OF CALIF. LIBRARY. LOS ANGELES
 
 Their men do the fighting, but the women have their part" 
 
 See page jo6
 
 THE 
 
 CAPTAIN 
 
 BY 
 CHURCHILL WILLIAMS 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 "J. DEVLIN BOSS" 
 
 ILLUSTRATED BY 
 ARTHUR I. KELLER 
 
 LOTHROP PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 BOSTON
 
 COPYR I GHT, 
 
 1903, BY 
 L O T H R O P 
 PU BLISHING 
 COMPANY. 
 
 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 
 
 ENTERED AT 
 
 STATIONERS' 
 
 HALL 
 
 Published January, 1903
 
 'O MY FATHER 
 AND MOTHER 
 
 2133815
 
 TO THE READER 
 
 TJT7 HEN they loosened the Captain's collar, 
 is is half-hidden by the grizzled beard, they 
 found a narrow ribbon, and fastened to 
 this a lock of woman's hair. Twined about it was 
 a baby's curl. For more than thirty years, in the 
 long months when a continent lay between him and 
 the woman he loved and the child he had never seen, 
 in the days when with his axe he shaped a home for 
 them among the oaks beside the great river, in the 
 five dire years when he was doing his best for his 
 country, at first unknown, always silently and with- 
 out show, again when his countrymen twice laid 
 their fortunes in his hands and paid to him the 
 honours which his old mother had always said her 
 boy would win during all this time these rested 
 above his heart. And so afterward to the end. 
 
 With a part of that time, with days of sunshine 
 and hard work in the fields and woods, with days 
 which were less bright but in each of which he did 
 his duty as he saw it then, this story deals. I have 
 tried to show the Captain as he was, simple, unflinch- 
 ing, patient. I have chosen to call him by the name
 
 TO THE, READER 
 
 by which his neighbours called him when he first 
 came among them in the little settlement on the 
 Gravois. He had earned the name by courage and 
 loyalty. No name ever fitted a man better. If my 
 story helps to make this plainer and you come closer 
 to him, thank the many faithful workers who have 
 written of him from a knowledge broader and more 
 intimate than I can claim. Most of all let me pay 
 my tribute to him who has told his own story 
 as few have the grace and skill to tell of great things 
 the Captain himself. The Captain whose whole 
 life is poured out in his simple words, " LET us 
 
 HAVE PEACE ! "
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. ON THE GRAVOIS ROAD 
 
 II. MR. MAYHEW AND SOME OTHERS 
 
 III. WAY OF A MAID .... 
 
 IV. COLONEL MARSHALL PROPHESIES 
 
 V. A SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND HOLE 
 
 VI. ABOUT A STORY - TELLER 
 
 VII. CROSSING A BRIDGE 
 
 VIII. THE GIRL FROM THE SOUTH 
 
 IX. ONE NEW YEAR'S NIGHT 
 
 X. THE SPARK . . ... 
 
 XI. CALLING OF THE DRUMS 
 
 XII. FLOUTING A UNIFORM . 
 
 XIII. A BAPTISM 
 
 XIV. BEATRIX 
 
 XV. THICKER THAN WATER . 
 
 XVI. DONELSON 
 
 XVII. WHAT A LAME MAN DID . 
 
 XVIII. OLD FACES IN STRANGE PLACES. 
 
 XIX. UNDER THE APPLE -TREES . 
 
 XX. THE WEDGE 
 
 XXI. FROM THE FRONT. 
 
 XXII. AT HOLLY SPRINGS 
 
 XXIII. MR. LINCOLN'S KEY . 
 
 XXIV. BY WAY OF THE RIVER 
 
 XXV. "COME AND TAKE ME" 
 
 XXVI. LEE ....... 
 
 XXVII. THE CAPTAIN'S WAY . 
 
 PAGE 
 II 
 27 
 4 6 
 69 
 
 86 
 101 
 
 120 
 
 136 
 
 155 
 
 170 
 
 189 
 
 199 
 
 . 21 I 
 
 . 223 
 
 . 248 
 
 . 264 
 
 277 
 . 286 
 . 294 
 . 308 
 
 324 
 
 338 
 
 359 
 . 381 
 
 39 2 
 . 415
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " Their men do the fighting, but the women have 
 
 their part" .... Frontispiece 
 
 The Captain page 16 
 
 " Kitty, that was the last we saw of him " page 152 
 
 " / will not ! " she cried, and threw back her 
 
 head . . . . . . . page 436
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 i 
 
 ON THE 
 GRAVOIS ROAD 
 
 THE axe flashed in the autumn sunlight and 
 bit deeply into the log. The axeman meas- 
 ured each blow, his feet well apart, his body 
 rocking on the hips. He was of middle height, 
 broad and sinewy. His shirt was open at the neck, 
 his overalls tucked into rusty high boots. His slouch- 
 hat lay on the ground, and to his heavy brown hair 
 and short beard clung many chips. Presently he 
 straightened himself, drew a hand across his fore- 
 head, and looked up. It was a grave face, square 
 and strong, two tiny furrows where the generous 
 nose sprang from the broad brow, the lips well set, 
 the chin firm. The gray eyes, a little weary at the 
 corners, were honest and fearless in their gaze. 
 They brightened as they swept the columns of oak 
 and spruce, and the dark clumps of underbrush 
 whose spice filled the nostrils. 
 
 Overhead, a patch of blue roofed the clearing; 
 on three sides arched the green of the woods, on 
 
 II
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the other, through a thin screen of bushes between 
 the scattered trees, the yellow clay of a road showed 
 here and there. The sounds of the woods filled the 
 axeman's ears, the tinkle of a near-by spring, the 
 call of a thrush, the thousand murmuring tongues 
 of leaf and twig and breeze. But weaving itself 
 through these, distinct and sweet to his ears, came the 
 broken words of a child, and his eyes drew to a mossy 
 knoll fifty feet away on the clearing's edge. Two 
 children there, in the shelter of a fallen tree, were 
 building a bark house. The baby watched the work 
 with intent gaze; the other, a boy, builded with 
 great care, and told of his plan with every fresh 
 bit of bark he laid in place. 
 
 The axeman watched in silence until the builder 
 looked up and saw him. Then he laughed. " It's 
 going up faster than mine." 
 
 " Yes, and it'll be big bigger than yours 
 when it's done," the boy called back. He scrambled 
 to his feet. " I'm coming to see yours." He came 
 over, his knees powdered with mold, and the axeman 
 dropped his blade, and swung him astride of the 
 log. " Will you like it ? Will you like your new 
 home?" he asked. " It's all ours. Will it be better 
 than the other homes ? " 
 
 " Yes. Of course it will. This one's in the 
 woods." The boy looked about him with critical 
 approval. " It's awful big, isn't it? Show me how 
 big it is." 
 
 12
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The axeman pointed out the green stakes which 
 marked a rectangle on the level of the clearing. 
 " There," he said. " There and here/' He turned 
 to the piles of trimmed logs with their white hewn 
 butts. "And there," he added. "Floors, walls, 
 and posts." His face kindled. The memories of 
 six hard years were lost in the perspective of as many 
 months just past. They had been months of joyous, 
 hopeful toil, months in which his hands roughened 
 but his heart grew glad. He curved an arm around 
 the boy. " Yes, this is our home," he said in deeper 
 voice. " Home for us all." 
 
 The boy's eyes wandered from the stakes. He 
 twisted suddenly about. " And you'll stay here 
 with mamma and me? Where's my room?" he 
 asked, suddenly. 
 
 "You want to know that again? Well, here." 
 The axeman stepped to one end of the staked out 
 space. " Here it is, and as high as that." He held 
 a hand above his head. 
 
 "But the windows?" 
 
 A forefinger drew in the air the outlines of a 
 window-frame, and was dropping when the boy re- 
 minded, " You haven't done the door." 
 
 " Oh, yes, the door ! It will be here. Big and 
 wide. Like this." Once more the finger sketched 
 a frame in the space. Then the boy was satisfied. 
 "That's all right," he said, "I like this house. 
 When'll we come here?" 
 
 13
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Soon. As soon as I can finish. Mother will 
 be glad, won't she ? " 
 
 " Mamma ? Yes, she will. She said " Sud- 
 denly the boy saw that the other builder had upset 
 the top story of the bark house. He cried out to him 
 to stop, squirmed from the encircling arm,, slipped 
 from the log, and ran to the scene of destruction. 
 
 The axeman leaned on his axe for a minute, and 
 stared at the ground. " It's a fresh start, sure 
 enough," he said, half aloud. " This time is for 
 good and all." His fingers closed on the hickory 
 haft so that the knuckles grew white. 
 
 A squirrel tumbled down an overhanging limb, 
 and scolded. The axeman snapped a finger at him. 
 " Sho, you rascal ! " he cried. Then he squared his 
 shoulders, and the axe went aloft. The " chug " 
 of the smitten wood sent the squirrel chattering 
 aloft. For half an hour the chips spouted from 
 beneath the blade, with occasional pauses as the 
 builders of the two houses called to each other. 
 
 Then from the woods came a faint halloa. The 
 axeman answered. " It's David," he said aloud, 
 and rested. A minute later a figure broke through 
 the underbrush, and halted. " Halloa, Captain. 
 She's coming on." 
 
 " Yes, I've made a fairly big hole in the woods." 
 
 David Ford came over and seated himself on 
 a pile of logs. He took off his hat and fanned him- 
 self. He was sturdy in the legs and long in the 
 
 14
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 arms. He walked firmly and a little slowly. His 
 head set strongly on wide shoulders and with thick 
 brown hair, matched well his vigorous features and 
 wide-open blue eyes. 
 
 " I reckon you'll be ready to have the raising 
 before long," he said. 
 
 " Yes, if the weather holds, I ought to be ready 
 in two weeks." 
 
 " Now, that's good. Captain, this'll be your own 
 house, if there ever was one. You've done every- 
 thing from hauling the stones to splitting shingles." 
 
 The Captain's eyes lightened. " I've done about 
 all. Except some of the hauling." 
 
 " Well, you won't want for help at the raising. 
 I'm coming, though that won't be much account, 
 and I reckon uncle will send over a man or two. 
 Yes, there's 'Lias Tobe. Doctor Shirley told me he 
 was going to send him. And 'Lias's about the best 
 man with an axe hereabouts unless it's you." 
 
 " I don't claim to beat 'Lias," answered the Cap- 
 tain, smiling. " But it was Lee suggested to the 
 doctor to send him, wasn't it ? " 
 
 " I don't know, though I shouldn't wonder. Lee's 
 mighty interested in your house building. If she's 
 got it in her mind to have 'Lias come, he'll be on 
 hand." 
 
 " She generally has her way," the Captain re- 
 marked, quizzically. "Have you been up there?" 
 
 " This afternoon. I just came from there. I 
 
 15
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 didn't reckon to come here at all to-day; but she 
 was out riding, and I thought I might as well come 
 around. You were up at St. Louis yesterday, weren't 
 you?" 
 
 " Yes, I took a load of wood. There's a good 
 bit of talk about Mr. Johnson's freeing his slaves. 
 It's queer you don't hear more about it here." 
 
 " Oh, there's lots said here, too. You don't go 
 round much, that's all." 
 
 " I've been too busy," said the Captain. " When 
 the roof's on I'll take a day or two off, and try 
 to make some friends." 
 
 " That won't be hard for you. You ought to 
 do it. What are they saying about Mr. Johnson ? " 
 
 " Oh, not so much when you sift it out," the 
 Captain said, slowly. " It's the same things they've 
 said a good many times, I guess, only I haven't 
 been here. But it's a pretty tough nut to crack, 
 and it won't be cracked with talking." 
 
 " You mean Kansas ? " 
 
 " Kansas is only one little bit of it. It's the whole 
 slave question." There he paused, and reflec- 
 tively rubbed the blade of the axe with a palm. 
 " I suppose you've been thinking it over yourself. 
 How does it strike you ? " He sat down on the 
 log he had been cutting. " You fellows who'll 
 be voting in a year or two more'll have a good deal 
 to say about the thing," he added. 
 
 David had taken out his knife and was sticking 
 
 16
 
 The Captain
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 it in and pulling it out of the bark. His face was 
 sober. 
 
 " I don't know just what I do think," he said, 
 deliberately. " You see, I haven't got any reason 
 to think but one way. Uncle says slavery is right 
 because it is. I can't just make out what that means, 
 only he's read me parts of the Bible that back it up. 
 He knows the Bible, if any one knows, doesn't he? " 
 
 " Yes, he can tell you a good many things that 
 are in the Bible, but the Bible doesn't settle the 
 question exactly, as far as I've read it." 
 
 " Then," went on David, " father always had 
 slaves, and he did about right by everybody. Most 
 of the people that amount to anything round here 
 have slaves, too." 
 
 " Yes, but some of them aren't prejudiced on chat 
 account. Now there's Doctor Shirley. He reads 
 a good deal. He's a fair-minded man, from all I've 
 heard." 
 
 David's face clouded. Then he laughed. " Yes," 
 he said. " But the doctor wouldn't undertake to talk 
 about that, I reckon. It would be too much like 
 getting into an argument. It always goes back 
 to books, or bugs, or butterflies, anyway, when you 
 start out with him." 
 
 " Then ask Colonel Marshall." 
 
 " I'd hear nothing but what was bad about the 
 abolitionists, and how the country was going to 
 the devil. No, that wouldn't do." 
 
 17
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Well, then, ask that Miss Pinckney up at the 
 Colonel's. She isn't against abolition." 
 
 David rocked on the log. " I should say not. 
 I wouldn't dare ask her. She'd hand me a Boston 
 pamphlet, and give me advice all the other way. 
 Captain, I guess it comes back to you," and, 
 seriously, " and you own slaves, too. I don't see 
 why I shouldn't think the same way." 
 
 " Well, maybe you do." The Captain was watch- 
 ing the knitted, sun-browned face. 
 
 " I'd like to get it all put before me square and 
 fair by some one who didn't try to make one side 
 a bit stronger than the other," said David, and 
 halted. Suddenly he looked up. " Now, why 
 wouldn't you do that? " 
 
 The Captain smiled. " I couldn't," he said. " I 
 wouldn't do. I'm a slaveholder. You just said 
 so yourself." 
 
 " But you're square." 
 
 " Am I ? I like to hear you say it. It's just 
 because I want to be square that I won't try to 
 lay the question out for you. I don't know but 
 that I've got my mind made up. They don't think 
 much of abolitionists in the army, you know." 
 
 " Then I guess I've got to wait till I can work 
 it out for myself. If I go to college, I will. I've 
 got the money to go. Father left it to me. By and 
 by I reckon uncle'll say I can go." 
 
 " He ought to. But you'll have to decide before 
 
 18
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 you get through college. There's an election in 
 two years ; there'll be a good deal settled then. You 
 want to have your say." 
 
 David made no reply. His brow was puzzled. 
 
 The Captain's face promised mischief. " J tell 
 you what you do," he said. " Ask Lee to explain 
 it to you. She's impartial, isn't she? " 
 
 David looked up suspiciously, but the Captain was 
 inspecting the edge of his axe. " Lee," he began. 
 Then something made his eyes sparkle. " I don't 
 think she'd do." 
 
 " Why, I thought you swore by her ? " 
 
 " Lee is all right," replied David. " But she has 
 views about any one who tries to interfere with other 
 people's affairs. And that's what she says these 
 abolitionists are trying to do. She writes to a 
 cousin of hers down in Mississippi, Miss Pem- 
 berton. She read me one of the letters she got 
 from her the other day. She asked me if it wasn't 
 splendid. ' I wish Beatrix was here,' she said. 
 ' Wouldn't we have fun with the people who aren't 
 sure about abolition ! ' She looked right at me 
 when she said that, Captain. There were sparks 
 in her eyes. And well, I don't reckon Lee would 
 tell me what I want." 
 
 " Maybe not." The Captain's lips twitched. 
 " But it wouldn't hurt you to try." 
 
 " No-o. But I'd just as lief not run any risks." 
 
 " David," said the Captain, impressively, " do you 
 
 19
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 know what I begin to believe? You're afraid of 
 her," The speaker's face was composed as he ex- 
 plained, " I mean, you let her impose on you." 
 
 David's lips settled. "I don't do that. But I 
 like her." 
 
 " And she knows it, and you don't mind if she 
 does?" 
 
 "Not a bit. Why should I?" 
 
 " No reason in the world. But she does about 
 what she wants with you. Now, doesn't she ? " 
 
 With David it was all suddenly become serious. 
 Within him at times there leaped a decision which 
 locked his jaw and made him quiet but very de- 
 termined. Then those who faced him forgot that 
 he still lacked more than a year of his majority. 
 " Well," he said, steadily, " I wouldn't let Lee make 
 me do anything if I wasn't " 
 
 He halted. The Captain turned his head quickly. 
 Somewhere from the woods had come a cry. It 
 was repeated while they waited. " David ! Oh, 
 David ! " 
 
 The Captain looked across. A red spot glowed 
 through the tan of David's cheek. His lips had 
 parted involuntarily as if to answer. 
 
 The Captain's gravity broke down. " It's no 
 use," he said. " She knew what you were saying. 
 The rebellion's over. You've got to give in." 
 
 The words brought David's chin up. The Captain 
 
 20
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 saw it, and repented. " Oh, go on," he advised. 
 " Answer her, anyway." 
 
 Again clear and from closer range came the call, 
 " David ! David ! oh David ! " 
 
 David did not speak, and thrust his knife into 
 the bark of the log. The Captain interposed. " You 
 ought to go. It's all my fault. I didn't mean what 
 I said just now." There was an ominous silence, 
 and he added, " If you don't, you're only showing 
 that she can plague you. Go on. She wants you. 
 And I've got to work." 
 
 This time the blue eyes set themselves in a stare 
 of steady inquiry. " I mean it," repeated the Cap- 
 tain. 
 
 David closed the knife and put it into his pocket. 
 " All right, then, I'll go." He called good-by to the 
 builders of the bark house as he passed them, and 
 plunged into the woods. But doubt laid hold of 
 him as soon as he was among the trees, and he 
 moved forward rapidly until fifty yards separated 
 him from the clearing before he paused. Then he 
 looked about, searching every open spot closely. 
 
 It was very quiet. Only the musical tinkle of 
 a stream dripping over a mossy fall threaded the 
 stillness. When he did not hear the " chug " of 
 the axe, it flashed upon him that the Captain was 
 listening. That made him angry. Lee probably 
 was somewhere near by, laughing at him. He 
 
 21
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 wished he had remained in the clearing. But he 
 was started, and must go on out of shame. 
 
 He put a hundred feet more between himself and 
 the clearing, each moment hoping to come upon her. 
 But only the boles of the trees and here and there 
 a clump of laurel were in sight. He swung a dozen 
 yards to one side, made a wide half-circle, and beat 
 up every bush and fallen tree, halting abruptly now 
 and then. He had the idea of surprising her should 
 she move from her hiding-place. Then, when he 
 was close to where he had begun his hunt, he sat 
 down on a stump and listened. 
 
 A thrush called presently, and, as if it were a 
 signal it seemed but a score of feet behind him 
 sounded again the mocking, " David ! Oh, Da-vid ! " 
 He whirled about at the first syllable, and dashed 
 in the direction whence it came, head up. Suddenly 
 his foot caught in a root, and he fell headlong 
 with a crash. 
 
 With the sound of his fall it was as if some one 
 softly whistled near at hand. From the direction 
 of the clearing came an echo like a laugh. 
 
 He leaped to his feet. For a moment he stood 
 with clenched hands. Then he spoke steadily, " All 
 right, Lee. You might as well come out." 
 
 Then was a brief wait, and he spoke again, no 
 louder, and as evenly as before. " Lee, I'm done 
 hunting for you. Where are you ? " 
 
 This time there was an answer. " Why, here, 
 
 22
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 David ! " He turned about. In the shadow of a 
 spruce, twenty feet away, he saw a girl of sixteen, 
 all the slimness of her years modelled by the 
 simple lines of her dress, her brown curls caught 
 behind the head with a bow of bright ribbon, her 
 face raised saucily, her gray eyes sparkling. She 
 dangled a broad hat by its strings. " I came out 
 because you were so cross," she said. " But I've 
 been here, oh, so long! waiting for you to find 
 me. Have you been very far ? " The puzzle of a 
 tiny frown was set between her eyes, but in her 
 parted lips was the beginning of a smile, long famil- 
 iar to him. 
 
 " Yes," he said, bluntly. " I have been. I passed 
 that very spruce twice. You weren't there all the 
 time." 
 
 " Who said I was ? " she retorted. The frown was 
 gone. He had yielded to her temptation to argue, 
 and she was no longer afraid of him. " But I 
 haven't been far away," she went on. " And you 
 made such a beau-ti-ful circle. I watched you. 
 And that stump you sat down on. I was sitting 
 on it a minute before. I got up to make room for 
 you. I would have grown tired waiting, only you 
 looked so very mad." 
 
 " I wasn't mad." 
 
 Her eyebrows arched. She made a little mouth. 
 Then, penitently, " Please excuse me! And it was 
 mean of the Captain to listen. And just when you 
 
 23
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tripped on that root, too. It was very sudden, 
 wasn't it? Do you think he heard the the 
 bump?" 
 
 There was no reply. " Do you, David ? " she 
 persisted. " It was a pretty big bump." 
 
 The frown insisted on showing itself. She saw 
 it, and leaned forward. " Oh, I forgot. Forgive 
 me ! Did it hurt much ? " 
 
 " No," he said. " But if you are done, I think 
 I might as well go on." 
 
 " I'm not keeping you," she answered. " Come 
 on. I am all alone. But where shall we go? I 
 came back home from my ride, and they told me 
 some one had been there. So I came here to 
 look at the trees." 
 
 David looked straight into her face, but per- 
 ceived no guile. It was all demure and pleading. 
 The indignity put upon him was forgotten. " Well, 
 then, I'll go with you," he said. " Where's your 
 horse?" 
 
 " Tied to a rail down the road. Come on." 
 
 She led the way, facing him, now and then, with 
 dainty, dancing steps, and cautioning him the while, 
 " Don't forget the roots. Be very careful. Oh, 
 there's a big one now right under your nose." 
 But she did not go toward the clearing, and pres- 
 ently the steady " chug " of the axe, which had 
 begun again, died away on their left. They came 
 out into the road. The brown horse cropped the 
 
 24
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 wiry grass by the roadside, and, after he had lifted 
 his head and inspected them, continued his meal in 
 peace. 
 
 For they had no need of him just then. Perched 
 on the topmost rail of the old fence, she cross-ques- 
 tioned him about what he had been doing. She 
 challenged him to guess the petals on a late flower. 
 Once she puffed a feather into the air, and defied 
 him to bring it back to her as it floated in the breeze 
 over the bushes and among the trees. So half 
 an hour passed. Suddenly she sprang to the ground 
 with a little cry of alarm. " I must go right away. 
 I reckon poor Daddy has been looking everywhere 
 for me. You had no right to ask me to stop so 
 long. Help me on Dick." 
 
 He lifted her into the saddle, and together they 
 started down the road, Dick as if his famous speed 
 was no more than a story of his younger days. 
 David had a hand on the brown horse's side, and 
 kept pace, while the rider talked and he listened. 
 
 They were opposite the clearing when the Cap- 
 tain's figure loomed through the trees, and, a moment 
 later, came into the road. 
 
 In the hollow of one arm lay the axe, on a shoul- 
 der rode the baby; the other builder, of the bark 
 house, trudged by his side. The Captain's slouch- 
 hat was tilted up in front, and a level shaft of sun- 
 light striking beneath the trees deepened the strong 
 lines of his bearded face. 
 
 25
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " So you found her, David," he said. " I thought 
 you would. It's the right way. When you make 
 up your mind to do anything, do it, if it takes 
 for ever. Good-night." , 
 
 He started up the road. They watched him until, 
 at the bend of the road above, the sun sent back 
 a last winking flash from the axe-blade. Then Lee 
 spoke. " He said, ' Do it, if it takes for ever.' I 
 believe that's the way he does." 
 
 "I'm sure of it," returned David. "He's out 
 of the army, but when anything's to be done, and 
 he's about, he's likely to be the Captain." 
 
 26
 
 II 
 
 MR. MAYHEW 
 AND SOME OTHERS 
 
 HALF a mile from the clearing- the road bent 
 toward the hill, back of which Doctor Shir- 
 ley's house stood. There, with a "good 
 night," David left Lee, and struck across fields. 
 On the other side of a swell of rolling land he skirted 
 the stretch of woods which lined the roundabout 
 course of Gravois Creek, in this dry weather a mere 
 thread of water, and crossed its abrupt clay banks 
 on a felled tree. A minute later he unlatched the 
 gate at the back of his home. It was a small farm, 
 but well kept. Behind the old house with its gallery 
 was the double row of whitewashed cabins of the 
 quarter. Smoke everywhere filtered from the chim- 
 neys of these. On the bench at the door of one a 
 bent darkey, with snowy poll, cuddled the bowl of 
 his cob pipe in both palms, and talked to himself. 
 He raised his withered face and nodded as he re- 
 turned David's greeting, then dropped his head and 
 resumed his conversation. 
 
 From another cabin came the crash of falling tin- 
 
 27
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 ware and a burst of infant wailing-. But this was 
 quickly hushed, and, in the moment of quiet that 
 followed, a very different sound fell on David's 
 ears. From behind a small outbuilding, fifty feet 
 away, came a soft voice. He could distinguish every 
 word, and in his mind's eye saw clearly the figure 
 of the slave standing there facing his uncle and 
 hearing why it would be wisdom on his part not 
 to repeat a certain fault. 
 
 " A kind master, a cool master, but a master 
 always to your niggers," was a rule of conduct 
 Felix Mayhew had often pronounced. " I never use 
 the whip," he was wont to add, with reproach in his 
 tones for those who might. David as often recalled 
 the comment of 'Lias Tobe, " No, Mr. Mayhew don't 
 use th' whip, but if I was his nigger I'd pray he 
 would, if it would take th' place of his tongue ! " 
 'Lias perhaps was a skeptic as to moral suasion. It 
 is certain he was without reverence at times. When 
 David loyally demanded an explanation of this re- 
 mark he got no more than a significant shake of the 
 long head with its humourous face and grizzled 
 locks. 
 
 David himself was not sure of his own feelings. 
 Yet at times, overhearing his uncle's softly spoken 
 correction of a slave, he suddenly found his fingers 
 curling. Perhaps it was to forestall such temptation 
 that he walked quickly on and entered the living- 
 room of the house. 
 
 28
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The table was laid for supper, but the room was 
 empty except for a cat which sat on the window-sill 
 and blinked at the slow march of a line of chickens 
 along the lane. David walked to the window, laid 
 a hand on the cat's back, and stood there looking 
 over the fields. 
 
 Beyond the road hedge they rolled away, a maze 
 of stubble, to the upland ridges whose uneven tree- 
 tops cut a purple comb against the red sky of the 
 west. In one place a flood of flame poured between 
 the shoulders of a lower hill, and set the end of the 
 road on fire. To the south, the shadows had gath- 
 ered in a ravine. Along the bottom a trail of mist 
 marked the winding course of the creek. It was 
 all familiar to him, and yielded a haunting sweet- 
 ness which he drank in through every sense. It was 
 absolutely still, and he had grown conscious of the 
 silence, when under his fingers he felt the muscles 
 of the cat grow rigid as the animal crouched. Then 
 it sprang far out the window. At the same moment 
 a soft voice behind him said, " David, good even- 
 ing." 
 
 Every nerve in David's body had thrilled to 
 alarm. There was an instant's pause before he could 
 command the quiet " Good evening, Uncle," with 
 which he turned. It was not a new experience. 
 Again and again he had fought to master the mo- 
 mentary panic which he knew well had been the 
 purpose of that stealthy approach. It was one of 
 
 29 
 
 4
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 his uncle's idiosyncrasies to enter a room silently. 
 David knew that behind him Mr. Mayhew's lips 
 had twitched with a spasm of vexation when he 
 got that quiet answer. 
 
 His own face, however, was not more composed 
 than that into which he now looked. Once again he 
 was reminded of a coloured print in a book he had 
 turned the pages of many times when his father 
 was alive, ten years ago. It was the picture of some 
 saint. In his uncle's face he saw the same pointed 
 chin and thin lips, the same long nose with sensitive 
 nostrils, the pale skin, high cheek-bones, and narrow 
 brow framed in dark locks which fell almost to the 
 collar and hid the tips of the ears. The resemblance 
 ceased only at the eyes. Those of his uncle were 
 hazel, changing colour, the pupils expanding to every 
 shadow, or pulling down the lids as if offended by a 
 glare. Once he had stared at them until his uncle 
 spoke. " Yes, they hurt me. It is the sunlight, per- 
 haps. But they are all I have, David. I must not 
 complain." There was something behind the rebuke 
 which never allowed it to be forgotten. 
 
 Indeed Felix Mayhew lacked much that other 
 men enjoyed. As he limped noiselessly across the 
 room on his padded crutch, and swung himself into 
 the big chair which David drew into place at the 
 head of the table, his shrivelled left leg and frail 
 body were pitifully evident. He laid one hand on 
 the table, and the tapering nails of the long fingers, 
 
 30
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 which usually he curled so that they were concealed 
 by the palms, clicked on the surface. 
 
 David at the signal bowed his head, while his 
 uncle repeated the grace without which no meal in 
 the house was begun. Then he began eating with 
 healthy zest. 
 
 Mr. Mayhew ate more leisurely. He picked 
 at what lay before him with mincing daintiness, his 
 head slightly inclined. It was as if he had no appe- 
 tite. But his eyes never left his plate, and once he 
 selected a morsel his head came lower, and his teeth 
 sank into the food and tore it apart with little side- 
 ways jerks of the jaw. It was part of a nervous 
 affliction. David knew this, yet instinctively avoided 
 the sight. But presently the silence drove him to 
 speak, and he asked, " Were you out driving this 
 afternoon ? " 
 
 " No," Mr. Mayhew replied, without raising his 
 eyes. " I have been around the house since you 
 left for Doctor Shirley's. I was in the house most 
 of the time." 
 
 " Hasn't any one been here? " 
 
 " No one." 
 
 There was a pause, then his uncle asked, 
 " Well, what did the Captain have to say? " 
 
 David's answer was begun before he realised that 
 he had said nothing of seeing the Captain. " Noth- 
 ing much, except that in two weeks "
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " He would be ready for the raising of his 
 house ? " his uncle finished in an even voice. 
 
 David was looking across the table at him. He 
 had a sensation which was not fear, but akin to 
 it. His uncle's prescience was uncanny. Familiar- 
 ity with it rendered it no less startling. 
 
 The pale face opposite remained bent over the 
 plate. With a quick gulp David mastered the im- 
 pulse to exclaim. " Yes," he assented, " the raising. 
 Will you send him any help? " 
 
 " I shall send two men. He needs help." 
 
 There was an inference in the statement that 
 stirred David's loyalty. " He is asking no favours," 
 he said. " He has done all the work on the house 
 himself so far." 
 
 '' Yes, so I have heard. It is not a favour I am 
 doing, but a duty. I hope he will succeed." 
 
 " Why shouldn't he succeed ? He has as good 
 a chance as any one. He's honest and hard working. 
 He knows what he's about." 
 
 " Of course. Perhaps he will succeed. And he 
 has one advantage which is very valuable. He 
 knows his weaknesses." 
 
 The bearing of this was not clear. And David, 
 as he was something of a ruminant in mental habit, 
 did not ask for an explanation. He had an idea 
 it would not satisfy him if it was given. The meal 
 was near its close before his uncle spoke again. 
 
 "Does the Captain ever talk of slavery?" 
 
 32
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Not often, but he did speak of it to-day." 
 
 " What does he think ? He has been a good deal 
 among men ; he should have something to say." 
 
 " He doesn't know what he thinks," answered 
 David, bluntly. 
 
 Mr. Mayhew raised his head and his eyebrows 
 with it. " That is rather strange. He is a man 
 of opinions. With Kansas at our very door, and he 
 an army man so lately, and the Washington govern- 
 ment so involved. It is queer now that he is 
 free to speak." 
 
 If David had been less concerned about what 
 seemed a covert attack on the Captain, he would 
 have wondered at the suddenness with which his 
 uncle swung into the remark, "But perhaps, after 
 all, it is not so strange. He is wise who does not 
 commit himself. There are a good many things 
 going on which it is just as well not to talk about. 
 The time may come for talking and doing - 
 later. I think I wouldn't try to decide quickly about 
 this abolition question if I were you." 
 
 It did not seem to David that a reply was called 
 for. 
 
 "You heard what I said?" repeated his uncle. 
 
 " Yes, I heard. But that is one of the very things 
 I want to understand." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew's glance travelled over the face op- 
 posite him so swiftly that it seemed no more than 
 a chance look, but in the moment he saw enough. 
 
 33
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Understand it, you said? That is proper enough 
 if you can understand. But don't try to make others 
 understand what you haven't had the chance yet to 
 form a safe opinion on. There is a lot of foolish 
 talk." 
 
 When supper was finished, Mr. Mayhew took the 
 arm offered and was helped to the ehair which stood 
 for him by the west window, with a lamp on a table 
 near by. This was a fiction which no amount of 
 independent activity on his part was allowed to 
 discredit. It was followed, as it was every night, 
 by the advice in a voice of patient resignation, 
 " Don't forget to give thanks for your own strong 
 legs, David," to which there was no response. 
 Something in the monotony of the utterance made 
 it impossible. It was not a lack of reverence. A 
 simple faith to which he never alluded was deep in 
 David's heart. He carried the Bible to his uncle's 
 chair by the window, as he always did at this hour, 
 and laid it on the crippled knees. Mr. Mayhew sat 
 with his chin in one hand, gazing out the window. 
 
 David went toward the door. " I am going up 
 to the store for a while. I will be home early." 
 
 His uncle did not look around. If the lamp had 
 been turned higher, there might have been seen an 
 expression of swift calculation in the contracted eyes. 
 But the answer came in a quiet voice, " Very well, 
 good night." 
 
 As the night breeze brushed David's face, he 
 
 34
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 drew in a long breath and threw back his shoulders. 
 In his uncle's presence he had an odd feeling of 
 separation from his self. It seemed as if the beatings 
 of his heart were being counted, that a single irreg- 
 ularity would be the signal for an inquiring glance 
 from the eyes which never seemed to rest on him, 
 yet of which he was always conscious. He walked 
 to the fence, and stood leaning against the gate- 
 post. Here he felt free. Through the shivering 
 leaves of an elm overhead, he marked a single bright 
 star, and drew in draughts of the clear night air. 
 
 By and by an approaching step brought his eyes 
 to the road, and out of the darkness grew a tall, 
 angular figure. " Hello, 'Lias," he called. " Going 
 to the store?" 
 
 The man stopped. " Yes. Come along. You'll 
 get sunburnt there." 
 
 David unlatched the gate and went out. " I was 
 waiting for you," he said. At the store in the 
 evening, there was usually a little gathering, the 
 ne'er-do-weel of the settlement, Tom White, always 
 ready for an argument and generally wrong, but 
 with a pliant tongue; a farmer or two with an idle 
 hour to spend in story-telling or gossip. It was 
 the clearing-house for news of the neighbourhood. 
 With a school training better than most of them, 
 and a mind which needed only the opportunity of 
 occasion to wake to its power, David was perhaps 
 better equipped than were most of them to grapple 
 
 35
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 with the questions which they settled offhand. But 
 many things besides the abolition question were as 
 yet formless to him. He caught at loose ends and 
 unravelled them to find they were nothing more. 
 For the most part he was a silent member of the 
 circle, doing his own thinking, toiling behind the 
 march of debate, examining but seldom challenging 
 aloud the truth or wisdom of statements. 
 
 It may have been well for him that, he did spin 
 his opinions slowly. The wisest men in the country, 
 in that autumn of 1854, were puzzling their wits 
 and picking their words in the effort to find a way 
 out of the maze into which the blindness of many, 
 the passion of a few, and the force of that great 
 indefinite factor, circumstance, had led them. Every 
 day they were entangling themselves more hope- 
 lessly. 
 
 Across an imaginary line running midway from 
 the Atlantic to the Pacific they watched one another 
 with jealous eyes, and between them in a parcel of 
 land, a few years before unnamed, they saw the 
 murders of the Great Tragedy being rehearsed. The 
 mighty figure of a Douglas, the greatest orator of 
 them all, trod 'the soil of a free State, and cried his 
 salvation into many ears, and yet was but a blind 
 leader of the blind. Their chief magistrate, urbane, 
 punctilious, preaching forbearance before all else, 
 was willing to accept the tangle if only it could be 
 kept from growing worse. One, who a few years 
 
 36
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 later was to call himself President of some millions 
 of these men, each day drove them by his counsel 
 to where escape was impossible. In a State of the 
 Middle West, a tall and toil-worn man, as yet al- 
 most unknown except to those who had heard the 
 homely wisdom with which his homely Christian 
 name was coupled, tilted his long legs in the office 
 of a grimy little back room, and threshed out for 
 himself the reasons for the decision upon which he 
 was to stake his chances against the mightiest orator 
 of the day, and stake, too, the fortunes of his coun- 
 try and a thousand thousand lives. 
 
 In David's neighbourhood they knew of what was 
 at their doors, and guessed at the rest. They argued 
 it out to suit their several plans, and in their several 
 ways. Kansas the battle-ground was but a few 
 miles west. There deeds were doing in which more 
 than one Missourian had his part. The salt taste 
 of blood had awakened them to the realities of a 
 principle which, again and again, had seemed likely 
 never to be more than a principle. But the leaven of 
 abolition would not be suppressed. From the high- 
 est to the lowest they felt its power, and were in- 
 flamed to passion or inspired to reason. They met 
 to strive with one another, to deride, condemn, 
 threaten, or give warning of what would happen 
 some day. 
 
 On such a discussion David and his companion 
 came. A dozen men were seated on the porch of 
 
 37
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the store on convenient boxes and broken chairs. 
 Against the sides of an upturned barrel Tom White 
 himself kicked his heels, while he turned in his 
 cheek a piece of tobacco, and delivered himself of 
 opinions. 
 
 " I said it," he declared, as David seated himself 
 with his back against a post; "most of them ab- 
 olitionists is a pack of hypocrites. They don't want 
 the niggers themselves, and they're trying to keep 
 the rest of us from having them. All the while 
 they're whining that ' it ain't right.' What ain't 
 right? That this is a free country, and each man 
 should have his say? That a man shouldn't have 
 what he's bought and paid for? Ain't that right? 
 If it ain't, I reckon some of us is about ready to 
 change our minds about these United States. If a 
 man ain't got the right to hold niggers in the new 
 part of the country, then he ain't got the right to 
 do it in the old maybe. And that means it 
 means get out, and start fresh." 
 
 " That's darn fool talk," remarked Jim Hilton. 
 Hilton was a Kentuckian, and a follower of Mr. 
 Pierce. " You know as well as I do," he added, 
 " that when it comes to a vote, there won't be any 
 getting out." 
 
 " You wait and see," returned White. " There's 
 a pile more people thinking that way already than 
 you reckon. There'll be more yet. This abolition 
 business is getting too strong for a good many 
 
 38
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 right here in our own country. Look what was said 
 when Johnson turned his niggers loose. And you 
 only got to go over to the Barracks to hear what the 
 army people think about it." 
 
 " Whatever you hear about the army people is 
 hearsay, anyhow. And, besides, they don't all think 
 one way, I reckon. There's the Captain. If what 
 he does, goes for anything, he ain't any too red-hot 
 against abolition." 
 
 White laughed scornfully. " He ain't too red- 
 hot about anything, when it comes to that. If he 
 has any ideas, he keeps 'em bottled up so no one'll 
 ever find 'em out." 
 
 It was well known that White had been quietly 
 but effectively suppressed by the Captain soon after 
 the latter came into the settlement, and that as a 
 result he could find nothing bad enough to say about 
 him. And, though more than one of those present 
 suspected that he would have a like experience if 
 he tried to force an acquaintance with the sober man 
 in the old army clothes, it was good to laugh at 
 the single man who had tried this and found out 
 his mistake. 
 
 " Oh, come now, that ain't fair," rejoined Hilton. 
 " The Captain don't tell all he knows, but I reckon 
 he does a pile of thinking. As for work, look at 
 the way he tackled that job of house-building. 
 How's it getting on, anyway? David, where are 
 you ? You've been up there lately." 
 
 39
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " It's almost done," said David. " He told me 
 to-day he thought he'd be ready for the raising in 
 about two weeks." 
 
 " Is that so? Now, he must have been working." 
 
 " I wonder how he's going to get on at farming," 
 remarked Abe Happel, the storekeeper. 
 
 " I reckon he won't get on at all," scoffed White. 
 "A farmer boy, was he? I'd like to see the farm 
 he runs. He tried his hand at it out at Fort Van- 
 couver, I'm told. Thought he knew it all. So he 
 started in to raise potatoes. Somebody says he got 
 a slapping big lot of them. Well, if he did, nobody 
 wanted 'em. There was more thereabouts than they 
 could eat. He lost every cent he put into 'em. What 
 kind of farming is that? And he ain't much better 
 at raising cattle and hogs, if the stories is right. 
 He tried it out on the coast, and lost about every- 
 thing in it he didn't lose raising potatoes." 
 
 " Well, there's one thing he didn't lose out there," 
 put in 'Lias Tobe. It was his first word. 
 
 "What's that? His head?" 
 
 " No, his grit. He'll never give up. He didn't 
 lose his honesty, either. There ain't any one ever 
 knew the Captain but will tell you that. He's too 
 honest for himself sometimes. Did you ever hear 
 about his buying a horse? I heard it when I was 
 in his company down in Mexico." 
 
 " Some fool trick, I suppose," sneered White. 
 
 " Maybe you'd call it that. Anyway, it'll never 
 
 40
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 happen to you. It was when he was about twelve 
 years old. His father sent him to buy a mare from 
 a neighbour. He told the boy to offer forty dollars 
 for the horse. If he couldn't get it for that, to offer 
 forty-five. He was to pay fifty if he had to. The 
 neighbour didn't give the Captain a chance to make 
 a bid. ' How much did your father tell you to pay,' 
 he asked. The Captain was thinking of what he 
 had been told, and answered right off the handle, 
 ' Why, he said to offer you forty dollars. If you 
 wouldn't take that, to give you forty-five or fifty.' ' 
 'Lias paused. " The Captain brought the mare back 
 all right," he finished. " Her price was fifty dollars." 
 
 A roar went up from the porch. 
 
 " I reckon he wouldn't do any better than that 
 right now," White remarked. " He knows about 
 as much about horses as he dojes of cattle or hogs." 
 
 There was a twinkle in 'Lias's- eye. He hitched 
 himself around. " Now, is that your idea? Well, 
 look here! I'll bet there ain't a man in the country 
 knows as much about horses or can get as much out 
 of one fairly as the Captain. I'm willing to lay a 
 bet on it with you, right now." 
 
 White blustered, " Why, he ain't got a horse to 
 his name, he ain't ever driven one since he came, 
 unless it was somebody else's. What's he ever done 
 with horses ? " 
 
 " He's done about everything with 'em. Begin- 
 ning when he was a boy and rode a trick pony at 
 
 4*
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the circus that had thrown off everybody that tried 
 him, he's been riding and driving horses all his life. 
 In the army they used to say that there wasn't a rider 
 like him. I know what he did at Monterey in '46, 
 when he hung over the side of his horse on a dead 
 run with every Mexican in range pulling trigger on 
 him to stop him from bringing up reinforcements. 
 And I heard one of the officers up at the Barracks say 
 that, not more than a year ago, he saw him leap 
 a battery of four guns without touching 'em. At 
 West Point it was the talk that there wasn't one 
 of his squad could come near him on horseback. 
 When he was stationed at Detroit he had a black 
 mare that he could put over a mile in two-fifty-five, 
 and with two men behind her, too. I reckon the 
 Captain knows a few things about horses." 
 
 " It's more than he knows about niggers, anyway," 
 White persisted. " I came by him in the field a 
 month or so back. He was working with the nig- 
 gers, and they were giving him the heavy end of the 
 job. And if he wasn't taking it, too! I stood and 
 watched a bit. Then I yelled over to him if he 
 didn't reckon they was getting the best of him. I'll 
 be damned if he didn't shout back that maybe they 
 was, but it wasn't worth fighting about." 
 
 " Worth fighting about ! " The conception was 
 too much for comment. White's sallow face con- 
 torted. He plucked disgustedly at the tuft of black
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 hair beneath his chin, then spat far out beyond the 
 porch. 
 
 " He is a mite too good-natured with the niggers," 
 acknowledged Abe Happel. " And they know it." 
 
 "Well, he's got a right to be, ain't he?" said 
 'Lias. " They were bought and paid for, weren't 
 they? If he ain't got that right, why, I reckon 
 ' some of us is about ready to change our minds 
 about these United States.' ' 
 
 A chorus of yells and the stamping of feet informed 
 White that he was repaid in his own coin. For the 
 moment he had no reply ready. He leaned forward. 
 " Well, it don't make much difference what he does," 
 he affirmed. " He ain't any account. He was dis- 
 charged from the army because he couldn't keep 
 away from the bottle. I guess everybody knows it." 
 
 There was a pause. They had heard the story; 
 most of them believed there was truth in it. David 
 had heard it, too. But to him that mattered not. 
 White's words sank slowly into his mind. It was 
 several seconds before he realised their meaning. 
 Then he got to his feet, and he said, steadily, 
 "That's a He!" 
 
 " A what ? Did you call me a liar ? You damned 
 young whelp!" White slipped from the barrel. 
 "Apologise, you whipper-snapper! Apologise, or 
 I'll give you a licking that you'll never forget ! " 
 
 " It's what I mean," David repeated. " If you 
 
 43
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 say the Captain was discharged from the army for 
 being drunk, you are lying." 
 
 White made an angry movement forward, his fist 
 clenched. Abe Happel reached out a hand, and 
 'Lias leaped to his feet to interfere. But none of 
 them was quick enough. A figure had walked quietly 
 up on the far end of the porch. 
 
 It was the Captain. He had not heard White's 
 words distinctly; he only saw the uplifted arm, 
 and David standing straight and stiff on the step 
 of the porch, the light of the lamp within the store 
 falling through the open door upon his face, which 
 was pale but unafraid. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " he asked, quietly. 
 "Something gone wrong?" Perhaps he was 
 smiling. 
 
 For two seconds surprise sealed White's lips. The 
 rest were leaning forward. They were curiously 
 interested to see what would happen. White was 
 a bully, and he perceived what he thought was a 
 great chance. 
 
 " Nothing much, Captain," he said, changing his 
 tone to one of smooth tolerance. " We were just 
 having a little argument about you army fellows. 
 I said you got a good bit of credit you didn't earn 
 you always had to be bigger than the other fellow to 
 whip him. Now, let's suppose you wanted to go 
 into the store here." 
 
 44
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 "That's where I'm going," said the Captain, 
 gravely. 
 
 White grinned. " So ? Well, I'm right between 
 you and the door. Now, how are you going to get 
 there?" 
 
 " I'll go around." The Captain moved to one 
 side. 
 
 White immediately made a step, blocking the way. 
 " But how about it now ? " 
 
 " Well, now" said the Captain, and all at once 
 his voice hardened and his bearded jaw stuck out, 
 " I'll have to clear the road." Both his arms shot 
 out. White was seized by the collar and jerked 
 forward so suddenly that it looked as if his legs 
 had been struck from under him. He came down 
 upon the porch with a crash, his collar still twisted 
 in the other's grip so that he choked. 
 
 "Is that plain?" asked the Captain. "If it's 
 not I am going into the store. When I come 
 out ! " He loosened his hold, and straightened up, 
 then turned on his heel and went through the door. 
 
 45
 
 Ill 
 
 WAY 
 
 OF A MAID 
 
 MISS SHIRLEY had parted from David with 
 ideas stirring in her mind of which her 
 serene countenance as she said good-bye 
 was no reflection. Chief of these was the discovery 
 that preservation of her privileges and due respect 
 from him required prompt discipline. She had 
 yielded before this to his masterful coolness, but, 
 for the first time, she was sufficiently indignant with 
 herself to contemplate reprisal. She decided that she 
 had been conveying the honour of her friendship 
 with entirely too free a hand. It was not a question 
 of her liking for him; it was a duty she owed to 
 herself. He must learn that his company was a 
 thing of which she was properly careless. 
 
