr\^ girl." 
 
 "How long were 3'ou abroad? " he asked, quickl^^ 
 
 "Since that Yer3' year; in the autumn." 
 
 "And you ran the blockade, because you were tired 
 of the war? Because you feared its privations ?" 
 She looked very grave, but still answered calmly : 
 
 "No, I went because papa insisted, and an aunt in 
 Wilmington urged its advantages." 
 
 "And, for them, you turned your back upon all the 
 romance of the war? Pardon me, but I presume 
 ever^' Southern girl saw — or dreamed of— some pretty 
 romance in it ! " 
 
 " Why should you ? " she asked, graveh'. " We felt 
 sympathy, suspense, pity; but these are not the 
 basis of romance. It was all so dift'erent, on our 
 side, from Avhat you knew, on this." 
 
 "Perhaps," he answered, "but much of these 
 abided with us, also, especially in such times as For- 
 rest was chasing Colonel Streight and me outof 3'our 
 neighborhood." 
 
 " Fou were down there?" Jen exclaimed. Then 
 suddenly a burning blush overspread cheeks, brow 
 and neck ; and she gazed across the river steadily, as 
 she asked : 
 
 " Did 3'ou stay long ? Did you know anyone ?" 
 
 "Not longer than it took m^^ horse to carry me 
 out of Forrest's reach, before he gobbled us," White 
 answered frankly. "And the onh' person I remem- 
 ber is your pretty friend — Miss Hartley ! " 
 
 Jen Freeman tvirned full to her companion, not 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 283 
 
 blushing now, but very pale, tiiougli the evening 
 glow was warm upon her hair. 
 
 "Colonel White," she said with quiet dignity, "we 
 are almost strangers ; but, even so, it is best that we 
 should not deal in riddles. You are doubtless the 
 Union officer who spoke my name to Miss Hartley, 
 so much to her surprise." She paused an instant; 
 but as he did not interrupt, she went on braveh-: 
 "Your courtesy to her then, and to me later, no less 
 than 3'our position here, assure me that you have 
 made no improper use of— of any surmise of your 
 own about any chance trophy jou may have cap- 
 tured from — a woman ! " 
 
 "I thank you sincerely for your confidence in my 
 honor. Miss Freeman," the Northern soldier 
 answered, lifting his hat. "I should blush for our 
 uniform if I thought it covered any man, who could 
 misuse an accident like that. You cannot object to 
 riddles more than I ; but I must correct your belief 
 that we are strangers. Since 1863, I have carried in 
 my heart a true and sincere admiration for a 
 woman, brave and generous enough to risk her life 
 for that of her defender! For all those years I have 
 safely kept what you call m\" 'chance trophy;' and, 
 — whatever story it may have — I have breathed no 
 word of to man or woman." 
 
 "I believe you, sir! " the girl said, earnestly. 
 
 "Then, if you be Miss Hartley's friend, this has 
 been kept only in trust for you." 
 
 He drew the ribbon from his breast, handing it to 
 her, his head still uncovered. 
 
284 JOHN H OLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "You are a brave, true man, Colonel White! " Jen 
 cried in her old, impulsive way. "Anj'thing that 
 this scrap of silk recalls matters not. Suffice it that 
 I thank you sincerely and regard your conduct that 
 of a true friend ! " 
 
 She thrust the ribbon into her bosom ; then held 
 out her hand frankl}^; and the man took it in his 
 with all the deference due to her sex, but with the 
 w^arm grasp of a comrade. 
 
 "You understand that I have had no opportunity 
 to mention this before," he said, quietly, "and I had 
 to be certain before I dared to speak. I should now 
 add that I shall not refer to this again ; and that — 
 finding this upon a bush that night, I spoke to Aliss 
 Hartley, more in jest than earnest, when I chanced 
 i:o hear that you were her guest." 
 
 For one instant Jen Freeman's brown eyes — better 
 trained now", than when she had lost that ribbon — 
 studied his face. The next she said, very gently: 
 
 "Again, I thank you from my heart. Now -we 
 must gallop home. Aunt Virginia will expect me 
 -earlv, for Mrs. Dent's musicale to-night." 
 
CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 A PRESIDENT, BY PISTOL SHOT. 
 
 Whex Latham left Colonel White, and strode 
 toward the presidential mansion, it required all his 
 will to coerce his brain to some thought of the grave 
 matters he must consider in the coming interview. 
 Will, sense of duty, and self-respect combined against 
 memory ; but his brain would whirl in a chaos of 
 ideas, through which, spite of every effort, floated 
 that faded knot of ribbon — proof to him now of his 
 very \vorst suspicions. But, by supreme effort of 
 will, he forced his mind to that strange course of 
 destiny — or of chance? — which had carried Andrew 
 Johnson to the highest office in the gift of the nation. 
 In early life a tailor for many years, at the town of 
 Greenville, Tennessee, that crude but vigorous North 
 Carolinian had developed traits which could but 
 command the respect even of an ultra Southerner. 
 Wholly self-educated, without the aid of even com- 
 mon schools, he had forced his \vay, through every 
 grade of civic office and state legislature, to the 
 national congress ; and, elected to it as a democrat, 
 in 1843, had served for five successive terms. Thence 
 he had been twice governor of Tennessee, leaving the 
 chair only to take one in the United States senate; 
 
286 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 and to become there the pronounced and bitter 
 Unionist, whose choice for vice president in 1864- was 
 plain political sequence of his appointment as mili- 
 tary governor of his state, two years previous to 
 that date. 
 
 Essentially a self-made man, Andrew Johnson was 
 a born politician ; and his sleepless ambition was 
 backed by indomitable energy and will, and b\' that 
 rare power of biding his time. Yet his wildest 
 dreams, perhaps, had never brought this final verifi- 
 cation of the truism that "All things come to him 
 who waits." But his opportunity came \vith that 
 alarm of the ultra party, inspired by the candidacy 
 of that pure and popular soldier — believed by the 
 masses of the North to be a martyr to prejudice — 
 George B. McClellan. Republican leaders eagerW 
 cast about for a Southern Unionist for second place on 
 the Lincoln ticket; and availability pointed straight 
 to Andrew Johnson as the only possible Southern 
 republican. 
 
 Then — following the few^ weeks that he occupied 
 the second chair — came the hideous and senseless 
 crime which deprived the whole nation of its head 
 and of its hope, and riveted the shackles about the 
 wrists of one half of it. And then the hand that had 
 patched breeches on the village bench took firm grasp 
 of the helm of state, at that moment of stress and 
 storm, most critical of any in our history. 
 
 As much as any man in the land, Mr. Johnson had 
 felt the scourging whips of sectional prejudice in his 
 own person. Misjudgment, invective and oppro- 
 "brious epithet had been hurled at him, not only in his 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 287 
 
 native and adopted states, but from all their sisters 
 of the South ; and their echoes had traveled far north 
 of the imaginary division line ; 
 
 Returning not to bless, but deeply damn, 
 
 -with exceptional virulence of party method. He had 
 been denounced not only as a traitor to his section, 
 but an enemy to his country; and there was suf- 
 ficient force in some of the counts of the indictment 
 to make them all rankle the more bitterly. For 
 Andrew Johnson was by no means a perfect charac- 
 ter in private, any more than he w^as a truly great 
 one in public. He w^as one product of that stormy 
 period of ante-bellum politics, succeeding the repeal 
 of the Missouri compromise ; and, in his time, he 
 doubtless had been an arrant demagogue. But cold, 
 clear-headed and watchful, he had nerve sufficient to 
 sink the person in the politician ; and it is probable 
 that spite had far less to do wnth the changes of 
 his career than had careful judgment, veered by the 
 steady set of selfish ambition. 
 
 None could allege, however, that the president had 
 been inconsistent in his devotion to the Union, from 
 his first stand against secession ; nor had he lacked 
 the courage to maintain his rights, wdien he once 
 believed he knew them. And now, Latham recalled 
 the first and only time that he had seen the president. 
 He had chanced at Montgomery, the "Cradle of 
 the Confederacy," at the moment the Third Alabama 
 regiment departed for Virginia. This corps d elite 
 was made up of "crack" volunteer companies from 
 Alabama cities ; and it went forth with drum beats 
 
288 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 and sentiment and high hopes — later echoed by 
 waiHng and despair in many an Alabama mansion — 
 in late April of 1861. Latham accompanied "the 
 boys," himself a stripling truant from school; and 
 on that train he took his first object lesson in politi- 
 cal ^var. 
 
 Tennessee had not yet seceded, but hung in the 
 sensitive balance as "a doubtful state;" so at Dal- 
 ton, beyond her lines, the men were especially cau- 
 tioned by their officers that they were about to pass 
 across "neutral ground;" and strict orders were 
 given for prudence, quiet and avoidance of any pos- 
 sible overt act. But at Knoxville, it was learned 
 that Andrew Johnson had been making a pro-Union 
 speech that day at a station above, and that the sol- 
 diers' train would pass his within an hour. Again 
 the officers warned the Alabamians ; enjoining abso- 
 lute silence, as the trains passed. This order was 
 obeyed by the men in the front cars ; but those 
 behind them, catching sight of the great and hated 
 Tennesseean, sent up a wild howl of derision, hate 
 and devilry which their comrades could not resist. 
 High over steam and w^heels — spite of the quickly 
 blown and continued whistles of both engines — went 
 up a cry which made even that fearless publicist turn 
 pale, as Andrew Johnson dashed by, sitting silent, 
 but -with his hat pulled far down over his face. No 
 indignity was offered, beyond that vocal reproba- 
 tion; but that was bitter, wild and vengeful enough 
 to be considered the true sire of every succedent 
 "rebel yell."* 
 
 * This incident is literally true ; described by an ey e witness. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 289 
 
 The bitterness and severity of Mr. Jolinson's 
 earlier course against the states lately in rebellion, 
 was not a source of surprise to those who had 
 studied his record ; but these were astounded at its 
 radical change under the seeming honest impulse of 
 duty he believed he owed to his high position, and 
 the oath he had taken on assuming it. In place of 
 bitter vindictiveness had come the firmly asserted 
 intent to protect the conquered section from illegal 
 congressional aggression ; and Southern men, espe- 
 cially such as Latham, found it easy to obtain access 
 to the head of the nation. For the young Virginian 
 — following the wiser teachings of advanced think- 
 ers like Wade Hampton — was not only read}^ to 
 accept the results of the war as final, but also to make 
 best endeavor to use the delicate and uncertain situ- 
 ation for the greatest attainable common good. 
 But such Southerners as approached Andrew John- 
 son soon learned that they must have something to 
 say beyond personal gain, flattery or flippant com- 
 monplace, if they desired a second interview with 
 the baited and overworked executive. 
 
 As Latham waited his audience, he noted that 
 neither the corridors of the White House nor the 
 rooms he glanced into, gave much evidence of neat- 
 ness or care. It was plain that the president had 
 too much on his mind just then to waste thought on 
 domestic economy of his household ; and this proof 
 of absorption in weighty affairs, perhaps, fixed his 
 own excited mind now calmly upon them. So he 
 was cool and earnest, when the private secretary 
 
290 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 announced that he could enter the private cabinet of 
 the arbiter of much he had at heart. 
 
 As he did so, a man of ordinary mould, to the 
 casual glance, rose from a desk littered with piles of 
 documents, and welcomed him with a curt nod. The 
 form was that of one in preserved middle life, of 
 medium height, thickset, and still showing vigorous 
 strength and active energy. The full face \vas 
 strong, but smooth, speaking firmness of resolve and 
 indomitable self-reliance; and the broad, square brow 
 was overhung by careless locks of iron gray hair. 
 A shade of care and annoyance w^as on the president's 
 face, clouding it as though his last visitor had left no 
 very pleasant impression. But he spoke courteously, 
 if bluntly, as Lathain returned his salutation : 
 
 "I am glad to see you, sir, as an honest Virginian." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. President," Latham replied. "I 
 fully appreciate your promptness in granting me an 
 interview." 
 
 "It is not a matter of grace, sir. These things are 
 mutual," Mr. Johnson answered. "It is no less a 
 relief than it is a necessity to meet men like yourself; 
 men who have no private axes to grind and are not 
 seeking office for themselves, or friends. Did you 
 notice the man who left me just as you entered? 
 Well, he is a Union man from Tennessee. He claims 
 to have so suffered and sacrificed himself for the 
 cause of principle — and possibly he speaks the truth — 
 that he deserves to be made a saint. But, as I can- 
 not do that for him, he demands the best paj-ing 
 office in my gift, within his district. I presume you 
 have found out that patriotism has an eye open to 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 291 
 
 pav, in these times on which we have fallen. Love 
 of country is not satisfying to any Southern loj-alist, 
 unless accompanied by an office. The fatter the 
 office, the bluer his loyalty ! " * 
 
 "I doubt not that there is much unselfish patriot- 
 ism left in this country, Mr. President," the Virginian 
 answered, "biit I doubt, also, if most of it centers in 
 "Washington." 
 
 "You are right, sir; perfectly right ! " the president 
 exclaimed. "God knows I am trying to deal justly 
 by the whole country. But there are grave matters 
 which must largeh^ be left to readjust themselves, 
 before v\re can heal the w^ounds made by the Rebel- 
 lion! You see, sir — every honest man must see — on 
 what quibbles congress endeavors to thwart my 
 every effi^rt to the real end ! " 
 
 "It was upon that very point I desired to speak to 
 you, sir," Latham replied. "I wish to ascertain 
 truly what chance the people of Virginia — of course I 
 mean the w^hite people — have to get control of affairs, 
 w^hich they alone can control." 
 
 "The suffrage, as now^ existent — disfranchisement 
 for cause and without cause — are the obstacles to 
 surmount, sir. Your people wnll have to bide their 
 time, Mr. Latham ; and thc}^, in common with those 
 of the whole South, must muzzle their demagogues. 
 If the leaders wnll not be discreet from principle — 
 damn it, sir ! the followers must force them to be so, 
 from policy!" 
 
 "I am deeply curious about the outcome of con- 
 gressional obstruction," Latham said, gravely. 
 
 *Andre\v Johnson's own -words. 
 
292 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Of course you are! The whole country' must be 
 so," Mr. Johnson retorted quickly. "But you can- 
 not expect me to know more of it than you, or any 
 honest man. I am neither a prophet nor the son of 
 a prophet ; and I would be probably the last man to 
 get the real truth, from anyone who comes to me. 
 It has grown to a political principle that the proper 
 lie, well stuck to, will serve better! But one thing 
 \'ou can depend upon, sir," the president rose, lock- 
 ing his hands behind him, and facing his visitor 
 frankly, "I will do the best that is in me to protect 
 the states lately in rebellion in their reserved rights. 
 State's rights now become a matter of national 
 rights ; but congress has come to believe that all 
 rights begin in one wing of the capitol and end in the 
 other. Northern people are now instructed to think 
 that you of the South, who took part in the Rebel- 
 lion, have no political rights ; but, in that phrase 
 they include all rights — civil, social and personal! " 
 
 " I realize that fulh', sir, ' ' Latham answered. ' ' But 
 with us in Virginia, just now, social and personal 
 rights are the Aaron's rod, that swallows all the 
 rest." 
 
 "Whv, sir," the president went on, "immediately 
 after the peace, a bare minority of republican mem- 
 bers was clamorous to relegate every secession state 
 to a territorial form of government. I ma}- have 
 had some sentiment that way myself; for I tell you, 
 Mr. Latham," — the speaker began to walk the room 
 slowly, keeping his ej^es on his hearer, — "in the first 
 intoxication of success, we were a set of damned 
 fools ! But reason soon set sentiment aside ; for how 
 
JOHN HOLDEiX, UNIONIST. 293 
 
 could we keep that Union, for which we had spent 
 so much blood and more treasure, by putting out 
 now those we had just whipped in — whom we had 
 persistently declared had no right to go out? " 
 
 "The congressional paradox seems to be, Mr. 
 President : ' Preserve the Union, by destroj-ing it ! ' " 
 
 "Precisely, Mr. Latham. Damn it, sir! those 
 ultras in congress are the new secesh ! But, sir, the 
 sturdy common sense of this country will permit no 
 such legislated suicide when it shall have had the 
 time to reach upon blatant greed for re-election ; and 
 meantime, I shall meet every move the^^make against 
 the just rights of the states by showing them the 
 vital rights of the Union ! " 
 
 The president was deeply in earnest, evidently ; but 
 he showed no excitement, in face or gesture, further 
 than his restless walk and occasional lapse into 
 habitual — if not most dignified — forms of speech. 
 Deep refinement w^as not the forte of the president, 
 perhaps; but "scratching him with a pin" was not 
 proved to be a safe operation, so perhaps no man 
 knew how" deep below Andrew Johnson's cuticle was 
 to be found "the Tartar." Suddenly he stopped in 
 front of his visitor; unclasjDcd the hands behind him, 
 and said simpU- : 
 
 "But all talk is dry. Mr. Latham, w^ill you try a 
 glass of sherry ? Or, do you prefer a nip of good old 
 Tennessee whisky?" He pointed to a small ante- 
 room, as he added: "I wnll vouch for its 'lo^-alty,' 
 sir; but that need not offend a sensible man." 
 
 Realizing that it was not every day that a freshly 
 reconstructed rebel was asked to drink with the head 
 
294 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 of the new .nation, Latham promptly accepted; and, 
 still standing in the ante-room, Mr. Johnson went 
 on gravely : 
 
 "Ah ! you like it, sir? Now we can look at the sit- 
 uation with more equanimity. Do 3^ou know what 
 will be the outcome of this struggle, as far as I am 
 personally concerned ? " 
 
 "It will end by your ability to teach the congress 
 some reason, I hope," was the frank reply. 
 
 "No, sir! It is too soon after the war for calm 
 reason to Avin, I am confident. It will end in a deter- 
 mined effort to put me out of the White House, sir ! 
 And I tell you that effort will be made before many 
 months. You can go back and tell your people that 
 Andrew Johnson will be president of the United 
 States, so long as he is president at all. They may 
 make a new^ rebellion in Washington, sir ; but so far 
 as my office is concerned, the old rebellion is over! 
 And those states, lately in it, shall have their rights 
 to the full extent that they are given by the statute 
 la\v and the decisions of the supreme court ! " 
 
 "And you really believe that the house of repre- 
 sentatives will endeavor to impeach you, Mr. Presi- 
 dent?" 
 
 "Why not? The republican majorit\^ find me the 
 sole obstacle in the path to perpetuation of party rule, 
 through negro suffrage and disfranchisement of 
 ex-rebels like yourself! The earth belongs to the 
 saints of the Lord, Mr. Latham; and the majority 
 alone are saints. And a damned nice collection of 
 saints that is, at the other end of the avenue, sir ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 295 
 
 "And you really believe in the attempt, sir?" the 
 Virginian again asked, earnestly. 
 
 ''That is precisely what I mean to say, sir. They 
 will do it if they dare, and just as soon as they dare. 
 They will try to shift the real cause to this War 
 Department muddle. I do not believe that they can 
 make General Grant a nose of wax in their dirty fin- 
 gers, sir; but Stanton is a good enough Morgan. If 
 they do not "ride him to death, he will be their war 
 horse. They have mounted him for a hobby, 
 already." 
 
 "But your friends in the house? Surely they can 
 prevent so extreme a measure?" Latham queried. 
 
 "They are scarcely enough, at present, even to 
 make a respectable fight, where so many diverse per- 
 sonal interests will enter into it," the president 
 replied thoughtfully, seemingly as much to him- 
 self as to his listener. "Congress, at this moment, 
 is like the handle of a jug; pretty much on one side. 
 But, sir, I will not detain you with personal plaints. 
 You need have no anxiety about this matter. I shall 
 manage to weather this storm. Let them who made 
 it look to their own safety ! But, sir, go back to 
 your people and tell them that, if the man sinks, the 
 principle that carried him down will rise again. As 
 for your people, tell them they must look to their 
 own life-preservers. Warn them to keep quiet and 
 take no rash steps ; to perform every political and 
 public duty possible; and, where disfranchised, to 
 petition congress constantly for removal of disabili- 
 ties. If this congress refuses, the next one may not. 
 
296 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 In a short while you will have your chance, sir ; and 
 then I hope to see your people use it with more com- 
 mon sense than the South has usually shown when 
 her opportunities came ! Good-bye, sir ; and remem- 
 ber to tell your people the truth ! ' ' 
 
CHAPTER XXIV. | 
 
 AFTER LONG YEARS. 
 
 Mrs. Dandridge and Stella Latham were frequent 
 — and deeply interested — visitors to the senate gal- 
 lery in those days, so fraught with meaning to them ; 
 for the future of their loved South hung in the sensi- 
 tive balance. 
 