 In this frame of mind she mounted Dick the fol- 
 lowing morning, and rode over to Kitty Marshall's. 
 It was an hour when all precedent said she should be 
 stationed on the porch in a shady corner with her 
 sewing. So her approach to the wide doors of old 
 Colonel Marshall's place brought fluttering down the 
 
 4 6
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 steps the delightfully inconsequent person of Kitty 
 herself Kitty, with bright curls tucked under a 
 cap which was a trap for everything but dust; an 
 apron covering her to her plump bare arms and 
 dimpled chin, being the badge of rebellious servitude 
 to the task of house-cleaning required by the utili- 
 tarian views of Aunt Sarah. On tiptoe she stood 
 and delivered herself of her mingled joy and sur- 
 prise in repeated squeezes of Lee's extended hand 
 and a volley of questions. What had happened? 
 Where was the sewing? Was it a visit for all day? 
 
 " Nothing has happened," was Lee's answer. 
 With the thought of her purpose she rallied a care- 
 less expression and made a simple yet incompre- 
 hensible explanation of Dick's need for exercise, an 
 unexpected dearth of sewing, and an inadvertent 
 turning up the road to Kitty's home. All of which 
 served to parry Miss Marshall's immediate questions, 
 but did not satisfy her curiosity. 
 
 So, while Lee talked about a new hat which had 
 just come from St. Louis, of the warmth of the day 
 for the season, of the misbehaviour of Dick, and of 
 a party which was in prospect at Nina Rennert's, 
 her listener, with fingers twisting the apron-strings, 
 lay back in a rocking-chair on the porch, and with 
 ingenuous blue eyes tried to look into her compan- 
 ion's mind and discover the real reason for the 
 visit. 
 
 But half an hour had passed, and Lee, with a 
 
 47
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 particular question tripping on her tongue, finding 
 gossip a trifle difficult, rose to go. And thereupon 
 remembered, quite by accident, that she had heard 
 the Captain was to have his raising " some day next 
 week." Wouldn't it be worth while to ride over to- 
 gether and see it? 
 
 Not for an instant was Miss Marshall deceived. 
 Somewhere ambushed in this suggestion was the 
 important news. But she answered, carelessly 
 enough, " It seems to me I did hear something like 
 that. Next week, you say ? " and began to tuck in 
 a stray curl by the aid of her pretty reflection in a 
 window-pane. She still wondered why on earth such 
 a fuss should have been made about this. Lee's 
 next words did not make it clear. 
 
 " Oh," she said, " you don't care to go, then. I 
 thought it might be interesting. When are you 
 coming to see me ? " 
 
 Whereupon Miss Marshall answered straightway, 
 " I'll come to-morrow. Then we can decide whether 
 to go or not. I think I will go. I'll ask Oswald 
 Roner to go with me. You'd better change your 
 mind. Ask David to go." 
 
 Lee had gathered the reins in one hand, her foot 
 was in the stirrup. With the other on the mounting- 
 block, she paused. " Maybe I will. You ask 
 Oswald, anyhow. You can stop for me if I go. 
 It's on your way."
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Kitty nodded. " But don't forget David." She 
 had been watching. She was sure that more 
 than the necessities of mounting turned the brown 
 head so persistently away. She waited for a reply; 
 then repeated, " Send him word to-day." 
 
 "Who?" asked Lee. "Oh, you're talking of 
 David. No, I reckon I won't. I heard him tell 
 the Captain he would come to help him at the raising. 
 But we three can go together." 
 
 " Oh, of course, and we'll stop for you. I'll see 
 you to-morrow." 
 
 But as Lee waved a good-bye at the end of the 
 lane, her hostess dropped a little curtsy and wagged 
 her head. " So you heard David say he would help 
 the Captain?" she mocked. "And so, of course, 
 you wouldn't think of asking him to ride with you? 
 Oh, no ! Not for anything ! " 
 
 She turned and walked slowly to the end of the 
 porch, twisting the apron-strings diligently. " Now, 
 what has David done? " she said, aloud. " It never 
 happened before. Or what are you trying to do, 
 Miss Shirley ? " She was silent while she chased an 
 ant along the porch railing with a finger-tip. Then 
 she laughed. " Well, I can wait until to-morrow 
 afternoon if I have to." And with that she ran 
 into the house singing to a tune all her own : 
 
 " ' And may I go with you, my pretty maid? ' 
 * No, thank you kindly, sir,' she said." 
 
 49
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 It was a tune to which she had suddenly taken 
 an immense liking. A dozen times that day she 
 hummed it to herself. 
 
 The next morning she drew a sheet of note-paper 
 to her, and for several minutes sat considering. Her 
 elbows were on the table, and she nibbled the end 
 of the penholder. It was an extremely delicate note 
 to frame, but, once settled on, the pen flew fast 
 across the paper. Five minutes later, the missive in 
 the pocket of Uncle Bobby, on mule-back, was started 
 for its destination. Kitty herself made a quick toilet 
 for riding, and took the road. But it was not the 
 road to Lee's, but the long one which ran toward the 
 Barracks and into the main road to St. Louis, a mile 
 above the Mayhew farm. Once there she pulled her 
 horse in, and travelled at a pace which indicated that 
 she had come out for leisurely enjoyment of the 
 beech and oak and chestnut now preparing to pay 
 their russet and gilt toll to winter. 
 
 The mellow beauty of autumn was in field and 
 wood and hillside. The haze of Indian summer 
 enveloped the ridges and made dim blue the distances 
 in which the road curved and lost itself around die 
 base of a hill. A checker-board of dun and gold 
 stubble and the brown of ploughed ground was 
 spread upon the slope on one hand; on the other a 
 tangle of underbrush hid the stumps of last year's 
 cleared land. 
 
 It may have been that Kitty was sensible to the 
 
 50
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 peaceful charm of the country. But her eyes said she 
 was not. They roamed the stretch of road ahead with 
 restless movement. They did not seem to be satis- 
 fied with what came within their view. When she 
 had mounted the slope which looked down on the 
 Mayhew farm and its buildings, and the stretch of 
 lawn with its locust-trees in front of the house was 
 almost at her feet, she drew up abruptly, regard- 
 ing with plain vexation the white, barred gate and 
 the deserted driveway. Perhaps it was only impa- 
 tience with solitude, perhaps it was displeasure with 
 such signs of inactivity at a late hour of the morning. 
 At any rate, when a mounted figure came around the 
 corner of the house she laughed softly. " It's all 
 right, Duke," she whispered in her horse's ear. 
 " We didn't come for nothing, after all. Now we 
 will hear what Mr. Ford has to say." Then with a 
 pat of the curls and a contented glance at the toe 
 which persisted in showing itself beneath the edge 
 of her skirt, she cantered forward. All at once 
 something in the blending colours of a distant clump 
 of trees fixed her attention. Only when the thud 
 of hoofs had grown too loud to be ignored longer, 
 she saw she was not alone on the road. It required 
 a second and a third look even then to prepare 
 her for a recognition of David. But there was 
 no mistaking her greeting. " Why, David ! " she 
 cried, and stopped her horse across the road. " How 
 you made me jump ! I have not been this way for 
 
 5*
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 so long. I've met no one since I started. I was 
 just trying to make out the place where the Captain 
 is building his house. It's over there, isn't it ? " 
 She pointed with her riding-switch. 
 
 David had halted, but plainly was in a hurry. 
 " Yes," he said. " Over on that ridge. But you 
 can't see the clearing from here. Are you going 
 there?" 
 
 " I ? Oh, no. At least, not now. But I may 
 on What day is the raising?" 
 
 " To-morrow week. I have to go on. I'm bound 
 for St. Louis, and I'm late." 
 
 He lifted the reins and made as if to pass by. 
 But Kitty was shading her eyes in an effort to see 
 the clearing, and Duke took advantage of the chance 
 to bar David's way. " To St. Louis," she repeated. 
 " Then there's no use inviting you to ride with me. 
 I am going to Lee's." 
 
 " So? I'm sorry I can't go with you." The reply 
 was a polite acknowledgment, no more. Perhaps 
 a shade of resentment crept into her explanation, 
 " Yes, I am making up a little party to see the Cap- 
 tain raise his house. I asked Oswald Roner to go. 
 I hope Lee will go, too. I reckon we'll see you 
 there?" 
 
 " Yes, I told the Captain I would help him. But 
 I've got to be going. Good-bye." This time Duke 
 did not move, and the other horse swung round 
 and passed him. 
 
 52
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 "If you see Oswald," called Kitty, " ask him to 
 come over to Lee's. I think she wants to see him." 
 
 David's " All right, I will," came over his 
 shoulder. It made the young lady he had left say 
 very positively, " David Ford, I'd like to shake 
 you." Then, after a pause, " But I reckon Lee 
 knows of something better than a shake. And I'll 
 help her. I will. I'll do all I can. It will serve 
 you right." 
 
 But when Kitty was deep in one of Doctor 
 Shirley's cane chairs in the big library, with its book- 
 lined and glass-cased walls, and Lee, opposite her 
 on a couch, was curled up in that mysterious Oriental 
 fashion which generations of young women have 
 adopted as the position for confidences, and which 
 disposes so gracefully of the embarrassment of legs, 
 the name of David Ford apparently was the last 
 thing in the mind of either. Nina Rennert and her 
 party, and next the Captain's house-building, were 
 discussed. The probable success of the first, depend- 
 ing entirely, it seemed, upon the chance that Nina 
 would wear a new frock and necklace sent from 
 New Orleans by her grandfather, remained in the 
 end a matter of reasonable doubt. 
 
 The Captain's house-building drifted into an ex- 
 change of opinions upon the Captain himself. Kitty 
 remorselessly asserted that, if she had been the Cap- 
 tain's wife, she would not have married him unless 
 he promised never, never to leave the army and 
 
 53
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 always to take her with him wherever he went. 
 " It's a shame," she declared. " He might have been 
 a general. Then she would have been at Washington 
 or some place where there is lots of dancing and 
 parties and things all the time. Instead, he is 
 a farmer, and they haven't any money, and he does 
 all the work himself. And he won't ever be any- 
 thing else." 
 
 " I don't believe that," said Lee. " You ought to 
 have seen him the other day. He had come out 
 of the woods. He had an axe on his arm. It was 
 just after something had happened, and he was 
 speaking of it. What was it he said? Oh, yes, 
 * When you make up your mind to do anything,' 
 he said, ' do it, if it takes for ever.' He didn't speak 
 very loud and he wasn't a bit excited. He didn't 
 even shake his head. His eyes just looked bright 
 and steady. But, Kitty, I wouldn't want to be the 
 person that was against him when he started in to 
 do something. I don't believe he'll be a farmer 
 always." 
 
 " Well, maybe not." Kitty was judicial. " But 
 father doesn't think he will be liked here. He says 
 he's stiff and unsociable. Aunt Sarah hasn't met 
 him, but, of course, she's sure he will get ahead." 
 
 " Why? Because the Colonel thinks he zvon't?" 
 
 Kitty laughed. " Partly. But also she's dis- 
 covered that his father's people were Connecticut 
 Yankees. You know what that means to her." 
 
 54
 
 TH. E CAPTAIN 
 
 ; ' Yes, and your Aunt Sarah is a pretty good 
 captain herself." 
 
 Kitty drew a rueful mouth, and Lee went on. " I 
 think your father's wrong. The Captain does laugh 
 sometimes, and that stiffness is just his way. 
 You ought to see him with those two little boys of 
 his. And 'Lias told me that, when he was away out 
 on the Pacific Coast and the mail had come in one 
 day, he showed the Captain a letter he had from 
 his family at home. He said the Captain smiled, 
 and took out a letter and showed it to him. It had 
 a baby's hand drawn on it, Kitty, the Captain's 
 baby. The Captain looked at it a minute. Then 
 he put it back into his pocket quickly, and walked 
 out of the room. 'Lias says his eyes were wet, and 
 he'd never seen them that way before." 
 
 " Is that so ? I didn't think he was that kind of 
 a man." 
 
 " I didn't either at first. Sometime I'll get 'Lias 
 to tell you about what happened when they marched 
 across the Isthmus. It was horrible. Men fell 
 down on the road choking with the heat and fever 
 and chills and cholera, and 'Lias says the Captain 
 never took his boots off the whole time, and was 
 soaked to the skin every minute. But he never fal- 
 tered, and kept saying cheerful things to everybody. 
 He gave his last cent, to buy a horse for a woman, 
 and then turned over his own horse to some one 
 
 55
 
 THE CAPTA.IN 
 
 else and tramped up and down, and never com- 
 plained." 
 
 " I never heard anything about that," said Kitty. 
 " I'm going to tell it to father. Perhaps he'll change 
 his mind. But he has no patience with abolition- 
 ists." 
 
 " Why the Captain owns slaves ; his father-in- 
 law gave him four." 
 
 Kitty laughed. " Yes, he has slaves. But 
 well, it's disgusting the way he treats them, or 
 rather the way they treat him." 
 
 " It is shameful," Lee admitted. " He's been out 
 in the woods there for weeks, chopping down trees 
 and hauling stones and everything else, and not one 
 of those lazy niggers helped him worth a cent. It's 
 a wonder to me he's done what he has. But " 
 she finished, gravely, " somehow, I like to see a man 
 working that way. I want to see his house." 
 
 Kitty recalled her errand. " Then you're going 
 with Oswald and me ? " 
 
 " I'm going, of course. Didn't we arrange that ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, so we did. You and Oswald and I." 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And David ! You asked him ? " The question 
 was casual. The questioner did not repeat it when 
 Lee forgot to answer in a sudden recollection of 
 something to be inspected in her room. 
 
 But as she followed her hostess up-stairs she was
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 humming in an undertone the persistent refrain 
 which afforded her such pleasure the day before. 
 
 Whether or not this was contagious, the fact 
 remains that the following afternoon it popped into 
 Lee's head quite suddenly, as she saw David riding 
 toward the house. For a moment afterward she 
 hesitated between resolve to do her whole duty, or 
 have the satisfaction of doing the thing which some 
 one else least expected. 
 
 It was David who decided for her. He declined 
 her invitation to come up on the porch. " No," he 
 said, " he had come over only to ask her to ride with 
 him to see the raising of the Captain's house. It 
 was going to be on Thursday of next week." 
 
 Lee, perched on the porch railing, heard his news 
 with a face that was all interest. 
 
 "Oh, is it?" she said. "I was wondering 
 whether he had decided on a day." 
 
 She made no response to his invitation. A little 
 puzzled, he asked, "You are going, aren't you? 
 The Captain hoped you'd be there." 
 
 " Of course, I intend to go. I wouldn't miss it." 
 
 His face brightened. "I thought you were. 
 Please be ready on time. I will come at three 
 o'clock." 
 
 "Come? Where?" Her countenance was a map 
 
 of mystification. 
 "Here for you." 
 "But I'm not I can't go with you," she 
 
 57
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 answered. "I've already promised to go with 
 some one else." 
 
 There is no denying that David stammered. But 
 the surprise of the thing rather than disappointment 
 spoke in his voice. " Why, I I don't understand. 
 I asked you to go with me." 
 
 "Did you? When? Oh, yes, just now. But 
 you see, some one else asked me before. Oswald 
 is coming here. I haven't told him what time I'll 
 be ready. But I'm going. We'll see you." 
 
 If she expected David to remonstrate or to retreat 
 upon his dignity, she was mistaken. " I see," he 
 said, slowly. " I'm sorry I didn't ask you before. 
 But I told the Captain I would help him, and at first 
 I didn't think I'd have time to come for you." 
 
 " I don't believe you would," she answered. 
 " Besides, I might not be ready when you came. 
 It's better for me to go with Oswald. He isn't in 
 a hurry to do something else." 
 
 David was sure this was a rebuke till he realised 
 how cheerful was her face. " Well, I hope you'll 
 have a good ride," he said. " I remember now, 
 Kitty did speak about a party. I'll see you there." 
 
 " I reckon so. I've something to do for father. 
 Good-bye." 
 
 She slipped from the railing as he turned his 
 horse. But in the shadow of the doorway she re- 
 mained until he was a hundred feet away. " It 
 served you right," she said to herself. " I'm glad 
 
 58
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 I did if. I'll do it again." She repeated this to 
 herself three times. Each time it was more em- 
 phatic. Then, because her gratification needed soli- 
 tude for its complete enjoyment, she gathered up 
 her skirts and walked slowly to her room, and 
 locked the door behind her. It is immensely satis- 
 factory to have done one's duty and to have taught 
 a needed lesson at the same time. 
 
 It may have been with a desire to note how salu- 
 tary this particular lesson had been, that she looked 
 for David as soon as she drew rein at the clearing's 
 edge on the afternoon of the raising. But for a 
 few minutes she did not discover him. There were 
 half a hundred men in the open space. A score of 
 saddle-horses were tied to trees at one side. From 
 the road came an occasional neigh from the dozen 
 horses hitched there, among them the black mare 
 that drew the light wagon in which Mr. Mayhew 
 always rode. And, with the exception of Mr. 
 Mayhew, who sat on a log at one side, his crutch 
 by him and his eyes half-closed, every one in the 
 clearing was busy. The logs were rapidly being 
 rolled forward and put into place. Already the 
 house walls were breast-high. At one corner Sandy, 
 a powerful negro, one of the Captain's slaves, 
 wielded an axe; at another a man sent over by a 
 neighbour. At the third, 'Lias, with hairy throat 
 and arms, worked opposite the Captain. 
 
 The Captain's coat was off, his sleeves rolled up, 
 
 59
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and his hat cast aside, showing his compact frame, 
 and strong, bearded face. His eyes were aglow. He 
 gave directions with a quick decision that surprised 
 some of those who had known him only at long 
 range or on their own ground. He wielded his axe 
 with vigour and skill, and the notches showed deep 
 and clean at his end of the logs. For a short time 
 the three on horseback watched with silent interest. 
 Then Kitty spied David, who was busy with cord 
 and chalk at a pile of logs on the other side of the 
 clearing. She spoke to Lee. 
 
 "David? Oh, yes," was the answer, "I see 
 him." But the gray eyes stole a glance across the 
 clearing at the first chance. When she saw him look 
 toward her, she nodded. Then she turned to Oswald. 
 " Oh ! there is that dreadful Sandy, of the Captain's. 
 The one with red hair. Ugh! but I dislike him." 
 
 " Why? " said Oswald. " He's a nigger like the 
 rest, and he's a good hand with the axe." 
 
 " But, he's dreadful. He's so sullen. And 
 he's treacherous. I'm sure of it." 
 
 " I don't like him, either," put in Kitty. " I never 
 did." 
 
 Oswald laughed. " He's lazy, I reckon, if that's 
 what you mean. But they all are. They need to 
 be stirred up. That man is loafing right now. I 
 reckon he wouldn't be that way if he belonged to 
 Mr. Mayhew." 
 
 " No," said Kitty, quickly. " I am sure of that. 
 
 60
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 David's uncle is worse than Sandy. He gives me 
 the shivers. He's creepy." 
 
 "What's that?" asked a voice. She gave a 
 little start. " We were talking about about that 
 man Sandy. Isn't he horrible? " 
 
 " I don't like him," said David, bluntly. " He's 
 been shirking all day. I'd speak to the Captain, 
 only I know it wouldn't do much good." He turned 
 to Lee. She was talking to Oswald. " You got 
 here on time, after all ? " 
 
 Her face came around swiftly. " Oh, how are 
 you, David ? It depends upon what you call ' on 
 time.' I wasn't ready when Oswald came, if that's 
 it," she added, in a lower voice. 
 
 He smiled. " Lee, you ought to get over that 
 habit." 
 
 "What habit?" 
 
 " Keeping everybody waiting. Why don't you 
 try?" 
 
 " Because I don't have to." Her face was chal- 
 lenging, but her voice was a little more decided than 
 she had intended. She knew Kitty was listening. 
 
 But David's good humour was not disturbed. 
 " That's the truth exactly," he said. " It is every- 
 body's fault, but yours too." 
 
 " Thank you. So you think I'm spoiled. Don't 
 let that annoy you. You needn't be one to assist in 
 doing it." He laughed ; and she was nettled into 
 adding, " Hadn't you better go back to your work ? 
 
 61
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The Captain needs you " She paused, and he 
 finished for her, " More than you do, you were 
 going to say. Perhaps he does. Anyway, I'd better 
 see." He spoke quietly, but there was a shadow in 
 his eyes. 
 
 She saw it, and was for telling him he was wrong. 
 But just then Oswald broke in : " That nigger wants 
 a whipping, if ever one did. Look at him ! " 
 
 Sandy was moving sullenly to help pick up the end 
 of a log over which 'Lias bent. 'Lias had called him 
 twice, and now the red flamed in his face and corded 
 neck. On the far side of the building they were 
 having difficulty, and the crowd was looking that 
 way. But one other person saw Sandy's slow move- 
 ment. As Oswald spoke, the crippled figure of Mr. 
 Mayhew approached, swinging forward on his 
 crutch with surprising swiftness. He came from 
 behind the negro. Suddenly he spoke to him. 
 " Sandy," he said, " get to work at once. At once, 
 do you hear? " 
 
 At the sound the negro's head jerked violently 
 on his shoulders. In his face was dumb terror. 
 But his hands were on the log instantly. His 
 bended back straightened with such force and swift- 
 ness that 'Lias staggered. 
 
 " By thunder ! " exclaimed Oswald. " Did you 
 see that, David? It must weigh five hundred 
 pounds." 
 
 But David did not answer. Instead he walked 
 
 62
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 quickly away. Kitty turned to Lee. "I'm not 
 going to stay here. I'm afraid; I honestly am. Did 
 you see that man's face? It was awful." 
 
 ' Yes," said Lee, " it was. I'm ready to go, any- 
 way." Oswald's protests and jokes were of no avail. 
 When David looked for them a few minutes later, 
 they were gone. 
 
 But if he guessed at why they left so suddenly, 
 he made no allusion to it the next time he saw Lee. 
 Indeed the day of the raising was not mentioned. 
 Then, at the end of the month, Lee went away, and 
 for two months they did not see each other. Kitty 
 had gone on a visit to Boston, and Lee had gone 
 with her. David was engaged with some business 
 for his uncle, and this necessitated frequent trips to 
 St. Louis. 
 
 The Captain's house was finished. It was a 
 plain, roomy building, simply furnished, but well 
 stocked with firewood from the trees on the fifty 
 acres of land which his wife's father had given 
 them. 
 
 The Captain christened it " Hardscrabble," with 
 humourous appreciation of its rough appearance, and 
 the task it had been to build it. But he was seldom 
 away from it, unless when working elsewhere, or 
 with his wife at a near-by merrymaking. He 
 spent most of his evenings beside the fire, reading 
 or talking to his wife. David passed many an hour 
 
 63
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 there. He was a first-rate checker player, but he 
 was beaten every time. 
 
 Gradually people in the settlement were coming to 
 know the Captain better. Most of them respected 
 him for his solid, simple habits and his willingness 
 to lend a hand when needed. He was proving that 
 he meant what he said when he declared he would 
 be a well-to-do farmer, if hard work would accom- 
 plish it. They liked him for this. But some of 
 them could not understand the reserve which said 
 " stand off " to any attempt at uninvited famil- 
 iarity. 
 
 Colonel Marshall, who was one of the first to call 
 on him, because he was a West Point man, did not 
 see him often. And distrust of his sympathies on 
 the slave question was an insuperable barrier. Each 
 day abolition became a sharper issue. Over it 
 friendship weakened and political opinions split. 
 
 The Captain went his way apparently unchanged 
 and oblivious. " He attends strictly to his own 
 business," said Major Wilkins, one day. Major 
 Wilkins was stationed at the Barracks, and had met 
 the Colonel in the Planters' Hotel in St. Louis. 
 " He comes out to the Barracks occasionally," he 
 went on, " and we talk over Scott and the Mexican 
 War, or the days at the Point. Now and then, we 
 have a wrestle over some question of campaigning. 
 But that's about all. He don't talk politics often." 
 
 " But he's a Northern man, sir," objected the 
 
 6 4
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Colonel, courteously. " I have seen him several 
 times coming out of the office of the Democrat. 
 Once I encountered him talking to the editor of that 
 sheet in this very place. He is a Northern man, sir, 
 an abolitionist, I repeat." 
 
 The Major shook his head. " I do not think you 
 are correct," he said. " I believe he has no sympa- 
 thy for this movement. All his people own slaves." 
 
 The Colonel was unconvinced. " That may be, 
 but he is a man of his own mind. He is New Eng- 
 land in his ideals. He will never change. My 
 sister-in-law and I differ on many points, but she 
 is a woman of discernment and she says this, and 
 I agree with her." 
 
 " He is certainly not a Yankee in the management 
 of his finances," returned the Major, dryly. " If he 
 has a cent in his pocket, it's ready for any one who 
 needs it." 
 
 The Colonel relaxed. " You surprise me, Major. 
 I had no knowledge of this. I had an idea that he 
 was, well, rather careful where his money went. 
 I must tell Sarah that. I really must," he added. 
 The gleam of coming battle was in his eye. 
 
 David could have told the Colonel more on this 
 point. One incident in particular there was, a pleas- 
 ant recollection and a disturbing reminder. He had 
 started it was early in that spring to go to 
 the store, but had changed his mind and turned off 
 up the road to the Captain's. It was a warm evening 
 
 65
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 hinting of the budding of trees. When he came 
 opposite the log-house in the clearing, he saw the 
 Captain standing at his doorway, puffing a pipe 
 while he gazed across at a field over which the green 
 haze of sprouting wheat spread a carpet. 
 
 He called to David to come in, and in the biggest 
 of the four big rooms they sat down. The remains of 
 a fire smouldered in one of the wide fireplaces. The 
 room itself bore here and there the touches of a 
 woman's hand. The Captain's wife, in a rocker by 
 the fire, was darning stockings. 
 
 She welcomed him. " The children are asleep," 
 she explained. " The Captain was just thinking of 
 reading aloud a little while. My eyes trouble me. 
 Would you mind if he did? " 
 
 " I'd like it," said David, " I'll sit here." He 
 took a seat on the other side of the fire. The Cap- 
 tain, under the lamp near by, found the book. It 
 was Irving's " Sketch Book." 
 
 He opened it and smoothed the page " It's 
 an old friend of mine," he said. " Bulwer and 
 Irving and Lever were my favourites once, and I 
 haven't lost my liking for them." 
 
 Then he began to read. 
 
 But it was to the voice, not to the words that 
 David found himself listening. It was not a remark- 
 able voice, but clear, calm. It seemed that no other 
 voice could so well have suited the place. There 
 was comfort in the room, in the motherly figure 
 
 66
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 in the rocking-chair with the pile of much darned 
 stockings in her lap, and her fingers moving nimbly, 
 and in the rugged face of the Captain in the mellow 
 light of the lamp. It brought back to David even- 
 ings which he could faintly remember. His voice 
 was husky when the Captain asked a question. Just 
 then they heard a carriage stop in front of the house, 
 a moment later a knock. The Captain went to the 
 door and opened it. Mr. Mayhew stood there. 
 
 David got up astonished. But his uncle said, 
 " Good evening," quietly, and took the seat offered 
 him. Then the baby cried, and the Captain's wife 
 left the room. 
 
 " I've only come in for a moment," Mr. Mayhew 
 said. " Perhaps you have heard we're trying to put 
 up a little church." 
 
 " And you want me to contribute," said the Cap- 
 tain, promptly. " All right. I will. I don't go 
 to church much. But we ought to have one. I'll give 
 you five dollars." 
 
 " The widow's mite, you remember," remarked 
 Mr. Mayhew. " It is more than - 
 
 " It is not much," interrupted the Captain. There 
 was a shade of annoyance in his voice. ;< You are 
 welcome to it." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew folded the money in his wallet with 
 care. The Captain was standing, so he rose as if 
 to go. The Captain made no remark, and his visitor 
 moved to the door. Just over the threshold he 
 
 6 7
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 stopped. He spoke to the Captain, who stood in 
 the doorway. David heard the remark, " We have 
 bad news from Kansas to-day," and the reply, 
 " Yes." Then for several minutes he heard only 
 occasional words. He had purposely walked to the 
 end of the room. But he could not close his ears to 
 the Captain's statement, " I have nothing to say 
 about that. I have several slaves, as you know. 
 What I will do with them is of no interest to any 
 one but myself." Of the reply to this nothing was 
 plain but the apologetic tone. A minute later there 
 was the sound of departing carriage wheels. 
 
 The Captain closed the door and walked over to 
 the fireplace. Presently he kicked a glowing log into 
 a blaze and turned about. David's brain was busy. 
 What he had overheard was surely strange. His 
 uncle had cautioned him against speaking on this 
 very question. 
 
 The Captain spoke. " Your uncle is very much 
 interested in the abolition movement," he said. 
 " I never knew it before." 
 
 68
 
 IV 
 
 COLONEL 
 
 MARSHALL PROPHESIES 
 
 THAT summer David saw little of Lee. With 
 her father she went to the Virginia Springs. 
 Soon after she returned in the autumn, Nina 
 Rennert took her on a visit to New Orleans. David 
 wrote to her now and then. But he got more letters 
 than he sent. Presently she complained of this. 
 When he apologised that he was very busy, imme- 
 diately she protested that she had too many places 
 to go and people to see to write so often herself. 
 There began to be longer intervals between the letters 
 with the New Orleans postmark. 
 
 But David was occupied with something else, 
 and deduced little from this. He did faithfully, 
 his share of the work upon the farm, which 
 his uncle every day put more and more upon his 
 shoulders. Mr. Mayhew had taken an interest in 
 a cotton business somewhere in Mississippi, David 
 understood. There was much correspondence in- 
 volved. Also there were many letters to be carried 
 to or brought from parties in St. Louis. David 
 
 69
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 often was the messenger. But in spite of his work 
 he was restless and silent. One night it all came 
 to a head. He entered the living-room to find it 
 dark, and his uncle's figure a blurred silhouette 
 against the window-frame. Mr. Mayhew spoke to 
 him at once, " David, there is no use worrying about 
 this going to college. I have told you before why 
 it is not wise. You have work here. There may be 
 more for you to do soon. Can't you give up the 
 idea of college? " 
 
 The sudden reading of his thoughts made David 
 start, but he answered, plainly, " No, I can't give 
 it up. I want to go. I don't want to stay here 
 a farmer. I will be twenty-one in less than a year. 
 I have money of my own. I mean to go as soon 
 as I have the right to go. But I'd rather you'd say 
 that I can now." 
 
 . It was bluntly put. He looked for a rebuke ; but 
 none came. For fully a minute he stood in the dark, 
 wondering what was passing in the face he could 
 not see. His uncle's eyes, he knew, were studying 
 his face as easily almost as if the sunlight 
 streamed upon it. Then the answer came, and his 
 heart leaped. " Wait until next year," his uncle 
 said. " If your mind is the same way then, you can 
 go." This was the last word between them on 
 the subject for many months. But more than once 
 David was aware that he was under observation,
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and that his uncle guessed with what his thoughts 
 were busy. 
 
 When Lee returned he spoke to her about it. She 
 discussed his plans from every side. She was sure 
 that he was right to go, but a little reservation tem- 
 pered her remark, " It will seem very queer not 
 to have you around." 
 
 He said it would be strange. He was sorry. But 
 it couldn't be helped, could it? She must write to 
 him often about what went on, about Oswald, 
 and Nina Rennert, and Nina's brother who was 
 abroad, and Miss Sarah Pinckney, and the Colonel, 
 and their conflicts. He would write to her whenever 
 the chance came. 
 
 One evening they were in the library. Doctor 
 Shirley had gone out. Lee was bending over a 
 Latin grammar in a hunt for a word he wanted. 
 The light burnished her hair. David suddenly saw 
 that her eyes were not on the book at all. One finger 
 was marking the leaf ; she was gazing at the floor. 
 There was a wistful droop to her lips. He did not 
 comprehend all of its meaning, but he asked, " Will 
 you really miss me so much ? " 
 
 She caught her head back with a shamed start. 
 The faintest colour touched her cheeks. " Of course 
 I will." 
 
 He smiled to cover the embarrassment which 
 surprised him as much as it did her. She saw the 
 smile and her colour deepened. 
 
 71
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I reckon, though, I will manage to get along 
 somehow," she added, lightly. " I felt about as 
 bad as I could when Tom Rennert left. But I got 
 over it," with a laugh. " And Oswald will be here. 
 I like him very much." 
 
 Somehow this did not please David. She might 
 have taken it more seriously. But the wish and the 
 occasion for it were driven from his recollection. 
 There was much to think of in the prospect of a 
 year ahead. The choice of a college was important 
 and unsettled. He took counsel. 
 
 Lee was for a Southern college. The University 
 of Virginia was her selection. She had met several 
 undergraduates at the Springs. They were all fine 
 fellows and gentlemen. She had visited the old 
 college buildings, and told him of their classic 
 beauty and traditions of great men. 
 
 The Captain, when asked, pondered. But, in the 
 end, he was plainly for one of the universities of 
 New England, or New Jersey, or Pennsylvania. 
 " You will meet men there," he said, " who will put 
 new ideas before you. They look at some things 
 from a standpoint different from the one you've 
 been used to. It will do you good. All the knowl- 
 edge of the world isn't tucked into this corner of 
 Missouri or into the South, either. And in some 
 ways these two are a good deal alike. It never does 
 any harm to hear both sides of a question." 
 
 " You mean abolition ? " 
 
 72
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I mean any question, though I may have been 
 thinking of that one. It's the biggest of all bigger 
 even than most of us estimate. Some of our people 
 say it has all been patched up. Maybe it has. If it 
 hasn't been, every man who's worth anything ought 
 to know all that he can about it, how long it is, 
 and how broad and how deep it goes. It won't be 
 settled in Kansas. It won't all be settled in these 
 parts when the country makes up its mind to tackle 
 it finally." 
 
 David was doing his own thinking on this point. 
 Every day news came from across the western bor- 
 der which furnished a text both for slavery and 
 antislavery men. From further south came mutter- 
 ings and threats. In Washington, again and again, 
 the House and Senate rose to its feet in wild applause 
 or angry protest over words of no double meaning. 
 Across the river a tall, ungainly man, in ill-fitting 
 black clothes and rusty silk hat the same whose 
 logic and plain speaking had driven Mr. Douglas 
 to the wall was asking questions every day which 
 stuck in the mind and called for a straight yea or 
 nay. 
 
 With Colonel Marshall it was ever nay. He lost 
 no opportunity to deliver himself. 
 
 " Good gracious ! " cried Kitty, bursting in on 
 Lee one afternoon and tumbling in a heap on a 
 couch in the corner of the room. " I'm nearly ex- 
 hausted. I fled here, Lee. I really had to. I 
 
 73
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 couldn't stand it a minute longer at home. Father 
 and Aunt Sarah are at it shovel and tongs. It 
 began with an argument this morning. They hadn't 
 finished it when I left. Every minute it was 
 growing worse. It was dreadful. And it all started 
 because Aunt Sarah threw father's copy of the 
 Missouri State Journal into the fire. You ought 
 to have heard the Colonel when he found that out." 
 
 Kitty drew herself up to her full height. She 
 advanced on Lee with a countenance of scorn, point- 
 ing a finger. Then, overcome by the recollection, 
 she threw herself back upon the couch and buried 
 her laughter in a cushion. 
 
 Such scenes were not uncommon at the Marshall 
 home. David, calling one evening to see Kitty, came 
 upon a conflict which was waged so fiercely that his 
 entrance was unnoticed. 
 
 The Colonel was standing on one side of the table 
 by which Miss Sarah Pinckney sat. His arms were 
 behind him, his head thrown back. " A nice pass 
 it has come to ! " he declared. " A nice pass, 
 when a rascal disgracing his profession may boldly 
 invade a territory with the offscourings of his 
 crowded East at his heels, and set up a government 
 against the will of the people, yes, and against 
 the will of the government at Washington of which 
 you talk so much." 
 
 " I do not talk of it "now," replied the spinster, 
 
 74
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 quickly. " It is none of mine. A weak-kneed, apolo- 
 getic President, who is afraid of everybody! " 
 
 " He is your own, at any rate/' returned the 
 Colonel. " And he has appointed a governor for 
 this territory of Kansas which your Connecticut 
 rapscallion doctor and his rabble put aside. I tell 
 you, madam, it will not do! We are patient. We 
 are calm " 
 
 "Are you speaking of yourself now, Henry?" 
 inquired Miss Sarah. 
 
 The Colonel, whose arm had been raised for 
 rhetorical effect, suddenly paused. For a moment 
 he glared in silence. Then he lowered his arm. 
 " No," he said, with a voice which he tried hard 
 to control, " you know I am speaking of the gen- 
 tlemen of this country of the South, of this State 
 of Missouri." 
 
 " Pray what has Missouri to do with Kansas ? " 
 There was a gleam of humour behind the spectacles. 
 It should have warned the Colonel, but it did not. 
 She had folded her hands in her lap, too, which was 
 a sure sign that she was content with the way the 
 argument was moving. 
 
 "What has Missouri to do with it?" repeated 
 the Colonel. " It has everything. What has your 
 Kansas Free Soil Party done? " 
 
 Miss Sarah smiled triumphantly. 
 
 "I know," she said, " that there was an election 
 in Kansas on December isth, and that the Free Soil 
 
 75
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 party was in a large majority, despite the bully- 
 ing of your Missouri brigands, which you seem to 
 have forgotten. You are continually harping on 
 the rights of citizens, Henry. I wish you would 
 be a little more consistent." 
 
 " Consistent ! " trumpeted the Colonel. " Do you 
 apply that word to me? Why, madam, no woman 
 ever knew the meaning of the word ! You are prov- 
 ing it yourself every minute with your professions of 
 faith in the Union and its Constitution, and your 
 underhand efforts to overthrow one of the institu- 
 tions which it guarantees." 
 
 " I know nothing of the kind," returned Miss 
 Sarah. " And you have not answered my question. 
 What has Kansas to do with Missouri ? " 
 
 The Colonel advanced a step. His arm was raised 
 aloft, the fist clenched. " It has this to do with it," 
 he said. " Missouri will never be ruled by any other 
 State." 
 
 " Who wants to rule it ? " sniffed the spectacles. 
 " I wouldn't. It isn't worth it." 
 
 The Colonel ignored the insult. " But others 
 are trying to," he shouted. " Do you know what 
 they are saying in Kansas? that, if slavery is 
 impossible in Missouri with freedom in Kansas, then 
 slavery in Missouri must die. Hear that, madam! 
 It was uttered by your rapscallion doctor. He 
 should be hanged ! hanged to the highest tree. 
 And he will be he will be if he is not shot." 
 
 7 6
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Quite possibly he will be shot," remarked the 
 spinster ; and added, with withering emphasis on the 
 last word, "It is more than likely he will be shot 
 in the back. You have introduced that sort of 
 thing into Kansas, I understand." Her voice was 
 shrill. She leaned forward, pointing a bony finger. 
 " But remember this, Henry ! Remember that for 
 every drop of blood you spill in Kansas you will 
 pay threefold. You will be made to regret bitterly." 
 
 The Colonel was shaken from his balance for only 
 an instant. " We have shed no blood," he returned. 
 " It is you who have done it. But we are not chil- 
 dren to be frightened by such talk. We have the 
 remedy in our hands. We do not need to shed 
 blood. We will leave you, madam! That is wha" 
 we will do leave you to your money-grabbing 
 and trafficking, to your free blacks and all your 
 other iniquities and nonsense ! " 
 
 Miss Sarah's head went higher. A bright patch 
 burned in her cheeks. She opened her mouth as 
 if to deliver an outburst, then checked herself. From 
 her thin lips fell five words, " Henry, you cannot 
 do that!" 
 
 If some one had cracked a whip over the Colonel's 
 head it would not have made him jump more violently 
 or have thrown him into a greater fury. The dry 
 precision of the speech made it sting the more. One 
 moment he stood speechless, his eyes blazing, his 
 face an apoplectic purple. He put a hand to his 
 
 77
 
 collar and plucked at it. " Good God, Sarah ! " he 
 cried. "Have you gone stark mad? If a State 
 chooses by a vote of its people to leave this Union, 
 do you imagine it can be detained? I have heard 
 whispers of such insanity before, but never in this 
 house. And never let me hear it again! Never! 
 Never!" 
 
 The Colonel wheeled about as if unable longer to 
 face such iniquity. And in the shadow he spied 
 David. There was a pause. 
 
 David hastened to apologise. " I have not been 
 here long," he explained. " At first I thought you 
 saw me. Then I did not wish to interrupt." 
 
 It was a lucky word. The Colonel's sense of hos- 
 pitality and shame at his violence restored his bal- 
 ance. He held out his hand. " You are wel- 
 come," he said. " And as you have heard my er 
 recent remarks, sir, you must also hear my apology 
 for their impetuosity in the presence of a lady." 
 He turned about, and bowed. " I ask your pardon 
 for my speech, Sarah," he said. " It was some- 
 what discourteous. I was tried tried beyond my 
 control. I said words, I am afraid, which I should 
 not have employed." 
 
 Miss Sarah smiled. " It is forgiven, Henry," 
 she answered. " I was somewhat out of temper 
 myself, I suppose." 
 
 For a long time afterward the scene remained 
 in David's recollection. It was a picture pregnant 
 
 78
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 with suggestion of a wider stage and many actors. 
 The tall, slender figure of the Colonel, with white 
 hair and goatee, his lean, proud face and dark eyes 
 as he towered in indignation and strode back and 
 forth, and the thin, straight-backed person of Miss 
 Sarah, with hair brushed smoothly from her sharp 
 features, who faced him with a spirit which matched 
 his own, and a calmness which put him at a disad- 
 vantage, these were typical of the two combatants 
 in the great contest growing more violent every 
 day. 
 
 It deepened, too, the doubt with which David 
 wrestled. Fiery, vehement, jealous of his personal 
 rights, uncompromising in his distrust or enmity for 
 those who, he imagined, sought to deprive him of 
 one of the privileges allowed him by the constitu- 
 tion of his forefathers, yet gallant and quick to 
 repair a discourtesy, the Colonel represented in their 
 full flower the ideals and principles which David 
 had been taught to respect and cherish in the years 
 of his earliest recollections, and which nothing about 
 him, until recently, had contradicted. In the atti- 
 tude and in the words of the Colonel's opponent 
 he recognised a power and purpose which instinct 
 told him could not be founded on deception, and 
 which reason argued would bring about a better 
 condition of things. Why could he not see further 
 into the problem, and grasp the truth which he felt 
 must lie somewhere between these two? He was 
 
 79
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 eager to know more. He was impatient with the 
 months which must elapse before he could begin 
 to gain that wider view and that greater knowledge 
 which would enable him to choose his own path. 
 
 He talked of his doubts to the Captain many times. 
 His errands to St. Louis gave him the opportunity. 
 The Captain went there, sometimes twice a week, 
 and David rode with him on his wagon. The Cap- 
 tain had bought two good horses a black and a 
 gray and had trained them and handled them 
 himself. Their pulling power was the talk of the 
 district. Once they had drawn seventy bushels of 
 wheat to the city. It was ten miles, and the road 
 none of the best in places. The Captain was very 
 proud of them. He was cutting wood from his 
 tract of land, and hauling props and heavy oaken 
 posts to the coal-mines. He sold many a load of 
 firewood in St. Louis. 
 
 Walking at the heads of his team when the road 
 was rough, or riding on top of his lumber beside 
 David, he told stories. He rarely dwelt upon his 
 own part in these exploits. His ideas were the plain 
 common sense of long experience, in many places, 
 among many men. But never would he say how 
 he would decide the question which was troubling 
 his companion. " Every man must think it out for 
 himself," he affirmed. The talk usually returned to 
 the subject of college. 
 
 On one of these journeys to St. Louis, the Cap- 
 
 80
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tain had dumped his load of cord-wood into a cellar 
 and put up his team. David was to deliver a letter 
 for his uncle, and the Captain, bound to hunt up 
 some of his army friends, was walking with him. 
 They were passing the Planters' Hotel when a voice 
 hailed them from the doorway. It was Major Wil- 
 kins. 
 
 " Captain," he called, " dinner's just ready. Come 
 in and sit down." 
 
 " No," was the answer. " I won't do that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Well, I'm not dressed for company." 
 
 " What difference does that make? Come in." 
 
 The Captain hesitated, trailing his whip on the 
 ground. He looked at his long blue overcoat and 
 high boots. But the Major insisted. 
 
 David said he had to go on. He would be back 
 at the hotel in an hour. The Captain yielded. " All 
 right," he said. " I'll come in, Major." He dis- 
 appeared in the doorway coiling his whip, the Major 
 sprucely dressed, by his side. 
 
 An hour later, when David returned, neither the 
 Captain nor the Major was in sight. A score of 
 men tilted chairs and smoked and talked, but there 
 was no one he knew. While he stood and waited, 
 his eye fell on a tall, broad-shouldered man across 
 the lobby. Something in his dark, lean face 
 held his attention. He looked a little more steadily 
 than he intended, and presently the other walked 
 
 61
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 over. " I ought to know you, I guess," he said. 
 " but I don't." 
 
 " No," said David, " and I reckon I ought to 
 ask your pardon for staring at you." 
 
 " It doesn't matter. My name is Boone Hadley. 
 I'm mighty glad to have the chance to come over 
 and talk. I don't know any one here, though I 
 ought to, being down here right often." 
 
 " You aren't a Missourian," said David. " I knew 
 that soon as you spoke." 
 
 The other laughed. " That's right. I live up at 
 Galena, Illinois, just now. But I come from Penn- 
 sylvania. I ought to speak a little like Southern folks 
 do, though. My mother's people were from Vir- 
 ginia." 
 
 The conversation ran easily after that. 
 
 Boone said something about college. That au- 
 tumn he was to enter the University of Pennsyl- 
 vania, to study medicine. 
 
 It was David's chance. They went over in a 
 corner and sat down. For half an hour David lis- 
 tened and asked questions. The Captain was for- 
 gotten until, looking up, he chanced to see Major 
 Wilkins come out of a side door and glance about 
 him. David got up. " I've got to go," he said. 
 " I'm mighty glad to learn what you've told me. 
 Are you coming to St. Louis again ? " 
 
 " Well, I don't know. Not soon, I guess. I'm 
 
 82
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 plugging away at my books just now. But there's 
 some one beckoning to you." 
 
 David looked over. "That's the Captain," he 
 said. The Captain stood with Major Wilkins, 
 turning his slouch-hat in one hand and striking at the 
 floor with his whip. " He doesn't size up to most 
 of the army officers I've seen," said Boone. " But he 
 looks as if he would have his way if he had any 
 say." 
 
 David did not repeat this remark on the way 
 home, but he did talk about his new acquaintance and 
 the University of Pennsylvania. " I believe I'll go 
 there," he skid. " I reckon I wouldn't get along 
 just yet with New England ideas. And I'm pretty 
 sure that the Southern college isn't what I'm after." 
 
 The Captain thought over the proposition. He 
 agreed. " The college in Philadelphia is a good, 
 solid institution, I've always heard," he said. " I've 
 got a liking, too, for things in Pennsylvania. My 
 mother came from there. I stopped in Philadelphia 
 to see an aunt and to take a look about, I remember, 
 when I was on my way to the Point. I don't believe 
 you can do better than go there." 
 
 Dusk was falling when, at the cross-roads, they 
 came upon a wagon stuck in the mud. It was loaded 
 with logs, and the horses were standing with droop- 
 ing heads. No one was in sight. 
 
 The Captain recognised the team. " It's Tom 
 White's rig," he said. "I wonder where he is?" 
 
 83
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 He pulled up and got down and walked over to the 
 wagon. He looked at the load. Then he called. In 
 the dusk a head was raised above the fore part of 
 the wagon, and Tom White answered, " Why, hello, 
 Captain. I was busy fixing a trace. I saw you, 
 but I didn't know you, and one team's passed by 
 already and hadn't time to give me a pull." 
 
 " Well, I have time," the Captain said. He un- 
 hitched his horses and made them fast to the tongue 
 of the other wagon. Then he spoke to his team. 
 The black and the gray settled in their collars. The 
 wagon lurched, and came up on the solid part of 
 the road. 
 
 He silently unhitched his team. But as White 
 put his foot on the hub of the wheel, the Captain 
 spoke. " You're taking that load over for fire-wood, 
 aren't you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " How much are you going to get for it? " 
 
 " About five dollars." 
 
 " Well, I'll give you half a dollar for it. And 
 you can bring it along to my place right now." 
 
 White laughed. It was a weak laugh. His foot 
 remained on the hub of the wheel. 
 
 " You'd better turn around and start," said the 
 Captain. " That is, if you are going to sell me the 
 wood." 
 
 White hesitated. " Well, I reckon I will, if you 
 don't say nothing about the price you paid."
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I don't intend to speak of it," answered the Cap- 
 tain. " I want the wood." 
 
 White got on the wagon, turned his horses, and 
 drove toward Hardscrabble. David did not speak. 
 He did not understand. Nor did the Captain's 
 manner invite conversation. But, when White had 
 thrown out the wood behind the house and had 
 driven off with his half-dollar, the Captain remarked, 
 " You don't think I treated White squarely, do 
 you?" 
 
 " No, I don't," returned David. " The wood was 
 worth a good deal more. I don't know why he sold 
 it to you." 
 
 " Because it was mine to start with," said the Cap- 
 tain, quietly. " It was cut off my lot down by the 
 creek. The logs had my mark on them." There 
 was a twinkle in his eye. " That half-dollar I gave 
 him was for the hauling."
 
 A SQUARE PEG 
 IN A ROUND HOLE 
 
 DAVID went to college. It was on a Septem- 
 ber day that he said good-bye to Lee. She 
 drew her hand from his slowly, then turned 
 and ran up the steps of the porch. Something 
 blurred his last glimpse of her. 
 
 But the Captain drove him to St. Louis, and the 
 Captain had stories to tell. They were stories of 
 West Point and of college days. What wonder that, 
 with his face set toward the east and the promise 
 which it held, the slim figure which had fled so 
 suddenly slipped from his mind. 
 
 In St. Louis he parted with his uncle. He re- 
 membered longest with curiosity the crippled body, 
 propped on a crutch spread like the leg of a derrick. 
 They had fought out the question of college long 
 before, and few words passed between them. 
 
 So David entered upon a new life which has but 
 small place here. But there were letters. The first 
 of these came back within a week. He was quartered 
 in a third-story back room in a big house on Arch 
 
 86
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Street. Boone Hadley had met him. He reminded 
 Lee that Boone was the one who had decided him 
 to come here. And he believed they were to be 
 good friends. They were living together. He had 
 been to the college, and was sure he had made no 
 mistake. 
 
 This letter found a resting-place in an old, folding 
 mahogany writing-desk with the initials L. S. inlaid 
 in mother-of-pearl on its top. There it was joined 
 from time to time by letters in the same writing. 
 A day came when there seemed to be no room left for 
 another, and a slim hand took them out and turned 
 them over often. 
 
 But David did not know this. There were few 
 idle evenings in the winter months of those four 
 years. His mind was full of his books and lectures, 
 and with other things which grew to mean more and 
 more to him. For these were the last four years in 
 which a nation learned the simplest and most pro- 
 found of truths, that a principle which can right- 
 fully be defended cannot be compromised. And 
 those who were to guide this nation and carry out 
 its commands were thinking hard while they worked 
 in the field, the shop, the counting-room and office. 
 
 In a little settlement on the banks of a Missouri 
 creek, one of these men, in weather-stained and 
 patched clothing which he had once worn in the 
 service of his country, hauled logs, planted corn, and 
 cradled wheat, and in the evenings sat by the fire 
 
 87
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and told his children stories, or read to his wife, 
 or played checkers with a neighbour. His face was 
 impassive, his bearded mouth told little of what 
 passed in his mind. But, while his shoulders bent 
 with work, he watched and waited, believing the 
 time would come when he might be needed. And, 
 when it still did not come, and rheumatism and chills 
 took hold of him, he laid aside the axe and placed his 
 few belongings in a wagon, and one day in the 
 autumn of 1859 drove to the north to begin again 
 the fight for a living. 
 
 He was thirty-five years old. He had education, 
 energy, ambition. It did not seem to him that his 
 usefulness could be ended. With a hopeful friend 
 he started in to try to do something of which he 
 knew almost nothing. 
 
 David, in a letter from Lee, read that the Captain 
 was gone to St. Louis, and was in the real estate 
 business. 
 
 He laid the letter down with a sense of personal 
 injury. It was an ideal gone. He had always 
 thought that the Captain was to blaze a path from 
 that log house straight to success. Now he seemed 
 to have yielded the fight. He did not write this to 
 Lee, but she read between the lines of his next 
 letter. It was a faculty of hers. Letters some- 
 times told her things which were not intended. It 
 may have been they did not tell her always what 
 she wished. Her own letters were a mystery to
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 her. Days passed while some of them awaited 
 posting. And sometimes they were in plain sight 
 all the while. 
 
 Kitty Marshall, coming in of an afternoon, spied 
 such a letter, and pounced on it. " To David ! " 
 she cried. " Let me read it? " 
 
 Lee reached out her arm, then dropped it with 
 a laugh. " Some other time," she said. " I'm all 
 ready to ride. Come on." She moved toward the 
 door. 
 
 But Kitty was tying her hat by the glass above 
 the bureau. Her eyes were on the letter. " Oh, 
 wait till I read it. I'm just dying to. Please let 
 me." 
 
 " It is that is, I think it is sealed," Lee said. 
 She hoped it was. She knew there was an unwel- 
 come spot of colour in her cheeks. 
 
 Kitty raised the envelope and showed the open 
 flap. "See," she said. "It isn't sealed. May I? 
 You don't mind, do you ? " 
 
 " I would rather you did not." So quietly was 
 it spoken that a pair of black eyes flashed on her 
 with awakened suspicion. Their owner laughed. 
 " What fun ! " she said. " Why didn't you give 
 me a hint before? David ? Oh ! " The " Oh " 
 was a note of fine anticipation. 
 
 It made Lee stiffen. " Are you coming? " 
 
 " Of course. But really, it isn't fair to me. I 
 have known him as long as you have." 
 
 8 9
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Lee stood a moment motionless. She was not 
 looking at Kitty. Neither was she looking at the 
 letter. Her teeth had caught her under-lip, and her 
 head was held far back. " What do you mean ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 Kitty had heard her speak. that way before. She 
 knew what it meant. But the game was tempting. 
 She was a little aggrieved at her treatment. " Oh, 
 nothing," she returned, loftily. " I reckon I was 
 stupid to ask such a question. I didn't know you 
 wanted to hide anything from me." 
 
 " Kitty," Lee began. Then she saw her mistake, 
 and moved to the bureau. She stood there, straight 
 and tall. She was pale and very calm. "If you 
 must read my letter, you have my permission," she 
 said. " I am not hiding anything even from you." 
 Her eyes were challenging. Kitty's temper got the 
 best of her. "Oh, aren't you?" she laughed. It 
 was a light, doubtful laugh. 
 
 Lee snatched the letter. " Read it ! " she cried, 
 holding it out. " Read it ! " 
 
 The fingers at the hat-strings twitched. The 
 prize was within their grasp. But the black eyes 
 looked at the letter as if it had been some curio. 
 " Of course, I shall do no such thing," she returned, 
 dropping each word slowly. 
 
 " You shall ! You shall read it ! I wish you to 
 read it." 
 
 Again came the taunting laugh. Kitty bent and 
 
 9
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 her skirts swept the floor. " No," she' said. " I 
 would like to oblige you, Miss Shirley, but there 
 is David. He must be considered. And I had 
 better go. Good-bye." 
 
 She turned and went toward the door. Lee re- 
 mained, the hand holding the letter outstretched. 
 She could not find the word to say. So she saw her 
 visitor pass through the doorway with head airily 
 held, her skirts caught up jauntily. Triumph was 
 in every line of the trim figure from the nodding hat 
 to the clicking heels. 
 
 Lee's breast was heaving. When she heard the 
 clash of pebbles on the driveway beneath her win- 
 dow, she weighed the letter in her hand. Then she 
 caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her cheeks 
 flooded, her eyelashes fell. She opened the envelope, 
 looked at the letter a moment, then deliberately tore 
 the eight pages of paper across again and again. 
 
 If David had seen this, he would have been puz- 
 zled. Perhaps he would have been chagrined. If 
 he had matched those torn pieces of paper he 
 would have been still more astonished. Letters are 
 curious things; yet what was there hidden in these 
 lines of neighbourhood news and friendly ques- 
 tions ? 
 
 Once he had written of a certain letter of hers, 
 " It was bully. It had so much in it about the people 
 . we know. I sat and smoked, and saw them all. 
 Write me some more like that, won't you ? " 
 
 9'
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 So she had written. After a time he noticed that 
 some of these letters were very brief. But they 
 were what he asked for, and he was satisfied 
 with* all but one. 
 
 In that she talked of a party at Kitty Marshall's 
 house. There was something,' too, about Oswald's 
 slavish attendance on his hostess, a dozen lines of 
 mystery about the dress the writer wore. Toward 
 the end a reference slipped in to a stranger, a 
 Mississippi man, a friend of Nina Rennert's. He 
 had chestnut hair that curled, and was awfully good- 
 looking, and was very, very foolish. Had he not 
 chosen to be a spectator whenever he was not danc- 
 ing with her? A thing unheard of, was it not? 
 
 David agreed. Then he read the passage again. 
 Afterward, he laid the letter in his lap and began to 
 smoke. 
 
 He woke to his surroundings to find himself star- 
 ing at the little air-tight stove in the far corner of 
 his room. He did not understand. But he forgot 
 all about it until he wrote her. Then he chanced to 
 ask the name of the foolish man. In her reply she 
 did not remember to answer, but she did recall a 
 detail or two of what happened on that memorable 
 night. 
 
 David did not repeat his inquiry. 
 
 When he came home it was to find few changes. 
 In his uncle's house there was now and then a 
 visitor whom he had not seen before, a man from 
 
 9 2
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 New Orleans, a cotton-grower , he was told : once 
 or twice Tom White, slouching, but less loquacious. 
 These visits, it seemed, had to do with the invest- 
 ment which Mr. Mayhew had made in cotton in 
 Mississippi. He vouchsafed that he expected great 
 things of it. 
 
 David gave it no thought. His uncle and he grew 
 further apart each day. He felt more ill at ease 
 and restless. He missed the Captain's grave face. 
 And there were things of which he would never have 
 spoken to Lee had she not guessed at them. Even 
 when she did, he found himself at a loss to explain. 
 
 " What is it? " she asked one day. 
 
 He had fallen to staring at the ground as they 
 walked together. He started at the question. But 
 he answered, openly, " I don't know. You'll have 
 to forgive me. It was stupid." 
 
 " No," she said, " it wasn't. Tell me what it is." 
 
 " I wish I could. But I can't exactly. I reckon 
 I have changed some. I must wake up. Perhaps 
 it is because things are somehow different here from 
 the way they are where I've been." 
 
 " And not just what you care for any more ? " 
 She lingered wistfully on the last word. It did not 
 escape him. He shook himself. 
 
 " No, no," he protested, loyally. " Of course, it 
 isn't that. You know it isn't. It's well oh, I 
 don't know what. Let's talk of something more 
 cheerful." She looked at him curiously, but she made 
 
 93
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 no reply. " Now, there you are," he went on, gaily. 
 " Do you know, you took my breath away when I 
 first saw you this time." 
 
 "No," she answered. "Truly? How dreadful! 
 Do I look so dangerous ? ' What sharp teeth you 
 have, grandmother! And how long your claws 
 are! ' Never mind, I will spare you." 
 
 "Oh, I am safe," he returned. "We are old 
 friends. But there are other people, and you are 
 dangerous, Lee. Don't you know it ? " 
 
 " You are the first one to say so," she declared. 
 But her eyes were lowered. Suddenly he was more 
 sure of the truth of his warning. How straight 
 and tall she was ! And the gracious promise of her 
 figure! The poke-bonnet hid her face now. He 
 wished he might see under its tilt. But she was 
 lifting the hem of her gown, and refused him the 
 glimpse. Then, just as he was forgetting his wish, 
 she spoke. " David, my shoe is untied." He bent 
 down quickly, and the slender arch of instep which 
 slipped out and waited his ministrations gave him 
 a queer start. He bungled the tying badly. When 
 he looked up, the gray eyes sparkled mischievously 
 in the shadow of the bonnet. " I reckon, David, at 
 college you had not much practice in waiting on 
 ladies," she said, sorrowfully. 
 
 He surprised himself. " It wouldn't have helped 
 me just now if I had had," he answered. 
 
 94
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 She held up a rebuking finger. " Why ! That 
 is flattery. I must be careful." 
 
 He rose without replying. Though she stole 
 a glance at him twice, he did not look at her. 
 
 But there are some pictures we never forget. For 
 David, one of these was Lee in her white gown, the 
 skirt billowing from her slender waist, the sleeves 
 slipped back from the softly rounded arms, a loose 
 curl escaping from the poke-bonnet to blow across 
 her eyes and help to hide her face from him. 
 
 The Captain asked after her almost as soon as 
 David found him in St. Louis. It was easy to find 
 the Captain's place of business. There were few 
 people in the neighbourhood of Pine Street who did 
 not know him by sight. The brick house had a sign 
 over the door, and two windows on the pavement. 
 The Captain was at his desk, close to one of these, 
 his pipe in his mouth, when David came in. He 
 sprang up and gave him his hand. " You see, I'm 
 the lookout," he said. " Hillyer's away. Trying 
 to collect a rent I made a bungle of. We can't 
 afford to let any customers go by. Here I can reach 
 through the window and hold on to them till some- 
 body gets outside." David joined in the laugh, but 
 perceived a good deal of bitter fact behind the joke. 
 The two rooms had a bare, unprofitable look. 
 
 The Captain was like the rooms. His shoulders 
 stooped, his figure slouched when he did not re- 
 
 95
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 member to stiffen it. To his visitor he seemed a 
 trifle heavier than when he saw him last. But the- 
 old vigour and elasticity were missing. The familiar 
 habit of dropping his head slightly to one side now 
 hinted of weariness. His beard was closely trimmed 
 and his hair brushed back and parted so that it 
 rolled thickly, and exposed the lines in his face and 
 brought out the soberness which was almost dejec- 
 tion in his eyes and mouth. 
 
 David went home to supper with him, but all 
 the while was thinking of the days on the Gravois ; 
 of the building of the log house; of the Captain 
 sturdily walking by his wagon, the tails of the long 
 blue overcoat flapping about his boot-tops. This 
 hardly seemed to be the same man. 
 
 The Captain's house was near the river, and the 
 neighbours were not prepossessing. But the welcome 
 was warm, and there was plenty of supper, if it 
 was plain. Afterward, they sat on the door-step. 
 The Captain smoked a cigar. He pulled on it with 
 relish, gripping it firmly with his teeth. Then he 
 made his first remark about the house. " Not quite 
 as much room as out Gravois way. I want more. 
 We're going to. have it. I shall rent Hardscrabble, 
 and move, in a couple of weeks. We'll do well 
 Hillyer and I in time, I reckon." It was the 
 courage and faith of the old days, but it was only 
 a flash. He spoke little of what he had been doing.
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 He talked of politics guardedly, but it was plain 
 that he was beginning to look on Mr. Douglas as the 
 man of the hour. David went away with pity in 
 his heart. 
 
 Something of this was in his voice when he spoke 
 of the Captain to Doctor Shirley one evening a 
 couple of months later. He was waiting for Lee, 
 who was going with him to Kitty Marshall's. They 
 were in the library. The Doctor, though it was 
 a i^lld night, had a blaze in the fireplace, and sat 
 beside it with feet outstretched. He looked older. 
 His thin face above the flaring collar and broad tie 
 seemed almost pinched, and there were hollows be- 
 neath his eyes. 
 
 But his voice was clear. "Yes," he said, "the 
 Captain is having his hard times. You know he 
 failed to get the county engineer's office ? " 
 
 David leaned forward quickly. " I did not even 
 know he had applied for it. He is in the real estate 
 business." 
 
 " Yes, but I believe he will soon withdraw from 
 that. It has not been a success. There was to be 
 a vacancy in the county engineer's office this month. 
 He applied for it. I was glad to indorse his appli- 
 cation. But somehow the place went to another 
 man. I tell you that was wrong. The Captain 
 should have had it." 
 
 But if David had not known of this, Mr, Mayhew 
 
 97
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 was better informed. He alluded to it a few days 
 later. " He seems to be always doing the wrong 
 thing," he added. 
 
 David sprang to the Captain's defence. Mr. 
 Mayhew smiled at his heat. " Perhaps," he said, 
 " perhaps he has only to find his groove. But he's 
 a long time finding it. He has not been wise, either. 
 He kept up his visits to the office of the Democrat 
 until he lost a good many dollars. He acted foolishly 
 about his niggers, too. When he left here, he sold 
 all of them except that big red-headed fellow, 
 Sandy. He offered to give him away. Nobody he 
 went to wanted him. I heard he said he wouldn't 
 sell him because the man wasn't worth anything to 
 anybody unless the whip was used on him, and he 
 wouldn't have that." 
 
 David recalled what they used to say about the 
 Captain's incapacity to handle slaves. His leniency 
 wore another coat now. Again he realised how, 
 unconsciously, his point of view had shifted, but 
 a lingering uncertainty restrained him from saying 
 what he thought. 
 
 Mr. Mayhew went on with half-closed eyes, " His 
 scruples didn't hold out, though. He sold Sandy 
 quickly enough, at last. He sold him to me. I 
 suppose it was because he knew I never use the 
 whip," he reflected. His eyelids quivered slightly. 
 The shadow of a smile was on his lips. " It was 
 
 9 8
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 fortunate for the Captain," he finished ; " he was 
 able to stick to his principles, you see after a 
 fashion and turn an honest penny, too." 
 
 " He probably needed the money," David sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " He probably did. And I wanted Sandy. I have 
 use for him. He is tractable enough with me." 
 Then Mr. Mayhew began to talk of his cotton-trad- 
 ing. This was demanding much attention. He 
 spoke of the correspondence it entailed. " I hope 
 you will take an interest in it, David, later on. You 
 must be my legs when you leave college. This 
 business calls for quickness and discretion. It is 
 growing. Cotton may be worth a great deal some 
 day." 
 
 David agreed mechanically. The prospect did not 
 please him. He had no liking for trading of any 
 kind. But he did not say so. There was time 
 enough for that. He had not yet made up his mind 
 where or how to begin work when he left college. 
 But he knew that he would, when the time came. 
 He had a calm confidence which was almost a 
 philosophy. So he sat listening, now and then mak- 
 ing a reply, and presently found that it was after all 
 the question of abolition of which Mr. Mayhew was 
 talking. 
 
 Thinking it over afterward, he was surprised at 
 some things he had said. Did he really believe that 
 
 99
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 abolition had a chance to win? And had he made 
 that statement about State rights ? When he picked 
 up the conversation piece by piece, he realised that 
 a good many opinions had been drawn out of him 
 which hitherto he had kept to himself. 
 
 TOO
 
 VI 
 
 ABOUT A 
 STORY-TELLER 
 
 THERE was a girl in the South. David 
 learned that a few evenings after his return 
 to college. Boone had met her at a house- 
 party outside of Baltimore that summer. He did 
 not tell her name. In fact, his mention of her slipped 
 out almost unconsciously. But his dark eyes glowed, 
 and he said a few words that left no doubt as to 
 his feelings. David reached over and gripped his 
 hand. " Now, you must have that sheepskin," he 
 said. 
 
 " I want to hang out my shingle in Galena this 
 summer," Boone answered. 
 
 " But there'll be a ' Mrs. Doctor ' ? " 
 
 " Well, hardly yet. You see," he went on, a 
 little awkwardly, " it isn't just settled. By the way, 
 I would rather you didn't say anything about it. 
 The fact is well, she doesn't know what my plans 
 are, though I shouldn't wonder if she had some 
 notion of them." He laughed. 
 
 After that, the girl from the South figured in 
 
 101
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 a good many conversations which started on foreign 
 subjects. But her name was not disclosed. Boone 
 was reticent about some things. For all the honesty 
 and confidence in others which exactly fitted his 
 big frame and strong open face, he said little about 
 his people or the place he came from. Once he had 
 shown a miniature in a worn locket of gold. It 
 was the face of a dark-eyed, dark-haired woman, in 
 whose features was to be recognised a likeness. But 
 Boone simply said, " My mother," very tenderly, 
 " she died when I was born," and closed the locket 
 and put it away. 
 
 David knew that Boone's father was an Illinois 
 man who had made and lost a small fortune in 
 lead mining, and was not always in sympathy with 
 his son. Boone was putting himself through college 
 largely by outside work. 
 
 He liked him better with every day. The room 
 would seem very empty when the big fellow was 
 not there of evenings to fill the 'rocker by the fire, 
 with a long leg hanging over an arm of the chair, 
 and his pipe puffing clouds of smoke. They had 
 fought out a good many battles together. But they 
 were better friends with every contest. 
 
 For one thing, they had never been able to agree 
 on politics. Boone was a straight-out abolitionist. 
 He execrated the Democratic party, he had little 
 patience with Mr. Douglas, though admitting his 
 eloquence. During that last year at college, David 
 
 IO2
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tackled him again and again, but he budged not an 
 inch. He returned the fire with a vigour and direct- 
 ness which often, after he had banged the door and 
 stamped off, left behind him a cloud of smoke and 
 a thicker cloud of doubt. 
 
 So the winter went by, and Boone, the coveted 
 parchment in his pocket, left for home in the spring. 
 David came back to college to find awaiting him a 
 letter from the Springs mentioning that the Mis- 
 sissippi man of earlier acquaintance was there. His 
 stay was indefinite. The writer drew a picture of 
 him. David studied it carefully. He decided that 
 it lacked detail. 
 
 Then, his serious attention struck him comically, 
 and he managed a smile whenever recollection of it 
 thrust itself upon him that winter. 
 
 But .there was something else over which he knit 
 his brows. It was the spring of 1860, and with 
 every day he realised more keenly how strong a hold 
 the Great Question had taken on him. He knew 
 what he wished to believe, but something stubbornly 
 resisted this inclination. Always a fight was going 
 on between his ideals and his inquisitive brain which 
 prodded him, appealing to his common sense. 
 
 Douglas was the hero of his affections. Burning 
 phrases recurred to him phrases of adjuration, 
 command, prophecy. Their swelling intonation re- 
 echoed and charmed his senses. It fired his enthu- 
 siasm. But ever another voice followed. a calm, 
 
 103
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 clear voice, one he had never heard, but which he 
 felt he would know instantly by the words which it 
 had spoken. 
 
 These words knit themselves into vigorous, honest 
 statements. Many of them occurred in stories. 
 Some of the stories made him smile. Some touched 
 his heart. If they did not tickle the ear, they stuck 
 in the mind. He turned them over many times, 
 and with each turning they sank deeper. Some of 
 them he had read in the newspapers. Some of them 
 had been repeated to him. They were spoken by a 
 man named Lincoln, the man who had run against 
 Douglas for United States Senator. 
 
 He recalled a story which this Lincoln had told. 
 It brought in the name of Douglas. He laughed 
 as it repeated itself to him. 
 
 Some one from the crowd below the little table 
 where Lincoln stood had said he had always voted 
 the Democratic ticket, and would go on doing it. 
 Once you were sure of your mind, you ought to 
 go straight ahead behind one leader. 
 
 " That reminds me," said Lincoln, " of a little 
 thing that happened back in Illinois. There was a 
 boy ploughing new land on the prairie, and he asked 
 his father to tell him which way he was to strike the 
 first furrow. ' Oh,' said the father, ' you see that 
 yoke of oxen standing over there at the far end 
 of the field? You steer for them.' 'All right,' 
 says the boy, * I will.' Then the father went away, 
 
 IO4
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and the boy started in. He kept his eyes open and 
 steered for the oxen. He never swerved once. But, 
 by and by, it seemed to him that it was a thundering 
 long way to those oxen, and he was just going to 
 stop when he saw that he was coming up with them. 
 When he got close to them, he stopped. And then he 
 began to notice things. He looked back and he saw 
 that the furrow he'd been ploughing wasn't straight 
 at all. It wobbled every which way, and it didn't 
 seem to lead anywhere. Then it struck him that 
 things looked mighty familiar somehow. But he 
 didn't let this worry him a bit. No, sir. He'd done 
 what he'd said he'd do, steered for the oxen. 
 He'd done it, and he hadn't swerved once. It wasn't 
 his lookout that the oxen had been walking round 
 the field all the time, and come back right to where 
 they started from." 
 
 David wished he might hear Lincoln tell that story. 
 Perhaps it would be spoiled in the telling. Then it 
 wouldn't come back to bother him. 
 
 Some day he intended to ask the Captain about 
 the man who told it. 
 
 But in April, in a letter from Mr. Mayhew, was 
 the news that the Captain had left St. Louis. He 
 had obtained a small place in the St. Louis custom- 
 house, and lost it in a month. Then he walked the 
 streets and asked for work of any kind, and nobody 
 wanted him. The month previous he had made 
 another application for a position in the county 
 
 105
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 engineer's office. It came to nothing. After that, 
 so Mr. Mayhew had heard, he applied to his 
 father, and was told he could go to Galena and 
 see what he could do in the leather store there. 
 " The chance was given him out of pity, I suppose," 
 the writer added. " It is the last probably we will 
 hear of him. Yet we must not despise him, David. 
 The world is always hard on failures. The more 
 I read my Bible the more it is borne in on me that 
 charity is the greatest virtue. The humblest may 
 rise again. Remember, Simon was the son of a 
 tanner ! " 
 
 A subtle repugnance made David tear the letter 
 into pieces. But its closing words he could not 
 iorget. 
 
 The story of the Captain's arrival at Galena was 
 commonplace enough. Boone told about it a few 
 weeks later when he met David in St. Louis. 
 
 " I was on the wharf when the Captain came in," 
 he said. " The Captain wore that same old coat. 
 There were a lot of bags and bundles about him. 
 He came ashore with his hands full. His wife and 
 four children were with him. He didn't look well. 
 He walked firmly enough, but his shoulders are 
 stooping. He looked like a common soldier who 
 had seen a lot of hard service in a bad climate. He 
 didn't seem to know anybody in particular. There 
 was a crowd on the wharf. I soon lost sight of him. 
 I don't know just where he's living, but I am going 
 
 1 06
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 to make his acquaintance by and by, if he'll let 
 me. Maybe he wants a family physician." 
 
 He looked more gaunt than ever. His eyes were 
 deep in the sockets. The angles of his jaw and the 
 cheek-bones were prominent. But he laughed at 
 the warning that he was working too hard, and his 
 dark eyes were brilliant. " Not hard enough, you 
 mean," he returned. " They won't let me. At 
 least, they don't give me the work to do except 
 hospital cases. My ' private ' practice is extensive, 
 but I am like the country e'ditor. Pay comes in 
 everything but what my creditors want. The other 
 day I spent the night working over a woman. Her 
 husband was a splendid fellow. He very nearly 
 shook my arm off when I left. And he gave me 
 this bank-note. It's from a State bank, you see. So 
 far I've had one offer for it. It was a trade, and 
 came from another of my ' private ' patients. He 
 is collecting notes issued by the State banks which 
 nobody will redeem. He said he had duplicates of 
 one of them, and would exchange with me." 
 
 He laughed at the recollection. " The only thing 
 for me to do is to make it the nucleus for a bank-note 
 museum, I reckon," he finished. 
 
 The philosophy was contagious. David laughed 
 at him. " But you don't mean to say you have 
 many cases as bad as that ? " 
 
 Boone waved the stem of his pipe in the air. 
 " My son," he said, " that is an unusually prom- 
 
 107
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 ising case. I pocketed the fee and thanked the 
 donor. I will probably continue to be family phy- 
 sician for that household. And some day he will 
 make the mistake of giving me a bank-note worth 
 nearly its face value." His eyes twinkled. Then, 
 with immense satisfaction, " I saved the woman, 
 remember." 
 
 David, looking at him as he sat nursing the pipe 
 on one knee in his strong, thin hands, said nothing; 
 but he felt his heart go out to this big fellow. There 
 was that in the rugged face which reminded him 
 of the Captain. It was the stamp of honesty and 
 will-power, he decided. And something else the 
 lines made by hard work and yes disappoint- 
 ment. Into his head flashed " the girl from the 
 South." 
 
 But he asked no question about her then, and 
 Boone said nothing. Before he left the following 
 day, however, he understood that there had been 
 a visit to the girl's home, and that something had 
 happened. He never learned what this was, and 
 for many months neither he nor Boone alluded to it. 
 
 Those were the months in which the great fight 
 for the Presidency came to a head. Breckenridge 
 had been nominated, Bell had been nominated. Doug- 
 las had been nominated Abraham Lincoln had 
 been nominated. The two great parties the North 
 and the South, it was now were closing up their 
 lines. Bigger on the horizon each day loomed a 
 
 1 08
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tall, lank man : a man who told stories which made 
 people laugh or rub their eyes; who seemed never 
 weary, though working night and day : a man who 
 heard more clearly than any other the threat that 
 swelled louder and louder from the South, and who 
 knew that death would ambush every step he took 
 toward the place for which he had offered himself; 
 yet whose earnest, kindly eyes never wavered. 
 
 What was it which drew David toward that 
 homely figure? A thousand times he asked him- 
 self this, and often rebelled against the influence. 
 But always it drew him closer. Then in one hour 
 he knew. It was Truth, the truth of honesty and 
 right. 
 
 But before this Lee came home, and he discovered 
 for himself that, if he had ever known her, he had 
 now many things to learn. She was infinitely far 
 from him at times, and yet tantalisingly near. One 
 morning in September arrived a note from her. 
 
 " DEAR DAVID : I shall ride this afternoon at 
 three o'clock. Dick needs exercise. You can come 
 along if you wish to very much. 
 
 " LEE." 
 
 " I am going to St. Louis this afternoon," said 
 David to himself. " I will ride around and tell 
 her so." But at half-past two o'clock, in the riding- 
 clothes he had brought from the East, he came out 
 
 109
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 upon the Gravois road, a straight, strong figure 
 in the saddle, and he promptly turned his back on St. 
 Louis. It must have been self-denial which put him 
 in excellent spirits. 
 
 He swung along at an easy pace, and turned 
 between the gateposts at Doctor Shirley's place 
 with a welcome on his clean-shaven face for the big 
 house which stood on a gentle rise in a circle of 
 locust-trees at the end of the elm-shaded drive. 
 There was dignity and an ample hospitality in its 
 porch and gallery, its wide-open doors, and its walls 
 cooled by the vines which clambered into the laps 
 of the windows and wreathed the chimneys to their 
 tops. Back of it was the whitewashed kitchen with 
 flaking walls. Beyond this, where the ground fell 
 away in rolling reaches toward the east, were the 
 cabins of the quarter; at one side, among gnarled 
 orchard-trees, the spring-house, shoulder-high above 
 the grass. Further east the meadows began, now 
 bathed in the blue mist and yellow sunshine of 
 an autumn afternoon. The peace of it entered into 
 David's soul. There had never been another place 
 like this to him, there never would be. Here was 
 his home. And this was the South in all its habits 
 at least. A bitter distrust of those who would break 
 in upon this peace welled in his heart. What right 
 had they? 
 
 He pulled up his horse at the mounting-block. 
 There was no one in sight. He waited a little while, 
 
 IIO
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 then whistled; but drew only an echo. Again he 
 whistled without an answer. Then he smiled at 
 the open doors, and rode slowly down to the gate. 
 He was aware that a departing back often wrought 
 wonders. 
 
 Yet he came to the end of the drive, listening over 
 his shoulder in vain. So he turned back toward the 
 house. His horse threw up its head and strained 
 at the bridle. But he was at the mounting-block once 
 more, and a line was drawn between his eyes when, 
 from the dimness of the hall, came a little cry, " Oh, 
 so you are there at last ! " And on to the porch, 
 in all the trim propriety of riding-habit, stepped the 
 figure which his eyes had been seeking for the quar- 
 ter-hour past. 
 
 Holding her fine shoulders so proudly that she 
 seemed a head above her stature, her eyes shaded 
 by a wide hat, against which the curling brown hair 
 was in rebellion, her skirt caught up in a slender 
 hand so that David perceived that these were new 
 boots, she came to the porch's edge. 
 
 " Well," she asked, " what have you to say? " 
 
 " To say? " he answered. " Me? You ought to 
 be the one to say something. You told me to be 
 here " 
 
 " At three o'clock. It is now quarter past." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 The gray eyes were stern, the mouth commanding.' 
 
 He should have been impressed. But he felt 
 
 III
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 neither contrition nor fear. In fact, he was enjoying 
 the poise of her head. Her low-spoken " I am 
 waiting, David," made him start. 
 
 " Oh, very well," he said, laughing. He slid from 
 his horse, and extended a hand. " Of course it 
 was you who were waiting," he conceded. 
 
 " I was, but not to ride with you," she retorted. 
 " That is, not until you tell why you were late." 
 
 " I wasn't late," he returned, a little nettled. " I 
 have been here fifteen minutes and more. I 
 whistled " 
 
 " Now, David." 
 
 " I did half a dozen times." 
 
 " Think again. Wasn't it only twice ? " 
 
 His lips straightened. " So you did hear me. 
 Why didn't you answer?" 
 
 " It isn't exactly polite for ladies to whistle, is 
 it?" she queried. " Besides, how could I tell who 
 it was. Lots of people know how to whistle." 
 
 His hand dropped. He regarded her with grave 
 eyes. 
 
 " Don't they, David ? " she asked. " Don't lots of 
 people know how to whistle? " 
 
 Suddenly the steady gaze baffled her. Her lashes 
 were lowered. " Anyway," she said, softly, " I 
 might have thought it was a bird. It was so sweet, 
 David." 
 
 He tried to hold his sternness. It escaped him, 
 and she knew it. 
 
 112
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 ''If you are going to amuse yourself with me all 
 afternoon," he said, " perhaps you will let me come 
 up on the porch." 
 
 She looked up. " Oh, no," she answered, " I am 
 going riding. I told you I was waiting. How 
 tired poor Dick must be. Will you get him for 
 me?" 
 
 He turned and walked along the drive toward 
 the stable. She tossed a hand to him. But her 
 eyes followed him until he had turned a corner. 
 When he was back again she put a foot on his hand 
 and her fingers touched his shoulder. She was in 
 the saddle and moving away with a warning, " Don't 
 take root, David ! " before he had picked up the 
 riding-switch which she dropped at his feet. 
 She waved to him from between the gateposts as 
 he reached the saddle and spoke to his horse. But 
 the sorrel mare he rode had the heels of Dick, 
 and half a mile away she slackened speed as he 
 ranged up beside her. 
 
 " I told you Dick needed exercise," she remarked, 
 " but I don't care to have him run off his legs. 
 Let's walk for awhile." 
 
 It had rained the night before. Every leaf was 
 clean washed, the uncut corn made a hedge of 
 rusty gold and green upon the right, a stubble of 
 wheat spread itself down the slope, toward the 
 gullied bank of the Gravois. A film of smoke ahead
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 told of the river beyond ceaselessly rolling its yellow 
 breast to the south. 
 
 David's eyes noted the smoke. His mind filled in 
 the picture of the swift craft below, loaded to her 
 guards with the cargo which she was carrying 
 to the wharves above with their crowding ware- 
 houses and all the dirt and noise of the city river 
 front. But it drew him. That was the place for 
 which he had been making ready. Life was earnest. 
 He wanted to begin work. He would never be con- 
 tent with less than the most that could be won. 
 
 An aggrieved voice told him that he had been 
 silent a long time. " I'm still here, David." Then, 
 as he turned his face and she saw its earnestness. 
 "What were you thinking about?" 
 
 " About what's up there in the city, for me," 
 he said. " I want to start this autumn. I would 
 like to have a place in the county engineer's office. 
 I'm fitted for it." Some recollection of the Captain's 
 failure in that same direction quenched the sparkle 
 in his eyes. " But it's not easy to secure. There are 
 a good many applicants, and politics " 
 
 " Politics ! Is that it ? Then you ought to speak 
 to Colonel Marshall. He has a great deal of in- 
 fluence." 
 
 " No, I won't do that." 
 
 " You won't ? You must. He will be mighty 
 glad to do anything for you." 
 
 114
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " He might, but I'm not sure. Anyhow, I would 
 rather not ask him." 
 
 " What nonsense! He's known you all your life. 
 Why is it you don't want to ask him ? " 
 
 " Because," said David, " I'm going to do some- 
 thing in a few weeks which the Colonel will never 
 forgive. I am going to vote for a Black Republi- 
 can, the blackest of them all, I reckon, according 
 to his way of thinking, Abraham Lincoln." 
 
 Dick did not understand the sudden jerk on the 
 reins. But he came to a standstill instantly, and 
 Lee, leaning a little forward, repeated, " Abraham 
 Lincoln! The countryman! Do you mean it ?" 
 
 " Yes," he replied, steadily. " I am going to vote 
 for Lincoln for President." 
 
 " You are? Why? Why not Mr. Douglas? " 
 
 " Because Mr. Douglas is wrong, and I believe in 
 Mr. Lincoln." 
 
 " Believe in him ! Why, they say he is a gawky 
 backwoods lawyer." 
 
 David, with knit brows, looking straight ahead 
 of him, made no reply at first. Then, abruptly fixing 
 his eyes on her, asked, "Lee, do you believe in 
 slavery? " 
 
 "We have always had slaves. Why shouldn't 
 I believe in it ? " 
 
 " But you don't. You don't. Your father doesn't, 
 I feel sure. And Mr. Lincoln "
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Mr. Lincoln means to try to take them away 
 from us? " she finished for him. " Is that right? " 
 
 " Mr. Lincoln does not mean to do that. He 
 means to try to hold this country together. That's 
 why I shall vote for him." 
 
 " I never thought you would be against us," she 
 said, sadly. 
 
 " Against us ! " It was the first time it had pre- 
 sented itself that way. Mr. Lincoln had said, " A 
 house divided against itself shall not stand." This 
 was what it meant. David had wrestled with old 
 ideals and abandoned them to learn what? For an 
 instant he almost repented. But he knew that, say 
 what he might, his heart would speak with the same 
 voice. He looked across at the sweet figure which 
 had swayed a little toward him.- The gray eyes 
 seemed to beseech, the lips trembled. " Lee," he 
 said, " you know nothing would ever make me 
 against you. But I must vote for Mr. Lincoln. I 
 have thought it all out." 
 
 Did her figure draw from him, as she answered, 
 " Very well, you must do your own way ? " She 
 lifted the reins and her horse started forward. 
 There was a mile of that road over which David 
 never passed afterward but recollection pictured 
 a silent figure riding beside him, and his brooding 
 returned to him. 
 
 She surprised him when she spoke again. 
 " David, I have a promise to keep this afternoon." 
 
 116
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 There was a smile on her lips, and he answered, 
 gaily, " If it's a promise to me, I won't let you 
 off." 
 
 " But it's not to you. It's to another man, one 
 I want you to meet." 
 
 " All right. But I don't see how we can meet. 
 Here on the road ? " 
 
 She laughed. " None the less it is to be here on 
 the road. The man is Philip Randolph. He's a 
 sort of distant cousin of mine. Don't you remember 
 ' the rrian from Mississippi ' ? " 
 
 It was on his tongue to say, " The foolish man ! " 
 How plainly he did remember! It was that, per- 
 haps, which sobered him and made him answer, 
 " Yes., I remember. Where is he? " 
 
 " He came up from Vicksburg yesterday. He 
 has to go back to St. Louis to-night. So he sent 
 a message that he would ride out along this road 
 this afternoon ; and I want you to meet him." 
 
 " That's why you sent me that note? " 
 
 She nodded. 
 
 "But why didn't you say he was coming? I 
 don't understand." 
 
 "David," she replied. "David, haven't you 
 learned that there are a good many things you don't 
 understand, and that I haven't reasons for every- 
 thing I do?" 
 
 " Yes," he said. " Frankly, I have, but Oh, 
 I shall like the Mississippi man if you do." If a 
 
 117
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 reservation suggested itself, he did not acknowledge 
 it even to himself. 
 
 At the next turn they came upon Randolph 
 suddenly. He was lithe and slender. He sat his 
 horse with careless ease, and as he pulled off his 
 hat and rode up with extended hand, David decided 
 that these facts were plain : He was a gentleman, 
 and he was all in looks that Lee had written. His 
 eyes were sparkling. In riding clothes, the coat open 
 over a shirt with flowing collar and tie, his slender, 
 straight figure suggested the cavalier in every line. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Shirley," he cried, the Southern drawl 
 without suspicion of laziness, " you don't know 
 how mighty glad I am to see you. I was reckoning 
 I was going to have to turn back without seeing 
 you." 
 
 " Now, were you ? " Lee mimicked his tone of in- 
 jury and regarded him with wicked eyes. "Wouldn't 
 that have been sad ? " 
 
 " It surely would," he protested. Then he looked 
 at David. " Mr. Philip Randolph of Mississippi," 
 she said, and David did not miss the emphasis. 
 
 " You look about the way I reckoned you did," 
 Philip vouchsafed. " I hope some day somebody 
 will give me as good a character as Miss Shirley gave 
 you." It was spoken frankly. 
 
 As they rode on it was Lee and the visitor who 
 did the talking. David, studying the eager face 
 
 118
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 under the wide-brimmed hat, was unconscious of his 
 scrutiny until she appealed to him. 
 
 Then he shook off his fancies and did his part. 
 But the pleasure of the ride had diminished. He 
 was restless, and impressed with the idea that a 
 gallop ahead was what he needed. A minute later 
 he proposed it. 
 
 " Just what I would like," Lee agreed. " Dick 
 wants it, too." She looked over at Philip. But he 
 was enjoying this loafing along " mighty much," 
 he declared. David's suggestion became a resolve. 
 " I'll be waiting for you a mile on," he said, and 
 raced ahead. He was sure it was what he needed 
 when she did not try to dissuade him. But how is 
 it that the right way so often is rough travelling? 
 
 119
 
 VII 
 
 CROSSING 
 
 A BRIDGE 
 
 IN October Lee went to New Orleans in Nina 
 Rennert's company. She was to spend Novem- 
 ber at Vicksburg with her cousins, the Pem- 
 bertons. David rode over to say good-bye the 
 evening before she left. 
 
 He came from a meeting where he had heard 
 Lincoln's name cheered and hissed. He had seen 
 one rush from the outskirts of the crowd that ended 
 in a fight. He had heard Oswald speak, and his 
 was the " Black Republican " speech which brought 
 on the fight. He had helped to drive back those 
 who tried to break up the meeting. With these 
 sounds ringing in his head, and the shoving bodies 
 and close-pressed, excited faces still clear in his 
 vision, he wondered at himself. It must have been 
 some one else who, a year ago, had doubted what 
 his decision should be. 
 
 When he came into the library at Doctor Shirley's 
 and found Lee alone, he was sure she would read 
 
 1 2O
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 his thoughts. But she held out her hand and told 
 him to bring over the big chair beside the fire. 
 She began to talk of his plans for beginning work 
 that winter. How womanly and serious she had 
 grown ! He was very proud of her friendship. He 
 would miss her this time as he had never done before. 
 But he did not tell her so, though once he began to 
 speak of it and stopped because what he said made 
 her look at him so curiously. 
 
 He had risen to go when she asked him, " David, 
 once you said you would vote for Mr. Lincoln ? " 
 
 " Yes, I will vote for him." 
 
 "You really mean it?" 
 
 " Of course." He leaned his elbows on the back 
 of the chair and looked down on her, wagging his 
 head in mockery of her incredulity. " I mean it." 
 
 " I do npt understand," she said. " How can 
 you do it? " 
 
 " Because I believe Mr. Lincoln is right," he an- 
 swered, all at once earnest. 
 
 "Right?" she echoed. "Right to try to take 
 away from us what belongs to us, what we have 
 always had? Is that right? " 
 
 " Lee," said David, quietly, as he had once before, 
 "you don't believe in slavery yourself. Do you? 
 Does the Doctor?" 
 
 And this time she attempted no equivocation. 
 " It isn't that," she returned. " If it was only 
 a question of our giving up the few people we 
 
 121
 
 have, I would not care. Sometimes I think father 
 would do that now for the sake of peace. But it 
 is more. It is saying we must. It is the North 
 telling the South what it shall not do." 
 
 " You are wrong. With Mr. Lincoln there is no 
 North and no South. There is only his country." 
 
 " His country ! " she repeated, scornfully. " And 
 that is why he is putting our friends against us? 
 Oh, why does he do it? We have always lived our 
 own way. We have been happy. Why can't we 
 be left alone?" 
 
 " Because slavery can't go any further if we are 
 to have the Union." 
 
 " The Union ! " she exclaimed. " How sick I am 
 of the word ! " 
 
 His head went back. " You don't mean that ! " 
 
 " I do ! " she'cried. " I am sick of it ! The Union 
 is the North, and the North is not yours, David, 
 and it is not mine. It never will be. The North 
 is different, so different. It does not understand 
 us. I have been North. I know. And you know, 
 too." 
 
 He did know. Twist it as he might, the South 
 was the South, and the North what was the 
 North? He respected it, he wondered at it. He 
 was learning to know it better. But it was not in 
 his heart. He was silent. 
 
 " And the South will never yield," she went on, 
 rapidly. " It will go out first. And then what will the 
 
 122
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 North do? What will you do? " He did not reply. 
 She said again, " What will you do, David ? " 
 
 " I have not gone that far yet," he answered, 
 slowly. " I do not want to." 
 
 " Then you have no right to help the North." 
 Her face was lifted to his. She threw out an arm 
 with closed hand. " You have no right to help 
 them," she repeated; " for you belong to us." The 
 clenched fingers unclosed and there was a pleading 
 palm. " So you won't vote for Mr. Lincoln," she 
 said, softly. " You won't ? I ask you not to." 
 
 David took the hand held out to him. " You 
 know I wouldn't, if I could do anything else," he 
 said. 
 
 "But I ask you?" she repeated. "It means a 
 great deal to me what you do." The last words 
 were very faint; her eyes were hidden. And he 
 fought with a tenderness that made him tremble. 
 But those days and nights of battle with himself 
 had made him sure. He tried to tell her how it 
 was. 
 
 " But me? " she reminded him. The fingers clung 
 to his. " Doesn't it make any difference about me? 
 I thought " 
 
 " You know it makes a difference. I would do 
 anything for you that I could." 
 
 " Then do this." The lashes lifted for an instant. 
 
 " But this this time - " he began. 
 
 " This time? " she said. There was a little pause. 
 
 123
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Then the hand slipped from his grasp. She had 
 looked into his face and seen. " This time it doesn't 
 count," she went on. "That is it. It was easy enough 
 before. Now, because you have made up your mind 
 I might have known it. I might have known 
 it. But I kept on hoping." 
 
 He was learning then the lesson which every man 
 must learn. There is no enemy, no friend, like one's 
 own heart. But he was true to it, true to it 
 though his words were the hardest he ever spoke. 
 " I can't do it, Lee. I can't. Forgive me." 
 
 She did not speak then ; she knew 'that this was 
 what he would say. But when he leaned for- 
 ward, and said again, "Forgive me!" she was 
 not deceived by that swift response. " Forgive you? 
 I have nothing to forgive. I only made a mis- 
 take." 
 
 Then he tried to speak of it again, and she 
 frowned. " No, don't speak of it any more. We 
 have said everything. I want to forget it ! " 
 
 Forget it ! He knew he would not do that. 
 When she said good night and he walked from the 
 room and looked back from the doorway to see her 
 face turned away, he knew that she would not 
 forget, and that something very dear seemed slipping 
 from him. 
 
 But he did not know that as the door closed 
 on him, she sprang to her feet and made a quick 
 step toward the window, then slowly turned again, 
 
 124
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and, in the chair by the fire, dropped her hands in her 
 lap. If he had known that, would he have come 
 back? Not to unsay his words, it is certain. 
 