 The struggle was well on, between that imperious 
 congress which brooked no interference with its will, 
 and the executive who had turned back to the earlier 
 paths of his political life. And in that gallery — while 
 Latham talked to the president — the two ladies met 
 Mrs. Dent, an acknowledged "leader" in the new 
 society of the capital. Young, handsome and very 
 rich — by recent marriage to an ex-contractor, fat in 
 both senses — Mrs. Dent's claim to lead was accepted 
 by grace of terrapin, and sealed by the green wax of 
 her wine. For fe-w indeed troubled themselves, in 
 those days, as to how any man came by his money, 
 so long as he spent it freely; and the present specimen 
 was wholly regardless of its lavish use by his new 
 wife. He was proud of her beauty, and of her knack 
 for drawing about her notables of all shades ; and the 
 cara sposa herself, while a notable lion-hunter, was 
 frank, genial and peculiarh- independent. She openly 
 
298 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 declared "Southern people decidedly superior;"' 
 avowing herself thoroughly sick of political bias in 
 social matters, and "tired to death of having the 
 greatness of loyalty thrust in one's face." 
 
 ' ' Your people have thoroughly good style, my dear, ' *' 
 she had said to Stella. "They understand the conve- 
 nances, and do not bore me with gaucheries, like the 
 politicians and their squaws! Take that grand Mrs. 
 Craig, for example ; there 's no woman like her in our 
 society to-day. Mamma says she was the leader of 
 the senatorial set, ante bellum.'" But Mrs. Dent 
 omitted to add that mamma's knowledge came 
 through fitting Mrs. Craig's dresses in those aristo- 
 cratic days. "But, don't \'ou dare forget, my dear. 
 You and Mrs. Dandridge belong to me this evening. 
 Only a little affair — some ninety people ; but I want 
 you to meet Mrs. Craig, and hear her marvelous 
 niece! Such a beauty and — sucA a voice! Ah! senator, 
 you could not resist our presence ? But w^e all three 
 came hoping to hear you speak. You know Mrs. 
 Dandridge — and Miss Latham ? Staunch rebels both,, 
 so beware what you say, if jou repl}^ to Mr. Green. 
 And, senator, you must come this evening. I've 
 caged another Southern song-bird, almost equal tO' 
 Miss Latham!" 
 
 "You mean Miss Freeman, Mrs. Dent? She has 
 done in three wrecks, Miss Latham, what j^our Gen- 
 eral Lee failed in for four years. She has captured 
 Washington." 
 
 "Yes ; and our invulnerable mutual. Colonel White,, 
 has surrendered to her, rescue or no rescue!" Mrs. 
 Dent ran on. "I onlv wish that delightful brother 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 299 
 
 of yours were ill town,— What? He is! Then warn 
 him that Dent will never say Virginia again, unless 
 he conies with you! Ah! there's Dent now, at the 
 cloak-room door. Senator, will you take me down ? 
 Au revoir! I'll count on you both — and that 
 brother!" And the leader swept away, radiant, on 
 the senator's arm. 
 
 At dinner, Latham tried to refuse, pleading busi- 
 ness; but Airs. Dandridge overruled the plea; and 
 soon the party of four — for Mr. Dandridge was per- 
 mitted to count in that strange household — were 
 rolling toward Airs. Dent's gorgeous palace, in the 
 newest Northwest end. 
 
 Latham found himself in an alcove, wdth a bright 
 society girl, w^ho turned up a fine Grecian nose, at its 
 present mixture. 
 
 "But having lived here alwa\^s, you must know 
 ever^'body, Aliss Alerritt," he said. 
 
 "No ! my guardian angel is merciful," she answered. 
 "There are cases where ignorance is bliss, indeed! 
 I am a Yankee, and all my sympathies were on the 
 Northern side ; but I cannot blind myself to the plain 
 fact that the struggle to save our Union has thrown 
 some strange elements into our society." 
 
 "War is ever a great demoralizer," he answered, 
 "especially civil war. But, perhaps you think I 
 should say ' rebellion ? ' " 
 
 "Not at all," she laughed. "I am Union to the 
 core, but do not sit at the feet of Thaddeus Stevens 
 or Ben Wade. I can leave history to settle the name, 
 now that we have won. But 3'ou did not come ta 
 
300 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 hear politics, and there is something far better. Lis- 
 ten!" 
 
 "I agree with you," he answered, lightly, though 
 Avith a proud smile. "But I hear that as often as 
 politics. Mrs. Dent is showing off m\^ sister Stella; 
 >but she seems to be singing ' against her record ! ' " 
 
 "Or her rival, possibly. But let us go nearer," 
 Miss Merritt added. "I must hear that song." 
 
 It was the "Jewel Song " of the then new " Faust ;" 
 and the music was "just in " Miss Latham's voice. 
 Run, cadenza, sustained note — every phrase was 
 <rlear, pure and rounded as strung pearls. At the 
 finale, general applause from gloved hands was led 
 by Colonel White; and, leaning over her, he asked 
 the singer something. Again the Virginia girl sang ; 
 this time an even more difficult selection, from "La 
 Juive." But, as she finished, Miss Merritt 's exclama- 
 tion was stopped hj a stately, beautiful woman, of 
 middle age, leaning on the arm of Baron Grosswig, a 
 noted diplomat. 
 
 "Ah, dear Miss Merritt! " she said pleasantly. "I 
 had a triumph this morning. I captured your papa, 
 horse, foot and dragoons ! He promises to support 
 us, with his whole delegation." 
 
 "Dear, good papa! He knows society scripture: 
 'Parents, obey your children,' Mrs. Craig," the 
 societv girl answered. "When you captured his 
 daughter, so long ago, papa could do nothing else. 
 But, permit me to present a compatriot of yours ; 
 Mrs. Craig — Mr. Latham, of Virginia." 
 
 "There are few strangers to Colonel Latham at 
 the South," the elder lady answered, with slight 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 301 
 
 accent on the title. "We must shake hands, colonel ; 
 for your mother and I were friends, in ' the good old 
 days.' I was just saA'ing to the baron — Colonel 
 Latham, Monsieur le Baron von Grosswig! — that I 
 must ask presentation to that charming sister of 
 yours." 
 
 "She haf sink moosic een heer soul! " the diplomat 
 averred, with hand upon his heart. "I veel now 
 preesent madame — " 
 
 As they passed toward the piano, Stella rose, 
 speaking to a tall girl by her. Standing with her 
 back to them, the other showed magnificent neck and 
 arms — not niggardly displayed by cut of corsage; 
 and, bowing her stately head, she sat at the piano 
 and pla^-ed the prelude to Beethoven's "Adelaide," 
 singing it in truly artistic style. 
 
 "She sings wonderfully well," Miss Merritt said to 
 Latham. "Do you know her? She is a stranger to 
 me." 
 
 "And to me, of course, as an outside barbarian," 
 he answered, as a crowd closed between them and 
 the singer. "Some noted professional, possibly; 
 Mrs. Dent affects them, you know." 
 
 There were murmured requests;, then the clear, 
 rich voice sang another German ballad ; and then 
 the senator of the morning preferred a request. 
 
 "Ah! senator, you overpower me," the singer 
 laughed. " But I could not possibly ! I would have 
 to be a brass band and chorus in one, to sing ' The 
 Star Spangled Banner ' ! " 
 
 " Aw,weally, you 're wight, ye know," lisped young 
 Savile Rowe, of her majesty's legation. "Nawtional 
 
302 JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 
 
 anthems are genewally wot, weally. Sing us some- 
 thing you used to sing duwing the rebellion, ye 
 know," 
 
 Without reply the woman touched the keys ; and 
 next instant Latham seemed to hear a different — 
 but never forgotten voice, as she sang "The dew is 
 on the blossom." And — ^whether from "psychic force," 
 who may guess ? — he seemed to see a distant crest, 
 through a dimity-draped window; a framed 
 " Declaration of Independence" hanging above the 
 singer, as her now trained voice gave the homely 
 
 words : 
 
 I'll be sighing for you, dearest. 
 W'ill YOU ever sigh for me? 
 
 The brilliant company and gorgeous furniture dis- 
 solved before his eyes ; the glaring chandeliers became 
 soft moonlight, under memory's spell; and Beverly 
 Latham stood again, in the little cottage parlor, as 
 Jen Freeman sang that ballad of— how long ago ! 
 
 "Really, Mr. Latham, I had no idea I was such a 
 narcotic !" Miss Merritt laughed. "I have spoken to 
 you three times without reply ; even when I volun- 
 teered to get you an introduction." 
 
 "Apology will seem needless," he answered, hastily, 
 "when I tell you that song was once sung often b^^^ 
 a friend, — now^ dead to me ! Thanks for 3'our offer, 
 but I see that Miss Freeman has left — " 
 
 "Miss Freeman! So that is the new beauty? 
 But I understood you to say she was a stranger to 
 you?" 
 
 "She is — a perfect stranger," he answered, gravely. 
 ^'But I recosnize her voice." 
 
JOHN HOLDKN, UNIONIST. 303 
 
 Just then Mrs. Dent bore down upon them, and he 
 hailed in her an angel of light, as she cried : 
 
 "I looked everywhere, to introduce you. Colonel 
 Latham, But now, j^ow must sing! I won't take 
 no for answer. Then we '11 hunt up that wicked Mr. 
 Rowe, who has eloped with my new star ! " 
 
 Latham protested that he was ill, out of practice, 
 knew nothing; but Mrs. Dent was a manager who 
 took no excuses from her corps ; and he consented, 
 when Miss Merritt volunteered accompaniment. "II 
 Balen" and "The Vagabonds," in his rich sympa- 
 thetic baritone, brought new demands; but the 
 senator had captured Miss Merritt, and Stella was 
 just leaving the room with Colonel White. So, 
 impelled by what feeling he himself could not have 
 lold, he sat down and sang — as he had never sung it 
 before — Schubert's "Last Greeting." 
 
 And the Hon. Savile Rowe, — lisping commonplace 
 under a spreading camelia in the near conservatory, 
 stared and polished his monocle afresh, as Jen 
 Freeman sat, — without reply, but with flushed 
 cheeks and parted lips, — hearing those familiar 
 words : 
 
 Adieu! There comes a morrow, 
 
 To every day of pain ; 
 We part, to-night in sorrow — 
 To meet in bliss again! 
 
 To her — as late to her lover — the old song swept the 
 present resistlessly aside; and memory's "Persian 
 •carpet" bore her, through space and time, back to 
 that little parlor — still home to her heart ! 
 
 For Jen Freeman had never heard of her old lover, 
 
304 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIOxNlST. 
 
 since their parting after the battle ; nor was she the 
 girl to let romance and imagination run riot. So, she 
 drew no fancy pictures of his prowess and his new 
 loves ; merely striving to banish all memor\^ of him 
 who had played with and despised her ; who had — 
 perhaps unwittingly — been cause of all her Avoes, 
 and of her flight from them and home ! And, with a 
 character like hers, — quick to take the impress of 
 higher surroundings — several years of study and 
 travel could work vast change. "Auntie" had been 
 generous and blockade ventures prosperous ; so she 
 had profited by best advantages, and the woman, 
 no\v waiting her father's advent at the capital, w^as 
 linguist, musician and society girl of the higher sort. 
 The mountain daisy had been replaced by the well 
 opened rose. 
 
 But — during the minutes of the remembered song, 
 she was the daisy once more ; and the far-away eyes, 
 flushed cheeks and parted lips, half repeating the 
 w^ords, all told that memorv of the old davs — and 
 of him who now called them back — was neither dead, 
 not- very soundly sleeping. 
 
 But, in a tithe the time this telling takes — all this 
 had passed away. Miss Freeman — all pose and 
 society again — was detailing a recent Crj'stal Palace 
 concert to Mr. Rowe, when Mrs. Dent bore down 
 upon her with the singer of "The Last Greeting." 
 
 "So I have found the fair runaway. Miss Freeman, 
 I wish to present Colonel Latham!" Mrs. Dent 
 gushed. "He is dying to know you, naturally; 
 kindred spirits, in rebellion and in music! Mr. 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 305 
 
 Rowe, you shall do penance for monopolizing la 
 belle des belles, by escorting an old lady ! ' ' 
 
 Mrs. Dent's rattling gush of speech gave man and 
 ■woman time to adjust shield and brace lance, for this 
 unexpected encounter; and, as she sailed away with 
 the captured attache, each intuitively recognized the 
 other's feeling — without anah^sis of their own. But 
 it was the woman who spoke first : 
 
 "A most unexpected meeting. Colonel Latham. I 
 really did not dream you were in Washington." 
 
 "Assuredly not," he answered, quietly. "You put 
 my modesty to great strain, for it to presume that I 
 were in your thoughts at any time." 
 
 "Why not? " she replied, with perfect manner. "I 
 have not grown old enough to lose my memory ; and 
 you were once — an acquaintance! " 
 
 "You compliment me too much, now," he 
 answered, somewhat piqued, "by even remembering 
 that. So many of those acquaintances were like 
 enlistments; — 'for three years, or the war'." 
 
 " Then my memory must have 'repealed the siib- 
 stitute act'," she answered, as lightlv as though 
 speaking of the weather ; but her eyes were full on: 
 his, as she continued with unchanged inflection : 
 "For I recall perfectly the last words you ever said 
 to me, commonplace as they were." 
 
 "Do you recall them," he asked, quickly, "to 
 suggest their paraphrase now to 'Good-night, Miss. 
 Freeman'? " 
 
 "Not at all," she answered sweetly, and with 
 unchanged face ; but he could not see the slim hand 
 shut dangerously on the frail fan, or the little foot 
 
 20 
 
306 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 press hard upon the floor. "Why should I? You 
 had perfect right to correct my idle boast by prov- 
 ing that your memory was as good as mine! " 
 
 The shock of the first tilt had passed, and Jen 
 sat firmly in saddle, the fragments of his lance at her 
 feet. But the man reeled with the recoil, blushing 
 hotly as he reached for the mace of accusation : 
 
 "Do 3'ou say that in contempt — or pity? " 
 
 "Neither! " she replied, with the slightest elevation 
 of her arched eyebrows. "Why should I pit^^ so 
 excellent a society trait? And I am sure Colonel 
 Latham could never imagine himself as an object of 
 — contempt I ' ' 
 
 "If you did not know I was here, why did you sing 
 the old song?" he retorted, with boyish want of 
 tact; and there was just a tinge of irony in the 
 reply : 
 
 "Becaiise Mr. Rowe asked for something of my 
 simple w^ar days ; and, surely, nothing could be sim- 
 pler than those words ! " 
 
 Even if he knew that he was getting badly worsted 
 in the encounter, the perfect pose of his antagonist 
 so chafed him, that he fell into petulance: 
 
 "Pardon the absurdity of my question, praA^," he 
 said, "but, with j^our excellence of memory, you 
 must recall that I always did absurd things ! " 
 
 "Yes, but people are so apt to change. Colonel 
 Latham," she answered simply, accepting his speech 
 without denial. "You have — in voice and method. 
 You never sang the Schubert so well as to-night." 
 
 The blow caught him in mid-shield ; so fairly that 
 he reeled blindly, crying out : 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 307 
 
 "I sang it because I—" But he stopped short; 
 blustering Hke a weak boy. 
 
 "Because it is pure, simple music, that you learned 
 in pure and simple days," Jen Freeman finished for 
 him. "But, I had not asked why; only compli- 
 mented the way in which you sang. Permit me to 
 do the same for Miss Latham. She is truly an 
 artist; and I was surprised, although I had alread^^ 
 heard of her power from — Colonel White ! " 
 
 The quietly courteous speech ignored all previous 
 knowledge of his family. But the name she used 
 brought up the ribbon — ^the cripple's story — the mid- 
 night figure in white, so vividly that they seared 
 into his now hotbrain. And the cold, impassive face 
 of the woman before him — so contrasting with that 
 of the generous, impulsive girl of his past — contrast- 
 ing still more with the fever of regret, longing and 
 injured pride, now raging within him — swept away 
 the last remnants of his self-possession : 
 
 "You insist that we are strangers ! " in low, rapid 
 tones, tremulous with deep passion. "So be it! I 
 have yielded long- since — with what grace I might — 
 to a prior feeling!" He paused; but the woman 
 made no movement to reply. Then, reckless and 
 under sway of his mixed emotions, he blundered on: 
 "It must be delightful to meet your old admirers, so 
 conveniently situated here! You must enjoy 
 renewal of such old affaires, as were not ' for three 
 years, or the war ! ' " 
 
 "You must pardon my dullness," was the per- 
 fectly calm reply, "but I do not understand you! " 
 
308 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Indeed? Then the dullness must be mine," he 
 retorted, hotly. "Or, abroad perhaps you studied 
 with Delsarte, too ; acting, as well as music ! " 
 
 "I have never studied double entendre, Colonel 
 Latham," she answered, coldly, but decisively. "If 
 3'our words are meant to cover some taunt, I repeat 
 I do not understand you ! " 
 
 "Curiosity is a woman's weakness, they say," he 
 went on angrily, "but I confess to it now! Would 
 you consider it indiscreet did I ask when, and where, 
 you first met Colonel White? " 
 
 "I should not; merely rather curious," she 
 answered. "I met him first at Mrs. Craig's, in 
 Georgetown, two weeks ago." 
 
 " For the first time? " His eyes were blazing into 
 hers. 
 
 The grand shoulders, gleaming white above her 
 loTv corsage, moved with an almost imperceptible 
 shrug, but she bowed her stately head gravely, as 
 she replied : 
 
 "I said so. Colonel Latham; for the first time. 
 And now, if mj' examination is — " 
 
 But he broke in, heedless now of all but his own 
 overmastering thought : 
 
 "Then, how did he carry through the war a sou- 
 venir you gave him ? " 
 
 "After my reply, your question is scarcely a courte- 
 ous one," she said, slowly. "It is certainly wholly 
 unfounded on fact ! " 
 
 "That ribbon of yours he wore!" the man went 
 on, with unrepressed passion. "The one we divided 
 at your gate— part of which I have never left out of 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 309 
 
 my keeping one instant since ! He thrust his hand in 
 his breast, drawing out the locket. "Where is the 
 other half of this?" 
 
 At his act, a strange smile came to the girl's lips, 
 that had more of yearning pity than of anger in it ; 
 and the eyes she fastened upon that faded knot, 
 which her own fingers had tied there — were moist 
 with membry and something tenderer far. But the 
 man was blind to all save his own suspicion; deaf to 
 all but the words, and not the meaning, when she 
 answered in low and gentle voice : 
 
 "Were not everj^thing between us so very strange, 
 now — your question might seem so strange, that I 
 might \vell decline to answer! But why should I, 
 when the answer is so simple? " 
 
 She half turned from him and — quickly carrj-ing 
 her hand to her bosom — held out the ribbon. 
 
 Eagerly, wide-eyed with amaze, — his cheeks burn- 
 ing with shame and contrition, — Beverly Latham 
 leaned forward and examined the well-remembered 
 fragment. His glance — moving from it to the one he 
 held — noted each fray and zig-zag of the ends, severed 
 by his knife. For an instant he stood, as one dazed ; 
 then joy and triumph began to brighten in his eyes. 
 The next, they hardened to a scowl again and he 
 half-gasped : 
 
 "Then it was not he — but the other one — that 
 night!" 
 
 Jen Freemun turned quickly on him, drawn up to 
 her full height, her head raised proudly. 
 
 "Colonel Latham," she said, very coldly, "I said 
 
310 'JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 just now that I did not understand you. This time^ 
 I hope that I do not ! " 
 
 "Answer me once more!" he went on, as thousfh 
 not hearing her ; his voice half taunt — half obsecra- 
 tion. "Tell nie why 3'ou went to Europe! Why 
 you left your father and your home, after swearing 
 that 3'ou would not ! " 
 
 A shade swept over the woman's face, and her lips 
 pressed firmly together. Once or twice her bosom 
 rose and fell, as to break unbearable restraint of her 
 corsage. But the struggle \vas over in a moment; 
 for she answered quietly: 
 
 "I left home at papa's urgence: because he willed 
 it so!" 
 
 "And for — nothing- the? " he asked quickly. 
 A deep, red disc rose to either cheek and stood 
 there; but she looked full into his hot, suspicious 
 eves, as she said slowlv : 
 
 "I have answered strange questions honestly, Col- 
 onel Latham, because of old acquaintance. I should 
 not have answered, had I dreamed they were 
 inspired by anything you could possibly have heard 
 of me — and believed ! " 
 
 "And if I did hear, without seeking — " 
 She stopped him ; this time with an imperious 
 gesture — the red discs growing on her cheeks — her 
 bosom heaving unrestrained : 
 
 "Stop, sir! /have asked no confessions from joul 
 I will hear none ! It is equally indifferent to me what 
 you have believed — what heard ! " 
 
 "But, if I not onh' heard, ^^ he answered with a 
 half grroan. "If I saw — with mv own eves! You 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 311 
 
 remember that midnight, when you went stealthily 
 — quietly — to meet — " 
 
 "Beverly Latham, I pity you!" The woman's 
 voice cut into his wild utterance, low and slow ; but 
 the command in it silenced him. " From a stranger, 
 such doubts, and so expressed, would be coarse inso- 
 lence! From a Southern officer to a Southern 
 w^oman they are the insult of— a coward ! Good- 
 night, Colonel Latham! " 
 
 She turned her back full on him ; moving slowly 
 away, between the ranged plants. The man — 
 crushed more by his own conflicting passions, than 
 by her words — followed her only with his blazing 
 eyes ; standing motionless, rooted to the spot. But 
 those eyes did not see the slender hand close over the 
 frail fan, snapping it as an eggshell. 
 