 When the Doctor came in and spoke to her she 
 lifted such a strange face to his, that he asked her 
 what was wrong. 
 
 " Nothing," she answered. " Except the things 
 which are right." Which was stranger still, though 
 it only brought a perplexed wrinkle to the Doctor's 
 face. He held out his hands for her. She flung her 
 arms about his neck, and hugged him tightly. " Good 
 night," she said. " Good night." Then with her 
 head on his breast, she asked him, " Father, have 
 you ever heard Mr. Lincoln speak ? " 
 
 " No, but I've read some of his speeches," he 
 said. " If it wasn't for Mr. Douglas, I believe I 
 would vote for him." 
 
 " I wouldn't," she declared, vehemently. " No, 
 I never would not if there was never to be a 
 President. But " her voice was sad " but it's 
 no use, father. Mr. Lincoln will be elected." 
 
 Before he could speak she had kissed him twice 
 again and slipped from the room. 
 
 The Doctor wondered and intended to ask her 
 what she meant. But he never did. Neither did 
 he repeat her prophecy to David. Like many other 
 things, he never thought of it again. So David 
 missed what perhaps was a message, a message which 
 might have made easier the weeks in which there 
 
 125
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 came no letter from her, and the letter which he tried 
 to write remained unwritten. It might have been, 
 too, that it would have given a keener edge to his 
 satisfaction on the November day when he knew 
 that the tall, awkward man in black for whom he 
 had voted was elected President of the United States. 
 
 His uncle brought the news. " But I am very 
 much afraid he will not be President long," he added. 
 " You would not take my advice, David. You 
 voted for him. You will see you have done wrong." 
 
 Kitty Marshall, with sparkling eyes, told David 
 of the scene when the Colonel came home from St. 
 Louis the day of the election. He had .refused to 
 the last moment to accept the result. " I was with 
 Aunt Sarah when he came in," she said. " He never 
 spoke a word; and Aunt Sarah stood it as long as 
 she could. Then she said, ' Well, I suppose some 
 one was elected.' You ought to have seen the Colo- 
 nel's face." Kitty whistled. " He was the colour 
 of whitewash. ' I have not learned yet,' he said " 
 Kitty put her hands behind her back and struck 
 an attitude " ' I have not learned yet that any one 
 was made President. They say that they will put 
 a man over us named Lincoln. Let them try. This 
 is the last insult to be borne. The last insult. It 
 will be war ! War inside of six months ! And you, 
 you must not forget, madam, are one of those who 
 have brought it on. I hope you will be as ready for 
 it as I am.' Then he rushed out of the room," Kitty 
 
 126
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 explained. " And Aunt Sarah, well, she just sat 
 there." 
 
 She paused, and added, " David, I reckon some- 
 thing must have happened to Aunt Sarah right then. 
 For she didn't answer back a word." 
 
 Boone came to St. Louis on an errand for a hos- 
 pital a few weeks later. Of course the talk was 
 immediately of the election. He was in the full 
 flood of exultation. " The country has spoken to 
 the point," he declared. " What more do they want ? 
 The Democrats! Where are they? They met in 
 June. Then they broke. The seceders held a con- 
 vention for themselves, and they didn't agree any 
 too well. Between Baltimore and Richmond they 
 made a nice mess of it. We have them on the hip." 
 
 " But they are ugly and determined," said David, 
 slowly. " And General Scott has advised the Presi- 
 dent to double all garrisons at United States forts. 
 That doesn't look as if it were settled." 
 
 Boone laughed grimly. " Maybe not. But if it 
 comes to anything like that, we won't be stopped by 
 a weak-kneed politician like Buchanan. If they try 
 to follow the advice of those Charleston traitors 
 and make their ' Southern republic/ we'll - He 
 checked himself. "I forgot," he said. "You've 
 not quite made up your mind as to the unrighteous- 
 ness of this. But you will, you will, old fellow, 
 
 127
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 because you love the old flag." David was staring 
 gloomily at the opposite wall. He made no reply. 
 
 " I met the Captain the other day," Boone volun- 
 teered, after a minute. " He came into the hall where 
 we Wide Awakes were drilling. He looked on; 
 didn't say a word. Nobody noticed him till Smith, 
 who was drilling us, asked him to put us through 
 a few movements. One or two of the fellows 
 laughed when he came on the floor. He sort of 
 slouched along and looked so rusty. But just then 
 he straightened up, flung back the cape of that old 
 overcoat, and there wasn't any more loafing; 
 and there wasn't any laughing so far as I heard." 
 
 " The Wide Awakes ? I thought you wrote he'd 
 been elected captain of that Douglas Club at 
 Galena?" 
 
 " He was elected. But he declined the nomination. 
 Said he hadn't been long enough in the State to 
 vote. It was the same answer he gave when Smith 
 asked him what he thought of Douglas. I was stand- 
 ing by. ' He's a very smart man,' he said. * I 
 heard him at Dubuque the other day. But I don't 
 like his ideas exactly. It don't seem to me as if 
 they'd work. I don't know which way I'd vote if 
 I could. Last time I voted against Fremont.' ' 
 
 " Yes," confirmed David. " I remember he told 
 me about that. But he's changed his mind since 
 then. I believe he is against secession." 
 
 Boone's eyes opened wide. He forgot all about 
 
 128
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the Captain. His chin came up with a snap. 
 "Secession! We'll take that notion out of any 
 State in short order," he said, passionately. " If 
 they try it, we'll bring them back before they know 
 they're out." 
 
 David did not answer. " You don't think we can 
 do it? " demanded Boone. " Why, what sort of a 
 Lincoln man are you ? " 
 
 " I don't know just what I think about it." David 
 was studying the wall. " I haven't come up to it 
 yet. I don't mean to till I have to." He raised his 
 face. It was very sober. " Boone," he said, " it 
 seems to me there's a difference between stopping 
 slavery where it is and telling the people of a State 
 they can't vote to do what they want with their 
 State because other States don't agree with them. 
 I've tried to see it the way you do. But I'm not 
 ready yet to go that far." 
 
 " You'll have to go a good bit further before 
 long. And when it comes, as I said, you'll be on 
 the right side." 
 
 David spoke slowly. " We'll find a way out. 
 There must be one. If there isn't! Do you know 
 what it would mean? It would mean that perhaps 
 you and I would be shooting across a fence at 
 each other." 
 
 " When the time comes for shooting," Boone re- 
 turned, " we'll be on the same side of the fence." 
 
 That afternoon they rode out to Gravois. Boone 
 
 129
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 was to stay overnight. In the evening they called 
 on Kitty Marshall. 
 
 David did not explain that it was only the Colo- 
 nel's absence which made him feel at liberty to 
 visit the house. He took immense satisfaction in 
 noting the first return of the old spirit in Boone. 
 Kitty plainly showed her liking for the new visitor, 
 but for David she reserved pitying allusions to his 
 " loneliness." 
 
 Presently she jumped up. " I want to read you a 
 letter parts of it," she said. " It will interest 
 you, David. It's from her." She gave him a fleet- 
 ing glance. 
 
 He answered promptly. " Is it ? I'm mighty 
 glad. Boone has never met her." 
 
 She brought the letter under the lamp, and ran 
 her eyes over it, page after page. Then she delib- 
 erately refolded it, and laid it in her lap. " On 
 second thoughts, I won't read it," she said. " It 
 wouldn't be exactly fair. There's so much in it 
 about some people Doctor Hadley doesn't know. 
 But she did speak of that Mr. Randolph who was up 
 here while I was away. You met him, didn't you, 
 David?" 
 
 " Philip Randolph ? Oh, yes. Does he live in 
 Vicksburg? I thought his home was some distance 
 from there." 
 
 " So it is, I believe," answered Kitty. " But you 
 see he has some very good friends at Vicksburg." 
 
 130
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 She paused ; and, as if it was an afterthought, " And 
 he is very fond of riding." She raised a hand and 
 put back her hair. Unobserved, she had an excellent 
 glimpse of David. But it did not satisfy her. " He 
 is very good-looking, isn't he? " she asked. 
 
 ''' Yes, he is good-looking," said David. " And, 
 L remember, he did ride well. I expect that's the 
 reason," he added. 
 
 Of what this was the reason the tremble of Kitty's 
 lip may have been an indication. But she went on, 
 " What I wanted to tell you, though, was about a 
 girl. Lee says she's a beauty. Maybe she'll come 
 up to visit here later. Every man's in love with her 
 in Vicksburg. I picked you out, Doctor Hadley, 
 to be bur champion, as soon as I saw you. You and 
 she would make such a splendid what shall I 
 say?" 
 
 David laughed. " First you'd better tell us what 
 she's like." 
 
 " Let me see," she said, reflectively. " She is 
 oh, I know the very thing. Lee sent her picture." 
 
 . She slipped a photograph from the envelope in 
 her lap. David declared that it was the picture 
 of a very handsome girl. He said it so deliberately 
 that she laughed. " Perhaps you'd like to enter the 
 lists?" 
 
 " I would," answered David, and, in the same 
 spirit, " I hope she decides to come here. I wonder 
 if she could be persuaded to look at me? "
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 "She might," replied Kitty, judicially. "I'll 
 ask Lee's opinion. She can describe you pretty 
 closely. And, I reckon, she'd give you a good char- 
 acter." She paused expectantly. But neither of her 
 visitors responded, and she went on, " I might as 
 well tell you, though, the whole sad truth at once. 
 She's for neither of you. Lee writes that she's al- 
 ready engaged to a Vicksburg man. His name is 
 Carson." 
 
 David was conscious that Boone had sud- 
 denly withdrawn his attention. "Here!" he said. 
 " You have an opinion, even if the lady of the 
 picture is preempted. What do you think of her ? " 
 
 " I ? " repeated Boone, slowly. " I think her face 
 is rather cold." 
 
 " You do ? That's strange." David examined 
 the photograph again. It was his opinion that, if 
 ever there was a face in which was warmth and 
 expression, it was this. But Boone was answering 
 one of their hostess's inconsequential questions, and 
 he laid the picture down. 
 
 A few days later, meeting Kitty, he referred to 
 the photograph and Boone's comment on it. " What 
 was it he said ? " she asked, carelessly. 
 
 " Why, you heard him." 
 
 " Oh, yes, that. I remember now. But 
 afterward ? " 
 
 " He didn't mention the picture to me." 
 
 132
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Is that so ? I had an idea he admired it. I 
 must have been mistaken." 
 
 " I'm sure you were." David reflected that her 
 perceptions were not always acute. 
 
 Perhaps this was the reason Kitty exhibited such 
 lively interest in the girl of the photograph when 
 next she wrote to Lee, yet spoke never a word of 
 having shown it to Boone. 
 
 One afternoon a week later David carried a letter 
 to Doctor Shirley from his uncle. The Doctor read 
 it slowly, then, for a minute, sat gazing at the fire. 
 When he became aware of his silence, he apologised. 
 " Talk to me a little while, won't you ? " he asked. 
 " I am lonely. What is the news ? " 
 
 David had little to tell. But he mentioned the 
 threat which came from South Carolina, and the 
 Doctor's brow clouded. " It is folly," he said, 
 " folly of the worst kind. But the State is in the 
 right. She can leave the Union if she wishes. No 
 one has the power to keep her in. And if she needs 
 help But it must never go that far. Nothing 
 will justify war while there is a way out of it." 
 
 " A good many men are trying to find a way," 
 David answered. " Mr. Buchanan " 
 
 The Doctor's mouth contorted with disgust. " He 
 has helped to bring it' on," he exclaimed. " Each 
 man must do his part to prevent it. I shall free my 
 slaves at once." 
 
 David started. " What does Lee think of that? " 
 
 133
 
 " I have not told her yet. I have not mentioned 
 my intention to any one. But she will agree 
 with me. It is best. I have been thinking over it 
 a great deal. If war came, I would yes, I would 
 do what I could for the South. But Mr. Lincoln 
 is right about slavery. So I am giving up my 
 people. I hope it will do some good." 
 
 " I hope it will," was all David could say. He 
 looked at the slender figure in the chair, the eye- 
 glasses raised above the peering eyes. And pity 
 mingled with his respect. Here was a man who 
 would fight, fight bravely, he was sure, and for a 
 principle; yet was willing to yield his own com- 
 fort and a good share of all that he possessed to 
 save others. But what would the sacrifice accom- 
 plish? Repeated a hundredfold it would not clear 
 the troubled waters now. Besides, there was Lee! 
 
 It was as if the Doctor read his thoughts. " It's 
 little enough I'm doing, after all," he said, with an 
 apologetic smile. " There are only six of my people 
 left. Once upon a time " He checked himself, 
 and added, " Sometimes I think it would be just 
 as well if I gave up the old place here altogether. 
 Some of my wife's family still live in the South. 
 And Lee if anything should happen " 
 
 He raised himself in the chair and laid a hand on 
 David's knee. " David," he said, in a lower voice, 
 " I wish you would do something for me." 
 
 " Whatever it is, I'll do it, Doctor." 
 
 134
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Well, it is this. If there is war I have told 
 you what I would do. And I haven't made as many 
 friends around here as I should have. But you are 
 a friend, and I trust you. Would you if any- 
 thing happens look out for her ? I mean see that 
 she was safe with her people. Would you do that ? " 
 
 Whatever passed in David's mind, his answer 
 came promptly. " I will. I promise you. But you 
 mustn't talk that way. There are years ahead." 
 
 135
 
 VIII 
 
 THE GIRL 
 FROM THE SOUTH 
 
 THOSE were the days when the telegraph 
 wires from the South carried one word 
 to the North, secession ! The Mississippi 
 Legislature directed commissioners to be sent to the 
 other slave-holding States to secure united action on 
 secession. Jefferson Davis declared in the Senate 
 that the Union cost " little time, little money, and 
 no blood." The Secretary of the United States 
 Treasury resigned because secession was not recog- 
 nised by the Government. The Secretary of State 
 resigned because the administration did not recognise 
 the need to aim against secession. One half of the 
 Senators and Representatives of eight Southern 
 States called on their constituents to organise for 
 secession. On December 2Oth South Carolina 
 seceded from the Union. 
 
 And all the while a President of the United States 
 temporised and tried to propitiate. What was his 
 remedy? A day of humiliation and fasting and 
 prayer because of " the dangerous and distracted 
 
 136
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 condition of the country." When the Representa- 
 tives from a State which had made its own " declara- 
 tion of independence " called upon him, he received 
 them but with pompous dignity " as private gen- 
 tlemen." Such was his brave assertion. When the 
 Secretary of War, having distributed the army and 
 navy to the four winds of heaven, made a last whole- 
 sale seizure for the enemies of the Union by sending 
 them over one hundred cannon, the Secretary re- 
 signed. 
 
 At last the man who had sworn to do his duty 
 to the United States stiffened into a semblance 
 of resistance. He declared that a United States fort 
 in South Carolina would be defended to the final 
 extremity. And to see that his command was car- 
 ried out, told one hundred and twenty-eight men to 
 do their duty. 
 
 But nearer to David's own home there were things 
 being done of which the purpose was not less plain. 
 There was talk and lowering looks everywhere which 
 told which way the tide of opinion ran. It was no 
 secret in St. Louis that the governor and lieutenant- 
 governor of the State were for secession. It was 
 little more of a secret that under cover they were 
 doing all they could to strip the State of the power 
 to resist when the time for action should come. State 
 troops assembled and recruited for an object which 
 no one misunderstood. A United States arsenal, 
 
 137
 
 deprived almost wholly of its garrison, awaited the 
 first hand which should be laid upon it. 
 
 And, if there were other men who drilled to de- 
 fend the arsenal and the city, these did not call 
 themselves soldiers. They met not to destroy, but 
 to save a Union, and they made no threats. Years 
 before, they had come across an ocean to find a new 
 home. Here they had found it. Time and hard 
 work and peace had knit them into the fabric of the 
 Union. They loved it. Now they meant that it 
 should remain unbroken. 
 
 In their halls in the southern part of the city 
 they met and fell into line and marched and learned 
 how to hold their arms and bodies against the time 
 when a musket should mean a bullet and not an 
 empty barrel. 
 
 But there were others besides who made no parade 
 of their doings. One September day of that same 
 year, down in Charleston, half a dozen influential 
 men met and formed a secret society " The 1860 
 Association." Its purpose was " to resist Northern 
 aggression, and influence public sentiment." In this 
 last phrase the assassin found his text. He heard it 
 in the South, and passed it on. He heard of it further 
 West, and repeated it to the next of his kind. So it 
 came to the North, and to David's State. 
 
 But its march was as stealthy as its purpose. 
 David laughed when one day 'Lias, wagging his 
 head, told him, " There is something going on 
 
 138
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 about here that I don't understand. And I don't 
 want to come any nearer to it. I voted for Douglas ; 
 I would vote for him again. But that's something 
 I can say to any man. This new association, what- 
 ever it is, which they've asked me to go into, isn't to 
 be talked of in the open. So I won't join. I told 
 him so." 
 
 " Told whom? " inquired David. " I'm all in the 
 dark." 
 
 " Tom White." 'Lias spat into the road. " And 
 I'm as much in the dark as you are. I was told it 
 was a Democratic association. ' For what ? ' I asked. 
 ' To help the party.' ' But how? ' I said. ' I did 
 what I could by voting. We were licked. What 
 more can be done till next election ? ' Then Mr. 
 White puts his tobacco in a lump in front of his 
 teeth and turns it round and round with his tongue. 
 ' There's plenty still to be done,' he says. If I come 
 in, I'll see. ' All Democrats must stand together,' 
 he says, and there you are." 
 
 David's frown struggled with a smile. "So?" 
 he remarked. " But where are you ? and where 
 is this association ? " 
 
 'Lias threw out an arm. " It's everywhere, if 
 Mr. White's pulling of his goatee and rolling of 
 his quid and mumbling out of the corner of his 
 mouth are a say-so. It's nowhere, if a plain question 
 that gets no answer means anything." 
 
 "But who are the other members?" This time 
 
 139
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 David's smile worked its way clear and he turned 
 his face aside to save 'Lias's dignity. But he did 
 it too late. 
 
 " I've said I don't know, and I don't know is 
 what I mean. If you think you can find out from 
 the next man, you'd better try. I'm sure there's 
 some deviltry going on, and I'm damned if I'll put 
 my foot into it if wearing my own shoes'll keep me 
 out." 
 
 David rode on, repeating the words he had heard. 
 But they didn't convey a definite impression. He 
 concluded that at most they suggested another nebu- 
 lous scheme of Mr. White's for a political organisa- 
 tion of which he should be both oracle and custodian 
 of the funds. 
 
 A week later the story was recalled to him sharply. 
 Riding back from the Barracks, he took a little used 
 road which cut across country in the direction of the 
 settlement. Half a mile along this he came upon 
 a dilapidated barn standing among trees away from 
 the road. The farmhouse had been burned years 
 before. Since then the place had been unoccupied. 
 Now he noticed many wagon-tracks and hoof-prints 
 which led up the weed-grown lane toward the 
 barn. The tracks were fresh. Curiosity led him to 
 follow them. 
 
 At the barn he dismounted, and tried the double 
 doors. They were fastened. He walked around a 
 stone ledge of the foundation-wall and sought to 
 
 140
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 look through a window. It was tightly boarded up. 
 A little ashamed of his persistence, he turned the 
 corner of the building. Below him, facing the en- 
 closure which had served as a cow-yard, he saw 
 another door. 
 
 This was fastened, but a quick pull jerked it 
 open. He looked in. The place was lighted only 
 by the rays of sunshine, which slanted between 
 cracks in the boarding and filtered through a cob- 
 webbed window overhead. At the level of his feet 
 a litter of musty hay had been trodden into the dirt 
 floor. In a corner a large pile had been pitched 
 down from the loft. The prospect did not encourage 
 investigation. He was about to turn, when his eyes 
 rested on the ends of several planks which showed 
 beyond the edge of the loft floor above him. They 
 seemed to lie at regular intervals, a foot or more 
 above the floor. The curious suggestion of a row 
 of benches made him look again. He slipped inside, 
 climbed the loft ladder, and saw that his fancy had 
 reason. 
 
 Across a couple of saw-horses and as many boxes 
 were placed half a dozen planks in parallel rows. 
 Facing them, near the far wall of the loft almost 
 empty of hay, was a box with a nail-keg on end 
 behind it. The ridiculous resemblance to the inside 
 of a back-country schoolhouse was carried out by 
 a spatter of blots on the box-top, and a broken pen 
 or two stuck into the wood. 
 
 141
 
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 Amusement made him stare about him. A party 
 of children might have been playing here. But when 
 he saw the stain of tobacco juice on the floor, his 
 perplexity waxed. In the gloom of the place each 
 moment he picked out more readily the shape of 
 objects around him. But still he was without clue 
 to the mystery. Then, because it was loose under 
 his hand, he raised the lid of the feed-box and looked 
 inside. 
 
 The box held a variety of things. In one corner 
 was a pile of folded cloths. He picked up the top- 
 most. It was a piece of black muslin three or four 
 yards in length. It might, he reflected, be used for 
 a dozen purposes, none of which seemed to explain 
 its presence. In another corner a second pile of 
 black cloth proved to be made up of small strips 
 with eye and mouth holes cut in each, and strings 
 at the ends. He turned over the improvised mask 
 and stared at it. Then he laughed. Surely this 
 hinted at a den of robbers. He was tickled by the 
 picture of a band of highwaymen sitting here 
 gravely in rows, like school-children, facing their 
 chief on a nail-keg. He folded the cloths and re- 
 placed them. Then his hand met something hard, 
 and he brought it out. It was a tin box of moderate 
 size, and he tried the lid. But it was fitted with 
 a lock and would not open. He shook it. Inside 
 something soft slid and rustled. It was easy to 
 guess this was paper. But, however that might 
 
 142
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 be, it was not to be seen. He put back the box 
 reluctantly. Then, looking over the rows of plank 
 seats, solemnly arrayed across the floor, the ludicrous 
 idea of a robber-band at its lessons was recalled, 
 and he laughed again. Sometime he would come 
 back and surprise them. The afternoon was going; 
 he left the barn a little nettled by his failure, ridicu- 
 lous though the solution of the whole puzzle prom- 
 ised to be. 
 
 But with his hand on his saddle he remained 
 staring at his feet. The ground was of red clay, 
 made sticky by a recent rain. Dotting it, within 
 a space of a few yards, were neat round holes an 
 inch across and half as deep. They were the marks 
 of a crutch. He identified the little ridged inden- 
 tation near the top of each. It had been left by 
 a rubber buffer. Such a buffer his uncle had had 
 made to his special pattern, to deaden the clicking 
 of the stick. 
 
 He reached home at dusk with a poor estimate 
 of his wits. But his uncle helped him to a conclu- 
 sion. He spoke from the window where he sat, 
 glanced at David and turned away again. After a 
 minute he remarked, " You were surprised to find 
 that the old barn was being used ? " 
 
 David was powerless to resist a start, but he 
 answered, steadily, " Yes." Then, with sudden 
 resolution, he faced about. " Will you tell me why 
 you have been going there ? " he asked. 
 
 H3
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The profile against the dim window never moved. 
 " I will. I went there to convince some of our 
 neighbours that the election was over." 
 
 " You mean that this Democratic Association 
 meets there? " 
 
 " Yes. And it can do no good now to stir up 
 feeling. I was afraid there might be something 
 of the kind proposed. I was mistaken." 
 
 "They have given up the idea?" 
 
 " I cannot say that. But they will not try to 
 make trouble. And that is what I was anxious 
 about. Already we have too many men at large 
 with weapons in their hands. I am a Democrat. 
 I do not wish to see my party make the mistake 
 of beginning violence." 
 
 " Then you don't belong to this association ? " 
 
 It was not till afterward that he realised the 
 strangeness of his uncle's failure to resent the cate- 
 chising. " No, I do not belong to it," Mr. Mayhew 
 said. " But I shall do what I can to counsel its 
 members. We are on the edge of a precipice. Do 
 you know it? " 
 
 " I know we have elected a President, and we 
 have always abided by our choice." David was 
 conscious that this would not have been his answer 
 a month ago. 
 
 " Then you are against secession ? " 
 
 " I voted for Mr. Lincoln. I will try to stand 
 by him." 
 
 144
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 His uncle's hand went to his face and smoothed 
 his chin. " So, if Missouri leaves the Union " 
 he began. 
 
 " She will not do it," David interposed. " There 
 are enough men to hold her where she is." 
 
 " And you are one of them, I suppose." 
 
 Suspicion of a sneer fired David's blood. " I 
 will do what I can," he returned, hotly. " But 
 Missouri belongs to the North, and there she will 
 remain. If we have to, we can do without the 
 South." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew's face came around quickly. " Yes, 
 yes," he said. " You are right in that. The South 
 can go its own way." 
 
 David did not misunderstand, and the construc- 
 tion placed upon his words rankled. But he would 
 not dispute it yet. 
 
 With every hour reason and something more 
 subtle than reason forced him along the way upon 
 which he had set foot when he voted for Mr. 
 Lincoln. Looking back, each day he saw himself 
 a little further from the dividing-point where aboli- 
 tion and State rights crowded each other on a 
 common road. Still he did not hesitate, though he 
 moved reluctantly, stung sometimes by reproach at 
 desertion of the old beliefs. 
 
 But this reproach did not assail him now. He 
 had been made to say what he did not mean or, at 
 least, more than he was willing to admit. Mr. 
 
 145
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Mayhew's averted face and silence were eloquent. 
 He walked from the room. Then as he changed 
 his riding-clothes, he noticed the red clay which 
 clung to the soles of his boots, and suddenly his 
 uncle's discovery of where he had been was ex- 
 plained. How often, he wondered, had that same 
 prescience been the deduction from as commonplace 
 an observation. 
 
 December came in with the threat from the South 
 ever growing louder and more insistent. Then 
 arrived the day when the news was that South 
 Carolina had seceded. And at his feet David saw 
 the line drawn. It came on him, as it came on 
 thousands of others, like a lightning flash, for all 
 the mutterings of thunder. For the time it left him 
 stunned. But when the smoke still rose above the 
 city to the north, and steamers churned the yellow 
 waves of the Mississippi, and men worked in the 
 fields, the numbness passed. He watched and 
 listened and waited for what should happen next, 
 surprised that, though the rift had started, no one 
 had been hurt. 
 
 It was so. The country was waiting waiting 
 for the tall, homely man in black clothes which never 
 fitted him, and a high stiff hat which rose a foot 
 above other men wherever he walked : waiting for 
 a man who turned from the extended hand of one 
 of the most powerful politicians in his State to 
 lift a little girl so that she might look over the crowd 
 
 146
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 at a passing band: waiting for the man who lis- 
 tened to many, spoke what was in his own mind, 
 liked best to tell a story at a corner-store, yet who 
 had said he would rule' a people seven millions of 
 whom were to be his bitter enemies. The hand 
 of God wields strange instruments. 
 
 Boone wrote that, in his part of the country, 
 business had come nearly to a standstill. He had 
 some idle hours, and would travel down to St. 
 Louis and spend Christmas at Gravois. He would 
 arrive on the twenty-fourth. 
 
 David got this letter in the first part of the week. 
 On Sunday he met the Doctor outside the little 
 church which the Captain had helped to build, and 
 learned that Lee would be home on Tuesday. She 
 would bring a friend with her, Beatrix Pemberton, 
 her cousin. 
 
 Kitty Marshall had a note from Lee also. " You 
 are to have the chance you wished for, David," she 
 announced. " Beatrix is coming to visit Lee. I 
 hope she has been prepared for conquest." 
 
 " Who is to be the victim? " he inquired. 
 
 " You. Didn't you say you wished she would 
 come up here? And didn't I remind Lee that your 
 fate was in her hands? Miss Pemberton is the 
 girl of the picture." 
 
 "Now, how was I to know that?" David com- 
 plained. " You wouldn't tell her name. Did Lee 
 say how long she will be here ? " He spoke a shade
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 too earnestly. In Kitty's eyes lurked mischief. " I 
 think she has been asked to stay until spring. It 
 will be a splendid opportunity for you. I will help 
 you. I am sure Lee will agree. But don't be rash, 
 David. Remember, Beatrix has been accustomed 
 to have gentlemen at her feet." 
 
 " Of course I will be diplomatic," he returned. 
 
 But the mock gravity did not deceive Kitty. How 
 she delighted to play at Providence! It was really 
 an unselfish act to prod David's feelings. He was 
 provokingly uncommunicative. Also she feared she 
 might get out of practice otherwise. Oswald, strange 
 to say, had not recovered from his latest dismissal. 
 
 " Lee is to have a big party on New Year's eve, 
 you know," she went on. " That will be your 
 chance. I am going to Lee's on Monday evening. 
 Come for me and take me over." 
 
 " I'm afraid I won't be able to," David answered. 
 " You see, Boone is coming that day, and I 
 reckon " 
 
 " I reckon he can go along with you." 
 
 " No ; Boone has never met her, and well, 
 I know he wouldn't want to call on her uninvited. 
 Especially on the evening she arrives." 
 
 Kitty raised a pretty muff and rubbed it softly 
 against her cheek. Over the barrier her eyes studied 
 the countenance of the smooth-shaven, broad-shoul- 
 dered young man, busy drawing on a glove. 
 
 " Oh," she murmured. The exclamation struck 
 
 148
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 home. David did not look up. He was honest with 
 himself; he knew he was a failure at lying. And 
 Kitty had the grace to suspend the torture for the 
 time being. 
 
 When five o'clock struck on that Tuesday after- 
 noon, and Lee and her cousin had not arrived, the 
 Doctor's uneasiness found voice. He had been walk- 
 ing the length of the library floor, picking up a speci- 
 men, now and then, and adjusting his glasses with 
 care a dozen times. " I should have gone for them 
 myself," he affirmed. " But they were to be here 
 at four o'clock, and Lee insisted I should not take 
 the drive. Old Zack, too, would have been sure 
 I gave him freedom only to insult him if I had sug- 
 gested that they weren't safe when he was driving." 
 
 " Oh, they'll be here soon," said Kitty. " The 
 road's not good to St. Louis. They've had to drive 
 slowly. Don't worry, Doctor." 
 
 She proved a prophet. Five minutes later, peer- 
 ing from the window, she declared she heard the 
 sound of wheels. The Doctor hastened to the door. 
 
 A voice from the porch called, " All right, father ! 
 Here we are." Then Lee was in his arms, her hands 
 clasped behind his neck. But she quickly disengaged 
 herself. " Father, here is Beatrix." 
 
 Kitty delighted in a pretty girl above every- 
 thing else, unless it was tormenting those she liked. 
 " Oh, she is splendid ! " she told Lee afterward. 
 " I always despised red hair. But hers ! Tt isn't 
 
 149
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 red, it's bronze. And her eyes! They are the 
 duskiest, daringest eyes I ever saw. That picture 
 you sent pooh! I don't see how a man could 
 do anything but fall in love with her." 
 
 Lee made light of their delay in reaching home. 
 " The road was bad," she explained to the Doctor. 
 " The horses didn't like it. Once we had to stop 
 and quiet them. You see I am all here, Daddy. 
 No pieces lost. Beatrix is as whole as when she 
 left Vicksburg, only very tired." 
 
 But when the three girls were in Lee's room, 
 for Kitty was to remain overnight, and that 
 mysterious process had begun which admits of 
 many pauses and invites confidences, the combing 
 of hair, Lee told the facts, or at least as much of 
 them as she wished. 
 
 " It was so exciting," she said. " It wasn't any 
 use to worry father with it. But we had a 
 runaway. Such a one! And there was a man 
 in it." 
 
 Kitty, curled on the edge of the sofa, rocked 
 in anticipation. "Who was he?" 
 
 " I never saw him before," answered Lee. " It 
 was when we were two miles from home. The 
 carriage struck a rut, and bumped against one of 
 the horses. Old Zack tried to hold him, but he 
 got hold of the bit somehow, and they both began 
 running. The road was dreadfully rough. Beatrix 
 and I just hung on to each other and were jerked 
 
 150
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 back and forth. The carriage rolled, and I expected 
 it would topple over. We couldn't do anything. 
 I knew if Old Zack couldn't pull the horses in, it 
 was pretty bad. So we tried to stay where we were 
 and waited. Every minute it got worse. Old Zack 
 kept yelling ' Whoa ! ' and then he began talking 
 to himself. That scared me for sure. I knew he 
 was frightened then. But, all at once, we passed 
 a man on horseback. He had stopped at the side 
 of the road. We heard him call out. Then we 
 could hear his horse galloping on the road behind. 
 Suddenly he shot by us, and got hold of the head 
 stall of the nearest horse. And " with brush 
 suspended " what do you suppose happened 
 then?" 
 
 "What?" Kitty was in imminent danger of 
 pitching to the floor. 
 
 " He was jerked right off his horse. It was 
 dark, but we could see him fall. Beatrix screamed. 
 I did, too. But he didn't let go of the bridle. We 
 saw him fighting with the horse. Then he got 
 the best of him, and the carriage slid sideways 
 so it pretty nearly upset. But we had stopped. We 
 were so frightened we never moved. Zack gave me 
 the reins, and got out to look at the horses. He and 
 the man stood there, pulling at the harness and pat- 
 ting the horses, and talking. We could hear the 
 man's voice plainly. It was deep, and he spoke
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 slowly. But that must have been because he hadn't 
 much breath left." 
 
 " But you saw him ? He came to the carriage, 
 didn't he?" 
 
 "Yes, he came over and stood at the door. ' I hope 
 you are not hurt,' he said. I told him we weren't, and 
 we couldn't say how thankful we were to him. He 
 said it wasn't anything. Then I noticed blood run- 
 ning down his cheek. Beatrix had turned her head. 
 She says she can't stand the sight of blood. I 
 asked him to let me bandage the cut for him. He 
 said he wouldn't bother me to do that, but I made 
 him get one of the candles out of the carriage- 
 lamp. Then he came close to the window with the 
 candle. And then " pointing with the hair-brush 
 dramatically " Kitty, that was the last we saw 
 of him." 
 
 " What ! What do you mean ? " 
 
 " I mean," said Lee, facing the bed, " I mean 
 that he stumbled, dropped the candle in the road, 
 said something about his awkwardness, and that he 
 must find his horse, anyhow. The next moment 
 he was gone." 
 
 "He didn't comeback?" 
 
 " That's just it. He never came back. We drove 
 on after a few minutes." 
 
 " Well, of all the things ! " remarked Miss 
 Marshall. " You don't suppose he was so badly 
 
 152
 
 *' Kitty, that was the last we saw of him "
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 hurt he went off to die alone?" with trembling 
 voice. 
 
 " Now don't be silly, Kitty," severely. " He left, 
 but he was quite able to walk and ride, too. He 
 probably went on wherever he was going." 
 
 "He might have been a robber, and his heart 
 relented when he saw the horses go by, and knew 
 you must be dreadfully frightened," suggested Kitty. 
 
 Miss Marshall! Miss Marshall! Were senses 
 ever so awake to suspicion, or tactics so adroit as 
 yours? Yet you failed. Failed if you thought to 
 draw out that third figure in white which sat with 
 back to you on a low chair and spoke not a word, 
 as you long ago had noticed. The fingers which 
 wove among the bronze hair rippling to the floor 
 gave no sign that their owner heard. And the 
 mirror was turned the wrong way to reflect whatever 
 she trusted to it. 
 
 Even when you asked so carelessly, " Miss Pem- 
 berton, what do you think ? " there was the briefest 
 pause in the ministrations of the comb while a com- 
 posed voice replied, " What can I think ? Lee has 
 told the story. I surely was frightened. I saw 
 very little." 
 
 " You must have been. I don't wonder," re- 
 turned Kitty, sympathetically. There was admira- 
 tion in her heart, but it was not so much for the 
 sweeping lines of the tall, white figure which now 
 stood facing her, the sleeve fallen away from a 
 
 153
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 round arm raised to coil the hair. Kitty had met 
 her match. Lee's dignity and proud resentment 
 she respected. Diplomacy challenged her admira- 
 tion even when it baffled her. 
 
 When Beatrix had departed to her room, Lee was 
 very quiet, and Kitty thought she had gone to 
 sleep, when suddenly she raised herself on an elbow. 
 " Kitty," she said, in a low voice, " if I tell you 
 something, will you promise you'll never say any- 
 thing about it? " 
 
 " Of course I promise." A dimpled hand con- 
 cealed something that might have been the beginning 
 of a yawn, but was not. 
 
 "Well, then, Beatrix knew the man who stopped 
 our horses. I am sure of it." 
 
 " Yes," said Kitty, quietly. " I knew that." 
 
 Lee uttered no reproach. " But what does it 
 mean? " she asked. ' 
 
 " It means," answered Miss Marshall, " that I in- 
 tend to find out who the man is." 
 
 154
 
 IX 
 
 ONE NEW 
 YEAR'S NIGHT 
 
 WHEN Boone did not come that night, 
 David decided that he would be down 
 the next day. With the next day came 
 Christmas, but not Boone. Instead, a letter from 
 St. Louis. Boone had been unexpectedly recalled 
 home. He was mightily sorry. But what could 
 a fellow do? It looked as if he was to be busy, 
 perhaps for a month. 
 
 David did not reflect upon the physical phenome- 
 non which so suddenly demanded the constant ser- 
 vices of a physician a day ago absolutely idle. 
 He was disappointed. But the day following he got 
 a note which made him reconsider. It was written 
 on a small square of tinted paper. He read it 
 quickly, and put it into his coat pocket. He read 
 it again that night. And after each reading he 
 frowned and said " No," emphatically. But by the 
 next morning he forgot the " No," and, by after- 
 noon, he was of such cheerful mind that he sat down 
 
 155
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and with rueful smile wrote a reply addressed to 
 Miss Shirley. 
 
 Kitty asked him if he was going to the New 
 Year's party. " Of course," he said. He looked 
 at her so challengingly that she would have been 
 afraid if she had been any one else but herself. As it 
 was, her eyes were maliciously reminiscent, though 
 she contented herself with a quiet, " Oh, nothing. 
 I knew you would go." 
 
 David would have been pleased at that moment 
 if she had been a man. Was there any reason why 
 he should not go, he asked himself. Of course not. 
 She had asked him to come. It was his duty to an 
 old friend to go. 
 
 The New Year's party was a great occasion. 
 There were two fiddlers from St. Louis, besides 
 Lee's piano. Unsanctified hands were laid on the 
 Doctor's treasures. Lee tied her father's cravat and 
 patted him on the shoulder. " The handsomest man 
 we will have," she said, cocking her head critically, 
 and standing off to view him. 
 
 His eyes twinkled through the glasses. " Not 
 excepting even David ? " 
 
 " Oh, David is a very old friend," she answered, 
 with wisdom. Something immediately made her 
 face burn, and she turned to the mirror for one 
 last touch to the lace scarf which had slipped from 
 her shoulders. There was a rose in the puffs of 
 her hair. She straightened it with a smile of sat- 
 
 156
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 isfaction, and made a curtsy to the glass. " I have 
 no business to be nice to you," she said, under her 
 breath. Which was a strange remark for a young 
 lady to make to her own reflection. 
 
 A charming picture it was, David told himself 
 that night. She stood at the end of the room. A 
 multitude of mysterious little ruffles ran around her 
 gown. She looked at him sideways as he drew 
 near. " Why, it's David," she said, softly. She 
 held out both hands. Perhaps they lingered in 
 his clasp. Kitty, near by, declared she counted ten. 
 "Oh, why can't he always wear that coat?" she 
 said, afterward. " He is so broad ! He holds him- 
 self this way." She walked across the room. A 
 certain tall young man with smooth face and square 
 chin would have walked more humbly had he been 
 present to see. 
 
 But he never knew that she was looking. It 
 might have been that he was not looking for her. 
 " Lee," he said, " you've been growing up." 
 
 " And you don't like it ? I hoped I wasn't doing 
 it badly." 
 
 " You're not. I wish I could tell you how well 
 you do it. To-night especially. But you haven't 
 given me a fair chance. You've been away so 
 much. Now," he comprehended her figure with 
 a glance, " won't you dance -with me? " 
 
 " Not now. I am a very important person here 
 to-night." 
 
 157
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " You ought to be generous. Remember, you 
 banished me " 
 
 She held up a rebuking finger. " Don't talk of 
 that." Then she spoke about his work. Had he 
 secured that position in the county office? 
 
 " I shall start in April," he said. " The place is 
 promised to me." He began to tell her of his 
 plans. Did they both forget that she was the host- 
 ess ? David started when a voice at his elbow spoke 
 her name, and he turned to see Philip Randolph. 
 A gentleman Philip looked, and something of a 
 dandy besides, in his black coat and ruffled shirt. 
 
 Unreasonably enough, David's impulse was to 
 demand why this gentleman was present. But he 
 shook hands civilly, and went away, to muse and 
 have his aggravation increased at the sight of Lee's 
 laughing face over Philip's shoulder as they swept 
 by. So this was what had postponed the dance 
 which he had asked for ! It must have been promised 
 by letter. He had had no idea Philip was to come. 
 It was a long journey from Mississippi. These 
 were distinctly irritating inferences. 
 
 Mississippi, however, sent something very stun- 
 ning. A tall young woman with dark eyes which 
 burned you, and white shoulders gleaming from 
 the meshes of a black gown. Ah, she was dan- 
 gerous ! And partners, how many had she ! David 
 talked to her in a corner between dances. She 
 knew many things about him, it seemed. " It is 
 
 158
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 mighty good to find a man I don't have to begin 
 an acquaintance with," she confided. " You see, 
 we've talked about you, Lee and I, Mr. Ford. 
 ' Mr. Ford ' ? How strange that sounds ! What 
 was it we called you ? David ? Of course, that was 
 it David ! " She leaned back, regarding him from 
 over her fan with wicked satisfaction. 
 
 He answered gravely, and she continued to smile. 
 Then, with a little flicker of her lips, she closed the 
 fan, and began to speak about those who were pass- 
 ing. He must tell her who they were. It was so 
 hard to remember some names. He must consider 
 himself an old friend of hers, and she would 
 depend on him. So he began to tell her of Kitty 
 and Oswald, and Nina Rennert, and the others, 
 and presently mentioned Boone. " I wanted him to 
 meet you," he said. " He has seen your picture. 
 Miss Marshall had it. I know you would like 
 him." 
 
 " Would I? So he saw my picture? " 
 
 " Yes, and I thought it was a good portrait. But 
 I see now that it is not so good." 
 
 She took her revenge by raising her brows and 
 saying nothing, and he repeated, " I wish Boone 
 could have met you. You'd be great friends." 
 
 " Oh, would we? " The fan never stopped wav- 
 ing. " At least I should like to see him. Where 
 is he?" 
 
 " He could not come to-night. He was invited, 
 
 159
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 but at the last moment was prevented by an 
 engagement." 
 
 " A professional call ? " 
 
 " You knew he was a doctor? " 
 
 " Didn't you say so ? No ? Then Lee must have 
 told me. A young doctor with a large practice? 
 How strange! So unselfish of him, too, to give up 
 a party like this." Her voice qualified the eulogy. 
 
 " He would have come if he could, you may be 
 sure." David flushed. 
 
 " No doubt. And he must be interesting, and all 
 that, from what you say. How sad to have missed 
 him! Do you reckon I'll survive?" 
 
 There was a glint in David's eyes and a retort 
 trembled on his lips, when Oswald came up and laid 
 claim to the dance which had begun. David rose 
 and bowed stiffly. She smiled. "Don't be angry! 
 You look so terrifying, and I want to talk to you 
 again." 
 
 But he was not appeased, and Kitty, seeing him 
 stalk by, laughed softly. " Oh, what has put that 
 poker down David's back ? " 
 
 Half an hour later he was passing a doorway 
 when a fan was laid lightly on his shoulder. " Mr. 
 Ford Mr. David Ford," some one said, " I am 
 very tired of dancing." It was Beatrix. 
 
 " Can I be of service? " he inquired. 
 
 " No, no. Of course not. I touched you only 
 to hear you growl." 
 
 1 60
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 His grimness melted. " Did I look as glum as 
 that? I ask your pardon." 
 
 " Well, since you have done so, you can take 
 me over to let me see! Some nice comfortable 
 place where we can watch them all. Yes, our old 
 corner." 
 
 Our corner! He looked at her suspiciously, 
 but her eyes were innocently wide open, and he 
 went with her. A lamb to the slaughter, Kitty 
 would have said. There was nothing of the martyr 
 in his bearing. But he was sure of one thing: 
 Boone's name should not cross his lips. Who can 
 explain, then, how it happened? She asked him 
 a question, he answered, and Boone's name had 
 come up. " Perhaps, after all " she conceded. 
 
 " You will like him ? Of course you will. But 
 there's one thing you mustn't mention, if you would 
 agree." 
 
 "And that is?" 
 
 " Slavery. He is what you call a Black Republi- 
 can, I suppose." 
 
 Her eyes blazed. " A Black Republican ! I hate 
 them all!" 
 
 David laughed. "Then what will you say of 
 me? I voted for Lincoln myself." 
 
 " And you are against secession ? You believe 
 that some States have the right to bully others 
 and all the rest of the wickedness ? " 
 
 161
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I haven't crossed that bridge yet. But we don't 
 have to fight about it." 
 
 " Yes, we will. We will fight about it before 
 long. The South won't stand it." 
 
 The fan ceased waving. She was sitting up, 
 straight and wrathful. 
 
 " Why, you look as if you would take a hand in 
 the fighting yourself," he remarked. 
 
 " I will," she answered, passionately. " I will, 
 when the time comes. If I can do anything to help 
 the South to whip the North I will quick enough." 
 Then her lip curled. " But we won't need women 
 for that. We have men down in Mississippi." 
 
 " Well, the North has some men, too." 
 
 " Men," she repeated. " Yes, it has some, I 
 reckon. But most of those I've seen I wouldn't 
 give that for ! " The fan clicked contemptuously. 
 " They're too busy." 
 
 " Busy ! " he repeated. Then, gravely, " Yes, busy 
 trying to keep the peace." 
 
 " And to buy and sell," she added. " It is about 
 all the North thinks of. Well, let it go ahead. 
 But let it stay up here. Don't come South. If 
 you do, we'll surely chase you out." 
 
 David smiled. " I'm glad of the advice. If I 
 should come down your way, I'll steer clear of 
 Mississippi. And I'll tell Boone to do the same, if 
 you'll let me." 
 
 162
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Tell him, by all means. But I reckon the warn- 
 ing isn't needed in his case." 
 
 " I am not so sure of that. He has a habit of 
 doing his own way." 
 
 "Now, has he?" she said, and was silent a 
 moment. Then she remarked, " You think a great 
 deal of this friend of yours? Boone, as you call 
 him." Her voice had dropped. 
 
 ' You would not ask that if you knew him." 
 
 " If I knew him ? " she repeated, almost to herself. 
 " Well, forget I was angry just now, and tell me 
 something. What is he like ? " 
 
 He searched her face and saw that she was 
 serious. It was not easy to begin, but once started, 
 he went on warmly and finished, " A great, big- 
 hearted, good-looking fellow, as honest as the 
 day, and always ready to do a good turn for any 
 one. We went to college together. We lived to- 
 gether for two years. I never saw him do a thing 
 that wasn't square. Now he's at a sort of hospital 
 up in Galena, Illinois, working hard, and always 
 looking on the bright side of things. But it's mighty 
 slow and discouraging for him. Besides, he hasn't 
 been treated right. There was a girl " He shut 
 his lips with a frown. 
 
 " Yes ? " She drew her fan between her fingers 
 while watching him from under lowered lids. 
 
 He was looking out into the room. " That is 
 all." 
 
 163
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " But there must be more. I was interested." 
 
 " It is not my story to tell." 
 
 There was a pause before she spoke. " I can 
 hardly believe that. At least, it was your story to 
 hear. He told it to you, it seems." 
 
 " You don't understand. He " 
 
 " No," she interrupted. " I don't understand. 
 Where I came from, men don't repeat all that hap- 
 pens to them." She paused, and finished lightly, 
 " But it is no concern of mine. Pray, don't abuse 
 a confidence. The girl was a fool. Such a man ! " 
 with scornful emphasis. 
 