 But — clearly sweet as a bell-chime at midnight, 
 Latham heard the soft society voice replace the late 
 indignant surge, as she met someone, and said : 
 
 "Were you coming for me. Colonel White? — 
 Thanks, I am readj^ ! " 
 
CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 A SUDDEN COUP. 
 
 To the three days succeeding Mrs. Dent's ball, Bev- 
 erly Latham ever looked back as the most miserable 
 ones of his life. Drunken with passion, doubt and 
 jealousy — as he too late confessed to himseh— he had 
 spoken his first unmanly word to a woman ; and he 
 despised himself thoroughly for it, though thought 
 only added confusion to his brain. Not once did he 
 doubt that there were grounds for his suspicion ; for 
 belief born of that error on his midnight watch, and 
 of the old cripple's report. He had convinced him- 
 self now of Jen's double flirtations, as completely as 
 she had long ago believed he had trifled with her. 
 And between these two errors, now yawned a gulf 
 that never coidd be bridged. But one thing Latham 
 felt due to himself, no less than to her sex — lightly 
 as she might have held its best prerogatives ; and he 
 had promptly despatched a note of regret for the 
 manner of his speech. It had no sorrow for the 
 doubts he had expressed, no retraction of the charges 
 made; but merely hoped that "Miss Freeman could 
 forgive and forget the only occasion when he had 
 overlooked w^hat w^as due to any v^oman." 
 
 312 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 313 
 
 The same messenger brought two Hnes of reph^: 
 
 " Miss Freeman might forgive errors of ignorance, 
 T3ut her memory is as good as Colonel Latham's; 
 and she hopes, always founded upon facts." 
 
 But, having sent this, the woman shut the matter 
 up in her own heart, along with fragments of broken 
 hope, memory and bitter sorrow ; breathing no word 
 of the chance meeting to Mrs. Craig, and going on 
 Tier round of visits, dinners and balls with the same 
 grace and the same apparent pleasure that had 
 marked her brief career of belleship at the capital. 
 
 But Latham walked through pressing round of 
 duty, as a man in a dream ; kept punctually engage- 
 ments involving safety or ruin to others and great 
 interests to himself; filing and explaining papers 
 with direct business tact. But still, permeating all 
 his busv hours, and monopolizing those he should 
 have given to Stella, or to rest, stalked the ghost of 
 a dead past, led through the inferno of the present 
 by the hand of a hopeless shade of his own raising. 
 
 Pleading business as excuse for refusing invitations 
 s.nd absenting himself from home, he had scarcely 
 seen Stella in the interim. But, on that third morn- 
 ing she came to him — affectionate, considerate about 
 liis overworking, and prettily saucy as ever — but 
 vt^th a nervousness he could not comprehend, until 
 she suddenW said : 
 
 "I wish to go back home, bud, at once! How 
 soon can 3'ou go ? " 
 
 "To-night, I hope! " he answered. "God knows I 
 am sick of this city, with its shams and disappoint- 
 ments." 
 
314 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "I am so glad, bud! I want to get back to our 
 own roof — to mamma. I have not breathed one 
 word to Betty ; but ' ' — a vivid blush overspread her 
 fine face — "last night Colonel White told me that — " 
 
 "And you accepted him! " he cried, suddenly. 
 
 "No Latham ever accepted a suitor save under 
 her own roof," she answered, haughtily. "Colonel 
 Latham must forget that I am his mother's daugh- 
 ter ! No, bud, I have not accepted him ; but Colonel 
 White will come home at once" — she looked bravely 
 at him now; a soft glory on her face — "to get that 
 answer his own heart must have had from mine! " 
 
 "But you do not know this man, Stella! " 
 
 "I know that you presented him to me," she 
 answered, quietly. "I know he has famih% noble 
 character, position and a gallant record! W^hat 
 more need I seek to kno\v ? " 
 
 "Nothing, I suppose," he said, perplexed. "But 
 his past — his previous love affairs ? " 
 
 "He has had none," she retorted, confidently, 
 "Since his boyish follies, I am the only v^oman he has' 
 loved." 
 
 "i7e told you this?" 
 
 " He did, last night. And I — believe him ! " 
 
 "We will go back home, to-night, sister," he 
 answered solemnly, as he kissed her flushed brow, 
 "We will discuss this at home." 
 
 "Of course, I shall discuss it — with mamma," she 
 answered, calmly. "But, Bev., I am a Latham, and 
 my mind is made up." 
 
 "You are a woman, and mj^ elder sister," he said, 
 trying to smile. But there was a chill at his heart, 
 
JOHN HOLDEX, UNIONIST. 315 
 
 lest the shadow of his own dark suspicion must fall 
 across her bright way. 
 
 But had Jen spoken trul^^ ? Was it not really White 
 whom she had met at the gate, that night ? If not, 
 how had he later got that ribbon, in the hot race from 
 Forrest? And she had it, on her own heart at the 
 ball— Suddenly he recalled that she had ridden 
 with White that very evening ! Despising himself for 
 it, he listened as the shade that tormented him drew 
 nearer, whispering that the man and girl boldl}^ and 
 openly kept up the old affair; that, with another's 
 kisses on his lips, he had lied to a daughter of the 
 Lathams I His hand clinched at thought of such 
 insult ; but, inconsistent as man ever is — he forgot 
 another insult, graver and more gross, given to the 
 woman he himself had twice sworn he loved above 
 all others ! But he kept silent ; only adding : 
 
 "Yes, sister; we will go home to-night." 
 But, as "man proposes," there is somewhat of 
 truth in the cynical French turn of the proverlD : 
 ^'Mais, le diahle dispose — quelquefois /" 
 
 As Latham left the house, a messenger handed him 
 a brief note from the Department of Justice, in which 
 the judge courteoush' asked "the favor of his pres- 
 ence, at noon," that day. Sending a verbal reply, 
 and wondering what new devilry was up now, he 
 hastened through other business and was prompt to 
 the minute. He ^^as greeted with effusive courtesy, 
 foreign usually to the cold and contained chief, who 
 introduced : 
 
 ' ' Mr. Screws — of Middletown & Screws, New York ; 
 our friend. Colonel Latham, of Virginia." 
 
316 JOHN HOI.DEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 The titles — colonel and friend, equally — made 
 Latham stare ; for the official had always studiously 
 emphasized the Mr., before that moment. 
 
 "I sent for you on a matter of no moment to your- 
 self. Colonel Latham," the judge said. "But your 
 unselfish work for others emboldened me. You told 
 me lately that you knew, and could vouch for, Mr. 
 Philip Freeman, of Alabama." 
 
 "I believe I did," Latham replied; thinking rather 
 of daughter than of sire. "What possible charge 
 can be laid against that poor old man? " 
 
 "He is not a 'poor' old man, Colonel Latham; if 
 you can assist us — ahem ! — if you can disprove these 
 charges, but will be a very rich one!" Mr. Screws 
 put in glibly. 
 
 Messrs. Middletown & Screws were early speci- 
 mens of that species known as "the promoter; " the 
 fungus growth of which later ran, like wiregrass, 
 through Southern soil, wherever its promise of min- 
 eral, timber or agricultural wealth was sufficient to 
 pay the middleman; \vherever its waste places were 
 possible to make blossom like the bay, with rail- 
 way's, parks and cities — on paper. So Mr. Screws 
 turned over the phrase, as succulent : 
 
 "Yes, a very rich one. Our firm has almost closed 
 a sale and partnership in mineral lands with — ahem ! 
 — with parties in interest, which will make Mr. 
 Freeman a very rich man, unless — " 
 
 "The charges are serious ones," the judge broke in, 
 wnth a Avarning glance at the speaker. "The\^ are 
 in form and writing, alleging that Philip Freeman is 
 the head of the Ku-Klux Klan, of his section! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 317 
 
 Latham smiled in spite of the judge's tone, at the 
 suggestion of Farmer Freeman wild careering at 
 the head of his black-masked riders ; but he said : 
 
 ''These charges are so supremely absurd — so abso- 
 lutely impossible — that I would pledge m}- life on 
 their falsity ! Ma}^ I see them — " 
 
 "Certainh'," Mr. Screws broke in with his chipper 
 fashion, reaching for a file on the desk. But again 
 the chief checked him by a look, as a clerk entered 
 and handed him a card. 
 
 "One moment, please," he said to Mr. Screws. 
 "McFadden, admit Mr. Freeman." 
 
 Next moment the old Alabamian had entered the 
 room; cool, quiet and sturdy as of yore but, Latham 
 saw, with more puckers pinched into his face by 
 Time's fingers. Ignoring the presence of all else, he 
 advanced frankly to Latham and held out his hand, 
 as he cried : 
 
 "Well, I am glad to see you, leftenant ! It's sev- 
 eral years since we met, but I never forget friends. 
 Jen's here, visiting her aunt, Mrs. Craig. Have \'OU 
 met?" 
 
 Latham took the proffered hand with some con- 
 straint, repK-ing that he had met Miss Freeman for a 
 moment only ; but the judge made a memorandum 
 of Mrs. Craig's name on his pad, as he said : 
 
 "You are Mr. Philip Freeman, of Alabama? Be 
 seated, sir. You know Mr. Screws, perhaps?" 
 
 "I should say I do, judge!" the farmer replied 
 bluntly. "And I guess I ought to know you, too, if 
 the report was — " 
 
318 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "The question now in point," the great man broke 
 in hastily, touching his gong as he spoke, "is a 
 more serious one. McFadden, was Mr. John Holden 
 summoned for noon ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir; he was ill," the clerk replied. "But he 
 sent word that he would come, if — a — " 
 
 "Well, sir! If what?" the judge demanded, curtly. 
 
 "If^a — * if hell froze over,' sir, was his message!" 
 
 "Very well, McFadden, that will do! Send him in 
 as soon as he arrives." 
 
 The clerk withdrew^ and, almost immediateU', John 
 Holden's tall form filled thedoorwav. Butastran2:e 
 change had come over the grim old man. His keen 
 green eyes seemed dulled, and their bushy brows 
 contracted, as though from pain; the long, firm 
 underjaw — grish^ and unshaven — set hard against 
 its fellow; and the great chest heaved irregularly. 
 He gazed at the unexpected forms of Freeman and 
 Latham, with e^'cs that had the ugly gleam of the 
 owl's at dusk ; but suddenly one great hand went to 
 his side, and the other clutched the door frame for 
 support. 
 
 "I regret to learn of your illness. Air. Holden," the 
 judge said. "But, as it was essential to consider 
 your charges prompth% I sent for you." 
 
 "I hain't complainin', be I?" Holden answered 
 grimly, sinking heavily into a seat. "I hez stud 
 more'n thet, fur ther flag, fur fo' long year. I'm yere 
 now, ter test' 'gin thet pizen rebul thar, hain't I ? " 
 
 Half rising. Freeman was about to reph^; but 
 Latham — noting his movement and his angry flush 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 319 
 
 — leaned over, whispered hastily to him, and added 
 aloiid : 
 
 "May we now examine those papers, judge? " 
 
 "Certainly. They are very plain and — ahem! — 
 emphatic ! " Mr. Screws said, handing them over, at 
 a quiet sign from the chief. 
 
 "An' tha's true, fus' an' las' ! " Holden growled. 
 
 "That is fortunate, perhaps,'^ the jtidge replied, 
 drily.' "It will simplify matters. Your proofs, of 
 course, will be forthcoming? " 
 
 "I ben't no fool, be I?" was the answer. "Ef I 
 needs time ter riz ther witnisses, 'tain't no doin' oy 
 mine, be it? " 
 
 "Well, I telegraphed Mr. Freeman to come at 
 once," Mr. Screws said, hastily. "As soon as I was 
 notified — ahem ! — heard of the charges, I wired. It 
 is essential to heavy interests to close certain trans- 
 actions, at once. The sooner this matter is settled, 
 the better." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Holden," the judge added; "the better 
 for all parties." 
 
 "I hezn't nuthin' ter add,hez I? " the mountaineer 
 asked. "I hez sed my say, an' I 'low I'll stan' 
 ter't!" 
 
 "These papers set forth that Mr. Freeman organ- 
 ized the Ku-Klux Klan, in the counties of Etowah, 
 DeKalb and elsewhere, during the past -winter," 
 Latham said to the judge ; but he turned sharply : 
 "You can prove this, I presume, Mr. Holden? " 
 
 "Yer ben't a-jedgin' me, be yer?" the other 
 answered, with a scowl. "But I 'low ez I kin prove 
 ^11 thet's writ down thar! " 
 
320 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 *'ButI would submit" — Latham again turned to 
 the chief— "that these charges are worthless, void 
 and of no effect. They state location, fact and 
 detail, but no date, in any instance! " 
 
 "Precisely what I first pointed out when — " Mr. 
 Screws began cheerily ; but he caught the judge's 
 glance and stopped in mid-sentence. And Holden's 
 brows knit closer, and his face darkened — whether 
 with pain or rage — as he turned on the speaker : 
 
 "Yer be n't a-jedgin', too, be yer? I 'low ther 
 rebuls seems ter hev all ther law, an' loil men hain't 
 no show! " 
 
 "That omission. Colonel Latham, while grave, is 
 not necessarily fatal to the charges," the judge said, 
 warily. "It might be supplied to the allegation, 
 under oath." 
 
 "I 'low ez it kin be!" Holden cried. "Ther dates 
 is know'd." 
 
 "Doubtless," Latham said, quickly. "For 
 instance, 30U knowr what night Mr. Freeman was at 
 Fort Payne?" 
 
 "And the Gadsden date, too? " Mr. Screws added. 
 
 " But, gentlemen ! I'll just be darned if—" Freeman 
 began angrily ; but again Latham whispered to him 
 earnesth^ as Holden answered slowly : 
 
 "He war in Fort Payne, or ther 'bout, two night 
 afore Chris'mus; an' — I 'low he war in Gadsding — 
 ther nex' week." 
 
 "You are sure of that?" Mr. Screws asked. 
 
 "Yer ben't tryin' ter ketch me a lyin', be yer?'^ 
 Holden growled. "I 'low John Holden don' 'clar^ 
 'cep'n he's sho' ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 321 
 
 "You comprehend, Mr. Holdeu," tlie judge cau- 
 tioned blandly, "that what you state now, you 
 must reaffirm, under oath, at the proper time ! " 
 
 A strange shadow passed across the grim face of 
 the mountaineer. Again he pressed his hand hard to 
 his left side; but, after a deep breath, he answered 
 doggedly : 
 
 "John Holden hain't never tuk but one yoath in 
 his life ez he hezn't kep' ; but now — " 
 
 "But, I'll just be hanged if I — " Freeman broke in 
 hotly, springing to his feet. But again Latham 
 restrained him ; and again Mr. Screws spoke, — 
 quietly and slowly beyond his wont : 
 
 "There may be some error, judge, in the persons, 
 or the dates, in these charges. I myself am ready to 
 affirm that from — " he paused; consulting letters 
 and memoranda, from his pocket — "yes; from 
 December thirteenth until January tenth, last, Mr. 
 Freeman was not absent one day from the late rebel 
 works, situated on his lands far distant from both, 
 places named." 
 
 "He hain't provin' nuthin', jedge, be he? " Holden: 
 retorted eagerly. "I do 'low ther wurd ov er pizen 
 rebul hain't no standin' 'gin ther say ov er loil 
 man! " 
 
 "But I myself can swear it!" Mr. Screws said, 
 quickly. 
 
 "Thet don' mek no differ," Holden said, doggedly. 
 "Hit hain't nuthin' 'cep'n' yoath 'gin j^oath! " 
 
 "I must warn you, gentlemen, " the judge said cau- 
 tiously, " that the cause is not yet on for trial; but 
 
322 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 merely on question whether it shall lie, or be dis- 
 missed." 
 
 With quivering lips and red-gleaming eyes — but 
 hand still pressed to his side, Holden rose to his feet 
 and glared upon his foes. Twice he strove to speak, 
 before he muttered hoarsel}^ : 
 
 "Dismist! Ther -rebul are en ther han's ov ther 
 Lord, at las' ! Let ther trial cum ! " 
 
 "I need detain you no longer, gentlemen," the 
 judge said, rising. "I will set the formal trial for 
 to-morrow, at noon." 
 
 "One word onh%" Mr. Screws said, blandly. "I 
 omitted to mention that my partner, Mr. 
 Middletown, will be here to affirm as I do. Between 
 the dates I named he, as well as myself—" he looked 
 full into Holden's fierce eyes — "w^ere at the w^orks, 
 w^ith Mr. Freeman! " 
 
 Holden dropped into his seat again, something 
 between a curse and a groan breaking from him; 
 his eyes dropped dully upon the carpet. Then 
 Freeman strode one step toward him, with raised 
 hand. But Latham seized his arm, drew it through 
 his own and led him to the corridor, saying quietly : 
 
 "You must control yourself, Mr. Freeman, under 
 any provocation. Perfect as your case seems, one 
 violent act might ruin you ! " 
 
 As he spoke they were joined by Mr. Screws. He 
 had merely leaned over the table to replace the 
 paper ; but he said, very low : 
 
 "I may close the purchase now, in perfect safety? " 
 And the judge, speaking more with eyes and lips, 
 than tongue, had replied : 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 323 
 
 "With perfect safety, assuredly." Then, as Mr. 
 Screws turned away, the judge glanced uneasily at 
 Holden: "I need detain you no longer — why, are 
 you ill?" 
 
 "It don' mek no differ, ill nur 'nuther," the 
 mountaineer answered, in dull voice. But, with 
 evident effort he rose, drew a deep, gasping breath, 
 and walked unsteadily into the ante-room. 
 
 "I congratulate you on the changed aspect of 
 our case," Mr. Screws was saying in his most 
 chipper style, as he overtook the pair at the stair- 
 way. "I will telegraph for my principals, draw up 
 the papers for signature ; and to-morrow afternoon 
 vsrill see jou, Mr. Freeman, the very richest man in 
 your section! " 
 
 A growl like that of a baffled wild beast sounded 
 close behind the speaker; and the head of John 
 Holden towered over him, its dull eyes gleaming 
 hate upon the men beyond. But the promoter 
 passed hastily down the steps, and beyond hearing 
 of the words : 
 
 " Yer ben't 'shamed, Phil Freeman, be yer, ter use 
 with ther man ez hez ther w^rong ov yer ? Et do n' 
 mek no differ, do it, s'long ez yer sells yer Ian', ef yer 
 sells ther name ov yer gell, long ov it ? " 
 
 "You old scoundrel! How dare you!" Freeman 
 cried, starting toward Holden; but as Latham 
 dragged him back, he went on fiercely: "You lying 
 traitor! I half suspected you started those vile 
 rumors about — " 
 
 "I hezn't need'd ter start nuthin, hez I?" Holden 
 retorted, but seeming to speak w^ith effort and pain. 
 
324 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "Et war n't need ter start wot all folk, 'cep'n' ye, 
 cud see oy ther own eves ! Ef yer gell hezn't met no 
 men ov nights — ef she hezn't rid 'long oy 'em, on 
 ther same critter — axe thet uther rebul, ef John 
 Holden be a-lyin' ! " 
 
 Amazed — stunned by sudden wording of doubts 
 and dread half-sleeping for years — Freeman let his 
 hands drop at his sides helplessly, as he cried : 
 
 "Latham, for God's sake, speak! Say this 
 slanderer lies, and let me driYC his words — " 
 
 But Latham, pale and grave — with a world of 
 grief and pit^^ in his voice — stopped him : 
 
 "You must control yourself! This is no time, nor 
 place. One chance w^ord overheard, might spread 
 these hideous rumors to public ears. She is the 
 proper one to explain to you ; there can be nothing 
 known to me, which she will not confirm ! " 
 
 Even as he spoke, he urged the unresisting farmer 
 down the steps to the sharp turn at the landing 
 below. But he answered no word ; his gray head 
 bowed upon his breast, his firm step grown unsteady. 
 At the turning he raised his face, gray and drawn 
 as with great age; the eyes dulled and dazed as 
 though under stroke of a murderous bludgeon. The 
 trembling lips could form no words ; and, filled ^vith 
 pity unspeakable, Latham saw two great tears roll 
 down the drawn cheeks. 
 
 "Go, Mr. Freeman!" he said. "I will go wdth 
 you!" 
 
 Then the Alabamian made one supreme effort. 
 "With a shudder, he shook off Latham's touch, drew 
 himself to full height and said hoarsel}^ : 
 
r 
 
 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 325 
 
 "I'll go — to her! If sHe says ye lie, both shall 
 answer it with blood ! " 
 
 He moved down the steps, as Latham gazed after 
 him, with pity beyond words. But suddenly, he 
 turned, rushing back toward Holden, with hands 
 clinched, and eyes blazing with the old gladiator fire 
 of battle. 
 
 "You lying traitor!" he cried with svippressed 
 voice. "You traitor to country and race ! I forgave 
 you for trying to murder me, for spying — for lying 
 about women ! I never guessed, then, you coward 
 cur! Now, if you don't unsay your filthy words, 
 as God is above us, I'll tear them out of your 
 throat!" 
 
 Quickly and desperately as he spoke, his voice was 
 not raised ; but its quick echo penetrated rooms close 
 by, and some doors opened. 
 