 At two o'clock that night Lee was almost asleep 
 when Kitty asked, " Lee, did you ever meet the man 
 who is engaged to Beatrix ? " 
 
 " No, I didn't. He was away when I was in 
 Vicksburg. But he was described to me." 
 
 " What does he look like? " 
 
 " Like no one I know. He's tall and dark." 
 
 " And they are really engaged ? " 
 
 " Beatrix never said so. I think they are, from 
 what I heard." 
 
 " Oh ! " There was a little silence. Then from 
 the same restless person, " I wish Doctor Hadley 
 had been able to come to-night. I was talking to 
 David about him." 
 
 " Yes," drowsily. 
 
 After another pause, " I wish you could find out 
 
 164
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 who stopped your horses the night that Beatrix 
 arrived." 
 
 " Oh, go to sleep, won't you? " 
 
 There was a longer silence. Then a laugh smoth- 
 ered in a pillow. Lee raised her head in protest. 
 " Kitty, what is the matter? " 
 
 " Nothing. I was just thinking how foolish some 
 people are." 
 
 It was in the beginning of the second week in 
 January that the Captain came down to St. Louis 
 on business for the leather firm. David was in the 
 city for an interview with one of the officials. It 
 was settled now that he was to have the place to 
 be vacant in the county engineer's office in May. 
 Also he carried a letter for his uncle to a lawyer. 
 Correspondence over Mr. Mayhew's cotton interests 
 had increased during the winter. David met the 
 Captain by chance in the Planters' Hotel. 
 
 The Captain had the look of a man who was 
 thinking a great deal. And his clothes were seedy. 
 He clung to the rough felt hat and cape coat. But 
 his hand-shake was firm and his voice hearty. He 
 said business was as good as could be expected. 
 He hoped to be made a partner in the leather house 
 soon. But the situation generally was threatening. 
 
 " You're thinking about secession? " David asked. 
 
 " Yes. I don't understand why these States secede. 
 
 165
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 It's suicide. But it looks as if five of them would 
 go out." 
 
 "Five?" 
 
 " Yes." The Captain named them. " They will 
 hold a convention in Montgomery, they say," he 
 went on. His brow knitted. " It's a bad outlook. 
 It never should have gone this far. It's the fault 
 of the old granny we have down in Washington. 
 He's done harm enough. But I'm afraid he'll do 
 something worse before he's out of the way, and 
 give the States that secede the sympathy of the 
 whole South." 
 
 " But he's refused to surrender Fort Sumter. 
 Perhaps he'll stick it out till March." 
 
 The Captain smiled. " It don't look that way 
 to me. United States forts seized in Alabama, 
 Georgia, and Florida, and a United States garrison 
 forced to evacuate Fort Moultrie. That's close to 
 war. Why haven't we a man for President ? " 
 
 " We will have soon. Lincoln ! " 
 
 " Yes, Lincoln." The Captain repeated the name, 
 and went on, " The man who Senator Toombs says 
 is an enemy to the whole human race. If he is, 
 we will soon see. He has a hard job to tackle." 
 
 " And he's equal to it," returned David. " Be- 
 sides," he added, " it may not come to the worst. I 
 reckon there's a good deal more talk than fight 
 in the South." 
 
 The Captain's look was slow and steady. " You're 
 
 1 66
 
 THE CAP'TAIN 
 
 coming on, David," he said. "You'll be ready 
 when you're needed. But don't make any mistake 
 about these Southerners. They do bluster; they 
 can't help it. It's their way. But they can fight, 
 also. Both sides are wrong in one thing. Each 
 thinks the other isn't half as good as it really is." 
 
 He fell to chewing on his cigar in silence, then 
 took it from his mouth, and while he turned it in 
 his fingers regarded it critically. His head had 
 dropped a little to one side, after his old habit. 
 " But they'll find all that out when the time comes," 
 he said, partly to himself. " And it won't be long 
 till then, I believe." 
 
 David was on his way home from a ride the 
 following afternoon when from a cross-road turned 
 the light wagon in which his uncle rode. Mr. May- 
 hew was alone. His crippled figure was hunched 
 up on the seat. His eyelids quivered, and his hands 
 were restless. But David asked no question as he 
 rode by the side of the carriage. 
 
 Presently, Mr. Mayhew leaned forward. His 
 mouth was twitching. " David," he said, " they'll 
 never be able to stop it now. It's secession for the 
 whole South. They tried to send a steamer with 
 supplies and Union troops to Fort Sumter. The 
 guns at Charleston fired on her. They drove her 
 back." 
 
 " They shot at her ? " repeated David, incredu- 
 lously. "The rebels?" The word slipped off his 
 
 167
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tongue without notice. He bent forward in his 
 saddle, the blood had run from his face. 
 
 " Yes. But it was the people of South Carolina 
 who did it. They are not rebels. South Carolina 
 is a sovereign State." 
 
 "How do you know that this has happened?" 
 David asked. 
 
 " It came to me, through one of my business 
 correspondents." 
 
 " You're sure it is true? " 
 
 " Quite sure." 
 
 After that they rode without speaking. When 
 they reached the house, Mr. Mayhew went inside. 
 David stood on the porch as the carriage was driven 
 away. Something made him stare at the wheels 
 of the vehicle. To the edge of the tires clung a 
 coating of red clay. He knew where clay like that 
 came from. Once he had found it on the soles of 
 his own shoes. A discovery had come of its pres- 
 ence there. He walked swiftly into the house. But 
 with his hand on the door of his uncle's room, he 
 halted, then turned away. It would do no good, 
 he reflected. His uncle would explain it as he had 
 once before. 
 
 The next morning he met Kitty riding. 
 " David ! " she cried. " They have had great 
 excitement at Lee's. Beatrix got a telegram yes- 
 terday afternoon. She packed up and went to St. 
 Louis last evening. Mr. Randolph, her cousin, 
 
 1 68
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 is to meet her there and take her home. She wouldn't 
 say why she had to go, but they couldn't persuade 
 her to stay. And, oh, yes. She left a message 
 for you." 
 
 "For me?" 
 
 " Yes. She said you'd be given a welcome when- 
 ever you came South. What did she mean ? " 
 
 He evaded the question. 
 
 But that afternoon the news made her meaning 
 clear, if that was needed. Mississippi had seceded 
 from the Union. 
 
 169
 
 X 
 
 THE SPARK 
 
 AT twenty minutes of five o'clock on a Friday 
 morning in April, 1861, a man in one of 
 the batteries of Charleston harbour trained a 
 gun on a pile of masonry above which floated a 
 strip of red, white, and blue bunting, and fired it. 
 The shot fell into the water, and the water seethed 
 and closed over it. A cloud of white smoke drifted 
 down the wind, and was gone. The report of the 
 shot resounded in every city and village, in every 
 prairie and mountain settlement, the country over. 
 For four years it beat upon the ears of men. In 
 the voice of the old fellow with straggling gray 
 beard and those bronze medals pinned to his breast, 
 you may hear it to-day. 
 
 Boone heard the echo of the shot in his little 
 office at noon of that same day as he dosed a bag 
 of instruments and started on his way to a patient. 
 The Captain heard it as he lifted a bundle of rough, 
 tanned leather to carry it across the pavement into 
 the store. The leather slipped to the tailboard of 
 
 170
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the wagon. The Captain's back straightened, and 
 he pulled off his slouch-hat. " It has come," he 
 said. Then he lifted the leather again, and bore 
 it inside the building. There was no more business 
 that day. From the hillsides came down women 
 with aprons flung over their heads and children 
 hanging to their skirts. Wagons were left in the 
 streets. 
 
 In the leather store the Captain sat on a box, 
 and visitors thronged through the doors. Every 
 one knew the store; it had been a meeting-place 
 for a long time. Many knew that the square-built, 
 brown-bearded man in rough clothes and a stained 
 apron had once been in the army. " What was to 
 happen ? Will Sumter hold out ? " 
 
 " Major Anderson says his provisions will be ex- 
 hausted by the fifteenth," the Captain answered. He 
 had lighted a big cigar, and he chewed on it without 
 pause. His head was craned forward, and his eyes 
 jerked toward the doorway each time it was dark- 
 ened. He was excited. No one had seen him so 
 before. 
 
 At supper-time, Boone, his bag still in his hand, 
 climbed two hundred feet in the air to the top of 
 a bluff on the north side of the town. There was 
 a small brick house behind a fence of palings. The 
 Captain stood in the doorway, scanning the street. 
 He was still biting on a cigar. He hailed Boone. 
 " Any more news ? " 
 
 171
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " No. They were still firing on the fort, the last 
 I heard." 
 
 The Captain turned his cigar in his mouth, and 
 led the way into the house. After supper they went 
 down to the main street. 
 
 The morning sun was sparkling in the windows 
 of the little house when the Captain began his climb 
 to the top of the bluff again. Sumter still held out. 
 
 As he shook hands with Boone, he said, " I 
 believed I had done being a soldier. But I was 
 wrong. The United States government gave me 
 an education. If I know anything which can be 
 of service to the government, I think I ought to 
 offer it." 
 
 This was on Saturday morning. On Monday 
 came the message, " Sumter has surrendered! " 
 
 Posters were stuck up along the main street. They 
 called for 'a meeting at the court-house the following 
 evening. At sundown on that day, a band paraded 
 the street. The American flag floated at its head. 
 It wound its way along by the river which cut the 
 town in two. There were cheers for the flag. Per- 
 haps there were tears also. 
 
 But there were no tears in the Captain's eyes. 
 His face was lined, his hat pulled down over 
 the brow. Some one saw him as he passed, and 
 jerked a thumb toward him. " There goes a queer 
 man. They say he was a first-rate soldier once. 
 He's a back number now, by the looks of him." 
 
 172
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Boone met the Captain near the little brick church 
 which they both attended. It was there, on the 
 Sunday following that memorable Monday in the 
 April on which Abraham Lincoln swore to maintain 
 the Union against all enemies, that he had told the 
 Captain a story. " Do you remember the 8th of 
 September, 1847?" he asked. 
 
 " Very well," said the Captain. " We started in 
 at Molinos del Rey that morning." 
 
 " And do you remember an old mill back of the 
 fortress ? " 
 
 " I do." The Captain smiled. " But you don't." 
 
 " Hardly. But I know some one who did re- 
 member it. He came into the door of the old mill 
 just as a Mexican raised his musket to fire on him. 
 You sprang on the Mexican. The bullet went wide. 
 The man in the doorway was my father. My name 
 is Hadley Boone Hadley." 
 
 The Captain grasped Boone's hand. He scanned 
 his face. " You look a little as he looked then," he 
 said. " But you're bigger. I haven't seen him for 
 ten years." 
 
 " No, he left the army. He died two years ago 
 here." 
 
 They went back together from the church. Boone 
 ate a Sunday dinner in the house on the top of 
 the ridge. He had made a friend. 
 
 Now they walked together along the main street, 
 following the flag, and came to the court-house. 
 
 173
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 It was a good-sized stone building, but it was packed 
 with excited men. The Captain worked his way in. 
 Boone and he found a place in the back of the hall 
 where they could see the platform. 
 
 The mayor was there, and he made a speeech. 
 " Fellow citizens," he- cried in a big voice; " I am 
 in favour of any honourable compromise." The Cap- 
 tain passed a hand across his mouth. Some one 
 hissed. " I am in favour of sustaining the President 
 so long as he works for peace." A dozen hisses, 
 and the mayor wiped his forehead. " That is to 
 say," he went on, " I am for one flag and our laws, 
 right or wrong." A stamping of feet broke out. 
 " Yet I am opposed to making war on any State 
 if a compromise can be effected." 
 
 Now the hisses and the cries of protest broke out 
 all over the hall. The Captain said to Hadley, 
 " That is the sort of thing which has brought us 
 where we are." 
 
 Boone's face was white. " The cur ! Why don't 
 somebody shut him up? " 
 
 Somebody did. A big, raw-boned man, with a 
 jaw that stuck out aggressively, reared his head 
 above the crowd. 
 
 " Congressman Washburn ! " exclaimed Boone, 
 and he began to stamp. " He will talk out, at any 
 rate." 
 
 Washburn did talk out. " Any one," he cried, 
 
 174
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " who will try to stir party prejudices at this time 
 is a traitor! " 
 
 The last word was plumped out. The mayor 
 leaned forward to resent it. But if he spoke, no one 
 heard him. The dust rose from the floor in a cloud 
 under the pounding of feet. Hats whirled above 
 the excited faces turned on the big man with the 
 heavy jaw. 
 
 Then Washburn raised his arm, and they lis- 
 tened. He proposed a resolution. His voice rang 
 out the last pledge, " We solemnly resolve, that, 
 having lived under the stars and stripes, by the 
 blessing of God we will die under them." 
 
 A chorus of cheers smote against the walls. Men 
 crowded about the towering figure. Then some one 
 called a name. " Rawlins ! John Rawlins ! " The 
 crowd took up the cry. 
 
 To his feet leaped another man and worked his 
 way toward the front. Tall and slender, his swarthy 
 face pale and his wide mouth working, he sprang 
 on the platform. He flung back his coal-black hair, 
 and threw out an eloquent arm. It was a gesture 
 of anger and defiance. The hall was still. 
 
 Boone knew of him. The Captain knew him. 
 " The lawyer for our firm. Used to work in the 
 woods himself," the latter said. " He is a Democrat, 
 but the right kind." 
 
 He was the right kind, if the silence of the packed 
 room meant anything. Eager eyes were fastened 
 
 175
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 on the passionate face that looked down from the 
 platform. For half an hour they checked the torrent 
 of his speech only to cheer him, and spur him on. 
 His arm swept the air and his powerful voice 
 plead with them, scorned them, arraigned them, 
 cursed them for the wrongs to which they had sub- 
 mitted and the blind faith with which they had 
 awaited the issue of a political compromise that 
 disgraced them. Then, leaning far over the plat- 
 form, came the bugle-call, " The day for compromise 
 has passed. One course is left us. We will stand 
 by the Hag of our country and appeal to the God of 
 battles! " 
 
 The hall shook. They sprang on the platform 
 and grasped his hand. Some one tore a flag from 
 its fastenings, and was carried on another man's 
 shoulders, waving its folds. Far up the street they 
 heard the roar which smothered the crashing of 
 the band on the steps. 
 
 The Captain made his way out. " There will 
 be nothing more done to-night," he said. " But 
 Rawlins struck the right note." Then, after a little 
 while, " Hadley, I believe I will go into the service, 
 if they want me." 
 
 " Want you ! " cried Boone. " You're the very 
 man they need. You know what it is. They'll give 
 you a command right off." 
 
 " I don't know about that." The Captain's cigar 
 
 176
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 moved to the other corner of his mouth. " But I'll 
 offer myself, anyhow." 
 
 On Thursday evening there was another meeting 
 in the court-house. This time, as the posters plainly 
 said, it was to raise volunteers for the field. An 
 old militia captain was in the chair. The Captain 
 and Boone had come late, and sat in the back of 
 the hall. All at once Boone laid a hand on the 
 Captain's sleeve. " Hear that ! " he said. " It's 
 you! He's calling you." 
 
 " Yes," said the Captain, but he did not rise. 
 Then the chairman called him again, and Boone 
 urged him, " Go on. Get up. They want you. You 
 must." 
 
 The Captain got up. Heads were craned. He 
 heard them asking who he was. He walked forward 
 slowly. His slouch-hat was crushed in one hand. 
 His long, blue overcoat, faded and white at the 
 seams, flapped open about his knees. At the plat- 
 form he paused, his head stooped, following the 
 bend of his figure. There was the shadow of a 
 smile on his bearded lips. 
 
 " Get up, Captain ! Up on the platform ! " they 
 shouted. Still he could hear them asking who he 
 was. 
 
 With one hand on the desk above him, he hesi- 
 tated. But suddenly he turned and mounted the 
 platform and faced them. The smile was gone. 
 " Citizens," he said, in a clear voice, " we are here 
 
 177
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 to raise volunteers for the State of Illinois." He 
 stopped. 
 
 " What for ? " some one called. 
 
 " To fight," came back the answer, sharply. Then 
 he went on. He told them what a company was, how 
 many men were in it, how it should be officered. 
 " And the first thing you must know," he said, " is 
 obedience. Fighting is not a picnic. It means hard 
 beds, rough food, and little of it sometimes. It 
 means heavy work and danger, and doing what you 
 are told to do, whether you like it or not, without 
 questions. If you put your name down, that's what 
 you must do. I will aid you all I can in forming a 
 company. I am going into the service myself." 
 
 He halted, his head still inclined as if listening. 
 His lips were closed tightly. Boone, far back, felt 
 his cheeks burn at the weak cheering which followed 
 the thumping of his own feet. But it was plain talk. 
 There was little of the ring to it which had made 
 the blood dance when Rawlins stormed at them. He 
 realised this, and waited with grim patience. Raw- 
 lins spoke again. The fire of his speech ran through 
 the crowd. Thirty names were on the list when 
 the meeting broke up. The Captain, parting with 
 Boone at the foot of the bluff, looked up at the 
 little house, hidden in the gloom. 
 
 " I don't believe you'll see me at the leather store 
 much longer," he said. " I'll have all I can do 
 among those fellows who signed to-night." 
 
 178
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Sixty men had signed the rolls when another 
 night fell. The Captain, running his finger down 
 the list, did not find Boone's name. But he did 
 not mention this when he saw him the next day, 
 and as he pulled down his hat-brim and walked 
 away, he said to himself, " It isn't because he's 
 afraid. It isn't because he doesn't know his mind." 
 
 How could he know the truth. Boone lingered 
 on a threshold. The drums called him away. A 
 taunting figure refused to turn the head which might 
 what might it do ? Yet Boone knew he would 
 despise himself if he yielded to its temptation. 
 
 On Saturday morning a slender, straight figure 
 stood in the doorway of the leather store. A soft 
 hat was tilted back from the dark, strong face. 
 " Hello, Rawlins ! " called the Captain, coming for- 
 ward, a pen in his hand. 
 
 " There is to be a meeting over at Hanover to- 
 night," was the answer. " We're going to raise 
 volunteers. Come along, won't you ? " 
 
 " Not if I am going to be asked to make a speech. 
 You cornered me the other night." 
 
 Rawlins laughed. " You talked plain, hard sense 
 to them. What's wrong with that ? " 
 
 " I won't do any speech-making," the Captain an- 
 swered, bluntly. " But I will come. I'll drive you 
 over. There's a young doctor I want to take along." 
 
 Rawlins laughed again. " If you don't speak, 
 
 179
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 I'll I'll have to raise hell for two. I'll meet you 
 to-night." 
 
 Boone was in the carriage when they pulled 
 up at the frame schoolhouse that night. He had 
 climbed into the wagon without a word. There 
 was a crowd in the room. The benches were jammed 
 into a corner. Rawlins brought these benches down 
 crashing with a speech that drove the men into a 
 frenzy. Then, with a twinkle in his eyes, he called 
 on the Captain. 
 
 The Captain was near the front. He had seen 
 what was coming. He got up, and said he wouldn't 
 make a speech. " But I'll do what I can to help 
 you put down this rebellion," he told them. " If 
 you'll come to Galena where we're raising a com- 
 pany, I'll show you all I know about drill. That's 
 in my line." 
 
 A good many straight-backed, broad-shouldered 
 farmers stepped up to the desk and put their names 
 down. Rawlins grasped the hand of each man 
 who signed, and wished him luck. Boone spoke 
 only when he was asked a question. He sat with 
 jaw clenched and gloomy face. They were half- 
 way home when he said to the Captain, who was 
 beside him, " The President will get those seventy- 
 five thousand troops he has called for." 
 
 " Yes," replied the Captain. " I reckon he will." 
 
 " And that will stop all this trouble? They won't 
 need any more men ? " 
 
 1 80
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The Captain did not answer. 
 
 "Won't it?" asked Boone. 
 
 " No. I don't think it will. This is a bigger 
 job than most people seem to believe." 
 
 " A damn sight bigger ! " joined in Rawlins, from 
 the back seat. " They'll eat up seventy-five thousand 
 men, if it gets started." 
 
 Boone looked away, then suddenly faced the 
 Captain. ' You're going into it," he said, fiercely. 
 " You're married. What about your wife and chil- 
 dren?" 
 
 " I'll do all I can for them. But I've got to go. 
 I'm needed. It looks to me as if I owed that much 
 to my country." 
 
 " But you ? " Boone said, turning on Rawlins. 
 " Are you going? " 
 
 " No." Rawlins's voice had softened. " I can't 
 go. My wife won't be here long. I've got to 
 stay while she's alive. After that " He gripped 
 Boone's shoulder. Then he loosed his hold. " I 
 can't go now." 
 
 Boone knew that his heart had leaped at the first 
 " No." But the contempt that he felt for himself 
 a moment later! He clung desperately to a hope. 
 He might not be needed ; or she might say go. 
 
 The Galena volunteers were organised. They 
 called themselves the Joe Daviess Guards. Boone, 
 one day in the following week, walked into the 
 place where they were drilling. 
 
 181
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The Captain, his hat pulled down, was amongst 
 them straightening out their lines. His face was 
 pouring sweat, his brow furrowed. But there was 
 a flash in the gray eyes that seemed to be every- 
 where, and his voice clicked like a sabre slapped into 
 its scabbard. The men lost no time in doing what 
 he said. Presently he came over. " What do you 
 think of the uniform?" he asked. His mouth re- 
 laxed. " Made up in three days, so far as it 
 goes. I picked out the stuff and helped design it. 
 It will do, I guess. Anyhow, it isn't uniforms. It's 
 what's in them." 
 
 " But they elected you captain of the company, 
 I heard," said Boone. 
 
 " Yes. But I think I can do better in another 
 place. I was nine years in the army." 
 
 " You ought to have a regiment." 
 
 " I could command a regiment," the Captain said. 
 " I believe I'll go to Springfield, if I don't soon get 
 the chance here." 
 
 It was on Thursday of the same week that Boone, 
 returning from a visit, stopped at the end of the 
 bridge across the river. Up the main street came 
 a crowd of boys; then horses on one of them 
 the mayor, in all the dignity of a black suit and 
 high hat. Behind him men, mounted and on foot, 
 carrying swords or canes, broad belts and tinsel braid 
 across their breasts, the Masonic insignia upon their 
 coats. Following these, a fire company in burnished 
 
 182
 
 helmets. Then a band playing its loudest to lead 
 the swaying flag at the head of the Joe Daviess 
 Guards, who, in all the gaudy stiffness of ill-fit- 
 ting uniforms, watched their feet, proudly conscious 
 of their bravery and imposing front. 
 
 The column passed. Close behind the tailing of 
 boys and men in the wake of the procession walked 
 a stocky man in blue overcoat and slouch-hat. His 
 eyes were on the hurrying backs ahead. He carried 
 an old leather bag. 
 
 Boone stepped into the street. " Hello, Captain ! " 
 he said. " Where are you going? " 
 
 " To Springfield." The Captain halted. " The 
 Legislature meets next week. I'm going to see if 
 they want me. Washburn says they will." 
 
 " You'll get your regiment, of course. They 
 need you." 
 
 " They'll need a good many before long," the 
 Captain said. 
 
 Boone's mouth worked, then set closely. He 
 wrung the Captain's hand, turned on his heel and 
 walked across the bridge. 
 
 One day in the early part of May he saw Wash- 
 burn coming out of the railroad depot. He knew 
 that he had been at Springfield. He touched him 
 on the shoulder and asked him how the Captain 
 was. To the leather store had come reports of 
 many discouragements. 
 
 " He's got a start now," the Congressman said. 
 
 183
 
 " But it was tough pulling for awhile. Everybody 
 had political claims stronger than his. He wanted 
 to come home a week ago. Said he hadn't come 
 hunting for an office. We kept him at Springfield 
 by main force. Then Governor Yates gave him 
 a place as clerk." 
 
 " Clerk! " repeated Boone. " I heard he was sort 
 of military adviser." 
 
 " Yes, a sort of military adviser. Ruling blank 
 paper and putting down yards of cloth and dozens 
 of buttons and pairs of shoes. A sort of military 
 adviser. But he ruled paper first-rate, and kept his 
 mouth shut except when something was asked him." 
 
 Boone's face was hot. " He ought to come back. 
 It's a damned shame." 
 
 " It was," Washburn answered. " But he stuck 
 it out. He's gone up a step, now. They put him 
 in command temporarily at Camp Yates. He's 
 mustering in troops." 
 
 "What rank has he?" 
 
 " No rank yet. He hasn't any uniform, either, 
 but the one he wore here. Don't worry about him. 
 He'll come out where he belongs." 
 
 But in those days, when captains and colonels 
 sprang from the ground in hundreds over night, 
 the hours seemed to mark steadily decaying for- 
 tunes for the Captain. Boone heard of his ex- 
 perience at Mattoon with a regiment commanded 
 by a swash-buckler who wore an arsenal at his 
 
 184
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 belt and knew nothing of his duties. He heard 
 of his return to Springfield and of the stories told 
 about him. " A failure," he was called. " A broken- 
 down soldier, out for a job which he can't handle 
 and won't be given." 
 
 So it looked. The President called for three 
 hundred thousand men to serve for three years or 
 the war. Mustering in volunteers was thought to 
 measure the Captain's military capacity. While wait- 
 ing the arrival of one of these regiments, eighteen 
 miles from St. Louis, he rode into the city. 
 
 It was the loth of May. The air was charged 
 with excitement. Many of the stores had closed 
 their doors. The streets swarmed with curious 
 and angry crowds. From the windows scowling 
 and anxious faces looked down. 
 
 That morning a man, who had foreseen a great 
 deal which was to happen and provided against it, 
 was busy at the United States arsenal south of the 
 city. The Captain rode down there on a car, and 
 shook hands with this quiet man, and also with a 
 wiry, nervous man with streaming red hair, and 
 eyes that roved everywhere at once. The Captain 
 introduced himself to both. " You are acting at 
 the right time," he said. " The arsenal and the 
 city, too, would be lost to us if the sort of thing 
 that's going on out at Camp Jackson was allowed 
 much longer." 
 
 " It sha'n't go on," returned the red-haired man. 
 
 185
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " We'll have them all in here by night." Then he 
 dashed off to give quick orders to one of the lines 
 of men. The Captain stayed until two of these 
 lines of men, muskets in their hands, had started 
 westward. 
 
 In the afternoon in St. Louis he learned that the 
 red-haired man had kept his word. The State militia 
 for a week had played at soldier in a pleasant spot 
 on the outskirts of the city, and paraded in all the 
 finery of new uniforms before their mothers, sis- 
 ters, wives, and sweethearts. Now they were pris- 
 oners on their way to the arsenal, walking sullenly 
 between the two lines of muskets. The Captain 
 decided to go back to the arsenal and see them 
 brought in. While he waited on a corner for a 
 car, something happened. 
 
 Over a building on the opposite corner, a strange 
 flag for weeks had flaunted its folds unmolested. 
 Now along the street came a body of men and pulled 
 it down. There were groans and hisses from the 
 pavement, but no one tried to hoist the flag again 
 when the despoilers had gone on. 
 
 But from among the crowd which lingered, an 
 elegantly dressed young man with passionate face 
 mounted the door-step and made a speech. It was 
 a secession speech, and more than that. There were 
 words in it which made more than one of his lis- 
 teners look over his shoulder. It had been a bad 
 day for the enemies of the Union in St. Louis. The 
 
 1 86
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 gentleman on the steps, however, was not deterred. 
 From complaint he passed to attack. " Things have 
 come to a pretty pass, when a free people cannot 
 choose their own flag." He waved his arms. 
 11 Where I came from, if a man dared to say a 
 word in favour of the Union, we hung him to a 
 limb of the nearest tree ! " 
 
 Some one hissed. It was powder to the speaker's 
 fire. His hand dove into the tail of his coat, and 
 from it he pulled a strip of bunting. He flung it 
 on the steps. It was red and white and blue, and 
 there were stars in one corner of it. " There ! " he 
 cried. " There is the rag we know the mudsills 
 by in the South. I tore it down! And this is 
 the way we treat it ! " With that he spat upon it. 
 
 The Captain had been edging his way forward. It 
 is possible, if the violent gentleman had seen the 
 stern face beneath the battered hat-brim, he would 
 have desisted. But no chance was given him. There 
 was a sudden lurching of the crowd. Then it split, 
 and a tall young man sprang on the door-step. His 
 arm shot out; the elegant and violent gentleman 
 pitched to the pavement. 
 
 The man on the step picked up the bunting and 
 shook it out. There were cheers. His face was 
 pale, though his eyes a moment before had been 
 flashing. But when he saw them all looking at 
 him, a strange expression of bewilderment swept 
 his face. He turned, jumped to the pavement, and 
 
 187
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 shouldered his way through the crowd. As he 
 crossed the street a hand was laid on his shoulder. 
 " David, I guess you've about made up your mind," 
 said a quiet voice. The gray eyes under the slouch- 
 hat said a good deal more than that which David 
 understood. He gripped the Captain's hand. 
 
 " I'm on my way to the arsenal to see them bring 
 in those fellows from Camp Jackson," the Captain 
 explained. " Come along." 
 
 David was rolling up the bunting in his hand. 
 He thrust it into his pocket. " No," he said. " I 
 can't do that. I have something to do which I've 
 been putting off for a good while. I'm going to do 
 it now." 
 
 188
 
 XI 
 
 CALLING 
 
 OF THE DRUMS 
 
 THE next morning David rode over to Kitty 
 Marshall's. But Kitty was not at home, and 
 he went slowly away. To one who did not 
 know him it might have seemed that he turned un- 
 willingly toward Doctor Shirley's place. But there 
 was a line about his lips which was not indecision. 
 When he was almost opposite the mouth of the long 
 drive, he glanced up between the rows of elms at 
 the white house, and he leaned forward and patted 
 his horse's neck. " Now, old boy," he said, half- 
 aloud, and smiled with humourous appreciation of 
 the act. 
 
 But as he straightened, he started and pulled up 
 sharply. A horse was standing by the steps; two 
 persons had come out on the porch. One of them 
 he knew. He could never mistake that tall, gracious 
 figure in white muslin with a bright ribbon at the 
 waist and another in the brown hair. He was sure 
 she was smiling as she held back her head. 
 
 But the other one ! He could see only the straight, 
 
 189
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 muscular back, the loose-fitting riding-clothes, above 
 the coat collar a shapely head of close-curling chest- 
 nut hair. A riding-switch tapped the boots, then 
 was caught beneath the arm while both hands took 
 the one extended in good-bye. 
 
 It flashed on David that this would be Philip Ran- 
 dolph, if Philip was not away South, riding with a 
 command of Confederate troops. But the figure on 
 the step turned to swing into the saddle, and he knew 
 that Philip was not in the South. Who will blame 
 him, then, that he waited there, screened by the trees, 
 and saw the white muslin skirt lifted in a deep 
 curtsy, and a broad hat waved in reply as the horse- 
 man started down the drive ? And who will wonder 
 that the whip in his own hand came down sharply 
 on his horse's flank, as he wheeled about and gal- 
 loped off? 
 
 The sun shone warmly on the afternoon of that 
 same May day, and under a big maple a young 
 woman stopped her horse as she reached up to break 
 a switch from an overhanging limb. While she 
 stripped the twigs from it, she talked to her horse. 
 " Dick," she said, " I am afraid we will have a 
 good many rides by ourselves after this. And we 
 don't that is, you won't like it, will you ? It's not 
 what you've been used to." The brown horse turned 
 its head and strove to reach her with its muzzle. 
 She laid a hand on its neck and stroked it. " Never 
 mind," she whispered. " We won't let that spoil 
 
 IQO
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 our good times. No, we won't. If we don't have the 
 company we've had before, we'll show them that we 
 are quite satisfied without it, won't we? And Dick, 
 we can have other company if we want it. Some 
 people don't mind coming a good deal further than 
 from St. Louis to be with us." 
 
 The brown horse whinnied. It was certainly a 
 whinny of approval, and the gloved hand stroked 
 the neck again. " That's right. That's just the 
 way we feel about it," she answered. Her head was 
 high. It certainly would have been a bold person 
 who denied her statement. 
 
 But while she gathered the reins, a rider came 
 over the ridge ahead. He was galloping, and it was 
 plain he was giving little attention to the road. If 
 not, then why did he straighten himself so suddenly 
 when a voice called to him ? And why did he start 
 at the sight of the trim figure in the saddle under 
 the maple? There was nothing dangerous in the 
 face into which he looked. Perhaps he anticipated 
 the rebuke, " David, do you know you nearly rode 
 over me? " 
 
 He had pulled in his horse. " I did not see you," 
 he answered, gravely. " I am sorry. I was in a 
 great hurry." 
 
 " So I perceive. You looked terribly disappointed 
 when I called to you. But I couldn't have Dick 
 hurt. Good-bye." She lifted her reins.
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " No," he said. " Wait that is, where are you 
 going?" 
 
 " Home. I've been out all afternoon." 
 
 Suddenly he pulled his horse's head about. " I 
 will ride with you," he said. He said it as if it 
 was settled. Perhaps the decision awed Dick. At 
 least, the brown horse turned obediently and fol- 
 lowed. But at first neither rider spoke. And 
 when this had grown almost unendurable, Lee, re- 
 membering something, gave a little gasp of relief. 
 From her breast she drew an envelope and held it 
 out. Her eyes were dancing. " Here," she said. 
 " This is for you. It came in a letter to me. You 
 are not to read it until you are alone. I was told 
 it wouldn't be safe for any one to be by. But you 
 must tell me all about it. It came this morning." 
 
 David took the envelope and stared at the hand- 
 writing. Abruptly he slipped it into his pocket, and 
 looked away. 
 
 She laughed. " Now that's not fair. And it is 
 suspicious, besides." His head was still turned. 
 " David," she repeated. A frown took the place of 
 the smile. " David, I will have to look into this. 
 I'm afraid Beatrix must get another messenger." 
 
 His head came about with a jerk. " Yes," he 
 said, " she should get another messenger. She can't 
 get it quickly enough." 
 
 She understood the look on his face no better than 
 
 192
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 she did his words. " Why ! What is it? You don't 
 do you mean me ? " 
 
 " No, I do not. You know that I mean Mr. 
 Randolph. He brought this letter." 
 
 She stared at him, and when she spoke her voice 
 was quick and scornful. " I see," she said. (After- 
 ward it came to her that she had seen very little 
 at the time.) " I see now. I hope you are satis- 
 fied. Eavesdroppers and spies ! " 
 
 David's voice trembled, but his jaw was stubborn 
 and his eyes were angry. " You are mistaken," he 
 said. " I saw him by accident. I was riding by." 
 
 " At just the right moment. That was lucky. 
 But he is safe now. All the Black Republicans 
 about here can't stop him. He's gone to the South." 
 
 Where was David's reason fled ? A dozen words 
 would have set him right before her; a dozen 
 words would have shown her how ridiculous was the 
 secrecy which the imagination of her visitor had 
 imposed upon himself and her. But such words 
 were furthest from David's thoughts. Instead he 
 said, slowly, " Yes, I can well believe that. He has 
 gone to the South to join the rest of the rebels. It 
 is where he belongs." 
 
 Her hands tightened on the reins. " You forget 
 one thing," she said. " Whatever Philip is doing, 
 he is not sitting still and talking while others fight." 
 
 How coolly she could speak when she was most 
 angry! Every word stung, as it was meant to do. 
 
 193
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 But it did more than this. It extinguished the 
 lingering spark of regret for what he had said. 
 He shut his lips tightly. 
 
 They reached the big gate at the elm-shaded drive. 
 He pulled his horse in. She passed by him. Then 
 he said, " I will thank you to say good-bye to the 
 Doctor for me. I am going to St. Louis this after- 
 noon. I enlisted yesterday for the Union." 
 
 One day at the end of that May, Boone, crossing 
 the bridge in Galena over which he had seen the 
 Joe Daviess Guards march a month before, met the 
 Captain trudging back toward the house on the 
 bluffs. " Why, how is it you're back ? " he cried. 
 He was sorry for the question the moment it was 
 out. 
 
 The Captain carried the same old leather bag. 
 Its sides were collapsed. His smile was not apolo- 
 getic, but it was a little weary. " I got tired wait- 
 ing," he said. " I wrote to Washington, offering 
 my services, but they haven't answered yet, so I 
 came back." 
 
 Boone swore under his breath as the shabby blue 
 overcoat passed out of sight. 
 
 That night he sat on the edge of his bed, which 
 a curtain hid from the rest of the room which he 
 called office. A letter lay on his knees. It was from 
 David a week old, dated at the camp at Carondelet. 
 His regiment lay south of the city, spread out to 
 
 194
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 guard its approaches. David was immensely happy 
 and busy. Of his decision to enlist, he wrote little. 
 He had seen his way clear, and so he had gone ahead. 
 When was Boone going to enlist? Or had he? No 
 letter had come from him for several weeks. Was 
 anything wrong? If he hesitated, here was some- 
 thing to make him decide. " It came too late to 
 affect me," the letter added. " My name was already 
 down. But at first it made me mad. Then I laughed 
 at it. There is some fact in it, of course, but that 
 fact we'll soon make fiction. You must help to do 
 it. Of course you know who sent it. If you don't, 
 remember who promised us a warm welcome if 
 we came marching into Mississippi." 
 
 The enclosure was a dated clipping from a 
 Vicksburg paper, and referred with sarcastic em- 
 phasis to a report made by the Captain upon the 
 arms in the possession of the State of Illinois. Nine 
 hundred muskets, sixty of these fit for use. " It is 
 with such weapons," the clipping read, " that the 
 Yankees intend to fight the South. However, the 
 muskets probably will go round." 
 
 Boone repeated to himself. " Yes, they would 
 ' go round/ " if there were many others like himself. 
 And the one who had forwarded this rebuke was 
 the one who held him back held him back because 
 it was her South held him to his shame. 
 
 Hark! There were the drums again! Calling! 
 Calling! His feet touched the floor. He crushed 
 
 195
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the clipping in his hands; then suddenly rose and 
 walked over to the table in the corner. Next he 
 was arranging papers, writing a note. Quickly, 
 but methodically, as if carrying out an old plan with 
 impatience. 
 
 It was daylight when he picked up his hat and bag 
 and locked the door behind him. He laid the key 
 with an envelope addressed to his landlady on the 
 small table. A moment more and the cool, damp 
 air of the spring morning bathed his face. It was 
 gray over the river toward the south. He could not 
 pierce the mist there. But from the east, as he 
 strode toward the railroad station, a shaft of sun- 
 light fell upon his path, and he saw clearly where 
 he walked. 
 
 Then came the train. Through the long hours 
 of the day he stubbornly fought off reflection. At 
 last he was in Springfield. Now he could hear 
 nothing but the drums. How triumphantly they 
 ruffled! It was the long roll. 
 
 To Springfield early in June came stories of dis- 
 orderly doings at Mattoon, of drunken soldiers, de- 
 sertions, the looting of smoke-houses, riots. A regi- 
 ment was camped there, the last which the Captain 
 mustered into service, the Twenty-first Illinois 
 Infantry. Then one day arrived an imperative order 
 from the governor, and the regiment was marched 
 to Springfield, trailing its ill-fame along the roads, 
 
 196
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 warning of its coming speeding ahead of it. With 
 the regiment marched into Camp Yates Lieutenant 
 Boone Hadley, indignant, chagrined, powerless. A 
 swaggering colonel was at its head. Boone watched 
 him strutting about, pistols in his belt, then with 
 a grunt of disgust turned away. He did his best, 
 and hoped for a change of command. 
 
 The change came soon. The day after they 
 reached Camp Yates the story went the rounds that 
 there was to be a new colonel. The governor had 
 telegraphed to Cincinnati for him. He was on his 
 way. Who was he? They knew little more than 
 his name. Two months ago he had been an en- 
 rolment clerk, later a mustering officer. Boone knew 
 him as the Captain. 
 
 This was on Sunday. It was expected he would 
 take charge the middle of the week. On Monday he 
 arrived. Boone, in front of his men, drawn up on 
 the State Fair grounds, saw him walking across the 
 dusty level. With him were two members of Con- 
 gress, McClellan and Logan. They were showy 
 figures. Between them the plain man of middle 
 height, in shabby clothes, would never have been 
 noticed. Jokes were cracked in the uneven lines 
 of men as they saw him approach. " What sort of a 
 colonel do you call that ? A saw-buck ! Hay in his 
 hair ! Lay-down-in-the-mud ! We'll put him through 
 the ropes ! " Boone's face crimsoned. These were 
 good, sound men behind him, but they needed a 
 
 I 9 7
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 strong hand as badly as many of them needed 
 uniforms. 
 
 McClellan, Logan, and the Captain mounted a 
 platform facing the regiment. McClellan and Logan 
 made speeches. There were big words in McClel- 
 lan's speech. But the men seemed impressed. Logan 
 made a ringing appeal to loyalty, and got a salvo 
 of cheers. Without warning he turned to the back 
 of the stage, and hooked an arm in that of the 
 Captain and led him forward. 
 
 The laughter and jokes began again. The man 
 who faced them was very unlike a soldier. His coat 
 was rusty, and buttons were missing from its front. 
 His hat was stained and crumpled. There was 
 neither fire nor sternness in his face, as he ran his 
 eyes over the ranks before him, his hands on the 
 railing. 
 
 " Your new commander ! " cried Logan, and 
 stepped back. 
 
 The plain man made no response. His eyes still 
 soberly ranged the faces turned on him. Then he 
 spoke. 
 
 " Men, go to your quarters! " 
 
 The words had the snap of a gun-lock. There was 
 silence. Smiles vanished, heads came erect, figures 
 stiffened. Here was the master. 
 
 198
 
 XII 
 
 FLOUTING 
 A UNIFORM 
 
 THERE was a camp at Jefferson Barracks. It 
 was the one of the chain which reached west- 
 ward and north, and bade a governor who, 
 in one breath, had announced his loyalty to the 
 Union, and in the next called for fifty thousand 
 militia to defend Missouri from the Federal forces, 
 keep his hands off the city. Within the half-circle 
 of these camps the red-haired, rushing man who had 
 seized the militia at Camp Jackson, and told the 
 governor exactly what he was, commanded, now as 
 a brigadier. One of his men at the Jefferson Bar- 
 racks camp was a raw volunteer of six feet, with a 
 breadth of shoulder, a boldness in the clean-shaven 
 chin and a clear eye which made him respected. 
 This volunteer had a way of doing what he was told 
 without asking questions. But at every chance he 
 would pull out a book with something about " Tac- 
 tics " on its cover and read in it as long as his duties 
 and an inflexible rule about lights allowed. There 
 were a hundred men about David as big as he was 
 
 199
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and with good stuff in them. But unconsciously 
 almost they fell into the habit of asking him to settle 
 knotty points about drill, dress, and other things. 
 
 Mr. Mayhew came to the camp twice. He said 
 things which David could not understand. He had 
 voted for Mr. Breckenridge. But that was past, he 
 added. Mr. Lincoln was President now; it was a 
 question of saving the country. Therefore he was 
 for the Union. Could any sensible man who loved 
 his country feel otherwise? He was of the opinion 
 that David had done right in enlisting. He spoke 
 confidently of the result of the war. But it threat- 
 ened great losses to him personally. He was trying 
 to hold his cotton business together. He had most 
 of his money embarked in it. If war put a stop to 
 trading, he must look for something else. There 
 were army contracts. 
 
 He almost persuaded David that he was a Union 
 man at heart as well as in words. Before he left 
 camp the second time, he was shaking hands with 
 the colonel in command. It seemed he had a letter 
 to him from some one influential in St. Louis. 
 
 Major Wilkins came down from St. Louis where 
 he was in the quartermaster's department. He 
 hunted up David at once, and there was a twinkle 
 in his eye when he remarked, " It strikes me you 
 fill out that uniform fairly well for a person who 
 wasn't sure about State's rights a few months ago." 
 
 David would have resented this from many peo- 
 
 2OO
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 pie. To the Major he said quietly that he had learned 
 a good deal in that time. He had heard from Boone 
 how the Captain took command of his regiment. 
 He asked where the Captain was. 
 
 " Up at Camp Yates, teaching them who is colo- 
 nel. I was there the day after he took charge. 
 One of the men ran up behind him and made believe 
 to spar at him. He accidentally hit him. Well ! " 
 The Major whistled. " They call him a tyrant al- 
 ready. Wait till they've been in the field with him 
 a little longer." 
 
 David often looked along the yellow clay road 
 which disappeared in the direction of Gravois, and 
 it was hard to believe that the place which he 
 called home was no more than a few miles away. 
 Even the ground around the Barracks was unfa- 
 miliar. The tents dotted a gentle slope; occasion- 
 ally the smoke of a steamer drifted their way. But 
 it did not look as it had on those days when he rode 
 by it and some one rode beside him. 
 
 One afternoon he was doing sentry duty, and 
 patrolled a line on the clay road which no one with- 
 out credentials was to pass. Then there came three 
 persons on horseback, and the two who rode ahead 
 showed small respect for the blue uniform and the 
 musket. They were talking to each other and laugh- 
 ing. Apparently they did not see the line which 
 he guarded. It was the musket which checked them. 
 It fell lightly, and its glittering point made a brown 
 
 2O I
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 horse point its ears. The rider glanced inquiringly 
 at the uniform. " Mr. Soldier," she said, " please 
 move that bayonet. We are not going to break any 
 rules of your camp." 
 
 The muscles under the peaked hat were properly 
 rigid. " You cannot go further on this road with- 
 out a pass." 
 
 Kitty pouted. " I knew one of these new soldiers 
 would stop us," she remarked. 
 
 But her companion was interrogating. " Who 
 says we cannot go on ? " 
 
 " I do. I am put here for that purpose." 
 
 " And who are you ? " inquired Kitty, with wither- 
 ing contempt. " Come on, Lee." 
 
 But the bayonet was unwavering. The brown 
 horse examined it with inquisitive muzzle. 
 
 Kitty giggled. " Look out, Mr. Soldier ! He'll 
 eat the point off." 
 
 A smothered chuckle came from where 'Lias sat 
 his horse a few yards away. A month's tan did 
 not conceal David's flush. But he did not budge. 
 
 Lee looked at the musket. " Don't be afraid," 
 she said, encouragingly. " My horse sha'n't hurt 
 your gun. But tell me, do you have to stand that 
 way?" 
 
 David's brows began to contract. 
 
 " Gracious ! " ejaculated Kitty. " He's going to 
 have a fit. Call the guard ! " 
 
 Then David spoke. " It is against orders to talk 
 
 2O2
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 to visitors. If you haven't a pass, you must move 
 back from the line." 
 
 Kitty backed her horse precipitately. " Be care- 
 ful ! " she exclaimed. " I believe I was a foot across 
 it." 
 
 Lee sat where she was and looked very severe. 
 " Sentry," she said, " do your duty. Demand our 
 pass." 
 
 David held out his hand. It was a pass properly 
 made out and signed. He returned it, shouldered 
 his musket, and stepped back. 
 
 The two riders moved forward a few feet. There 
 they faced about. " And now, David," said Lee, 
 " you can forget you are a soldier and talk to us. 
 We've come to see you." The old friendliness was 
 in her face. He yielded to the temptation of another 
 look. She was leaning back in the saddle, her hands 
 on the pommel, and with head a little to one side 
 she regarded him with a smile which wrecked mili- 
 tary gravity. 
 
 " You see I cannot talk to you here," he said. 
 " It is against regulations. And I must move on. 
 'Lias will explain better than I could." 
 
 " But you don't have to walk up and down 
 and look as if you had swallowed a ramrod and it 
 hurt you, do you ? " 
 
 " Yes, he does," asserted Kitty. " That's what 
 all new soldiers have to do, so they think. When 
 he wants to eat, he calls the guard. They feed him. 
 
 203
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 When he wants to sleep he remembers the ramrod 
 and doesn't dare to. Poor soldier ! " 
 
 What was David to do but laugh? But he re- 
 sumed his severity instantly. How much he un- 
 learned in the months which followed ! " I must 
 go," he said. " I am glad I saw you. Good-bye." 
 He faced about, and started over his beat. 
 
 " David," began Lee, then changed her mind, and 
 rode on. Kitty's voice came back, raised in ad- 
 miration, " Oh, isn't he beautiful ! See how straight 
 he walks! And his gun! Sticking up over his 
 shoulder ! How fierce ! " 
 
 David's sigh as they disappeared was a tremen- 
 dous relief. No one had been by to see or hear. 
 When they returned, he meant to be at the other 
 end of his beat. 
 
 But he did not have the opportunity. The guard 
 relieved him in half an hour, and the guard bore 
 an order. He was to report at headquarters at 
 once. David had a premonition as he walked to 
 headquarters. There was a brush and a basin in 
 his tent which he would have liked to visit first. 
 
 Headquarters was in the hands of the enemy. 
 The colonel was prisoner. An unnecessary number 
 of young officers had duties to perform near the 
 place. 'Lias stood guard outside. On the only 
 chairs sat two very contented persons. 
 
 It appeared the colonel had known Doctor Shirley 
 for many years. He was anxious to show the camp. 
 
 204
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 But he could not go himself just then. " So he 
 has ordered you to be our guide," explained Lee. 
 " Do you think your dignity will allow it? " She 
 regarded the tall young man with a look of properly 
 impersonal inquiry. 
 
 " I can try," he said. 
 
 The colonel laughed. " When these ladies are 
 ready to go, see that they are escorted out of camp. 
 Well out of the camp." 
 
 " And we are to be the judges of the distance," 
 qualified Kitty. 
 
 They inspected the camp. Many things were 
 to be explained. He told what he knew gravely. 
 Kitty's admiring interest was disconcerting. " I'll 
 inform the Captain," she declared, finally. " It's a 
 shame. You should have his place. You know it 
 all almost. And yet so young ! " But David saw 
 a light in Lee's eyes which recompensed him. 
 
 His visitors brought him news. Oswald had 
 marched with General Lyon and fought at Boone- 
 ville in one of the first battles in the State. Kitty 
 told him about it. It appeared, from her account, 
 that Oswald had done most of the fighting. He had 
 been wounded slightly. A week ago he had re- 
 sumed his duties. He had been made a lieutenant. 
 " A lieutenant" she repeated. 
 
 "How did you know all this?" asked David. 
 Lee's warning glance came too late. " So soon, 
 I mean " he blundered. ".I didn't think you 
 
 205
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and he " Then the signal reached him, and 
 he stopped. But Miss Marshall was not discon- 
 certed. She had rallied to the defence of colours 
 many times before. " I forgot you had been away 
 so long," she said, condescendingly. " Oswald's 
 mother's eyesight has failed. It was the least I 
 could do, so I go to see her. I have to read her 
 letters to her, of course." 
 
 " Oh," answered David. " I see." But it had 
 been his impression that Mrs. Roner was favoured 
 with reasonably good vision. 
 
 Lee's face was turned aside. Kitty went on, com- 
 passionately, " And there's something else you 
 haven't heard of. The Colonel has gone." 
 
 "Gone? Where?" 
 
 " To the South. He went as soon as he 
 decided that Missouri would stay in the Union. 
 He's in Virginia now. And he's a brigadier-gen- 
 eral," proudly. She repeated to him the story of 
 the Colonel's parting with Miss Sarah, and, in a 
 moment, was mimicking those doughty opponents. 
 Kitty, how many times during those four gloomy 
 years did your dancing eyes and relish of the humour 
 in life lift you from the shadow of grief, and bring 
 a smile to faces which thought they had forgotten 
 how to smile ! She enacted the scene. The Colonel 
 coming into the room, pulling at his goatee, his 
 face glowing, as he announced that he had been 
 made " a colonel in the army of the Confederate 
 
 2O6
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 States of America! " Miss Sarah's brows raised 
 inquiringly. And his unwise assertion, " Yes, 
 madam, a colonel, a colonel of a regiment of Vir- 
 ginia gentlemen!" Whereat the estimable lady 
 opened her lips to remark, " Of course, body-ser- 
 vants are provided to carry the muskets of the gen- 
 tlemen" 
 
 David obeyed orders when the time came, and 
 escorted his visitors out of camp. Gravois was 
 almost in sight when he turned back. Lee's fingers 
 closed on his with lingering pressure. Her " David, 
 good-bye," was faintly spoken. Afterward he told 
 himself that it was so she asked his pardon for the 
 injustice she had once done. A month has passed 
 since that day, and it had become no less strange to 
 be without her friendship. He went back to his 
 post persuaded that the articles of war should be 
 amended. Women should have a place in camp. 
 
 In fact there was little of the glamour of military 
 life about the Barracks. Men in blue uniforms 
 sweated and toiled at duties which were probably 
 furthest from the minds of most of them when they 
 enlisted. Squads tramped the pavements of St. 
 Louis, and were halted in front of doors and win- 
 dows while search was made of houses whose loyalty 
 was suspected. Sturdy fellows with heavy hands 
 rolled in on the trains from the West and North, and 
 from the Lake shores, and were herded again on 
 other cars, poking heads from every window and 
 
 207
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 waving good-bye, flocking out at every stop if 
 chance was given them, joking and laughing at 
 war until at last, penned in the camps of organisa- 
 tion, they fell into awkward step and grumbled at 
 the heat and regulations. And their faces grew 
 solemn and sometimes sullen when drill sergeants 
 swore at slow movements and because they handled 
 muskets as if they were rakes or axes or crowbars. 
 Then as the steady grind of the machine of disci- 
 pline wore them into shape, and they learned to 
 know that a straight line meant eyes to the front 
 and shoulders squared and even step, and the new 
 rifles flashed more nearly together, they were put 
 on trains again, and pulled away. And always 
 toward the South. 
 
 To be sure, in St. Louis itself there was one 
 man who wore a fine uniform and had servants and 
 a body-guard in gorgeous attire. General Fremont 
 had come to take command of the Western Depart- 
 ment. His military establishment was the talk of 
 the country round. But across the river, a few 
 miles to the north, was another man, a colonel 
 of volunteers, who dressed as plainly as any of his 
 men, plainer than many of them. And under him, 
 brawny fellows fast learned to be soldiers. 
 
 A letter from Boone. In it news of the Captain. 
 " We are being licked into shape," Boone wrote. 
 " We have got only as far as company drill, but we 
 know that. There is no fooling in this regiment, I 
 
 208
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tell you. We're in your State now, as you see by 
 the date-line of my letter. Your governor asked 
 for troops, it seems. The Captain told ours that 
 if he would order us to go, he needn't worry about 
 transportation. It was the truth. The transporta- 
 tion came out of our legs. Lord, how mine ache! 
 Across country to Salt River, not an enemy in sight. 
 The Captain has a new uniform. Somehow it doesn't 
 look right on him. But the same man is inside of it. 
 And nobody in the regiment has a chance to forget 
 that. There is talk that we are coming down your 
 way. Be on the lookout for us. We may come 
 to St. Louis." 
 
 This letter was dated from the little town of Mex- 
 ico, Missouri. It came to David in a roundabout way, 
 and it was at the end of the first week in August 
 that it reached his hands. On the next afternoon 
 he heard that the Captain was to be in St. Louis 
 the following day. For a very good reason it was 
 entirely within David's power to leave the camp on 
 that morning of the 7th of August, and he travelled 
 straight to the Planters' Hotel. 
 
 Was the Captain there? Yes, he had just come. 
 David's name went up-stairs, David followed it a 
 few minutes later. For the first time he saw the 
 Captain in uniform. He was at a table, writing. 
 Papers were piled beside him, a file of telegrams lay 
 beneath a weight. He dropped his pen, and rose. 
 He seemed to have gained inches in height. His 
 
 209
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 eyes were alert and steady, his beard was trimmed. 
 He spoke as one having authority. " When does 
 your enlistment expire? " was his first question. 
 
 " It expired yesterday. I intend to enlist again 
 to-morrow for three years." 
 
 " Three years is a good while," remarked the 
 Captain. " You are sure you want to do it? " 
 
 " Very sure." 
 
 " Then," said the Captain, " I want you to change 
 your mind. I was appointed brigadier-general to- 
 day. I need somebody like you. I want men around 
 me whom I know. I'd like to have you on my staff. 
 Will you accept ? " 
 
 David's eyes shot a quick look of thanks. Then 
 he frowned. He explained that he had had no 
 experience in an officer's duties. The Captain waived 
 the objection. Neither had hundreds of others who 
 suddenly found themselves in command. Officers 
 were needed. Besides, this was not a question of a 
 command. When David gave his answer, it was a 
 deliberate assertion. " Yes, I will accept. I believe 
 I can be of more use with you than where I have 
 been. But I have no commission." 
 
 " General Fremont will attend to that. Be ready 
 to start with me to-morrow." He held out his hand. 
 David gripped it. By the time he had picked up 
 his hat and reached the door, the Captain was bend- 
 ing over the table again, writing rapidly. 
 
 2IO
 
 XIII 
 
 A BAPTISM 
 
 OF that first month of David's duties at Cape 
 Girardeau, where the Captain took him, there 
 is little that concerns this story. The news 
 of the Captain's new rank had gone ahead of him. 
 His old regiment welcomed him, drawn up in line, 
 the band playing. At nightfall, another band came 
 to serenade him. There was a call for a speech. 
 The Captain withdrew. " It's one of your duties 
 as a staff-officer to make all speeches," he declared. 
 But David shook his head. Some one else made 
 the speech. An annalist of the Captain has it that 
 this famous address closed with the exhortation: 
 
 " Strike for your altars and your fires, 
 Strike for the green graves of your sires, 
 God and your native land." 
 
 But it is fairly certain that this was an invention 
 of the same enterprising journalist who, on the 
 boat coming down to Cape Girardeau, wrote of the 
 Captain, " A smile is almost ^continually playing 
 
 211
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 about his eyes." The Captain did not smile often, 
 and his eyes were uncommonly steady. But they 
 missed little within their range. Boone told David 
 of some things that had happened when the Captain 
 was colonel. " They thought they could play with 
 him," he said. " The day he was presented to the 
 regiment, one man stole behind him and tipped off 
 his hat. The Captain turned on him like a flash, 
 and he went to the guard-house. We had a hundred 
 men in there within a few days. One man came into 
 camp drunk, and said he'd kill any one who tried 
 to arrest him. The Captain heard him, grabbed 
 him by the collar, ran him to the nearest line, and 
 threw him out on his face. * If you come back,' he 
 said, ' I'll have you shot.' Line-running, drinking, 
 and looting were at an end in a week. * Never saw 
 such quick work,' an old sergeant told me one morn- 
 ing. ' He's a little man, but he's colonel of this 
 regiment, sir ! ' 
 
 It was the same way with the Captain as brigadier. 
 There was evidence of this every day. It was a bit- 
 ter disappointment to them all when General Pren- 
 tiss came down to Ironton, their new headquarters, 
 with orders placing him in charge. They all under- 
 stood that the Captain, too, felt the slight. But he 
 gave no sign. He had mastered himself. The 
 change of base to Cairo brought a better state of 
 affairs. There he was placed in command of a wide 
 strip of country about the big winding river. Toward 
 
 212
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 it his gaze was always turning-. A fancy took hold 
 of David that the Captain's fortunes were embarked 
 on the great stream whose muddy breast rolled ma- 
 jestically to the south. 
 
 But August went by and September came in, and 
 they remained at Cairo. David grew restless. 
 It was drill, drill, drill. The Captain spent much 
 of his time at his desk. It was in the back room 
 of a house which looked down on the wharves of 
 the squalid little town, wharves almost deserted, 
 except for the steamers which carried troops and 
 supplies. He was always pondering over the 
 maps, tracing lines, writing letters and telegrams. 
 All of which seemed to many to savour little of war. 
 But also orders came from that little room, and 
 men did things when these orders were read. It 
 was ever so with the Captain. Though he did not 
 wear a uniform, his stocky figure was the signal 
 for instant attention and a bracing up all around. 
 
 Rawlins came to camp, as swarthy and outspoken 
 as on the night when he cursed the volunteers' meet- 
 ing in the Galena court-house. And Rawlins's 
 mouth was still full of oaths. But he buckled to his 
 duties with amazing energy. David liked him better 
 with every hour he worked beside him. 
 
 Then one day something happened. On the night 
 before, the Captain looked up from a telegraph pad 
 and said, quietly, " I telegraphed Fremont this after- 
 noon that if I did not hear from him to-night, I 
 
 213
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 would move on Paducah. I have not had a reply. 
 I will take the town at once." 
 
 In the morning Paducah was taken. Not a gun 
 was fired. David declared, with good-humoured 
 disgust, " If this is war, we've wasted a lot of time 
 drilling." 
 
 Boone laughed. " Oh, wait awhile. I reckon, my 
 son, you'll have your fill of what you want. I be- 
 lieve we came out to fight." 
 
 Early in November the prophecy was fulfilled. 
 There were three thousand men in the Captain's 
 command. He had three wooden gunboats and 
 several small ironclads, " tinclads," Boone called 
 them. On November 6th these moved. It was 
 a dark night, and, as they slipped down the river 
 on the crowded steamers, not a man except the 
 Captain and his staff knew what was to be done. 
 But, while the gray mist still clung to the bosom of 
 the stream and cloaked the banks on either side, 
 they suddenly understood. Somewhere back from 
 the river on the Missouri side lay a rebel camp. 
 Just out of range of the big batteries which loomed 
 from the banks at Columbus opposite, they landed. 
 Regiment after regiment passed into the mist, walk- 
 ing as if the cracking of a stick was to be heard 
 for two miles. They moved away from the river. 
 David, straining eyes and ears, rode silently by the 
 Captain, until it seemed as if they had marched half- 
 way across the State. 
 
 214
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Then came a shot, a score of shots, a volley. Sud- 
 denly crashing volleys and a louder thunder, and the 
 mist was torn with sheets of flame. The sun looked 
 down on men running forward and falling back, 
 and always sheets of flame or a blaze of crimson 
 marked their line. 
 
 The ground was heavy. A corn-field for a time 
 hid the firing-line. But as the men burst through 
 the thin fringe of stalks which withered on its edge, 
 the Captain shook his reins and they galloped ahead. 
 All at once they were in a belt of woodland, and 
 the bullets whistled above them, chipping bark from 
 the trees. David knew his knees pressed hard 
 against his horse's side. He felt the muscles of his 
 jaw twitch. He swallowed something hard. 
 
 The Captain gave him a glance. " It's a queer 
 feeling the first time," he said. " But you'll soon 
 get used to it." 
 
 " It's sitting here doing nothing," David an- 
 swered. " If I had a gun " 
 
 The Captain nodded. " Let me tell you some- 
 thing. It was at Salt River a few months ago. 
 We were after Harris. There were many hills. 
 We rode up the last one, expecting to find him wait- 
 ing for us. My heart jumped higher and higher 
 in my throat, and it wasn't the first time for me. 
 But when we reached the top of the hill, we found 
 Harris had decamped. My heart went back to its 
 old place. All at once it struck me that the enemy 
 
 215
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 was probably as much afraid of me as I was of 
 him. There is a heap of comfort in that thought." 
 
 " There is," David said, and he meant it. But the 
 man who sat so erect in his saddle was a bigger 
 argument than the story he told. Many times after- 
 ward David's eyes sought out that stocky figure when 
 the shell was shrieking overhead, and drew confi- 
 dence from the immovable face. To the last it 
 was not easy for him to remain with idle hands when 
 under fire. 
 
 " They are wasting bullets," the Captain said, 
 after a few minutes of broken firing. He rode for- 
 ward. The men were behind trees. They shot at 
 every glimpse of a gray jacket or puff of smoke. 
 He moved along the lines, and talked to them. It 
 struck David that he did it a good deal as a father 
 would with a child. But it had its effect. The firing 
 steadied. The men began to go forward. 
 
 Then there came a break in one place in the flash- 
 ing line which faced them; and a hundred feet of 
 ground was gained. Again a break, and another 
 rush. Suddenly there was a sharp yell, and shout- 
 ing ran up and down the Union lines. On every 
 side the men in blue and patched-up uniforms con- 
 verged, running at full speed up the slope. Toward 
 the river, from three directions, fled the "gray- 
 backs." 
 
 "They've broken," cried the Captain, his eyes 
 
 216
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 sparkling. Then they were riding forward at a sharp 
 gallop. All at once they were in the camp. 
 
 Quick as they had come, war had already put 
 on its ugliest mask. On every hand pillage had be- 
 gun. Horses were running wildly about. Supplies 
 strewed the ground. Fires had been trampled out, 
 cooking-tins scattered, tents here and there torn 
 down, wagons stripped of their tilts. Soldiers were 
 dragging out boxes and trunks, ripping them open, 
 flinging their contents on the ground. Guns had 
 been cast aside. Men filled their pockets and arms 
 with whatever caught their fancy. At one side an 
 officer stood in his stirrups and harangued a knot 
 of cheering men. A band came up on the run, blow- 
 ing and pounding with might and main a triumphal 
 march. Everything else was forgotten in a frenzy 
 of joy. Fighting was over, they yelled. The rebels 
 had fled. Each man was to have his prize. 
 
 Boone stalked over, sweating and angry. David 
 had seen him strike a man with the flat of his 
 sword to force him to drop a leather-covered box. 
 " It's no use. They've gone crazy," he cried. 
 "What can we do?" 
 
 But the Captain's eyes were bent on the river, 
 and Boone shaded his own eyes and swept the 
 further bank. 
 
 On the opposite side, regiment after regiment 
 was coming down from Columbus on the double 
 quick. The shore was alive with men; the river 
 
 217
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 dotted with crowded boats; gun-barrels gleamed 
 in the sun. 
 
 The Captain's face carne about quickly. " Order 
 the men to fall in. They'll be on us before we can 
 reach the boats." 
 
 Boone darted away. David spurred after him. 
 Up and down the lines the order ran, " Fall in ! Fall 
 in ! " A few obeyed. The rest, drunk with joy at 
 their victory and its spoils, kept hard at the looting. 
 Officers threatened and plead. Rawlins charged 
 among his men, his dark hair flying, his face ablaze, 
 and cursed them with such curses as they had never 
 heard before. It was in vain. 
 
 Then came the Captain. " Fire the tents ! " he 
 ordered. 
 
 It was quick work. A tent smoked, then flamed. 
 A dozen blazes sprang up and down the rows of 
 canvas. Suddenly from the east came a moaning 
 sound, and a wagon disappeared in a flash with a 
 terrific report. It was a shell from the Columbus 
 batteries. A moment later came a blast of canister, 
 sweeping like a scythe through a cluster of men. 
 
 The shouting and cheering ceased. There was 
 a pause. Then panic fell on the human ant-hive. 
 A cry went up, " We're surrounded ! " The next 
 instant a mad rush had begun. The boats! That 
 was all they thought of. Anything to get away. 
 
 On either flank fell a column of gray uniforms, 
 sprung from the earth, it seemed, and back toward 
 
 2l8
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the boats the running men were driven, their ranks 
 riddled with every volley, righting because it was 
 that or be mowed down at short range. 
 
 At last they were opposite the steamers, and a 
 headlong plunge down the banks began. They 
 poured across the landing-planks and flung them- 
 selves into the river, to swim and clamber over 
 the gunwales. Steamer after steamer pulled out, 
 jammed to its guards, crowded on the river side 
 of her so that the opposite paddle-wheel spun in the 
 air. 
 
 All the time the Captain sat his horse at one 
 side, watching the panic with anxious eyes, utter- 
 ing sharp, short orders for bringing up the wounded, 
 powerless to check the mad rush. Beside him sat 
 David. Nor be it counted to his shame that, as 
 bullets sped more thickly overhead, he felt a cold 
 spot spread between his shoulder-blades while his 
 heart told off the seconds until the bullet should 
 arrive which was not to miss. Is it the brave man 
 who has never met fear? Or is it the one who sat 
 as he did, quiet, with tight lips, his fingers pressing 
 the leather of the bridle into his palms, and waited ? 
 Yes, and, even when the Captain turned and rode 
 off not down the bank to the boats, but away from 
 them, along the bank to the south turned and 
 rode with him. It did not occur to him to hesitate. 
 It seemed it was the thing he should do. The Cap- 
 
 219
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tain heard the thudding of hoofs behind him, and 
 glanced back. But he said nothing. 
 
 Suddenly he halted and looked down into a hol- 
 low. Then David knew what they had come for, 
 and knew that it was a useless errand. When they 
 landed, a detachment had been posted here to guard 
 the boats. Now it was gone, caught up in the panic. 
 
 The Captain's eyes flashed. For a moment he sat 
 where he had halted on the edge of the bluff, his 
 figure outlined against the sky. In that moment 
 something happened swiftly. 
 
 Over the little ridge above them suddenly ap- 
 peared a man on horseback, and checked his horse. 
 He was not a hundred feet away. David's eyes pho- 
 tographed every line of his figure and face, from the 
 natty, booted legs and the cape thrown back over 
 the shoulder, to the clear-cut, boyish features and the 
 chestnut hair curling from under his hat. He knew 
 him at once. It was Philip Randolph, and in his 
 hand was a pistol. The sunlight glanced on its barrel 
 as it rose to a level with the eye and bore upon the 
 Captain. 
 
 There was no time for warning. David leaned 
 forward. His body blotted out the figure in the 
 blue overcoat on the edge of the bluff. So he sat 
 until it seemed as if minutes had passed, his eyes 
 fixed on the man on the ridge. Then the pistol 
 was lowered and the rider waved an arm. His 
 
 22O
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 laugh rang out clearly. He backed behind the ridge, 
 and was gone. 
 
 David's body swung into the saddle, every muscle 
 suddenly weak. The Captain wheeled his horse, and 
 together they dug spurs, and raced for the 
 landing. Shots rang out. Once a bullet lifted 
 David's cap from, his head. Behind him he heard 
 a horse give a whistling snort. But he led the way, 
 and soon had ridden down the cut in the bank. 
 
 A bell jingled as he crossed the landing-stage 
 to the last steamer. There were shouts and the 
 churning of paddles. He dropped from the saddle, 
 to be flung sideways by the sudden lurch of the boat. 
 He scrambled to his feet, and saw the water widen- 
 ing between the boat and shore. But his eyes trav- 
 elled further, and over the top of the bank, two 
 hundred feet down-stream, he saw the Captain's 
 mounted figure rise above the edge of the steep clay- 
 bank. 
 
 His shout of warning was loud, but it was 
 drowned in the thunderous splash of the wheels and 
 the shouting; and he dashed for the pilot-house. 
 In the same 'moment he saw Boone running forward 
 on the deck above him. 
 
 Slowly, as if it would never come about, the boat 
 swung into the bank below, and as it touched and 
 a plank was thrown ashore, they saw a piece of 
 horsemanship that made them wonder. The Cap- 
 tain's reins tightened, his spurs went home, and his 
 
 221
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 mount plunged. The next instant, with fore-legs 
 stiffened, the horse slid down the thirty-foot bank, 
 and the Captain was on board. He dropped from 
 the saddle and walked to the upper deck. He spoke 
 to no one. Presently, with bullets crashing into its 
 upper works, the boat was in midstream, heading 
 away from the batteries. 
 
 Then the Captain turned to David. There was 
 softness in the gray-blue eyes, but he only said, 
 " It was well done. But you mustn't try it again. 
 I need all of my staff-officers." 
 
 222
 
 XIV 
 
 BEATRIX 
 
 DID those Western volunteers, who at the end 
 of 1 86 1 came down to Cairo where the 
 Captain had headquarters, ever forget the 
 weary weeks of November, December, and the 
 January of the next year, when through rain and 
 sleet and snow, with scanty days of sunshine, they 
 drilled under the eyes of the thick-set man in plain 
 uniform ? Did they ever cease to curse and grumble 
 at their lot? Were their officers less restive under 
 a process whose only purpose appeared to be to 
 march as quickly as might be to some place without 
 a name and then march back again? " Map-mak- 
 ing " they called it. With every march down went 
 another line upon the diagrams over which their 
 leader pored night after night. Again and again 
 they were called upon to study these diagrams and 
 tell what they knew of their accuracy or offer sug- 
 gestions for the making of a new one. 
 
 If David grumbled less than the rest it was not 
 because he was more patient. Maps had to do with 
 
 223
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 his chosen work. In time too these particular maps 
 meant much to him. He learned that they were 
 more than so many marks and lines for streams 
 and towns, and hills and hollows, or stretches of 
 woodland and field. On them was laid out the 
 great War Game. 
 
 One night the Captain looked up from a broadside 
 of paper pinned to a table top and straddled a broad 
 curving line with two fingers. " There it is," he 
 said. " If we make that point safe we have the key 
 to western Kentucky and Tennessee." 
 
 David recognised the broad line for the Ohio. 
 Near where the Captain pointed was a criss-cross 
 of lines marked Paducah. " We have Paducah," 
 he replied. " Doesn't that close the river ? " 
 
 " From the West, yes. But we must have the 
 Cumberland and Tennessee Rivers if we mean to 
 go south. We can't leave those two wasps' nests 
 in our rear." He laid a finger on a spot on each of 
 the rivers. " Donelson and Henry. We must take 
 them first." 
 
 He bent again over the map. Boone from the 
 opposite side of the table frowned at David. They 
 both knew the situation. First it had been Fremont, 
 now it was Halleck, who sat in St. Louis and said 
 " no " to every proposal the Captain made to push 
 to the south, while he chafed under the restraint 
 and would not yield his plan. 
 
 But if the Captain was forbidden to move south 
 
 224
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 there was one who declared her purpose to come 
 north without delay. The news reached David in a 
 letter from Lee. " Beatrix," she wrote, " is coming 
 to see me. And she will come by the river, just to 
 show you, she says, how easy it is to go through 
 the Union lines. David, I wish I could send you 
 her letter. But I won't, for you would tear it into 
 little pieces. She says the Northern troops are 
 afraid to move. ' If the Captain will only stay in 
 his house at Cairo and play checkers awhile longer ' 
 those are her words ' the soldiers of the South 
 will come and kidnap him and the whole camp.' 
 Tell me, David, is there any chance of that ? I hope 
 not. For I like" (David could not be sure that a 
 dash followed and turned the letter several ways 
 in an attempt to decide) " the Captain." 
 
 He slipped the letter into a breast pocket, smiling 
 at its mocking entreaties to warn the Captain of his 
 danger. To Boone he said, " Beatrix Pemberton 
 says she is going to St. Louis through our lines. 
 Now I wonder if she has any real idea of trying it ? " 
 
 Boone did not reply, and he repeated his question. 
 
 "How can I say?" was the answer. 
 
 " That's so," David assented. " But you must 
 meet her if she does come through here. And it's 
 more than likely. The steamer line is still open 
 to St. Louis." 
 
 Kitty wrote several times. She heard that David 
 had got his feet wet. Wet feet were dangerous. Did 
 
 225
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 he take proper precautions ? He must remember he 
 had not been a soldier long. He must be very care- 
 ful. Especially he must be cautious how he handled 
 his gun. Or was it a sword? One was as bad as 
 the other. He was so careless. There was that 
 day at the Barracks camp. How recklessly he held 
 his musket! Why not put a cork on the point of 
 the bayonet? He worried her dreadfully with his 
 recklessness. 
 
 There was a picture of a figure, all angles, hold- 
 ing fast to its foot, the face contorted with agony, 
 and the legend beneath, " The brave soldier boy. 
 ( No. i . ) ' Ground arms ! ' David has that pic- 
 ture yet. 
 
 Just before Christmas came another letter from 
 Lee. Parts of it were read to Boone. " ' I was in 
 St. Louis the other day and saw Major Wilkins 
 General Wilkins now. He said he congratulated 
 the Captain's wife recently on her husband's new 
 rank.' " 
 
 Boone remarked, quickly, " I know about what 
 her reply was. She has everlasting faith in him." 
 
 " Did you ever hear his mother's prophecy ? " 
 inquired David. " She dreamed once, they say, 
 that he'd be President some day. 'Lias told me 
 she firmly believes it will come true." 
 
 " I hope it will." Then, with great seriousness, 
 " But I have noticed, David, that mothers have 
 
 226
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 a way of expecting those things to happen to their 
 sons." 
 
 David laughed. " At any rate, her prophecy is 
 on the road to fulfilment. They talk of making him 
 a major-general." 
 
 "So?" 
 
 " Yes, it's the report in St. Louis." 
 
 " By way of ' our own correspondent ' at Gra- 
 vois ? " appended Boone. " It may not have struck 
 you," he went on, " but it's a fact to which I would 
 call your attention, my son, merely by the way, 
 of course, that, for one who so heartily disap- 
 proves of the Black Abolitionists and their cause, 
 a singular interest is manifested by Gravois in the 
 welfare of the officers of this glorious army of ours." 
 
 " If you refer to Miss Shirley," said David, stiffly, 
 " she has always had a great deal of admiration 
 for the Captain." 
 
 " Did I say the Captain ? " drawled Boone. " Per- 
 haps I did. But there are other officers here who 
 are not unknown in Gravois." He paused. The 
 taunting smile faded from his face. " No, David," 
 he said, soberly, " she has not forgotten the old 
 days or the old ties. Pray God she never may." 
 
 David looked over. There was a moment's si- 
 lence, then Boone burst out, " But some women 
 have! Why is it? How are they able to forget 
 everything but this cursed war? Why are the 
 
 227
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 women of the South so bitter? Why must they be 
 our enemies in all things? " 
 
 David laid a hand on the one which rested on the 
 table clinched tightly. Boone pulled it away. He 
 straightened up and laughed. " But that's all gone 
 by," he declared. " And you spoke about the Cap- 
 tain being made a major-general. Some one men- 
 tioned the report to him in my hearing last night. 
 Not a muscle of his face moved. ' I had not heard 
 of that,' he said. ' I don't want any promotion till 
 I've earned it. There will be a chance for every- 
 body before long ! ' 
 
 It was the talk of headquarters that the Captain 
 assumed few of the honours of his rank. Down 
 from St. Louis came a brigadier-general of volun- 
 teers, tall, handsome, erect, with a splendid head of 
 white hair. It was said he was under a cloud. But 
 he had been the Captain's superior once, and the Cap- 
 tain had not forgotten it. He treated the old soldier 
 with a deference which brought tears to his eyes. 
 Afterward he instructed Rawlins, " See that none 
 
 of these stories about General are repeated over 
 
 our wires." 
 
 Rawlins ripped out a curse. " Him ! There's 
 more than talk of his disloyalty. Why the devil 
 did they send him here? " 
 
 " Never mind about that. I've said what I want 
 done." 
 
 Rawlins bent over the sheaf of telegrams in his 
 
 228
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 hand. " All right," he said. Then, looking up, 
 " But there's this about it. More trouble is hatched 
 along this river than we have any idea of. If you 
 give them too many chances " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " They'll gobble you up. There's enough rebel 
 feeling about these parts to make it easy if you 
 don't take care of yourself. They'd like first-rate 
 to get hold of you." 
 
 The Captain remarked, " I guess they won't 
 bother about me." 
 
 " The way he always takes it," Rawlins muttered, 
 as he turned to his work. To Boone's inquiry he 
 grunted, " It's these damn steamboat captains. Half 
 of them are working for the rebels. I'd have a 
 guard in the pilot-house of every boat that goes up 
 the river, if I had my way." 
 
 There was frequent visiting between the lines in 
 those days. Twenty miles below Cairo lay Colum- 
 bus. Across the river just above Columbus was the 
 invisible boundary between the North and South. 
 Every few days a steamer would come up flying a 
 white flag. Then a gun would be fired from the 
 lowest of the Union fortifications, and a boat would 
 go down to meet the steamer. There would be hand- 
 shaking and an exchange of news. Rawlins declared 
 that more than once passengers were landed who 
 had no good business close to the Union lines. 
 
 At dusk one evening Boone, passing by a small 
 
 229
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 hotel on his way to headquarters, heard the depart- 
 ing whistle of one of these steamers as she dropped 
 down-stream, and paused to note the drift of her 
 smoke over the tree-tops, then faced about and 
 stood motionless. 
 
 The door had been opened and a man came out, 
 a slender, trimly built man in civilian clothes. Be- 
 hind him, for an instant, was framed in the doorway 
 another figure, tall and splendid, and Boone stared, 
 his heart as eager as his eyes, as she turned and 
 the door was closed, and she was gone. The man 
 passed by him unnoticed and unnoticing, and still 
 he stood. If only again the door might open and 
 he might see her! Why did he wish it? If she 
 saw him she would not wait. And would he go to 
 her? Would he? " No, no," he repeated to himself. 
 
 He walked slowly away and to his room. There 
 was no mistake. She was here. She had meant 
 all that she said when she wrote that she would 
 come to St. Louis and through the Union lines. 
 David must not know that she was here, or learning 
 this, find him. And for himself he would work 
 hard and forget. But the night long he flung him- 
 self about the bed and knew that he had not for- 
 gotten and could not forget. 
 
 The morning he spent on the outlying lines, and 
 did not see David. At noon he got orders from 
 headquarters. He was to go up to Girardeau. A 
 steamer would leave that afternoon. He walked 
 
 230
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 down to the levee. It was thronged with men. A 
 few torn bales of cotton were piled at the end of a 
 shed. He sat on one in the shadow of the pile and 
 waited. For what? He knew, but would not 
 acknowledge it then. Roustabouts ran up and down 
 past him in a double line, treading to the humming 
 of a river song. A .few passengers straggled down 
 and went aboard. Two officers stopped near him, 
 and he heard their conversation as they lighted 
 cigars. Yes, the Captain was going up to Girardeau 
 on the Platte Valley that afternoon. He had just 
 told Rawlins so. " Rawlins wanted him to have a 
 guard," said one. " Said he'd be kidnapped yet." 
 
 " Rawlins is always harping on that," remarked 
 the other. " They won't bother about the Captain. 
 Rather have what the paymaster carries." 
 
 They moved on. There came some one else down 
 to the steamer. Boone was not surprised, but his 
 pulses leaped and he leaned forward. Her gown 
 almost brushed his feet. A wide hat and a veil 
 shaded her face, but the column of her white throat 
 they did not hide. The sun turned the bronze of 
 her hair to gold. She walked slowly. But she did 
 not notice him. How near he came to reaching out 
 a hand and bidding her wait while he told her 
 something! Beatrix! Beatrix! his heart cried. 
 
 The dazzle of winter sunshine blinded his sight 
 for a moment. He brushed a hand across his eyes. 
 When he looked again she was on the gangplank, 
 
 231
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 showing a paper to the guard there. A moment 
 later she had stepped on the deck. Hurrying to 
 overtake her came a man in black clothes, swinging 
 a light cane. He lifted a jaunty hat as he joined 
 her and they passed out of sight to the cabin. 
 Boone recognised him. He had seen him the night 
 before on the hotel steps; he had met him at the 
 time of that one miserable visit to Vicksburg. Ran- 
 dolph was his name and he was her cousin. Boone 
 had heard that he was now an officer in the rebel 
 cavalry. 
 
 But if this last fact was remembered, it was as 
 quickly forgotten in a realisation of what chance 
 had brought about for him. He had lingered on 
 the levee now he acknowledged it hugging the 
 hope that he might see her again before leaving. 
 He had seen her, and now she was to be with him, 
 on the same steamer, for hours. He walked on 
 board slowly, his eyes eagerly searching for what 
 he was glad they did not find. 
 
 As he reached the upper deck the pilot of the 
 steamer came over, a tall, lathy fellow, with a cast 
 in one eye. He was reputed to be the best pilot on 
 the river. " Gen'ral goin' up ? " he asked. 
 
 " I believe so," Boone answered. 
 
 " Well, I reckon we oughter get started soon. 
 Might as well git loose anyway," the pilot remarked, 
 and leaned over the railing of the upper deck and 
 began to shout orders. Men on the levee cast off the 
 
 232
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 bow fasts. A bell tingled below, the water was 
 churned up. Deck hands seized the landing stage. 
 But still the steamer hung to the wharf. 
 
 Then down the narrow, dirty street came a square- 
 shouldered man in a long, loose coat, only the star 
 on the straps at his shoulders to indicate his rank. 
 The Captain hastened. But with his foot on the 
 gangplank he was halted. One of his aides, run- 
 ning through the crowd, held out a despatch. The 
 Captain broke the seal, read it twice, and then turned 
 about and sprang on the levee. 
 
 He spoke to the deck-hands and the plank was 
 pulled in. As the steamer began to forge ahead 
 Boone saw the thickset figure toiling up the street. 
 When the town was hid by the trees he found a 
 chair, and with his feet against the rail leaned back ; 
 and for an hour and more the clay banks marched 
 past him and it may have been that he did not 
 see them. He had many things to think about. He 
 started when a hand was laid on his shoulder. 
 " Come forward with the crowd," said a voice. It 
 was one of his fellow officers, and, because he had 
 no good reason to give for refusing, Boone said he 
 would come. 
 
 Forward half a dozen officers tilted their chairs 
 and smoked. They made him welcome, and he 
 tried to fall into the conversation. But his eyes 
 always roved astern, and he was poor company. 
 Presently one of them complained, " The devil of a 
 
 233
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 fellow you are, Boone ! Glum as a jellyfish ! What's 
 the matter?" 
 
 " I know," volunteered another, slyly. He was a 
 big, red-faced Illinois man. " There's a girl aboard. 
 I want to tell you, she's a stunner, boys. One of 
 those beauties. She " 
 
 " There is ? " broke in the first man. " How was 
 it we didn't see her ? A woman aboard and a hand- 
 some one? Ye gods, look at me! " He surveyed 
 ruefully his worn uniform. 
 
 The crowd laughed. The big man returned to 
 his attack. " That's the trouble with Boone. He 
 left his good clothes behind him. Now that he 
 finds she's here " He gave a comical look of 
 despair. 
 
 Boone did not respond. He was sorry he had 
 joined them. " Cheer up," one of them advised. 
 " She'll forgive old clothes. Go over and speak 
 to her. Present us." 
 
 Boone's face hardened, and the speaker subsided. 
 
 But a companion went on. " By the way, she 
 had an escort. And somehow " 
 
 " There they both are now," interrupted the Illi- 
 nois man. Boone looked up. They stood at the 
 end of the hurricane-deck almost immediately above. 
 He could see her profile, the veil raised, a strand of 
 ruddy hair blown across her face. She was looking 
 over the river, pointing at something on the Missouri 
 shore. The wind brought out the full, sweeping 
 
 234
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 lines of her figure, as she stood with arm out- 
 stretched for a moment, unconscious of scrutiny. 
 Then she must have seen them, for she turned 
 quickly, and Philip went with her. The Illinois man 
 heaved a sigh. " I told you she was a "Kentucky 
 beauty," he said. " But the man with her I've 
 seen him before. It isn't a pleasant recollection 
 either, if I'm right." 
 
 " Perhaps you shook hands with him at Belmont," 
 suggested one of the circle, jocosely. They all 
 laughed. The Illinois man carried a bullet away 
 from the retreat at that place. 
 
 The big man brought his feet to the deck with a 
 crash. " Belmont it was ! " he exclaimed. " I'd 
 swear to it. And that fellow wasn't wearing civilian 
 clothes or a blue uniform either then." 
 
 Boone started, but they did not notice it. " That 
 is not unlikely," he remarked, quickly. " You may 
 remember that there were a good many in our ranks 
 at Belmont who didn't wear exactly a uniform. 
 But they fought well. And I know this man. Also 
 I know the lady he is with. You will oblige me 
 by leaving them out of our conversation." There 
 was a glint in his eye which carried plain meaning. 
 
 " Oh, all right, old man, no offence was intended," 
 somebody apologised. But the Illinois man shook 
 his head doubtfully, though he remained silent; and 
 the current of conversation grew almost stagnant 
 for awhile. 
 
 235
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The opportunity came at last, and Boone got up 
 and sauntered away, revolving something in his 
 mind. He walked to the hurricane-deck. It was 
 empty. He went through the cabins. But Philip 
 was not there. And, coming out of a gangway, he 
 was suddenly close to her. She was alone, leaning 
 her elbows on the railing. She heard his footsteps, 
 and looked over her shoulder, then quickly away 
 again. 
 
 He had not meant to speak to her, but now it 
 seemed that it was as well he should. It was a 
 message only. "If I might offer a suggestion," 
 he said, "it is that you remain in the cabin until 
 we reach Girardeau." 
 
 There was no reply, and he repeated what he had 
 said. 
 
 " Are you speaking to me? " she asked, without 
 turning. 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " Then, thank you for the advice." 
 
 " It is not advice. It is a request." 
 
 " A request ? Pardon me. I think you have made 
 a mistake." 
 
 " No, I have not," he said, gravely. " And I 
 must repeat it." 
 
 " You need not do so. I heard what you said." 
 
 " J^nd you intend to remain here?" 
 
 She did not answer, and he went on, " Because, 
 
 236
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 if that is so,* I must remind you that this is a 
 Union steamer." 
 
 " And, on that account, not safe for a lady? " 
 
 His face burned. " It is not wise for you to 
 remain here," he answered. " I ask you to leave 
 the deck until we land." 
 
 He saw her lip curl as she lifted her head. " How 
 long, may I inquire, have you been in charge of 
 this steamer ? " 
 
 " I am not in charge. But I mean what I say. 
 There is a good reason for it, believe me." 
 
 " I am not accustomed to being told I must do a 
 thing. I shall stay here." She turned again to 
 the water. 
 
 After a moment he said, steadily, " I am waiting." 
 
 " Then you are wasting your time," she replied. 
 " If you have said all you have to say " 
 
 " But I haven't. I have asked you to do some- 
 thing. Won't you do it ? " 
 
 " I gave my answer." 
 
 " I cannot accept that answer. I don't want 
 any one else to know " 
 
 " Oh, you don't ! " she interrupted. " You are 
 solicitous." 
 
 " No, merely trying to be of service." 
 
 " You are going out of your way. If / am the 
 object " 
 
 His voice broke in, coldly, " You are not. It is 
 your cousin." 
 
 237
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Did she start? Her face was scarnful as she 
 leaned her back against the railing, a hand resting 
 on either side. " Your sight," she said, " has grown 
 wonderfully sharp since you joined the Yankees. 
 Yes, my cousin is escorting me. I believe that is 
 my affair and his. If you think not, you will find 
 him on the deck aft. He will know how to answer 
 you. Go tell him." 
 
 " I do not intend to do that," he replied. " This 
 is a Union boat; I am a Union officer. I do not 
 choose to know that he Won't you comprehend ? 
 He has been almost recognised already. And he 
 is in the Confederate army." 
 
 At last he saw her falter. But in an instant her 
 head was erect and her eyes flashed back bravely. A 
 sharp pain smote him. " Beatrix ! Beatrix ! " he 
 said, in a low voice. " Do as I ask ! " 
 
 Her arms dropped from the railing, and, for the 
 briefest moment, he saw something in her face which 
 made him lean forward. Then she laughed, " I 
 must do as you demand. Because I am a woman 
 a Mississippi woman, and this is a Yankee boat." 
 She stepped by him into the gangway, and was gone. 
 She did not look at him. 
 
 They were drawing near to Girardeau. Here 
 the channel swung by the Missouri shore. The 
 current raced around a bend and ran strongly across 
 stream. The steamer drew in until she almost 
 rubbed the low wooded bank. 
 
 2 3 8
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 It was growing cold. Boone shook himself and, 
 walking away, mounted to the hurricane-deck. 
 Ahead of him the level rays of the sun flashed in 
 the glasses of the pilot-house, and he made out the 
 pilot standing there, alone, his hands on the wheel. 
 Then in the shadow of the house he thought he 
 saw another figure stealing to the door. The glare 
 of light blinded his eyes. When he looked again 
 the door was closed. But, in the same instant, the 
 figure of the pilot was gone, and the steamer sheered 
 toward the bank. A bell faintly jingled below. 
 
 For a moment Boone waited, uncertain that he 
 was not mistaken. Then he sprang forward, and 
 was at the wheel-house door. It was locked. He 
 dashed to a window. The sash was closed. Inside 
 a man he did not know peered through the west- 
 ern window, holding the wheel down hard. 
 
 Boone drew a pistol. At the same moment shout- 
 ing broke out below. " Look out ! Look out ! Stop 
 her! Back her!" 
 
 Boone smashed the glass with his pistol butt, and 
 thrust the weapon through. But the man at the 
 wheel had pulled open the door, and was running aft. 
 He dashed around and into the wheel-house. The 
 pilot lay on the floor, blood trickling from his head. 
 As his hand fell on the wheel the deck seemed to 
 slide from under his feet. There was a mighty 
 lurch, a jarring in every timber. He was flung 
 against a transom seat. The shrieking of a woman 
 
 239
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 in the cabin and the trampling and shouting forward 
 suddenly ceased. Then came a cry, a cry which 
 pierced the ears and set every nerve quivering, 
 the yelp of a dog magnified a hundredfold. Boone 
 was to hear it many times afterward, and each time 
 it made his heart jump. No genius first gave the 
 rebel yell, but it remains the fiercest cry that comes 
 from human throat. 
 
 He pulled himself to his feet, his head throbbing, 
 and stood by the window, staring forward and below 
 him. The engines had stopped. The bow of the 
 steamer was high up, her nose almost against the 
 bank. The bank was lined with men. Most of them 
 with ragged beards and sallow faces, clad in butter- 
 nut, a few in uniform of the Confederate cavalry. 
 All of them were armed. Into the faces of the 
 Union officers gathered at the rail gaped the muzzle 
 of a six-pound gun. Behind all, the thick woods 
 from which the surprise had been sprung. 
 
 There had been more than one case of piracy by 
 guerillas, but this one, Boone believed, had a bigger 
 purpose. The paymaster's funds were aboard, but 
 it was something else they sought. Rawlins's warn- 
 ings flashed on him. He believed he knew why 
 it was that the tall, dashing fellow in wide hat 
 and high, mud-splashed boots gazed so hard from 
 the bank at the knot of Union officers on the 
 steamer's deck. And, if he was right in this, Boone 
 told himself there was to be a disappointment. For, 
 
 240
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 miles down the river, about this time, the Captain 
 was in a room that overlooked the levee of a dirty 
 little town, busy with his correspondence. 
 
 The Confederates began to clamber aboard. A 
 little huddle of frightened passengers awaited them, 
 a cry now and then coming from the women. It 
 was all over so far as doing anything for the Platte 
 Valley or what she carried. Boone gave a glance to 
 the pilot of the steamer lying on the floor and begin- 
 ning to moan, then slipped out of the house and 
 crawled swiftly aft, and so to the deck below. From 
 up the engine-room companionways poured the engi- 
 neers and stokers. The cabins were unlighted and 
 deserted. No, not quite deserted. There was one. 
 Boone, with a stab of reproach, remembering her, 
 turned into the nearest door and came upon her, 
 standing alone in the dusk. 
 
 " Beatrix," he said. 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried, " what are you here for? " 
 
 " To be with you," he answered, simply. " They 
 have taken the steamer." 
 
 " Then go ! " she said. " Go ! I am not alone. 
 Philip is with me. Go! Go!" 
 
 " Philip is not here." 
 
 " He has gone forward. He will come back at 
 once. I am in no danger. Besides " the entreaty 
 fled from her face "I am a Southern woman. 
 These are Southern soldiers. I do not need your 
 protection." 
 
 241
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " But I will stay," he said, " until your cousin 
 comes." 
 
 "Then it will be too late," she cried. "You 
 must go now. Go, I tell you! I do not want you, 
 do you understand ? " 
 
 He did not answer. Some one was coming 
 along the deck. A voice called, " In here? " 
 
 " You must understand," she said, swiftly, and 
 ran to the doorway. Against the western sky her 
 figure and the figures of the two men who faced 
 her stood out clearly. One of them was her cousin. 
 The other, the tall man in high boots who had been 
 on the bank, now with his hat off and a hand held 
 out, cried her name. And Boone knew him, and for 
 a moment stood unnoticed in the dimness of the 
 cabin, then slipped away, caring little which way he 
 went. 
 
 She had told him to go. Where? He looked 
 across the river. It was too wide to swim. And 
 a hundred feet of water ran between him and the 
 nearer shore. The bank was lined with his enemies. 
 If he trusted himself to the open water they would 
 pick him off at their leisure as he swam. Then a 
 wrathful stubbornness not to be taken rose in him; 
 and, almost at his feet, he saw a chance of escape. 
 