 But Holden — still leaning motionless against the 
 pillar at the stair-head — never answered by word, or 
 sign. A strong contortion passed across his face; 
 the green-red eyes were dull and fireless ; the great 
 chest rose and fell quickly. But no sound came from 
 the drawn lips ; and the great hand — quickly raised- 
 pressed his own side fiercely. 
 
 "Speak! you liar!" Latham again cried. Intent 
 upon his quarr\', he took no note of men advancing ; 
 but drew back with twitching hands and eyes 
 blazing as the tiger's, crouched to spring. 
 
 And then the tall form before him swayed slightly 
 — suddenly lurched heavily sideways ; and — as a 
 great pine uprooted from the cliff's edge— John 
 
326 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 Holden pitched down the stairway, headlong and 
 striking the sharp stones as he went. 
 
 Hurr\dng men, at the top, saw Latham rush down 
 the steps, bend over the prostrate man, and turn 
 him on his back. The lace was Hvid and the eyes 
 closed; a thin, red stream trickling from the broad 
 forehead, across the pinched features. 
 
 "He is badly hurt!" Latham called to the others 
 clustering around. "Don't stand gaping there! 
 Call a doctor — and a cab ! " 
 
 And they quickly obej^ed the accent of habitual 
 command. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI. 
 "hank hez ther right! " 
 
 On his narrow bed, in the dingy room of a cheap 
 boarding-house of the "Northern Liberties," lay 
 stretched the lank, muscular frame of John Holden. 
 But it might have been a corpse — save for the short, 
 irregular breathing — so motionless were the gaunt, 
 powerful limbs, so nerveless lay the great, brown fin- 
 gers on the coverlet, in the light of the low turned 
 lamp. 
 
 By the bedside sat the doctor, occasionally feeling 
 the pulse ; or turning the cover from the broad, hir- 
 sute breast, to bend his ear for pulsations of the 
 heart. And opposite him stood Beverly Latham, 
 looking gravely down upon the stricken giant. 
 
 "Pulse very little stronger, but more regular; 
 heart beginning to act under the digitalis," the man 
 of medicine said, replacing the cover and returning 
 his watch to its fob. "Rather a bad case, but he ma^^ 
 pull through, this time. He must have the constitu- 
 tion of an ox in that frame." 
 
 " Is it concussion of the brain?" Latham asked, 
 with singular anxiety. 
 
 "Not a symptom," the doctor replied confidently. 
 "The fall did not hurt much ; that cut on the fore- 
 
328 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 head is but skin deep. The trouble seems with 
 his heart, and of long standing. Is he subject to 
 these turns? " 
 
 "I have no idea," the Virginian said. " The man is 
 almost a stranger to me ; 1 only saw him twice, years 
 ago. It was accident" — he answered the other's 
 look of surprise — "that I happened there, at the 
 time. The clerks lost their heads; and common 
 humanity suggested a doctor and a cab. Besides, I 
 wished to question him, if he was not killed. Will he 
 get well?" 
 
 " He will never be well." The doctor shook his 
 head sagel}^ "He may get up again, and last for 
 months. Much depends on the brain. I cannot 
 diagnose that, while his stupor lasts. But he is apt 
 to revive partly, even if the stroke be fatal." 
 
 "Will he be conscious?" Latham again asked, 
 earnestly. "Able to answer questions?" 
 
 " Most probably ; if it be only the heart, and not 
 the brain involved. I hope to find him better when 
 I come in the morning. Good-night." 
 
 Left alone, Latham still stood long and thought- 
 fully, gazing down on his now helpless enemy ; mem- 
 ory moving a vivid-pictured panorama across his 
 brain. And its every scene — mountain ride, quiet 
 convalescence, hot charge of battle or perfumed glare 
 of ball-room — showed out two figures, clear and 
 sharp; two figures so different — yet so strangely 
 bound together ; a sweet faced, stately woman and 
 this grim old mountaineer. Through every phase of 
 his fateful acquaintance with Jen Freeman — to its 
 very end, in Mrs. Dent's conservatory — Latham 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 329 
 
 re-lived the past ; and thinking as intently and as 
 bitterly as he did, still came wonder at the strange 
 fatality that linked her for evil report or fair, with 
 this man, whose tongue might already be silenced 
 forever by the All-wise Hand. 
 
 Were it best for this to be so ? he asked himself. 
 Or might those still lips — did they speak, and truly — 
 •clear away the doubts that hung over her, whom he 
 could not tear from his heart, — even while that 
 heart cried aloud that she deserved no place in it? 
 
 But at last thought wearied, and he grew restless 
 and impatient. For the sick man lay motionless; 
 only the fitful breathing telling of wrestle of the iron 
 constitution and its foe unseen. He turned to grasp 
 the bell rope, when a faint murmur came from 
 Holden's lips; and bending anxiously over him, 
 Latham caught the gasps : 
 
 "Yes, Hank! — Et war all 'long ov my yoath. 
 Yer hez ther right ! — Yer paw'll do't, sho ! " 
 
 The great, limp hand essayed to reach out, its fin- 
 gers twitching convulsively ; then the heavy lids un- 
 closed and the dulled ej-es stared upward an instant. 
 But they closed again; and, with a deeper breath, 
 the man seemed to sleep. The watcher promptly 
 raised the heavy head and, dropping some fluid in a 
 glass, poured it between the still lips. Holden lay 
 quiet awhile; then opened his eyes heavily again, 
 murmuring : 
 
 "He be n't gone, be he? Whar's Hank? " 
 
 "Hush; you must not talk," Latham answered 
 quietly. * ' Try to sleep ! ' ' 
 
330 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 But strong will mastered matter ; and with fruit- 
 less effort to rise to his elbow, Holden felt feebly 
 along the coverlet, searching for something. 
 
 "Hank war a-settin' yan, a-talkin' ter his paw,"' 
 he moaned. "He 'low'd ez I hed n't ther right wen — " 
 
 Again the eyes closed heavily, as the feeble breath 
 seemed to flicker and cease. 
 
 Latham took the long, muscular arm, anxiously 
 touching the pulse and feeling for the heart beats. 
 
 "Do not talk; you must rest!" he said, not 
 unkindly. But again the e3^es opened ; staring dully 
 past him, as in effort at memory, 
 
 "He 'low'd ez I hedn't orter shot yer, at ther 
 dancin'," he gasped ; and, as in a lightning flash, the 
 listener saw the log cabin, the shoeless dancers and 
 his own attempted murder. "Hank 'low'd Lize hed 
 ther right, wen she sed yer w^ar a-friendin' him — thet 
 ther gell war a-doin' her bes' fur Lize — wen — I lied, 
 'bout her!" 
 
 There was a long, dead pause. In it Latham could 
 almost hear the thumping of his own heart, above 
 the feeble gasps of the sufferer. Twice he essayed to- 
 caution the other to silence ; twice anxious curiosity 
 held the caution on his lips. What were this man's 
 health — his life even! — weighed against a woman's, 
 reputation? So he only listened eagerly' until Holden 
 spoke again, 
 
 "But yer pa^v war doin' ther Lord's work. Hank, 
 wen he lied 'gin ther sesesh! Ef he cud n't shoot fur 
 ye, boy, yer paw cud kill 'nuther way ! Hang John 
 Holden fur thet? He war in ther Lord's han' an' he 
 hain't heng, hez he?" He struggled to his elbow^ 
 
JOHiN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 331 
 
 raising his right hand feebly; but it fell to his side 
 and he sunk back on his pillow. 
 
 Latham poured some brandy in a glass, holding it 
 to the other's lips ; but he clinched his teeth, splutter- 
 ing: 
 
 "I hezn't techt it sence she lef me; and she'd 
 know't soon, wen I jine her yan ! Cum 'long, Hank ; 
 yer maw's a-callin' fur we'uns!" He was silent a 
 moment; moving his lips restlessly. "Et don' mek 
 no differ, boy. Yer paw war a-doin' fur yer sake; 
 an' he hain't a-fearin, be he? " 
 
 Again the eyes opened slowly ; fixing on the man 
 beside him with steady stare. 
 
 "Do j'-ou know me, Holden? " Latham asked. 
 The man's brown hand passed feebly across his 
 brow, before he replied slowly : 
 
 "I hain't like' ter furgit, be I ? Cursid be ther war ! 
 But wen ther Lord furgives— " He paused a while; 
 then went on : "I hain't never lied afore ther war! I 
 tole 3^er thet, wen yer fus' cum a-huntin' Hank ! An' 
 sence, I war druv ter lyin' fur ther Lord's work ! No, 
 Hank!" — his e\'es turned, as though addressing a 
 palpable shape— "Yer paw knows yerhez ther right! 
 He hain't a-lyin' no mo'. But he's smeart wearit, 
 boy. He's a-goin fur yer maw ! " 
 
 With a great gasp, he lay silent; so long and so 
 motionless that Latham feared his soul had indeed 
 fled ; and, with it, the secret from which it so strug- 
 gled to get free. But the pulse still responded to his 
 touch ; again the eyes opened wide, as Holden gasped 
 eagerly : 
 
332 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 " Whar's Phil Freeman ? Whar's ther gell ? " He 
 tried vainly to rise ; then moaned : "Et don' mek no 
 differ, Hank; tha's boun' ter know at ther jedg- 
 ment!" 
 
 Glancing at his watch, Latham again dropped 
 digitalis in the glass. Holden swallowed it mechan- 
 ically; seeming to sleep, for minutes that seemed 
 hours to the anxious watcher. Then suddenly', 
 Holden's eyes opened again and he moaned : 
 
 "Whar's Freeman an' ther gell? Hank 'lows I'm 
 boun' ter tell 'em 'fore I go ! " 
 
 "Do you know what you are asking?" Latham 
 queried, eagerly. "Do you really want to see 
 them?" 
 
 " Yer hain't mistuk, hez yer? " Holden whimpered. 
 "Bring 'em yere, quick! Ef I don' tell 'em, Hank'uU 
 go back!" 
 
 Quick decision is part of wear's training. Latham 
 glanced at his w^atch, prepared a dose of medicine; 
 then moved rapidly down stairs. Brief instruction 
 sufficed to the landlady's husband, keeping watch 
 in the stuffy dining room below. Then the Virginian 
 rushed to the street ; luckily caught an empty cab ; 
 and, urging the driver to best speed, was soon at 
 Mrs. Craig's door. To his joy, the hall lamp still 
 burned ; and his loud peal on the bell was answered 
 by Mr. Freeman. 
 