 A rope fender hung over the side of the steamer. 
 He slipped between the rails, caught the rope with 
 his feet, and slid down. As his head passed under 
 the top rail, his cap was brushed off and fell on the 
 
 242
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 deck. It was leaving dangerous evidence behind. 
 At the same moment he saw Beatrix again. She 
 was standing in the gangway. She faced the two 
 men, and he was almost sure she saw him. But as 
 his feet entered the water he heard the sound of foot- 
 steps above, and lowered himself until only his chin 
 was above water. The current sucked him close to 
 the steamer's side. The bend of the hull where it 
 tumbled into the stern hid him from above. So he 
 clung to the trailing end of the rope, and floated. 
 
 He heard men passing and repassing on the deck. 
 They shouted to one another and called to the banks. 
 Once there was a yell of triumph. The paymaster's 
 funds! Half an hour went by. He was growing 
 stiff, the water was icy cold, a breeze played over his 
 shoulders. The noise subsided. 
 
 Then abruptly a voice. The speaker halted above 
 him. He should be on the very spot where the cap 
 lay. Boone waited for a sign of its discovery. But 
 none came. A woman spoke, and he knew it was 
 Beatrix. " If you wait here, they never will find 
 him." 
 
 A man's voice in reply. Boone knew it instantly. 
 " I reckon they'll pull him out. Give them time. I 
 will stay here, if you'll allow me." 
 
 " Oh, certainly, if you wish. But it will soon 
 be dark. This terrible Captain may give you the 
 slip." 
 
 243
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 A laugh. " Don't worry. We have him on the 
 boat. My men will find him." 
 
 Beatrix answered, " You talk as if it did not 
 matter whether you caught him or not. I have 
 heard it said that it would be as good as winning 
 a battle to capture him." 
 
 " So it will be. We have been waiting a long 
 time. The chance only came to-day. We got word 
 from Cairo he would go up this afternoon. I 
 was ordered out. That is the wonderful part of it. 
 You coming on the same steamer. It almost 
 seems " 
 
 " As if it was not as simple as it really is ? You 
 are mistaken. It is very commonplace. Philip was 
 going to St. Louis. I had made a promise to go 
 there. This way suited me best. So I took the 
 first steamer which was sailing. I reckon you can 
 make nothing wonderful out of that. And, if I 
 had known this would happen " 
 
 " You wouldn't have come on her, Beatrix ? " 
 
 " Why should I ? I wish to get to St. Louis. 
 And the hours I have spent since we left Cairo 
 stared at by Yankee officers! Ugh! It has been 
 detestable." 
 
 " They will not stare at you again for some time 
 to come," he remarked. 
 
 " But here I am ! " she said, angrily. " You do 
 not seem to think of that. And I must ride I 
 don't know how far to go on." 
 
 244
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Beatrix." He repeated her name and again, 
 " Beatrix, can't you give a little while to me? It is 
 two months since I saw you." 
 
 " So long, Major Carson. Now, I reckon you're 
 wrong." 
 
 There was a ripple in the water at their feet, but 
 the Mississippi is a mighty stream and keeps its 
 secrets to itself when it wills. The man who rested 
 on its breast loosed his clutch to float away. But 
 he looked across, and he saw that the twilight lay 
 on the surface of the river. And he meant to live. 
 
 Above him there were reproaches, recollections. 
 " I am not wrong. It was a Sunday the last in 
 August. It was at church in Vicksburg. Afterward 
 we walked along Open Woods Street, under the 
 china-trees. We were alone. Don't you remember ? 
 I rode away that afternoon." Then, after a wait, 
 " You do remember, Beatrix. I asked you some- 
 thing. You said you would answer me when I came 
 back. I am going away again in a few minutes. 
 I have waited a long time won't you tell me 
 what I want ? " 
 
 Suddenly a third voice spoke from close at hand. 
 Boone recognised Philip's voice. " Oh, here you 
 are! I've been looking for you. We must be off, 
 Beatrix. I have borrowed a couple of horses. Your 
 brigadier is not on board, Carson." 
 
 "Not on board?" 
 
 " No. Your men have searched everywhere. 
 
 245
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Anyhow, I do not think he is the sort of man to 
 hide to be pulled out. Those Union officers are 
 laughing at you. They say he never came aboard." 
 
 " It seems you are not a success at this sort of 
 thing," Beatrix remarked. 
 
 " That is not fair," Carson protested. " He is 
 on board. You must have seen him." 
 
 " On the contrary," she answered, " I did not 
 see him after we started. I agree with the Yankees 
 you captured. He didn't come on board. You had 
 a man on the steamer, the one who ran us 
 aground. Why didn't he tell you ? " 
 
 " He did," returned Carson, quickly. " He said he 
 saw him at the levee, coming aboard. If he is not 
 here, he got off because he was warned." 
 
 " Warned? " she laughed. " Is that your excuse? 
 Then why did his officers come? And who was 
 to warn him, Philip? I? We neither of us knew 
 of your plan, thanking you for the compliment, 
 Major." 
 
 Suddenly Philip struck a hand on the rail. " But 
 there was another officer on board ! " he cried. 
 " Hadley ! We have all the rest. He must be on 
 the steamer. There is no chance to escape with 
 that light on the river. Stay here, Carson, I know 
 him. We'll find him yet." Boone heard him run 
 along the deck forward. Then there was silence 
 except for the calls of the men from the bank and 
 
 246
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 on the steamer, and the murmur of the stream. 
 Darkness was settling on the river. 
 
 Presently Carson spoke. " Boone Hadley was on 
 the boat with you. You saw him, and he spoke to 
 you. You helped him to escape." 
 
 " Major Carson ! " proudly. 
 
 " Forgive me. I did not mean that. But you 
 did see him. Ah, Beatrix ! I thought " His 
 voice died away. Then he said steadily, and it 
 was almost in Boone's heart to pity him, " Beatrix, 
 be honest with me. Is it still the same way? " 
 
 Boone heard her laugh, though it was very faint. 
 " Do you reckon I could be in love with a Yankee ! 
 I would not give that for him ! " 
 
 Something fell from the deck into the water and 
 floated to Boone's hand. It was his cap. 
 
 247
 
 XV 
 
 THICKER 
 THAN WATER 
 
 THREE days later when Boone landed at 
 Cairo from a down-river steamer, there was 
 an interview with the Captain at which no 
 one else was present. The Platte Valley had pulled 
 off, minus eight Union officers and her gold. The 
 tale of her seizure travelled piecemeal to head- 
 quarters. Boone's report was succinct and strictly 
 official. A few days later a surprise. For important 
 services rendered at various times, a recommenda- 
 tion for an advance in grade for him was to be 
 forwarded to St. Louis. For capacity and because 
 the need was pressing, a place awaited him on the 
 staff and was to be filled within a week. Boone's 
 astounded thanks were silenced with a curt order 
 to report his arrival immediately to his colonel. 
 
 As a result of the experience of the Platte Valley, 
 commerce south of Girardeau was cut off. And 
 thereby the Captain made a host of new and power- 
 ful enemies. It was his first blow at the speculators, 
 the men who use war as a cupper uses a leech; 
 
 248
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and they resented it. Time and time again in the 
 next two years he learned of their enmity. A man 
 may tread his weaknesses under foot, but those 
 who search will always find them in the dust, and 
 his head must be very high if they do not smirch 
 him. 
 
 The Captain's head was not yet so high. Read 
 the newspapers of that year of 1862 if you would 
 learn that his name went no further than the strip 
 of country along the Mississippi where he had com- 
 mand that at St. Louis, where his chief sat, it 
 was no more than those of a dozen in the field 
 who made failures of the splendid campaigns of 
 one who distrusted all who were under him. 
 
 Those who believed in the Captain saw him daily 
 at his desk during these weeks, doing the work of 
 three with letters, telegrams, and maps, watching 
 the drill which seemed eternal, his uniform often 
 discarded for the shabby long overcoat and slouch- 
 hat and boots which were not, but might well have 
 been, the coat and hat and boots of Gravois and 
 Galena days. 
 
 There were others, too, who slowly were learning 
 his worth. Among them the correspondents of the 
 papers which sought to undo what he was trying 
 to accomplish. " The truth," he told them, " always 
 has the right of way." So Rawlins swore and 
 obeyed, and the men who carried their despatches to 
 him for approval smiled, but looked with new respect 
 
 249
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 on the square-shouldered officer with the brown 
 beard and sober face, who talked little, but talked 
 always to the point. 
 
 It was Halleck's order that the army should 
 harbour no fugitive slaves. The Captain carried 
 out the order. But he went no further. The army, 
 he made it understood, was not to be used to hunt 
 out and return these slaves. Then up rose the 
 owners of fugitive negroes along the Mississippi 
 banks, and with them the army contractors who 
 found their cheating stopped. And the Captain 
 heard and was silent while they worked with might 
 and main to destroy him with stories of his tyranny 
 and worse. 
 
 In consequence of which David had a difficult 
 letter to write. 
 
 From St. Louis had come orders to make a big 
 demonstration in Western Kentucky. The story 
 went around that this was only the advance move in 
 a campaign which would bring thirty thousand sol- 
 diers from Missouri. Cairo was thronged with cor- 
 respondents. They understood it was to be a rapid 
 march and a hard one. They made a formal demand 
 on headquarters for horses for their personal use. 
 Rawlins answered that the Captain didn't keep a 
 livery-stable. To which the" same gentleman who 
 had once drawn such a remarkable picture of the 
 Captain returned, drily, " Well, he might as well 
 
 250
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 keep one. There are asses enough around head- 
 quarters." . 
 
 But these were but the amenities of camp life. 
 When Rawlins related the incident, and in pictur- 
 esque vernacular described how he would punish 
 such insolence, the Captain laughed. " Take it easy, 
 Rawlins. It was ' asses/ not an ' ass/ remember." 
 
 The Captain had weightier business than resent- 
 ing hot words. The expedition started through a 
 slough of Kentucky mud. Would-be sutlers and 
 contractors swarmed about headquarters persist- 
 ently. One evening after a hard day's march the 
 Captain called David into the house which had been 
 made headquarters. He had received an application, 
 he said, to supply fodder. He wished it answered. 
 " The application came the day we started," he 
 said. " I held it over. But I can't give the con- 
 tract, and I want you to explain just why I can't. 
 It's from Gravois, and I like to show them up there 
 that I haven't forgotten my neighbours. Answer 
 it to-night." He handed David the letter. It was 
 signed Felix Mayhew. 
 
 David read it. There were very good reasons 
 which he knew, and the Captain did not, why it 
 was not easy for him to write the reply as ordered. 
 He had been struggling with pen and paper for 
 half an hour when Boone entered. " Drop that 
 and join us," he said. 
 
 251
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I can't," answered David. " I'm very busy 
 here with a letter." 
 
 " A letter ? So it is ! " Boone feigned to see it 
 for the first time. He pursed his lips. 
 
 David flushed. " It's an official letter. One from 
 headquarters. Get out, I'm busy." 
 
 " Oh, come on," urged Boone. " Finish it to- 
 night. You'll put your eyes out." 
 
 " I'm bound to stay here," returned David, and 
 bent over his work. It was late when the letter was 
 finished. Its writer, turning in, found Boone al- 
 ready asleep. 
 
 The next morning there was trouble in camp. 
 The woman of the house which had been made 
 headquarters reported to the Captain that her bee- 
 hives had been robbed in the night. She had come 
 upon one of the thieves running away. She would 
 not be able to identify him because of the darkness, 
 but she had demanded which regiment he came from, 
 and he had answered, " The Twenty-second Illi- 
 nois." 
 
 The Captain was wroth. The regiment was 
 drawn up. The regulations against taking private 
 property were read to it. Boone was ordered to 
 make an address. And so he did, reluctantly, but 
 eloquently. The Captain, he told them, was deeply 
 grieved by the occurrence. The Twenty-second had 
 distinguished itself in battle. It was regarded as 
 a regiment of soldiers. Petty stealing was beneath 
 
 252
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 soldiers. The offence could not be passed over. An 
 example must be made. As the guilty persons could 
 not be singled out, a fine of five dollars was imposed 
 on each officer of the regiment and a fine of one 
 dollar on each private. The regiment received its 
 sentence in silence. Then the order to march was 
 given, and the regiment started. 
 
 But a little later, when the Captain rode to the 
 front and passed the Twenty-second, not a cheer 
 was given. Hardly was he out of hearing when 
 a singsong chant began : 
 
 " Who stole the honey?" 
 
 Five hundred voices in unison declared it was 
 stolen by the Captain's staff. 
 
 " Who ate the honey?" demanded the chorus. 
 
 Again the reply, " It was the Captain's staff." 
 
 " But who had to pay for the honey? " wailed 
 the chorus. 
 
 " The Twenty-second Illinois" groaned every 
 man. 
 
 David turned to Boone. "Hear that?" 
 
 Boone nodded. " And it's the truth," he said, 
 sadly. 
 
 "What?". 
 
 "Yes. The staff stole that honey, last night. 
 I was the fellow the old woman caught. And 
 I was ' of the Twenty-second ' lately. Now I've 
 got to square it with the Captain. And oh, Lord! 
 it was poor honey." 
 
 253
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 What the Captain said is not on record. But the 
 fines were not collected, and Boone was in disgrace 
 for a month. 
 
 That great Kentucky campaign will be remem- 
 bered by the campaigners chiefly for its record of 
 mud, yellow mud, black mud, red, sticky mud 
 and rains. In a week the expedition was back 
 at Cairo. That was all there was to it. But the 
 march settled one thing for the Captain. He deter- 
 mined to have that point on the Ohio River which 
 months before he had told David they should control. 
 But first he must take the two big forts which 
 watched it on the south from twin rivers. So he 
 went to St. Louis to try to persuade Halleck to this 
 plan, and took David with him. 
 
 But the military genius at St. Louis who presided 
 over the destinies of those western forces was not 
 easy to see, and often less easy to deal with when 
 seen. While the Captain waited on his decision 
 David went to Gravois. 
 
 As he rode into the settlement it 'satisfied him 
 at first to look at the country-side and recognise 
 the houses which stood out boldly on the ridges, 
 in the winter landscape of a bleak day. It was very 
 good to see them all again. It had been years since 
 he last saw the place, the years which are a month 
 on the calendar, but which those who are away from 
 the spot they love count as years. 
 
 He was passing Colonel Marshall's when one of 
 
 254
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the house servants overtook him, and handed him 
 a note. It was in Kitty's handwriting. " Yes, I 
 am at home," it ran. " And so glad you came to 
 see me. Jackson will take your horse." 
 
 What was there for David to do? He rode up 
 the avenue, and, if a trace of disappointment at his 
 summary invitation lingered with him, Kitty's wel- 
 come dissipated it. " You see," she said, " I saw 
 you coming along the road. It was earlier than 
 I had expected you and I was afraid you might 
 think I was not ready to receive you, and ride on. 
 So I'm glad you came." 
 
 " Kitty," he said, sadly, " I see no change. It is 
 time you were learning." 
 
 " Respect for you ? How can you expect it ? I 
 knew you, David, before you put on a uniform. 
 I never feared you but once. The day you were 
 having such a hard time with that new gun at the 
 Barracks' camp." 
 
 " That is quite a long time back," he remarked. 
 " A good many things have happened since then." 
 
 " For instance? " 
 
 " Oswald's new commission." David was wise in 
 his generation. Her face glowed. Had he heard 
 how Oswald earned the promotion? It was this 
 way. David listened with interest. He had had 
 the impression till now that Oswald was not alone 
 in the action concerned, but his understanding was 
 plainly at fault. Oswald was in imminent danger 
 
 255
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 of being made a brigadier. So the story ran, and 
 he did not interrupt. But presently she offered him 
 the opportunity to ask, " And your father is still 
 in Virginia? " 
 
 She nodded. " He has been home once. He tried 
 to take some one away with him when he went back. 
 Guess who." 
 
 David could not. " The Doctor," she said. 
 " Father was with him a good deal. But the Doctor 
 would not go yet. You can understand why?" 
 
 " I think I can. And he should not go. The 
 army is the last place for him." 
 
 " So Aunt Sarah told him. But that was only one 
 of the reasons she gave. Oh, Aunt Sarah worked 
 hard the moment she saw what was in the wind. 
 And father never suspected till the last that his plans 
 were being undermined by her. When he did! 
 Well, David, I think you know father and Aunt 
 Sarah. The crisis came right here. The Doctor 
 was come to supper with Lee, and father had been 
 out of the room a few minutes. When he came 
 back ! " Kitty cast her eyes to the ceiling. " Lee 
 and I were up-stairs," she explained. " We ran 
 down as fast as we could. But really, David, I 
 expected to find the Doctor pulled apart, and father 
 taking the Confederate half of him out the door, 
 while Aunt Sarah held fast to her share." 
 
 David smiled, but it was with the Doctor himself 
 that his thought was busy. To Colonel Marshall 
 
 256
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and to Miss Sarah Pinckney, those two bitter 
 disputants, all was plain. For the Doctor, he was 
 sure, there had been hours of suffering because he 
 could not see his way, of which they never guessed. 
 
 " I have told you something," said Kitty, stiffly. 
 " I will repeat it if you did not hear." 
 
 David asked her pardon. " The fact is " he 
 went on. 
 
 " The fact is," she broke in, severely, " you are 
 wondering how much longer it will be till you can 
 politely say good-bye. I will help you. Tell Lee 
 I sent you with my compliments. You are so 
 stupid." 
 
 David rose. " All right," he said. " If you put 
 me out I must go. But I shall leave this with you. 
 It is only fair." He laid the note which the servant 
 had given him on the arm of the chair. " I am 
 ' so stupid/ " he added. " I might " 
 
 " What? " She twisted the note in her fingers. 
 
 " Send it to Oswald." 
 
 Her fingers suddenly were still. " David, I want 
 you to promise me that you won't mention this note," 
 she said, with much concern. 
 
 He laughed. " Why, of course, I won't." And 
 then, if it had not been that he was doing what she 
 asked, he would have sworn that she looked disap- 
 pointed. 
 
 But as he galloped along the Gravois road and 
 under the elms which now waved bare branches 
 
 257
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 over the driveway to the big white house he was 
 not concerning himself with reflections on Miss 
 Marshall's conduct. A curious anticipation took 
 hold of him, when he was ushered into the library 
 and found himself in the company of those familiar 
 rows of book-shelves. It may have been vexation 
 at the time he had lost. 
 
 But, David, was it vexation on your face when 
 a white hand lifted the curtain in the doorway and 
 she was standing there? Where was your military 
 bearing fled when she stepped but one pace toward 
 you and made that deep curtsy? How was it that 
 the greeting, " Good evening, Captain," wrought 
 confusion in your countenance ? It was spoken with 
 sobriety. You had been addressed that way for 
 many weeks. 
 
 Yet you halted in your reply. You knew you 
 did and were not ashamed. Perhaps there was a 
 friendly message in the hands she laid in yours 
 which made you forget so quickly that this was an 
 enemy to your cause. However this may have been, 
 a winter evening had never fallen more quickly. 
 There were many things to hear. 
 
 There was the intelligence that the Captain had 
 nearly been captured on a Mississippi steamer. 
 How had she heard that? 
 
 " Why, from Beatrix, to be sure," she answered. 
 "You knew she had been here?" 
 
 " No, I didn't know," he answered. " When? " 
 
 258
 
 " Two months ago now. They came up part way 
 by the river." 
 
 "They?" 
 
 " Captain Randolph," she said, slowly, and then 
 laughing, " How ridiculous that sounds. ' Philip,' of 
 course." 
 
 Of course. What was there in the words which 
 made him repeat them to himself? He did not 
 reply, and she went on, " They came up on that 
 visit which Beatrix had promised to make. You 
 remember I wrote you that she said she would 
 come. She went right through the Union lines, too, 
 as she declared she would. But Well, she could 
 not come alone. So Philip came with her, of course." 
 
 Again that " of course." It was so distinctly 
 irritating that David frowned. But he acquiesced, 
 " I remember now. So she carried out her threat. 
 I wish I had seen her. How long was she here ? " 
 
 " More than two weeks. But Philip was here 
 only a week. You see there was some danger that 
 he might be " She paused. " I forgot you were 
 a Yankee officer," she explained. " I shall tell you 
 no more secrets." 
 
 He answered, stiffly, " No, you had better not if 
 they are secrets. And Mr. Randolph " 
 
 " Captain Randolph." 
 
 " Captain Randolph would be wise not to try 
 to come North again. It is dangerous. Something 
 might happen." He was gazing moodily into the 
 
 259
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 fire, and she regarded him unnoticed. " David," she 
 said, at last, " Philip likes you. He told me of 
 something you did at Belmont. How is it I never 
 heard of it before? " 
 
 "What was it?" 
 
 " It was something you did for the Captain. 
 Philip said it was about as brave a thing as he had 
 ever seen, and he would like to shake your hand 
 for it." 
 
 His face burned now. " Oh, that ! It wasn't 
 anything after all," he said, bluntly. " I didn't have 
 time to think it out. But what he did ! That was 
 different. It was fine." Then, noticing her puzzled 
 brows, " You knew that he was the man who didn't 
 fire at us when he had the chance? " 
 
 " No," she said, quietly. " He did not tell me 
 that." Her eyes were glistening. " David," she 
 added, " you two should be friends." 
 
 " Well, I reckon we are," he declared. " That 
 is, I am his friend as much as any one who is for 
 the Union could be just now." 
 
 " Is it that way even with you? Are we all your 
 enemies and you ours because " She threw out 
 a hand. " Oh, how I hate this war ! " she cried. 
 " How I hate it ! You don't know. You haven't 
 been here. Always some one must be going to fight 
 to die. And the others the ones who stay at 
 home they they break their hearts." 
 
 The Doctor's step in the hallway made her put a 
 
 260
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 quick finger to her lips. Then her hand brushed 
 her eyes, and she called, " In here, father ! " 
 
 " Why, David ! " the Doctor exclaimed. " I never 
 thought of seeing you soon again. It is a night 
 for my dry Catawba. How are you ? " He grasped 
 both of David's hands and took a long look at him. 
 
 But for all the heartiness of this greeting there 
 was something changed. It was in his bearing, in 
 his speech, yet David could not then say what it was. 
 When they were at the table the truth came upon him 
 suddenly. Twice he caught the Doctor's eyes fas- 
 tened on his uniform with a strange look, and, puz- 
 zling over this, suddenly recognised something in the 
 lapel of the Doctor's black coat, and understood. A 
 bit of ribbon the colours of the new Confeder- 
 acy. 
 
 The Doctor saw him stare at it. When they were 
 alone a few minutes later, he said, almost defiantly, 
 " Yes, David, I had no choice. I was born and 
 raised in the South. It was bound to come. One 
 can't tear out one's heart ! " 
 
 David, regarding the slender, bowed figure, noted 
 with what new brilliancy the eyes sparkled behind 
 the glasses. "Are you going?" he asked. 
 
 " Not now, not now. Not till I must. Lee 
 would be alone. And I couldn't expect to last 
 long." 
 
 " Anyhow, there are younger men. And you " 
 
 " I am not too old to be of service to my 
 
 26l
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 South," the Doctor hastened to say. " When the 
 time comes, and they need me, I will go." 
 
 "But Lee!" 
 
 The Doctor's fingers played tremblingly with a 
 button of his waistcoat. " No, no," he said. " You 
 must not put it that way. I can never forget her. 
 I am an old man, David, in some ways I am very 
 old. Everything is behind me except her. Do 
 you think then that I could forget her? Do you 
 think I would say yes, if there was anything else 
 for me to say ? " 
 
 " No," David answered, after a little silence. 
 " No." He covered the Doctor's hand with both 
 of his own. 
 
 In his heart, on his lips it was to speak of a 
 promise which he had given long ago, and to say 
 that wherever he might be, whatever might happen, 
 she would always have one to whom she might turn. 
 But on the lapel of the black coat was a bit of 
 bright ribbon to remind him that between them had 
 fallen the shadow of a figure with a sword. With 
 that before him what were the words into which 
 he could put his compassion? If it were not for 
 himself and for others, this anguish of an old man 
 might never have been. When he went away, only 
 the long, close grasp of his fingers had spoken for 
 him. 
 
 But it may be the Doctor remembered the promise 
 and understood. He went with David to the door, 
 
 262
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and watched him mount and ride away. Lee, a hand 
 on her father's shoulder, called, " Good-bye, David ! 
 Good-bye, Captain! " and the Doctor fancied some- 
 thing made her press a little closer to him. He put 
 an arm about her. They walked inside, hand in 
 hand. There she slipped from him quickly and to 
 the fire where she stood looking down and saying 
 nothing. When she came over to say good night, 
 he held his arms open for her, and nestled his cheek 
 against her head. His fingers patted the curls with 
 little, gentle touches, and after a moment he said, 
 " We two have been together a good many years, 
 dear." 
 
 " Why, yes, father." She lifted her face and 
 kissed him. Her arms clung to his neck. " Yes, 
 yes, yes," she repeated, and each time she spoke 
 the word more slowly. Then she put a hand on 
 either side of his face and looked at him with brave 
 eyes, a smile upon her quivering lips. " But not 
 nearly so many years as we will be together," she 
 told him. 
 
 " I hope so, if you are happy. But it might 
 be " He paused, then spoke one word 
 "David?" and waited. 
 
 " David," she answered. " We have known him 
 a long time as long as I remember. And I have 
 been happy, very happy, you know that." Suddenly 
 she drew her hands away and slipped from the room. 
 
 263
 
 XVI 
 
 DONELSON 
 
 AROUND moon sailed above the Tennessee 
 hills and struck black shadows from the tree- 
 trunks on a ridge. It whitened the face of 
 a man sleeping below. It sifted through the with- 
 ered leaves of a bush near by and crept beneath the 
 hat-brim of another sleeper. It gleamed on the 
 bayonet of a gun and picked out a sword scabbard 
 propped against a log. Its beams travelled to the 
 south along the crest of that ridge and the next 
 and the next until they glimmered in the bosom of 
 a winding river. It travelled to the north along 
 the ridges until it reached the river again. Under 
 every tree and bush and in .the open it bathed the 
 figures stretched upon the ground, and glinted on 
 musket, bayonet, and sword, and burnished the 
 cannon masked by rocky ledges and piles of earth. 
 Fifteen thousand men lay on the semicircle of 
 these ridges, at their feet a breadth of broken land, 
 stripped of trees. On the other side of this middle 
 ground and opposite the lines rose a steep slope. 
 
 264
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Crowned it a massive fort, a necklace of rifle-pits 
 and barriers of pointed tree-trunks and branches 
 flung about its shoulders. In the fort and in those 
 curving ugly trenches of freshly turned clay lay 
 twenty thousand more men. And the moon looked 
 down on them, and bathed their gray coats as softly 
 as it had the men in blue. A shell fled shrieking 
 overhead and now and then a word passed along the 
 line of sleepy men who watched on either side. 
 Then there was silence again. 
 
 Behind one of the ridges a man sat in the room 
 of a farmhouse, and smoked, and studied a map. 
 His head ached and he frowned at the messages 
 which came to him from the north and the west. 
 A device of gold braid shone on his shoulder- 
 straps. At his word on the next day the fifteen 
 thousand were to rise and fall on the twenty thou- 
 sand a mile away. Lightnings had played across 
 that mile of broken ground the day before. The 
 soil had been pressed by hurrying feet, when the 
 night came, the night of St. Valentine's Day, and 
 the hospital shelters were full, and the twenty 
 thousand were in their zigzag trenches at the foot 
 of the slope and on the side and in the fort at its 
 top. And the fifteen thousand stretched themselves 
 on the ridges and forgot the day. Then came the 
 frost, and the wounded wlho had not been found, 
 froze, and the sleepers huddled their knees and rolled 
 back to back, and knew that it was very cold. 
 
 265
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The man in the overcoat folded the map and put 
 it away. Then he wrote a message. " Take it to 
 Commodore Foote," he said. " Report when the 
 men are off the boats." 
 
 David took the message and rode to the north. 
 The road was harrowed with ruts, stiff as iron. A 
 gale swept across the river, the spits of snow cut 
 like a lash. As he crossed the highway to Fort 
 Henry, which the Captain had captured one week 
 before, Donelson's grim shape loomed through the 
 darkness. Fort Henry had been a matter of an 
 hour and a half and the pounding of the heavy 
 guns of the fleet. Donelson was a bigger task. 
 " We must have it," the Captain had said on the 
 day Fort Henry surrendered. " I don't know how 
 strong it is, but I believe we can take it. And fif- 
 teen thousand men against it now are as good as 
 fifty thousand a month hence." 
 
 From St. Louis came an order. " Hold on to 
 Fort Henry, and intrench. Picks and shovels are 
 on the way." When this order reached the Captain 
 he was in front of Donelson, and the guns and mus- 
 kets were speaking for them. David's lips twisted 
 at the recollection. The Captain could not drive 
 slaves at Gravois. But this was war, and he had 
 a faculty of moving swiftly in the field and doing 
 things as soon as he made up his mind that they 
 should be done. 
 
 Abruptly the river broke into view. It was a 
 
 266
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 flat place and swarmed with men. They formed 
 from the steamers, muskets at a slope, and marched 
 off in the darkness, south. He had passed many of 
 them on the road. The gunboats lay out on the 
 river, six great turtles sheathed with iron. He 
 went aboard the headquarters boat, and found the 
 commodore, a man with a square head, and open 
 eyes, and strong nose, a fringe of whiskers about 
 cheek-bones and chin. A face that might have been 
 carved out of a board, yet with a promise of purpose 
 in the mouth and of thought in the eyes which fur- 
 nished excuse for the name, " Deacon." 
 
 Boone had nicknamed him that. He had been 
 sent to him at Cairo and was with him there for 
 two days. " I went to church there with him," 
 Boone related. " The minister didn't arrive. The 
 commodore waited awhile, then he stepped into the 
 pulpit. And he preached us a sermon. Such a 
 sermon! I tell you it came right out of his heart, 
 and went into ours. Some of them laugh at him, 
 but he's got the right kind of Christianity for me. 
 We had a blessing at every meal on his boat. It 
 wasn't long, but it was straight out. He fights the 
 same way. When the rebel Tilghman came aboard 
 to give up his sword at Fort Henry, the commodore 
 told him he did the right thing. ' But I would not 
 have surrendered to you. I'd have gone to the 
 bottom first,' he said." 
 
 David delivered his orders. The commodore 
 
 267
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 read them and immediately inquired about the Cap- 
 tain's losses. " Too bad, too bad," he said. " Poor 
 fellows! We were delayed. Some of the steamers 
 were slow. This gale made it harder. But we will 
 have all ashore by morning. Then we will see what 
 our guns can do." 
 
 That afternoon David saw what they could do. 
 It was a stand-up fight, and shells burst in the 
 yellow trenches and shot bored the rebel earthworks. 
 But Donelson stood. A rain of iron poured on 
 the metal-backed turtles and drilled their bodies 
 and dismounted their guns. They drifted down 
 the stream. At midnight the commodore sent a 
 message to the Captain, " Won't you come aboard 
 as soon as you can ? I am disabled and cannot come 
 to you." 
 
 The Captain came, spattered with mud, chewing 
 a cigar, but with a face unperturbed. " You've had 
 some rough handling," he said. " You've had your 
 personal share of it, too, by the looks of things. 
 We'll have to give up the attack from the river." 
 
 After a few minutes consultation he turned to 
 David. " I will start back at once." 
 
 A cold light was creeping over the hills to the 
 east, and the chill mists writhed in the morning 
 breeze. It was very still. They rode slowly. Sud- 
 denly the Captain pulled up his horse. A sullen 
 boom echoed from the banks ahead. Then came 
 another roar and another. The horses plunged for- 
 
 268
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 ward together on the rough road. A mile passed, 
 and a horseman shot around the bend ahead. Boone 
 had ridden hard. " They are attacking us on the 
 right," he cried. The Captain's yellow horse rushed 
 past him as he spoke, and Boone and David spurred 
 behind him for the rest of the way. The guns shook 
 the air more heavily, but as they crossed the creek 
 at headquarters the thunder of these ceased, and 
 only a crackling fire from distant points marked 
 the places of attacks. 
 
 Round the curving front of the Union forces 
 the Captain rode, his eyes sweeping each position, 
 satisfied with what he saw until he reached that 
 point on the right where the line drew close to the 
 river. There was confusion, broken ranks ; the signs 
 of doubt and fear and panic almost were plain to 
 any one. A little knot of men leaned on muskets 
 near where the yellow horse came to a standstill, his 
 flanks heaving, his head sunk. The Captain heard 
 their talk : " We are beaten. They have come 
 out to fight as long as there is any light to fight by. 
 They've got their knapsacks on, and they're filled." 
 
 The Captain spoke. " How do you know that ? " 
 
 A soldier replied, " We've taken prisoners. I 
 saw one of their knapsacks. It was full of grub." 
 
 " Bring me a couple." 
 
 He opened a knapsack and spilled its contents; 
 another and did the same. " They are filled," he 
 said. His eyes gleamed. He turned on the nearest 
 
 269
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 officer it was the commander at that point. He 
 spoke so that all about him could hear. " Men 
 who are defending a fort don't carry three days' 
 rations on their back. They are trying to cut their 
 way out. Whoever attacks now will whip. Be 
 ready!" 
 
 The yellow horse swung round and galloped back 
 along the front. Its rider's voice rang out as he 
 passed each command, " We will attack at once. 
 The enemy is trying to escape." 
 
 David, Boone, staff-officers, aides, rode swiftly up 
 and down, and the word was passed. The lines of 
 blue reformed. They advanced. A red gush of 
 fire tinted the mists which still hung in places. An 
 answering flash leaped from the fort. The lightnings 
 played, and more fiercely now, from ridge to ridge, 
 and level sheets of flame streamed from the banks of 
 clay upon the slope. The thunders rolled; a mil- 
 lion pieces of tinware crashed to the ground at 
 once. A man cried out and withered at the knees 
 to flatten in a limp heap. Another stopped abruptly 
 with his musket stiffly raised, then fell full length. 
 A gap opened in the line of blue, and closed again. 
 A dozen men fled, and, knocking them aside, tramp- 
 ling them under foot, a score of others plunged into 
 the clouds of yellow smoke which spread a canopy 
 above the batteries on either side and rolled on 
 to the lower ground, biting the tongue, choking 
 the throat, blinding the men who struggled for- 
 
 270
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 ward and were beaten back. But the blue line won 
 ground. 
 
 At last night came and hung a curtain between, 
 and the moon's white fingers stole over the faces 
 of men who slept. Some of them stirred at the 
 cool touch and parted cracking lips and moaned. 
 Some did not move and stared at the skies. In the 
 eyes of these was eternal peace. 
 
 That night within Donelson a traitor and a 
 weak man showed their colours, and a brave man 
 proved his bravery by mercy. A war council had 
 been called. Buckner was there, a veteran of the 
 Mexican war; Floyd was there, that Secretary of 
 War who had crippled his country, as he thought, 
 before he told Buchanan that he would be Secretary 
 of War no longer; Pillow was there, who grew 
 an inch taller each time he reflected on his military 
 services. Another man was there, but he was not 
 consulted: a tall, bearded man, the hardest rider, 
 the best bulldog in the rebel army, as shrewd in 
 war as he was ignorant in letters, Forrest, the 
 raider. 
 
 Floyd was the senior in command. " The fort 
 must be surrendered," he said. " But I cannot do it. 
 I stand peculiarly toward the government at Wash- 
 ington. I turn the command over to General 
 Pillow." 
 
 The delicate honour so conveyed pricked the 
 
 271
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 bubble of Pillow's conceit. " I must decline," he 
 declared. " My relations with the Federal govern- 
 ment would interfere with anything which was to 
 be done. General Buckner should command." 
 
 Simon B. Buckner was of fighting breed. He 
 did not say much. Pillow asked, " I may go now ? " 
 
 " Yes," answered the Kentuckian. " And you had 
 better lose no time." 
 
 Forrest's eye lightened. " What are you going to 
 do?" 
 
 " Surrender. We must do that in the end. I 
 am not willing to shed more blood uselessly." 
 
 "I thought it was to be fight," said Forrest. 
 " If it isn't, I wish to get out with my command." 
 
 Buckner told him he had permission to do so, 
 and the cavalryman strode from the room. 
 
 A little before daylight a darkey was brought to 
 the Union headquarters, a deserter from the fort. 
 Headquarters was a cabin on the left of the front. 
 It snowed hard in squalls that night and the wind 
 whistled through the cracks in the shanty wall. 
 The Captain, his back propped against a post, had 
 pulled his hat down and turned the collar of his 
 coat up; and by these signs tried to believe that 
 he was warm. His brain ached with the noise and 
 strain of the day's fighting, his head, sunk between 
 his shoulders, made them think that he was asleep 
 when they brought the deserter in. But in an 
 
 272
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 instant he had straightened his back, and kicked 
 the smouldering log into a blaze. He listened to 
 the story. 
 
 Donelson, so the deserter said, was being evac- 
 uated. General Floyd and General Pillow already had 
 escaped on steamers with ten thousand men (it was 
 three thousand) and gone down the river (it was 
 up). General Forrest was starting to cut his way 
 out along the river-bank to the south with five 
 thousand more (it was a thousand). But the darkey 
 tried to tell the truth. The Captain looked at him 
 with eyes which were danger lamps. " We will hang 
 you if you are lying," he said. 
 
 " Dat's so, Gen'ral," was the answer. " Fse tol' 
 de truf. Dey's been 'scapin' all night." 
 
 " Rawlins," the Captain said, " we will trust 
 him. Warn McClernand to stop Forrest if he can. 
 Send word to Smith to attack at dawn, and the rest 
 to assault at the sound of the first gun." 
 
 So Boone posted hard for McClernand and the 
 right, and having delivered his message rode on 
 along the curving line of the Union front, carrying 
 the warning; and so at last, in a spirit of adven- 
 ture, came out beyond the furthest picket, a quarter 
 of a mile from where the river glimmered ghostlike 
 through the falling snow. 
 
 The back water, black and forbidding, crusted 
 with ice, spread inland to the north. Across it he 
 could faintly see the firmer ground of a slope, sprin- 
 
 273
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 kled with trees and bushes. Stifl and deserted it 
 all was, and war seemed very far from the spot. 
 As he surveyed it a dull continuous drumming grew 
 on his hearing, and toward the river he fancied 
 that a darker shadow crept over the watery land. 
 A scurry of wind drove the snow down thickly 
 and blinded him. He strained his vision, a hand 
 over his eyes. And all at once he brought his 
 horse's head up with a jerk and struck spurs. This 
 should be Forrest escaping and nothing less. His 
 mount plunged forward. It had not made a dozen 
 strides when dark shapes suddenly rose before it, 
 and Boone, unseated by a violent sideways leap, 
 crashed to the ground. 
 
 He knew he was a prisoner before he realised 
 how he came to be thrown. Astride of his horse, 
 but with two mounted figures shrouded in gray 
 capes on either hand, a pistol drawn on him, in ten 
 minutes he was moving beside the long, winding 
 column of cavalry to near its head, where rode a 
 tall man, his booted legs braced forward, the closely 
 buttoned overcoat, belted at the waist to hold a 
 brace of long revolvers and a heavy sabre, showing 
 the lines of his powerful figure. His waving black 
 hair under the soft hat and his cropped chin-beard 
 and moustache were frozen in stiff locks, his sallow 
 face was stung by the cold to a brick red. He beat 
 his gauntleted hands together, and from beneath 
 shaggy brows bent a look on Boone. His voice was 
 
 274
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 harsh, " Take him to the rear. If he tries to run, 
 cut him down. No shooting." It was Forrest in 
 an hour of danger and decision. 
 
 There was no time and no need for words. The 
 important fact was he was travelling south and 
 with a first-rate chance of seeing all that was to 
 be seen of the world for weeks, perhaps for months, 
 through the barred window of a Confederate prison. 
 Curiously enough the thought which insisted on in- 
 teresting him most was, how Rawlins would swear 
 at the idiot who called himself a staff- 
 officer and let the rebels make a 
 
 prisoner of him! 
 
 Three miles behind Boone at that hour, on a 
 cracker-box turned upside down, a thick-set man 
 shivered in the cold and by the gray light of dawn 
 read a letter which had just been handed him, then 
 passed it to the officer who stood beside him. 
 " What do you think of that ? " he asked. 
 
 " I would not consent to an armistice. They will 
 surrender anyhow." 
 
 The Captain nodded. And with his knee for a 
 desk he wrote a brief note. In it were these words : 
 " No terms except an unconditional and immediate 
 surrender can be accepted. I propose to move imme- 
 diately upon your works." 
 
 Two hours later a good-looking, stout man with 
 broad, low brow and gray hair, moustache, and whis- 
 
 275
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 kers sat at one side of a breakfast-table in Donel- 
 son. He was resplendent in a uniform of blue and 
 gold. A black hat, with curling plume, was care- 
 fully laid on a near-by chair. This was Gen. S. B. 
 Buckner, C. S. A. Opposite to him sat a short man 
 of middle height with a plain face in which the only 
 noticeable features were the very tired but deter- 
 mined gray-blue eyes, and a square jaw which even 
 the uneven beard of brown did not hide. His 
 uniform was a soldier's cape overcoat, which was 
 tossed over the back of a chair. He wore a suit 
 of blue which looked suspiciously as if it had been 
 slept in. 
 
 " If I had been in command in the fort from the 
 first," said the stout gentleman, " we would never 
 have surrendered like this." 
 
 " No," answered the plain man. " In that case, 
 I would have had to wait. But I would have taken 
 the fort in the end just the same." 
 
 276
 
 XVII 
 
 WHAT A 
 LAME MAN DID 
 
 HOW sagely the Doctor arranged it all! 
 " Lee," he said, " I think you had better 
 go down and see Old Betty. She is com- 
 plaining sorely this morning, and can hardly turn 
 in bed. Perhaps you can comfort her, poor soul." 
 
 Lee said she would go, of course, at once. She 
 lowered the paper she was reading. It gave the 
 first news of Shiloh, which set it forth there as 
 a victory for the South. There was a list of the 
 dead and wounded so far as known. The little 
 double rank of names left dreadful doubts. The 
 paper was folded carefully, so that half a minute 
 passed before she turned to leave the room. In 
 that time she noted two things. Her father contin- 
 ued to repeat hurriedly the particulars of Old Betty's 
 condition, and all the while his back remained stead- 
 ily turned. She understood, and her heart choked 
 her. For weeks she had refused to acknowledge 
 the inevitable truth. Now it was upon her. She 
 looked back for an instant from the doorway. He 
 
 277
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 was bending over a table. " Lee," he said, in a 
 low voice. She did not answer. She knew that he 
 wished to learn if she had really gone; he was afraid 
 to turn about until she had. 
 
 Down the path to the quarter she walked slowly 
 through the rain. From the direction of the river 
 rolled banks of low-lying clouds, and the earth 
 steamed and sent up its own thick mist. Suddenly 
 out of this obscurity came the gaunt person of 'Lias. 
 He was going toward the house. " Has the Doctor 
 sent for you ? " she asked. 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " Told me to come up to the 
 house in about five minutes." 
 
 " 'Lias," she said, " he is going to tell you some- 
 thing which I know already, but you must not let 
 him suspect that I know. If he does, if he seems to 
 ask you a question, 'Lias, you must not think of 
 me. Remember that." She passed him swiftly, and 
 his confused question was not answered. 
 
 Old Betty was sick, very sick and querulous. " De 
 misery's done sho' got Ole Betty dis time," she said, 
 over and over again. " Dey ain't no use nussin' er 
 givin' dem doctor cures." Even the presence of 
 " Mis' Lee, " and the touch of the cool hand and 
 the cheering words of comfort which were wisely 
 never too optimistic, failed this time to brighten 
 the spark of determination which, for five years 
 past, again and again had been sufficient to rekindle 
 the lamp of a life of four score years and ten, each 
 
 278
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 time just at the moment when its possessor had 
 decided that she " wuz done tired libbin' anyhow." 
 So desperate did the case seem to be that Lee found 
 in it a hope that, after all, she had not been sent 
 away from the house for another reason besides. 
 
 But the moment she crossed the threshold of the 
 library door and saw him seated in the big rocking- 
 chair by the fire, she knew better. He called to 
 her, almost as if he did not want her to hear, and she 
 went to him. On its broad arm she leaned against 
 him, and her cheek upon his head. She did not 
 mean he should see her face. He needed all her 
 help, and her face could not help him. 
 
 For a little while neither of them spoke. But Lee, 
 your arm! How softly it pressed him! It came 
 near to undoing all that those weeks of hard-bought 
 silence by both of you, had enabled him to do. 
 He felt its warmth creeping into his heart, and a 
 voice called to him so loudly that he trembled and 
 drew you closer a moment. Then he spoke. " There 
 has been another battle in Tennessee." 
 
 " Yes, a great victory for the South." How 
 quickly she said that! Perhaps he had not read 
 its full meaning. Perhaps if he was encouraged ? 
 But she never deceived herself. 
 
 " They say it is a victory," he answered. " But 
 the fighting is not over. And Shiloh is very much 
 further south than Donelson." 
 
 279
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Of course. All the battles cannot be in one 
 place. Maybe the next one will be in Missouri." 
 
 " No," he said, and it had never been so hard 
 to acknowledge this to himself. " The war is not 
 coming North. It is moving into the South, and 
 we are losing." 
 
 " The South is only beginning to fight. It will 
 do better soon. There are many of its men " She 
 stopped there, and she tried to find quickly enough 
 the word which might carry them both over the 
 danger-spot. But she could not, and she knew the 
 chance was gone for ever when he said, " That is it, 
 dear. The South has men who have not fought for 
 it yet. It needs them all. I am one." 
 
 Her arm tightened convulsively about his neck, 
 and her lips pressed hard against his forehead. But 
 she did not speak. And the arm which was about 
 her shoulders slipped down and drew her over, 
 over so that she lay against his breast, and he looked 
 down into her white face and the gray misty eyes 
 a moment, then strained her to him. Perhaps he 
 did not say the words, but both heard them. " Lee, 
 I must go." 
 
 Then there was another minute when she heard 
 only his heart, and he hugged her to him, and twenty 
 years and more were fled away, and the soft hair 
 against which he laid his cheek seemed to be the 
 yellow curls of a baby, and he was crooning over 
 and over again : 
 
 280
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Down in the coal mines underneath the ground, 
 Dusky, dusky diamonds, all the year around." 
 
 Monotonous words, words strung together and little 
 more. But eyelids had always dropped reluctantly at 
 their bidding. And " Hush ! " she was almost asleep 
 now. 
 
 But she loosed herself gently and raised her head. 
 She laid one hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were 
 not clouded, only a brave little quiver at her lips. 
 " When is it to be, father? " she asked. 
 
 " Now. To-morrow, if I can go. I have told 
 'Lias." 
 
 " Yes, I know. You can trust him. He will take 
 care of me till you come back." 
 
 The sorrow of separation is of two kinds. The 
 sorrow of the one who goes, and the sorrow of the 
 one who is left ; and of these, the sorrow of the one 
 who is left is poignant with recollections of which 
 the other knows nothing. There was the path wind- 
 ing among the orchard trees of the sunny slope be- 
 hind the house, and hidden almost by the grass 
 which bent from either side and knotted across it. 
 More times than she could count did she stand where 
 it began and see standing under one of the low- 
 crooked boughs of the apple-trees the tall, slender 
 figure with stooping shoulders, the black coat where 
 a handkerchief hung from the pocket of its tails. 
 She would close her eyes and say, " Father, dear, 
 
 28l
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the handkerchief! You have forgotten again. 
 Some day you will lose it." Did she hear him 
 answer? She did as surely as he turned his face, 
 smiling ruefully, " Why, so I have, sweetheart. 
 What would I do without you? " Then they linked 
 arms yes, linked arms, and walked together back 
 to the house. And there he was gone. Then 
 she would drop on the floor beside his chair the 
 high rocker with its sagging bottom of rush 
 and put her head down on the arm. And perhaps she 
 was with him again. At last she would look up 
 at the picture above the mantel-shelf with eyes 
 bravely shining, and speak quite steadily, " I 
 wanted you to go. Yes, I did. But you will come 
 back. I know you will." After this Mammy Rachel 
 often would hear her singing, and would shuffle 
 about the kitchen, grumbling to herself. If 'Lias 
 came in there he was sure to be set upon with a 
 storm of reproaches and reflections upon his lack of 
 usefulness in the human scheme, which drove him 
 astounded and angry from the house. 
 