 "You are doubtless surprised, sir," Latham cried, 
 before the farmer could speak. "But Holden is ill; 
 probabh^ dying. He insists upon seeing you and — 
 your daughter — at once." 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 33S' 
 
 "I am surprised, leftenant," Freeman answered, 
 bluntly. " After this morning, I scarcely expected to 
 see you here. If that old traitor has more lies — " 
 
 "He will speak truth now," Latham answered;, 
 promptly stepping before the farmer's indecision and 
 taking command. " Where is Miss Freeman ? " 
 
 "With Mrs. Craig, at the Spanish minister's ball," 
 the father answered. "Leftenant, I tried to find 
 words to speak to my child ; but when I saw her^ 
 to-day, after all these years — so changed and grand — 
 so full of hope and joy, to see her father again — damn 
 it! sir, I couldn't speak. She knows nothing of all 
 this ; and, were she here, she shouldn't go to listen to 
 that old liar ! Good-night, sir ! " 
 
 Latham stood quietly in the open door, though his 
 face flushed under the old man's blunt speech. 
 
 "Mr. Freeman, this is no time for false delicacy," 
 he said firmly. "I believe Holden means to speak 
 the truth. It is your duty to me — to your daughter 
 — to hear him. An hour hence may be too late ! " 
 
 "But Jen is not here." The farmer hesitated before 
 the vehement common sense of the younger man. 
 
 "Take my cab and go for her. Remember, sir,, 
 there is no time to w^aste ! " 
 
 "I'll do it!" was the abrupt reply; and a rapid 
 drive back brought them to the embassy. Mr. Free- 
 man entered, quickly returning w^ith Jen ; her gleam- 
 ing neck and arms, and wealth of coiled hair, scarce 
 half concealed by her light opera cloak. She gave 
 Latham the merest inclination of her haughty head ; 
 and, as she stepped aside, her father helped her into- 
 the cab. So he said : 
 
'334 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 "The driver knows the house; I will follow in 
 another cab, Mr. Freeman!" 
 
 "No, papa! I prefer this — gentleman to go with 
 us," Jen said, quickly. " Colonel Latham must hear 
 every word John Holden says to me ! " 
 
 Without one word, Latham mounted by the 
 driver ; urging him again to haste ; and the strangely 
 reunited trio sped over the asphalt on their strange 
 mission. 
 
 Great was the wonder of the landlady's husband, 
 when the vision of a beautiful woman, in full ball 
 dress, met the eyes he raised to the opening door. 
 
 Holden v^^as sleeping seemingly, the dim lamp and 
 odor of drugs contrasting strangely with the bril- 
 liant scene the woman had just left. But, as Latham 
 dismissed the watcher, she moved quieth^ to the bed- 
 side, and looked pityingly down upon her old enemy. 
 A slight shudder moved her shapely shoulders ; and 
 the flowers on her bosom shook with one long-drawn 
 sigh. Then she slipped her gloved hand into her 
 father's; standing pale and quiet, until Holden 
 moved again, muttering. Then, his opening eyes fell 
 upon the woman's face, as though expecting to find 
 it there ; and he spoke, more easily than before : 
 
 " Yer hezn't 'low'd I war gone, hez yer? " he said. 
 "I war waitin' tell yer cum, Phil Freeman; but I 
 want yer gell, too ! " 
 
 "I am here, Mr. Holden," Jen said, quietly; a world 
 of pity in her voice, and in the eyes that took in all 
 that wreck of prideful power. 
 
 "Yer ben't a-foolin', be^^er? No; ther hain't no 
 voice like youm ! Phil Freeman, we 'uns hez know'd 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 335 
 
 ''nuther nigh ter forty j^ear Sence ther war, I hez 
 bin plum sot 'gin yer ; far I 'low ez I hed ther right. 
 But he war yere, jes' now — Hank war — " 
 
 "Who?" Jen Freeman glanced around involun- 
 tarily. 
 
 "Hank, my boy. An' he 'low'd ez I shud tell yer 
 thet I lied, a-thinkin'I war a-doin ther Lord's work." 
 
 He dropped back on his pillow, panting; and 
 Latham, seizing his wrist anxioush', felt the pulse 
 iilmost stop. He seized the glass of brandy, 
 
 " Take this, Holden ! You must !" 
 The grim invalid gulped the liquor. 
 
 "Et don' mek no differ now, do it? Thet be n't 
 a-brekin' no yoaths, w'en I'm a-goin' ter jine her! 
 I be n't a Ijdn' now, Phil Freeman; I war 'gin yer all 
 'long. Wen Hank rid off ter jine, 'gin his paw's 
 wall, it war hard. W'en he 'low'd he war sot ter go 
 back, thet war harder yit; an' w'en he war kilt — " 
 He rose to his elbow, striving to raise his right hand; 
 but fell back, gasping a moment, before he added: 
 "Then I swar mj^yoath ter Gawd, an'kep 't ther bes' 
 I cud! Lizeknow'd't— " 
 
 "She did! " Jen broke in. "She came to warn me 
 the first night you shot; that midnight. But Mr. 
 Latham came and — " 
 
 "Thank God !— At last ! " Even through that sol- 
 emn scene, the deep tremor in Latham's voice fell 
 strong and solemn as a vow; and his eyes sought 
 hers with infinite pleading for pardon in them. But 
 Jen went on gravely, though her voice shook : 
 
 "And she told me you led the Yankees to Mr. 
 Latham's hiding, the night she walked with me to 
 
336 JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 warn him! But that is past, and God forgives 
 you!" 
 
 As she spoke, Freeman's eyes stared at her, as. 
 though not hearing aright ; but they met Latham's 
 — bravel^y turned to him ; a great hope in them now 
 — and the father's arm stole about her, with a ten- 
 derness that paid her for many a struggle gone. 
 
 "I ble've He do forgi'e 't all," the sick man 
 answered. "Et war dun fur His work, w'en I war 
 blin', gell! I lied 'gin yer, w'en yer led Forres' crost 
 ther crik ; I lied ter yer yung man, 'bout ther Yank 
 and ther Gadsding boy a-courtin' ! " 
 
 Again he paused for breath. Again Latham's eyes 
 met Jen Freeman's; but, this time, hers sought his. 
 And in them was something that made him feel more 
 humble and more contrite, in the gleam of her great 
 forgiveness ! 
 
 "I'm near dun'," Holden gasped more feebly, 
 "I war plum sot, w'en I war blin'. W'en a man ar^ 
 sot, he ar' sot all ter wunst! But Hank 'lows I 
 hain't got ther right — an' — ter morrer — " 
 
 His eyes closed wearily. Latham again put the 
 brandy to his lips ; very gently now. But Holden 
 shook his head v^eakly : 
 
 "I hain't a-needin' no mo'. But I 'low I'm smeart 
 wearit, an' I kin sleep quiet, now." 
 
 He closed his eyes awhile. Then the}-- opened 
 wide, fixed full on Jen's. 
 
 "I 'low yer hez forgi'en me, gell! " he said, softly. 
 "An' yer hez ther right ter do 't, ez I war a-workin*^ 
 blin' fur ther Lord ! Gi'e me j^er han', gell ! " 
 
JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 337 
 
 Feebly he reached out his brown, knotted left 
 hand ; and the girl — impulsively tearing the long glove 
 from her rounded arm — placed her slim, white fingers 
 in it. More feebly still, he strove to stretch his other 
 hand to Latham. 
 
 " Kin yer 'low yer hez ther right ter gi'e me yer 
 han', too, yung soljer? " he asked. 
 
 ''May God forgive you as wholly as I do!" 
 Latham answered gravely; and very gently his 
 strong hand lifted the hard one of his old foe. 
 
 Then, with quick access of strength, John Holden 
 sat bolt upright ; his face calm, and his eyes glowing 
 with their old fire. And — so suddenly that neither 
 man nor woman could suspect his purpose — he 
 brought their hands together; holding them close, 
 v^ith fevered strength, as he spoke, in his old, deep 
 voice : 
 
 "Them ez ther Lord hez jined — no man shell 
 hinder! " 
 
 As suddenly as he had risen, he fell back ; carrying 
 the soldier's hand — still resting on the fair one 
 of the girl — close on his heart. Then his grasp 
 relaxed; and, as two buriiing faces raised bravely 
 to each other, the e^^es of both spoke a solemn 
 " Amen ! " to that strange betrothal sacrament ! 
 
 No one broke the silence ; but two pairs of moist 
 eyes sought those of Philip Freeman. They were 
 full of tears; but the love in them was as of a ben- 
 ediction. 
 
 "I hez dun ther Lord's work ter ther las' ! " John 
 Holden whispered, very low. "I be plum wearit; 
 lem' me sleep! " 
 
 22 
 
33S JOHN HOLDEN, UNIONIST. 
 
 He closed his eyes quietly, breathing as easily and 
 softly as a child ; and — when certain that he slept — 
 the three moved to the window, speaking in whis- 
 pers that were full freighted with present peace and 
 future hope. But still the sick man slept ; and — after 
 two hours, that had not moved with leaden feet for 
 him — Latham pointed to the east. 
 
 "The dawn of a new day, mj^ darling!" he whis- 
 pered to Jen. "And, oh ! what a different day ! " 
 
 "We are both better for what we have suffered," 
 she answ^ered, ^vith her e^^es on his. "Truly Holden 
 has done the Lord's work. His ways are the best ! " 
 
 "May He forgive, as we do!" Latham answered. 
 "But, poor old fellow! I have forgotten his medi- 
 cine!" 
 
 He dropped the liquid and moved softly to the bed- 
 side. Very gently he touched the forehead of the 
 quiet sleeper. 
 
 It w^as icy cold. The laboring heart, that was 
 "plum wearit," had ceased its work. 
 
 John Holden had gone "ter jine" her — and Hank! 
 
 THE END. 
 
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 A List of Books Selected From 
 
 THE 
 
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 PUBLISHERS, 
 
 ST. PAUL, NlINTvl. 
 
 Complete Catalogue sent on application. 
 
SIX CENT SAM'S. 
 
 A Collection of Interesting Stories, 
 
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 Minnesota. 
 
Sylvester Romaine. 
 
 A Graphic Story of tlie Times, 
 
 By Charles E. Pelletreau, B. D. 
 
 Strongly Written, Well Told, and Skil- 
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A CLOSE SHAVE. 
 
 The Story of a Trip Around the World, 
 
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 An interesting Storj of the South 
 
 By M. G. McClelland, 
 
 An American Author whose PubHc is 
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 HANDSOMELY ILLUSTRATED 
 
 With ftill page drawings by Charles 
 Edward Boutwood. 
 
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 upon receipt of price, by the publishers, The Price- 
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 Minnesota. 
 
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 Charming Sketches, 
 
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RARE BOOK 
 COLLECTION 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 
 AT 
 
 CHAPEL HILL 
 
 Wilroer 
 342 
 
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