 Letters came back, of course. One from Nash- 
 ville, another from a little town in Mississippi. 
 After that, no letter for a month. Then one written 
 near the Memphis and Charleston railroad. He was 
 serving with General Sterling Price, and had been 
 given a captain's commission. It was a long letter, 
 and almost altogether about the country through 
 which they were moving, and the indomitable spirit 
 
 282
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 of the men. Apparently there were no hardships. 
 It would seem, they marched on well-kept roads, and 
 everywhere had plenty to eat. There was sunshine, 
 too, every day, or, when it rained it was just enough 
 to cool the air and keep away the dust. Lee, in the 
 scorching heat of that summer, read this again and 
 again. It seemed to her the bravest letter ever writ- 
 ten. 
 
 Other letters there were which she had come to 
 expect. They were posted at all sorts of places, 
 and came to hand often two at a time, though dated 
 weeks apart. They glowed with the ardour of a 
 cause. She read one of them to Kitty. It was an 
 exchange for selected portions from a letter from 
 Oswald. Kitty, with demure eyes, remarked, " And 
 not a word about himself, or you?" 
 
 " Only what I have read." 
 
 " Hm. Mr. I mean Major Randolph has 
 changed, hasn't he? " 
 
 " I don't see that he has." 
 
 " Well, maybe not, but " And then Kitty pur- 
 sued, wickedly, " I saw him only a few times. The 
 last time he came in disguise. And there was some 
 danger of his being arrested if he had been caught. 
 But, of course, the news he brought made it quite 
 worth while. It was about the fight at some place 
 in Kentucky, wasn't it?" 
 
 " I do not remember that he came to bring special 
 news," said Lee, and she dared her inquisitor to go 
 
 283
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 on, with an intent gaze which would have discon- 
 certed most persons. 
 
 Kitty carefully removed an infinitesimal speck of 
 dust from her gown. " Oh ! " she responded, and 
 repeated " Oh ! " in a tone a shade lower. Then 
 she remarked it appeared to be anything but apro- 
 pos " Where is David now ? " 
 
 The stare was intensified. " Katherine," said Lee, 
 quietly, " I have not heard from David for six 
 weeks " 
 
 " Counting from to-day? " 
 
 " You have probably noted that, in the record 
 of my correspondence which you appear to keep. 
 If you have not, and it is essential you should know, 
 I will fetch his letter." 
 
 " Oh, don't bother yourself. It would probably 
 be hard to find. I was interested only because 7 have 
 not forgotten David." 
 
 " If you mean," said Lee, " that I have, you are 
 mistaken." 
 
 Kitty rose. " My dear, whatever put that into 
 your head? And of course Major Randolph writes 
 of David constantly. They have interests in com- 
 mon." 
 
 " Nonsense," said Lee to herself, afterward, and 
 " Nonsense," again. Philip might think what he 
 pleased. And as for David She shut her lips 
 tight. She had forbidden herself to reflect on that. 
 There was a point at which pride said no. David 
 
 284
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 was her friend, and he would always be. But Philip ? 
 There were things she wished for him. If they 
 could be, she might He was a gentleman always, 
 gallant, thoughtful of her pleasure, and brave. That 
 journey through the lines! Yes, it had been to see 
 her. He had made no concealment of its purpose. 
 Yet he spoke of it lightly. And, when he found 
 that it was only to be disappointed, how gallantly 
 he had borne himself! She had seen the light die 
 in his face and his lip tremble, but in an instant he 
 had given his head a toss, and said, gaily, " Now, 
 I was most aw-dacious, wasn't I? But I couldn't 
 just help it, you see." And then, his eyes very ten- 
 der, he had raised her hand to his lips and kissed 
 her fingers " But I will never give you up, 
 dear." 
 
 285
 
 XVIII 
 
 OLD FACES 
 
 IN STRANGE PLACES 
 
 A CROW sat on a fence and cocked its head 
 at something beneath its perch. Then it slid 
 to the ground and plucked at what lay there. 
 It tugged hard and tore it loose, and flapped away 
 with a hoarse croak of delight. From its beak 
 dangled a frayed strip of bleached blue cloth, a 
 tarnished brass button at the end. Even now at 
 September's clos"e, if one knew where to look for 
 them, there were souvenirs to find of those two 
 fierce days which wrote Shiloh's name among the 
 great battles of the world, and made a graveyard 
 of the fields and woods and bluffs which lay within 
 the crook of the broad Tennessee and the sluggish 
 waters of Snake Creek. Grass had grown and with- 
 ered over the graves, and leaves had come and now 
 were sailing down upon them in the autumn breeze. 
 Six months! As many as a thousand worlds, it 
 might be, had been blotted out in that time, and no 
 one missed them. Shiloh was never forgotten only 
 in the cabin of the prairie and backwoods, and in the 
 
 286
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 home in some city street where a cap of blue or 
 gray, or a sheathed sword, perhaps, was put away, 
 and often some one came to touch them with caress- 
 ing fingers and to talk to them in the language which 
 only the living and their dead may understand. 
 
 David had many a stirring, many a sad memory 
 of those two days in April, but so much had hap- 
 pened since Donelson's fall that even Shiloh was 
 but one of the train of events which marked the 
 slow movement of war southward, and in which 
 he played his part. 
 
 First had come Boone's disappearance, next, after 
 two weeks, word of him brought by an escaped 
 prisoner. They were taking him further south. 
 Then, after another long wait, a letter written very 
 fine on a piece of whitey-brown paper, crumpled and 
 dirty. It had passed through many hands. He was 
 well, though his quarters were narrow. " But I 
 have company," he wrote. " Some of it welcome, 
 though we are packed in like toy soldiers in a box. 
 At night one of us gives the word, and we all roll 
 over together. It is the only way. Some of the 
 company is unwelcome. ' The wicked flea when no 
 man pursueth,' was never written of this place. I 
 hold the record. Two hundred and sixty-eight inno- 
 cent lives I snuffed out in one day. But it is that, 
 or be eaten up alive, and I yet have hopes." 
 
 The Captain said he would obtain an exchange 
 at the first opportunity. But it was not easy, and the 
 
 287
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 weeks rolled by, and but one more letter came. David 
 wrote many times, but there was no way of knowing 
 that his letters ever reached Boone. 
 
 Four days after Donelson the Captain was made 
 a major-general, and the Captain's wife with his 
 children came to see him. Some one congratulated 
 her on his new rank. " My husband," she replied, 
 " has ability. He is capable of filling any position 
 he is given. He will go much higher than this." 
 She looked very proud and happy, and the Captain 
 was proud and happy, too. But, as always, he 
 showed it only in the quiet satisfaction of his voice. 
 He swung his youngest child to his shoulders and 
 trotted up and down. To David's vision an axe 
 lay in the hollow of the other arm, and behind all 
 were the oak and elm of the Gravois woods. Next 
 came that unfortunate visit to Nashville. The Cap- 
 tain went to confer with General Buell. He returned 
 from it to hear he was in disgrace with his chief 
 for leaving his command, arid inside of a month 
 had proof of this in an order to remain where he 
 was and place another man in charge of his expe- 
 dition to Corinth. 
 
 David saw something strange the night that order 
 came, tears in the Captain's eyes. He saw them 
 but once again, and that was when the news arrived 
 of the gallant McPherson's death. But there was 
 one who remembered the Captain's services. He 
 was a man, they say, who never forgot. And from 
 
 288
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Washington came word to St. Louis : " The Presi- 
 dent wishes the whole truth." The whole truth 
 was that the Captain was doing his duty in his own 
 fashion straightforwardly, determinedly. Even 
 St. Louis could not deny this when pressed. 
 
 So the Captain was restored to his own again. 
 And in the very nick of time. North like a hawk 
 came the Confederate leader, Albert Sydney John- 
 ston, and with him Beauregard, who promised his 
 men, that Saturday in April, that next day he would 
 water his horse in the Tennessee or in hell ; Hardee, 
 low-browed and heavy, who had arranged the rules 
 by which the game of war was supposed to be 
 played; and Bragg, shambling and shaggy, with a 
 temper always on the raw edge; and others beside; 
 
 forty thousand men under them. 
 
 One Sunday morning, fair and balmy, the Captain 
 sat down to breakfast, and had scarcely broken a 
 cracker when he was on his feet. The earth 
 trembled. 
 
 "Where is it?" 
 
 " Pittsburg Landing, I believe," he answered. 
 " We must go at once." He hobbled to his horse 
 
 the night before they had cut his boot from his 
 foot after a bad fall and up the river they went 
 on a steamer at full speed. A cigar revolved in the 
 Captain's mouth without pause, but his face was 
 impassive. He said little. At one place the steam- 
 er's speed slackened. A general was there on a boat 
 
 289
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 anchored in the stream. It was Lew Wallace. He 
 saluted. " Have your men ready to march at a 
 moment's order," called the Captain. The steamer 
 forged ahead. 
 
 The roar and quaking of the earth swelled. Now 
 they were at the Landing, and before the gang plank 
 fell, the yellow horse had taken the gap of water 
 in its stride, and, riding low, the Captain shot up 
 the rocky wooded slope and away, away to where 
 the smoke billowed in clouds and a trail of bullets 
 swept every open space among the trees. While 
 Sherman, a bear at bay, swung round on the spot 
 he claimed as his own, showing always his teeth, 
 and would not budge though his enemies, circling 
 about him, charged him and stung him on three 
 sides at once. 
 
 David has a better picture of that strange, grave 
 man than any which photographer ever made : a 
 tall, lean person, his back against a tree, one hand 
 wrapped in a handkerchief, his thin face and broad 
 forehead smeared with blood and powder-stained, 
 from this grimy mass his eyes staring with intent 
 eagerness into the smoke-clouds which rose above 
 the skirmishing-line. When the Captain, pointing 
 to the injured hand, asked how the wound was, 
 Sherman's glance fixed itself on the bandage with 
 a strange, surprised look. " So it is. Horse shot 
 under me. But the hand don't begin to hurt like 
 the damn bullet that struck my shoulder and never 
 
 290
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 left a mark. It's as hot as hell here hot as hell. 
 But we'll hold them." 
 
 So it was, and so they did. The Captain sought 
 the places where death played at bowls. A shell 
 passed beneath his horse. " Close call for my horse's 
 legs ! " he remarked. " Close call for your legs ! " 
 Rawlins replied. A bullet struck the Captain's 
 sword scabbard and smacked it jingling against his 
 body. " There's a good sword gone," he observed. 
 But though the cannon-shot ploughed furrows 
 through the blue lines, and they fell back, they 
 swung always on the pivot where the bear had taken 
 his stand, and would not retreat. 
 
 That night the Captain said, " I have not yet 
 given up whipping them," and lay down under a tree. 
 A torrent of rain poured on him. At dawn they 
 lifted him into his saddle, his face white, his clothes 
 sodden and muddy, his leg hanging limp, but his 
 eyes undaunted. " We will do the attacking to-day," 
 he said. " Every division will move at once." 
 
 At night the Confederate army was a shattered, 
 panic-stricken mob of fugitives. Shiloh was won. 
 
 By whom? In the field they knew. But the news 
 by way of St. Louis had a curious habit of becoming 
 twisted. There were the old stories, too. They 
 would not die. Eyelids were drawn down at the 
 report of the Captain's disabled leg, and they remem- 
 bered the weakness which some asserted had made 
 him leave the army almost ten years before. The 
 
 291
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Captain wrote to his father, " I will go on and do 
 my duty to the very best of my ability. One thing 
 I am very well assured of I have the confidence 
 of every man in my command." So he had. But 
 those over him? Down from St. Louis came an 
 order stripping him of active command in the field. 
 
 Sherman heard of it, and one day in hot haste 
 rode to the Captain's headquarters. Tents were 
 down, open boxes littered the ground, and these 
 were being filled. 
 
 " What's the meaning of this? " he asked. 
 
 The Captain, seated on a box, a leg crossed, pulled 
 his cigar from his mouth. " Going to leave," he 
 answered, and back went the cigar. 
 
 "Whereto?" 
 
 " Washington. Have to do it. I am no use 
 here." 
 
 Sherman stuck his chin out. In a sudden fury 
 he banged his hat on the ground. " Good God ! 
 Are you crazy?" he cried. "You can't do it. 
 You've got to stay with us. We belong to you. 
 Don't you know that much ? " 
 
 " I know things can't go on for me the way 
 they have been doing." 
 
 " All right. But wait. Why, damn it, man he " 
 jerking his thumb toward the north " he'll be 
 gone soon. Then everything will straighten out. 
 Wait!" 
 
 The Captain puffed on his cigar. He took it out 
 
 292
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and surveyed it critically, his head on one side. 
 " Perhaps you're right," he said, slowly, after a 
 moment. " I believe I will wait." 
 
 But the chief came down, not to Washington, 
 but to where the Captain was, and took command in 
 person. Around him he gathered one hundred and 
 twenty thousand men. To the southwest, nineteen 
 miles over rolling land, lay Corinth. There the Con- 
 federates were concentrating, sixty thousand of 
 them. For six weeks the men in blue toiled with 
 spade and pickaxe. It was a wonderful manoeuvre. 
 But it was for fighting that the Captain had drilled 
 his army, and he could not play the snail with grace. 
 He did what he was told to do, and waited. 
 
 293
 
 XIX 
 
 UNDER 
 
 THE APPLE -TREES 
 
 THERE were few things to laugh at during 
 the six weeks which followed the arrival 
 of the Chief at Union headquarters, but these 
 the Captain enjoyed to the full. One night Rawlins 
 loosed the torrent of his speech at an orderly who 
 had made some blunder. The next morning he 
 rushed up, storming, to where the Captain leaned 
 against the pole of his tent, his hat pushed back. 
 " What is wTong? " he inquired of Rawlins. 
 
 " Wrong! " Rawlins's rage boiled over. " That 
 
 orderly has got even for the dressing-down I 
 
 gave him. Look ! Look at that ! " He pointed 'to 
 where his bay horse nosed a tree-trunk near by. 
 
 The Captain's hands sank deeper into his trousers 
 pockets. He regarded the horse with gravely studi- 
 ous eye. " It appears to me that something has hap- 
 pened to his tail," he observed. 
 
 " His tail! " roared Rawlins. " Not a hair left! 
 Wait till I find that orderly." He rushed for a 
 pistol. 
 
 294
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 But the Captain laid a hand on his arm. " Hold 
 on, Rawlins," he said. " Think of what a blacking- 
 brush it will make. And if you want the rest of it, 
 go hunt that old gray mule. It's the first square 
 meal that mule's had in a month, I guess." 
 
 Rawlins's indignation took a new turn, and the 
 orderly was saved. " It's the last meal he'll ever 
 get," he declared. " And it's damn easy for you 
 to talk that way now. But wait. Some night a 
 mule will eat the tail off of that old clay-bank horse 
 of yours. I hope I'll be around when he does, that's 
 all." 
 
 Rawlins had his wish. One day the men of 
 Boone's old regiment, crowding around the Captain 
 as he rode into their midst, were seized with a 
 sudden sentimental fancy for personal souvenirs, 
 and the yellow horse plunged in vain. When the 
 Captain extricated himself from their grasping 
 hands, the " blacking-brush " stuck up behind his 
 own saddle, and Rawlins, circling around, repeated, 
 " It does look as if something had happened to his 
 tail. But it can't be so. It can't be so! No mule 
 could ever make such a clean job." 
 
 Spring was drawing to a close, and still the 
 hundred and twenty thousand toiled and sweated. 
 One day they heard that New Orleans had been 
 taken. It looked to them as if the war must be 
 nearly over. But the Captain shook his head when 
 David suggested as much. " Not yet," he said. 
 
 295
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I wish it was. I want to go back and settle down. 
 I would certainly like to be with those youngsters 
 of mine again. Home is a pretty good place, 
 David." The bearded mouth softened and a wist- 
 ful light crept into the sober gray eyes. Was it 
 only your firm hand and iron will, Captain, which 
 drew those raw-boned Western giants around you? 
 They served never so well with any other leader as 
 with you, unless it was with the bear of Shiloh, and 
 he was not unlike you in some ways. 
 
 For " Old Brains," who was the chief of them 
 all in that spring, they had no such trust. When 
 on that last day the air was rent with a vast explo- 
 sion, and he drew you up in battle array and bravely 
 marched you into Cairo to find a town empty of 
 troops and swept clean of every article of military 
 use except the wooden guns which grinned at you 
 from parapets, you swore with good reason. Six 
 weeks of digging trenches and chopping trees had 
 not improved your tempers. But now this was done ; 
 and, after awhile, " Old Brains " took his departure 
 moved to Washington to become commander-in- 
 chief; and those September days came when you 
 were to fight again under your chosen leader. 
 
 The Captain rode from Corinth to Memphis. On 
 the way David encountered an old friend. They 
 came to a fine house half-hidden in its bower 
 of roses. A benevolent, white-haired gentleman 
 bade them dismount and enter. The shaded porch 
 
 296
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 was inviting on that hot day. The Captain's cav- 
 alry escort rode on, and he and David sat down on 
 the porch. An old lady brought out wine and some 
 cakes of which David had never seen the like before. 
 Then some one else stepped from the hallway. A 
 tall person, very beautiful and haughty, and a mo- 
 ment she stood straight and stiff, her hands clinched 
 by her side. She saw David and stepped toward 
 him. " Mr. Ford ! " she said, in her soft voice and 
 yet strangely formal. 
 
 " I thought it was ' David/ " he answered. 
 
 She passed over the inquiry, and she gave him 
 her hand. It slipped from his own quickly, and 
 she turned a ring on her finger while she asked him 
 about Gravois. 
 ' " When did you hear from Lee ? " 
 
 " A month ago." 
 
 " What did she say ? That is, what did she say 
 that you don't mind telling? " 
 
 He met her tantalising look squarely, but it might 
 have been he did not answer readily enough. " Re- 
 member I am discreet, and a friend of both parties, 
 besides," she prompted. 
 
 " There was nothing to keep secret," he said, 
 gravely. " It is very lonely for her now, of course, 
 without her father." 
 
 " The Doctor ? Where is he ? " 
 
 " I thought you knew he had gone. He is some- 
 where in Mississippi fighting for the South." 
 
 297
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I knew it ! I knew it must be that way with 
 him ! " she cried, softly, and her face was glowing. 
 " You see how the South calls her own ! He is 
 a gentleman ! We will teach the North ! " She 
 threw a look over David's shoulder, and her lips 
 tightened. 
 
 He smiled, but she did not see that, and when he 
 spoke of Kitty she only nodded. Then it came 
 upon him that she was not listening to him. Behind 
 her the others were talking. The old lady called, 
 " Oh, Beatrix ! This is General ." She men- 
 tioned the Captain's name. 
 
 Beatrix turned; that is, her face turned. Chin 
 could not have been more lofty nor eyes more 
 cold, as her head bent ever so slightly in ac- 
 knowledgment. Then she was saying to David, 
 " And you have not heard from Lee since, you say ? " 
 He had said nothing of the kind; he hardly heard 
 her question, so complete was his astonishment. A 
 moment more, and she said good-bye, and walked 
 swiftly into the house. 
 
 Then David thought that he understood. He 
 heard the Captain declare, " We must go on." He 
 heard their hostess say, " Why, dinner is just being 
 put upon the table." He perceived the Captain hesi- 
 tate politely while he cast longing eyes upon the 
 cool depths of the hallway. And then he heard their 
 host, not pressing the invitation, but speaking hur- 
 riedly, " Memphis is a long way on, and these 
 
 298
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 gentlemen of course are anxious to reach there by 
 evening." 
 
 It was an episode of surprises. They were on 
 the road almost at once and the Captain did not 
 speak. 
 
 September came, and headquarters had been 
 moved to Jackson, where the mystery was explained. 
 On that day in June a rebel cavalry force had been 
 in the neighbourhood of the Memphis road, and 
 their host had known it. He knew, too, that another 
 guest of his knew this; he witnessed her quick 
 retreat. He was a Union man, the Captain's escort 
 was miles away. A dinner lost to the Captain just 
 then he reckoned as a diner saved. 
 
 The Captain smiled at the story, but David did 
 not. " She would have done it quickly enough," he 
 told himself. Anything to serve her South. 
 
 Her South was fighting bravely and skilfully in 
 that Tennessee country. It had the Captain on the 
 defensive. He knew his enemies were all about 
 him, and, with a long line in his rear to protect, 
 plotted and worked du-ing hours of day and night to 
 hold his own and catch them napping. 
 
 Then one evening he called in David where he sat 
 by a table, a map spread before him marked with 
 rulings and dots. He held out a letter. It bore 
 the name of Rosecrans. Once the Captain had said : 
 " There are two men in this army which I would 
 like to serve under, if I did not command, Sher- 
 
 299
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 man and ' Rosy.' ' It was always " Rosy " with 
 the Captain when he did not speak officially. This 
 letter was to go to Corinth at once. Rosecrans was 
 in danger from the east, the Captain judged. 
 
 On the evening of the third day of October David 
 delivered the letter, and while waiting for a reply 
 strolled about the town. It wore almost the look 
 of a place besieged. The rebels had burned houses 
 and blown up buildings and the railroad track before 
 they made that retreat from it which confounded 
 a Union chief. Rosecrans and his men now camped 
 in it and about it, and had reared embankments and 
 dug trenches. Cannon bristled from these. Soldiers 
 were in the streets; on the porches of the houses 
 were officers. 
 
 But David found one street on which it seemed 
 that war's hand had not been laid. It was shaded, 
 and there were gardens behind the fences, and fruit- 
 trees and bushes through which comfortable houses 
 blinked a peaceful eye from a lighted window. Near 
 the curb opposite one of these a stone slab made 
 a seat. David with his back against a tree sat 
 down to smoke and enjoy the quiet of the calm 
 evening, with the stars twinkling through the foliage 
 and a gentle breeze from somewhere bathing his 
 face. While he smoked he regarded the square of 
 yellow light in the window across the street. He 
 had a wish that he might go over and be one of 
 that household for awhile, and forget that he wore 
 
 300
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 a uniform. Surely one could forget this under the 
 shaded lamp which shed a soft glow on the table 
 by the window-sill. 
 
 Then some one came and sat herself beside the 
 table and began to write. David stared, and at first 
 was sure that his fancy had filled in the frame of 
 the picture for him. For the fine shoulders which 
 rose from the soft folds of muslin, and the round 
 white throat, and the coils of ruddy hair which 
 the lamplight burnished so that even a tiny loose 
 lock glistened against the bent face over which it 
 curled these he knew. He closed his eyes and 
 memory summoned for him an evening back in 
 Gravois. The fiddles were squeaking, slippered 
 feet passed and repassed as he sat with her in a 
 sheltered corner. She laughed at him for some 
 of his opinions and chided him for others. Twice 
 she made him hot with what she said of the man 
 he liked above all others. Where was that man 
 now ? Did she know that he lay in prison one of 
 the prisons of her South ? If she did ! David 
 believed less in her overwhelming scorn for Boone 
 than he once had done. To be sure he was an enemy 
 of the South; her enemy for that reason, she had 
 made it plain. But 
 
 The figure at the window rose. The sleeve fell 
 away from her arm as she held an envelope with 
 wet ink over the lamp. Was she writing to Boone? 
 David smiled as he realised how easily his imagina- 
 
 301
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 tion wrought for him. Her figure passed from the 
 field of his vision and he was of half a mind to go 
 over and ask for her when he saw a shimmer among 
 the trees and knew she had come out into the garden. 
 She was speaking to some one whom he could not 
 see. 
 
 A moment later another figure came out of the 
 shade, a mulatto boy. On the steps of the path 
 he sat down. David saw him fumbling with one 
 of his shoes. Then the boy got up and came into 
 the street. He passed by in lazy, aimless fashion, 
 his hands in his pockets, humming : 
 
 " Wake up, snakes, pelicans, and Sesh'ners ! 
 Don't y' hear 'um comin' 
 
 Comin' on de run? 
 Wake up, I tell y'! Git up, Jefferson! 
 Bobolishion's comin' 
 Bob-o-lish-i-on ! " 
 
 The refrain died away in the distance. David 
 looked across into the garden again. There was no 
 shimmer of white among the trees now. And in 
 the room above an arm was reached to the lamp and 
 turned its light low. Abruptly he arose and walked 
 away. 
 
 An hour later when he left Rosecrans he knew 
 that some one in the town had written that the 
 Union lines were weakest on the north side. The 
 letter had been intercepted half an hour ago, and 
 
 302
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 read (David did not know that it also had been sent 
 on to its destination), and the bearer was under 
 arrest. The bearer was a mulatto boy. 
 
 David found himself in that quiet street where the 
 houses stood among the trees, and sat down on 
 the stone block again and even then did not know 
 why he had come. For what was he to do? He 
 could tell her, accuse her. He could hear her retort. 
 Or frighten her with the threat of what was to 
 happen? She was not a good coward. Moreover, 
 there was the greater question, had he the right 
 to tell at all? 
 
 It was Beatrix herself who resolved these ques- 
 tions for him. She stood in the well of the garden 
 walk where it entered on the pavement and he 
 saw her only when she spoke to him. " David ! " 
 she called, softly, and " David " again. 
 
 He walked over to her. " You came back," she 
 said. "Why is that?" 
 
 " Yes, back again," she went on, answering the 
 astonishment which spread itself plainly on his 
 countenance. " I saw you the time before, but not 
 until you got up suddenly. I hoped you were com- 
 ing to speak to me." Her soft drawl was caressing, 
 and danger lay in the dark depths of her eyes. 
 " We are not strangers, are we, David ? " 
 
 " No," he said. " I wouldn't have come back if 
 we were." 
 
 " But you have come back. Why ? A message 
 
 303
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 forme? Come in. This is my aunt's home. I have 
 been staying with her since since that day we 
 met on the Memphis road. I will try to make you 
 forget how rude I was then if you will come in." 
 
 " I cannot come in," David said. 
 
 " But your message. What is it? " 
 
 He did not reply. " Now it must be from Lee," 
 she said, almost to herself. " It is too bad you 
 did not give it to me when you were here before. I 
 was writing then." 
 
 " But not to her," he said, swiftly. " I know 
 it was not to her, and you sent the letter off by 
 a messenger." 
 
 " Why, so I did." The drawl was as languid as 
 ever, but the eyelids dropped an instant, and it was 
 not confusion they hid. Then she went on. " Now 
 I wonder if he forgot all about the letter. Aunt 
 Rachel's boys are so careless ! " 
 
 David struggled with himself. Without looking 
 at him, she added, lightly, " Well, it don't matter 
 much. He'll remember about it to-morrow, I 
 reckon." 
 
 Suddenly David spoke. " The boy did not forget 
 about the letter. But he did not deliver it. He was 
 stopped." 
 
 " Stopped ? " Her brows were raised, then 
 passionately, " Who stopped him ? A Yankee, of 
 course. Even a lady's letters - 
 
 " A lady's letters when they are sent through the 
 
 304
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 lines secretly must often be stopped," he returned. 
 "Beatrix " 
 
 " Oh, go on! " she cried. " You want to know 
 to whom it was to go, and the boy would not tell 
 you! Well, to Philip. But what right have you 
 to be informed about my correspondence? What 
 right, I say?" She stopped. Then she held out 
 her hand. " And now that you know so much," 
 she finished, coldly, " you will give me the letter, 
 please." 
 
 " I have not got it," he answered, and then he 
 knew he must tell her the rest, and did. 
 
 " Well ? " she said, and looked him defiantly in 
 the face. 
 
 " But don't you see ? " he said, slowly. " It 
 doesn't end here." 
 
 "Then where?" 
 
 " With yourself. They will trace the letter to 
 you." 
 
 She laughed, and laid a hand on his sleeve. 
 " David," she asked, " did you think I would run? " 
 
 " No, but you cannot stay here." 
 
 " Oh, but I really must," she mocked. " To re- 
 ceive Philip when he drives out you Yankees." 
 
 " But the Yankees won't be driven out. They 
 will stay here. Besides they will soon be fighting 
 here about the town in it, perhaps. It will be 
 no place for a woman." 
 
 Suddenly she raised her head and her eyes were 
 
 305
 
 THE CAPTAI. N 
 
 brilliant. " David," she said, " the war is not over. 
 You do not know the women of the South yet, it 
 seems. But you will. Their men do the fighting, 
 but the women have their part. And you will never 
 find that they are to be frightened from it. No, not 
 in its worst day." 
 
 A time came when her words repeated themselves 
 to him. Now they awoke in him a sudden great 
 admiration. Here again was the South, glowing, 
 proud, dauntless prophesying unconsciously its 
 own brave end. 
 
 There was no more for him to say. He pressed 
 her hand. When he reached the corner of the street 
 she was still standing there. She waved an arm to 
 him as he raised his cap. 
 
 At daylight the next day Van Dorn attacked, 
 and David all at once found himself in the street 
 in front of Rosecrans's headquarters fighting, not to 
 keep the rebels from Corinth, but to drive them out 
 of it. " Pop " Price's storming column had pierced 
 the Union line and, ploughed through and through 
 by the converging fire of two great Union forts, yet 
 swept on into the very heart of the town. Ragged 
 fellows most of them, but splendid in their courage 
 and led by men as fearless as themselves. On David 
 at the head of a little knot of fugitives whom he was 
 trying to rally, this yelling, desperate, broken line 
 bore down. 
 
 But he saw only one figure. And it rushed 
 
 306
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 directly at him a tall, slender figure, the shoulders 
 a little stooped, a thin white face with high forehead 
 and curious straining eyes fixed on his own. Then 
 a point like ice pressed against his leg, he was lifted 
 from his feet. He seemed to be floating forward 
 yet the figure now moved away from him fast, and 
 he could not see what he knew should be in the 
 buttonhole there, a piece of bright coloured rib- 
 bon. There was a flash of violet light before his 
 eyes. Everything was gone. 
 
 307
 
 XX 
 
 THE WEDGE 
 
 IN the last week of November a compact body 
 of cavalry entered the little town of Corinth 
 from the southeast. Horses and uniforms alike 
 wore the marks of hard travel, the faces of the 
 riders were tanned and weather-beaten. For four 
 weeks almost continually they had been in the saddle 
 while they swung a great circle which had this same 
 town for its starting-point. Near their head a young 
 officer reined up sharply opposite one of the biggest 
 houses, and slid to the ground to grip the hand of 
 a man in uniform who had hailed him and ran down 
 to the street. While the cavalry passed, these two 
 walked up on to the porch together, and there David 
 dropped into a seat and pulled off his gloves, striking 
 them against his knees as he stretched his legs. He 
 gave a sigh of satisfaction. "Dead beat! " remarked 
 his companion, laconically. 
 
 " Not quite. But not far from it, either. And 
 mighty glad to be sitting on something flat. Mud 
 
 308
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and dust, some miles of railroad track torn up, some 
 cotton burned or badly smoked, and that's all." 
 
 " Leg trouble you ? " 
 
 By way of answer that unoffending member re- 
 ceived a slap. " I wouldn't remember Shiloh long 
 if the bullet I got there was all I had to remember 
 it by," David added. His voice dropped on the last 
 word, and he pulled the gloves through his hands. 
 He roused himself with a jerk of the head. " The 
 dickens! " he exclaimed. " Here I've seen you but 
 once since you were exchanged, and I'm talking 
 about myself. How does it feel to be your own 
 man again ? " 
 
 Boone laughed. " I've tried it for six weeks now, 
 and, on the whole, I like the sensation. For one 
 thing, the table is better here than in my old board- 
 ing-place. Again, I can stretch my arms without 
 striking a wall or stirring up strife among my 
 fellow boarders. I'll tell you all about it to-night. 
 By the way, you'll have to pull out to-morrow morn- 
 ing. Orders for you to report at Holly Springs." 
 
 David nodded. " The Captain? How is he? " 
 
 " Same as ever. Takes everything, good and bad, 
 as if he knew it was going to be that way long before. 
 You know 'Black Julia'?" 
 
 " That old slave of his wife's? " 
 
 ; * Yes. You remember he said he didn't like to 
 hold her, but would not sell her? Well, she relieved 
 him of the strain of worry. Ran away. Never left 
 
 309
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 a good-bye. It was one of the few times I have heard 
 the Captain laugh. He declares he has a case against 
 Mr. Lincoln that it was the President's ' gradual 
 emancipation ' scheme which gave Julia the hint. 
 Secretly, he'd be glad, I think, if his two other ' faith- 
 ful servitors ' would imitate her example." 
 
 " He never did understand how to handle them." 
 
 " At any rate, he isn't ashamed of the failing. 
 And he's been making the best of having to sit still. 
 We've been having considerable good music round 
 headquarters lately, and he enjoys it. They were 
 singing 'The Star Spangled Banner' the other night. 
 I could hear him humming the tune with them. 
 When he knew I was listening, he quit. It was 
 good to see him taking part in it. He don't give 
 much time to that sort of thing as a rule, and 
 he's got a big puzzle to solve now." 
 
 " He has had something of that kind from the 
 start." 
 
 " Yes, but this is the biggest of all. It is the 
 wedge which will split the rebellion. And the Mis- 
 sissippi is to be the line of cleavage from St. Louis 
 to New Orleans. It is a long way to look ahead, 
 perhaps; but that is the end of this movement 
 south." 
 
 " The Captain was never near-sighted," remarked 
 David. 
 
 " No, and he has untied some tangled knots 
 already, but this Vicksburg picnic is the toughest one 
 
 310
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 yet. All the children want to go, of course. And 
 of course they can't. There's some two hundred 
 miles of country in the rear along which the lemon- 
 ade and cake and ice-cream must come, and there 
 are a lot of small outsiders who don't belong to the 
 same Sunday school, and who won't keep their hands 
 off the refreshments. So " 
 
 " Cut it short. I know that. He wants Vicks- 
 burg, he means to have it, and he's got a long line 
 to defend from the children of the other school. 
 What's he going to do?" 
 
 Boone leisurely crossed a knee. " If you will have 
 patience, my son, I will try to tell you a true story. 
 This celebrated picnic, I was about to remark, will 
 probably be in charge of Deacon Sherman." 
 
 David laughed. 
 
 "A fact, our dear, mild, sweet-tempered Brother 
 Sherman, ' Old Sugar Coated.' . It is the talk, merely 
 the talk, mind you, that Brother Sherman is to be 
 sent ahead so as to alleviate the itching which they 
 seem to suffer from at Washington to send Brother 
 McClernand down there with a separate command. 
 That would not suit the Captain." 
 
 David muttered, savagely, " Why can't they let 
 him alone? " 
 
 " I think they will this time. Meanwhile he 
 is collecting all the forage and supplies he can lay 
 hands on, organising his men, and keeping a watch- 
 ful eye on the antics of the gentlemen in gray who
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 do not seem deeply impressed with the fact that 
 they are being whipped and must stay south of 
 our headquarters. Also, I forgot to say, he is giving 
 a good deal of attention to the project for utilising 
 the African surplus." 
 
 David's brows drew together. 
 
 " Yes. As far as eye can see, the ladies and gen- 
 tlemen of colour are picking cotton. They are being 
 paid for it, too twelve cents a pound. Which 
 same they haven't yet quite got used to. And the 
 result? The Government is realising a very fair 
 sum from the sale of the cotton, and the specula- 
 tors " He broke off sharply, and finished, " And 
 there you have all my news." 
 
 " Not quite all. You were going to tell me some- 
 thing else." 
 
 " Was I ? " with vacant face. But David insisted. 
 
 " Oh, well, then, I was. I suppose you ought to 
 know it anyhow. Your uncle is down here." 
 
 " He is. Now what is that for? " Apprehension 
 was so plainly in the remark that Boone hastened 
 to add, " You don't need to worry. It isn't anything 
 alarming. It's just I dislike to say it just a 
 sharp, low trick your uncle is putting. up. The Cap- 
 tain drove out all the cotton speculators by a general 
 order. He had to. A few days later a telegram 
 came. I saw it. It asked for passes to the front 
 for Mr. Mayhew and ' a friend.' They got the 
 
 312
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 passes, and the ' friend ' is deep in the cotton-trading, 
 I'd swear." 
 
 " Then tell the Captain so, if you haven't already. 
 I will, if you don't. My uncle has no right to do 
 this." 
 
 " I have not told him, and you won't tell him, 
 either, when I say that I couldn't prove there is 
 anything wrong. I only feel it in my bones. As 
 for Mr. Mayhew butter wouldn't melt in his 
 mouth." 
 
 There was a grunt of disgust. Boone went on, 
 " He is here ostensibly on private business, and he 
 has shown a lot of good sense in keeping out of the 
 military way. He's brought in rather valuable in- 
 formation, too, once or twice. In consequence, he 
 has no trouble when he wants to see the Captain. 
 He's been inquiring about you." 
 
 " Yes," assented David, drily. " That's very 
 strange." Then, looking up, " There's no use of 
 pretending that affection is lost between my uncle 
 and myself. We don't agree on many things. Let's 
 drop the subject. You haven't heard of any letters 
 for me?" 
 
 " Letters ? " For an instant Boone enjoyed the 
 confusion which the word brought into the other's 
 face, then he said, quickly, " No, I haven't. I've 
 kept a lookout, as you asked, and made inquiries. 
 But Well, the fact is, I believe all the letters 
 her letters, I mean must have gone astray on the 
 
 313
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 way down. You know how mixed up things are. 
 And what with headquarters being moved and all 
 that, it's no wonder. She wrote, of course. But I 
 couldn't get on the track of a single letter." 
 
 There was no answer. David was pulling at his 
 gloves and studying his hands. After a minute 
 he said, quietly, " All right. It's the way you say, 
 no doubt. I must go over to report now. I'll see 
 you after awhile." 
 
 Two days later David landed at headquarters at 
 Holly Springs, to find the Captain gone and an 
 order awaiting him to report in person at once at 
 Cairo. It was dark when he reached the familiar 
 little river town, and a word of inquiry sent him 
 quickly down the stilted board walk to the water- 
 side. Out in the river Admiral Porter's flagship was 
 a maze of twinkling lights. A banquet was to be 
 held that evening. David made his way to her, and 
 at the gangway was halted by the person of a solidly 
 built man in creased and soiled citizen's clothing. 
 An orderly had stopped this visitor, and was telling 
 him that he could not come aboard. 
 
 David, in uniform and with his order, was impa- 
 tiently passing, when a hand was laid on his shoul- 
 der, and a face, very tired but filled with grim 
 humour, looked into his own. " Captain," said a 
 voice, which made him start and come to a quick 
 salute, " can't you persuade them that I am not 
 a dangerous person ? "
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 David grasped the hand that slipped down his 
 arm, and the orderly stepped aside. They went 
 into the dining-cabin, the Captain still laughing over 
 his reception. 
 
 The long cabin was a blaze of light, and uniforms 
 were all around the table. 
 
 At its head sat a wiry, muscular man in uniform. 
 He was listening to a story which some one was 
 telling, his large eyes twinkling with appreciation. 
 He did not see the newcomers at first, then catching 
 sight of the Captain, remained a moment seated, pull- 
 ing at his beard. The Captain spoke, and the ad- 
 miral sprang up and grasped his hand. '' I did not 
 know you at first. Those clothes, you see," he 
 explained. " But sit down. We'll have a chair at 
 once. We're just going to have a good time." 
 
 But the Captain declined the invitation. He would 
 not sit down. The admiral walked out of the room 
 with him. Then the Captain asked, quickly, " You 
 wrote that the McClernand matter has come to a 
 head?" 
 
 " Yes," said Porter. " I saw the President in 
 Washington. In effect he told me that he had a 
 better general now than either you or Sherman, and 
 that he had given him power to raise a big army 
 and go down the river to Vicksburg at once." 
 
 The Captain asked a question in short, precise 
 words, and got as brief an answer. He asked 
 another. In ten minutes he had drawn from the 
 
 315
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 admiral all that he knew on the subject. He bit off 
 the end of a cigar, looked at it a moment, and stuck 
 it into his mouth. Abruptly he demanded, " How 
 soon can you move ? " 
 
 " To-morrow, if necessary." 
 
 " All right. I will see that thirty thousand men 
 on transports are ready to go down to Vicksburg 
 when you reach Memphis. I will move south 
 myself at once. Joe Johnston is at Vicksburg with 
 forty thousand men. That will bring him up north. 
 You and Sherman must get into Vicksburg while 
 he is fighting me. That's all." 
 
 Porter caught the Captain's arm. " Come in now 
 and join us." 
 
 " I can't do that." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " I am going back to headquarters." 
 
 " At any rate, have something to eat first." 
 
 " No. I will start at once. Good-bye." He 
 shook the admiral's hand again, passed through 
 the lighted room, with a nod, and David joined him. 
 An hour later they were well on their way to Holly 
 Springs, and the fortunes of an army of one hundred 
 thousand men had been embarked, and the first move 
 made in one of the greatest sieges of history. 
 
 The work which was done during the four weeks 
 which saw November of that year end and half of 
 December's days go by, made many a staff-officer 
 and commander about headquarters wonder why 
 
 316
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 ever he had been born. The Captain stood above 
 them, and there were no excuses taken, while he 
 worked himself with an energy that seemed never to 
 tire. The enemy hovered on his flanks and pes- 
 tered him, and behind him that long line along which 
 came the lemonade and cake and ice-cream of Boone's 
 Sunday-school picnic drew them like flies. Upon 
 keeping this line intact, it seemed to the Captain then 
 that the success of his expedition depended, and to 
 keep in touch with the points along it was no easy 
 task. There was the telegraph, of course, but there 
 were reasons to doubt the integrity of its dots and 
 dashes, as he well knew. Gentlemen on horseback 
 there were, wearing gray or butternut, who fre- 
 quently tapped these wires and, without a by-your- 
 leave, enjoyed the secrets of the conversations be- 
 tween the Captain and his officers, and were so shy 
 withal that they never sent a word along to 
 make their presence known. Also accidents hap- 
 pened which made the Captain and others say un- 
 complimentary things about his writing-master. 
 
 One short wire ran from headquarters to an out- 
 lying command. So often were its messages read 
 by the enemy that the Captain hit on a great scheme. 
 He would have a cipher code to which only his cor- 
 respondent and himself should have the key. One 
 cold night a long dispatch in this cipher came from 
 the headquarters, and his correspondent at the other 
 end was summoned from bed to read it. For two 
 
 317
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 hours he struggled with it in vain. Half-frozen, he 
 telegraphed back in cipher that he could not under- 
 stand. Out of bed and, in his haste, with only a 
 modest garment between himself and the arctic at- 
 mosphere, did the Captain scramble, and seized the 
 dispatch. Verily, it was Greek and of a new alpha- 
 bet. Not a word meant anything. Yet, as the 
 cipher was his own, pride would not let him give 
 it up. So the early morning light found him still 
 at it, his nose blue, and as his correspondent would 
 always have it the air about him of the same 
 colour. Dawn made him ashamed, and back to bed 
 he crept. The cipher code fell into disrepute there- 
 with. 
 
 Officers of the staff often took the place of the tele- 
 graph. There was hard riding in those days, and 
 David's strength came back and his flesh hardened 
 with the miles he covered over the winter-roughened 
 Mississippi roads. 
 
 One morning, riding away from headquarters, he 
 was hailed from a house on the main street, and 
 reluctantly drew up. His uncle balanced himself on 
 his crutch at the edge of the porch. " David," he 
 said, "come up here, won't you? I want to talk 
 with you." 
 
 " I haven't time now," David answered. " What 
 do you wish to say? " 
 
 Mr. Mayhew's voice was reproachful. " Do 
 you know we have been in this town together for 
 
 318
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 three weeks, and in that time you haven't said twenty 
 words to me?" There was no reply. "What is 
 wrong?" he asked. "Come, speak out! Have I 
 said anything to offend you? I thought of asking 
 the Captain, but I did not. Now I ask you. It is 
 only fair you should answer. What is it? " 
 
 " Nothing." David fingered the reins impatiently. 
 " I have been busy. Is there anything else? " 
 
 His uncle studied his face, and shook his head. 
 " I am sorry for whatever has made you feel this 
 way," he said, " for I am proud of you, David. I 
 told the Captain only the other day that you had 
 done your duty always, and repaid me many times 
 over for whatever little I have been able to do 
 for you. That makes it hurt all the more. I have 
 made mistakes, I suppose. Is it one of those ? " 
 
 " It is important I should go on. If you have 
 nothing you wish done at once, I will have to leave." 
 
 " No," answered Mr. Mayhew, " I will not trouble 
 you." He eased himself painfully on his crutch. 
 
 David drew in his reins, then turned abruptly in 
 his saddle again. " I will be glad to do what you 
 want if I can." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew shook his head and steadied himself 
 with one hand against a post of the porch. His 
 crippled leg swung free of the ground. " I can 
 manage it somehow myself," he said. " But there 
 is something else you can do. I have a letter I wish 
 
 319
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 delivered. You can see that it is sent down to 
 Oxford." 
 
 " Oxford? I am going there myself." 
 
 "When?" 
 
 " Now. Is the letter ready? " 
 
 " Why, yes. It was ready last night. It is for the 
 gentleman who came down with me from St. Louis. 
 Will you give it to him in person? " Perhaps there 
 was a shade more of emphasis on that last word 
 than its speaker had intended. " Yes," David said. 
 " Let me have it." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew hobbled indoors. A minute later 
 David was riding away, a long sealed envelope in his 
 breast pocket. " If you don't find Mr. Salesburg, 
 you might as well bring it back," came to him from 
 the porch. 
 
 The early December night was falling two days 
 later when David rode up the same street, one leg 
 thrown over the pommel of his saddle to rest his 
 aching muscles, and drew up in front of the house. 
 He was about to slide to the ground when his uncle's 
 figure appeared in the doorway. " I saw you com- 
 ing," he called. " But you're ahead of time. I 
 thought you said to-morrow." 
 
 " I did. But I decided not to wait. Mr. Sales- 
 burg your friend " 
 
 "You found him?" 
 
 " No he was arrested just before I got there." 
 
 " Arrested ! " Mr. Mayhew had swung himself 
 
 320
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 out to the steps. " What's that? You can't mean 
 he has been buying cotton again? He expressly 
 told me he would stop that." 
 
 " No," David said, and wondered a little at the 
 evenness of his own voice. " So far as I know he 
 bought no cotton. He was arrested on suspicion of 
 communicating with the enemy." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew shifted himself on his crutch, and 
 ran his tongue along his lips. Then he said, slowly, 
 " That is serious. I cannot make it out. I have 
 known him a long time. There must be some mis- 
 take. On suspicion, you say? What was the evi- 
 dence? " 
 
 " I don't know. I did not inquire. But they are 
 holding him." 
 
 " So he sent no message ? You did not see him ? " 
 
 " No. Under the circumstances I did not try." 
 
 " But you gave him my letter, of course." It was 
 a statement, not a question. David leaned forward 
 in the saddle, staring into his uncle's face. But 
 the heavy-lidded eyes met his own, and Mr. May- 
 hew added, "Yes, why not? It was a business 
 letter. Besides, his arrest is all a mistake." 
 
 There was a moment in which David, doubting 
 still the sincerity of that careless inquiry, did not 
 speak. He thrust his hand into his coat. " Anyway, 
 I did not deliver the letter," he said. " Here it 
 is." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew took it, and tapped it with a finger. 
 
 321
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Then he dropped it carelessly into his pocket. " Per- 
 haps it is just as well," he said. " It would be 
 of no use to him as matters stand. I am very much 
 obliged to you. But arrested! I can hardly be- 
 lieve it." 
 
 David rode away while his uncle repeated the 
 remark, shaking his head over it incredulously. 
 
 At the week's end, however, headquarters were 
 moved to Oxford, and there it was reported that 
 the case against Salesburg was not to be pushed. 
 The fact was, there was not evidence sufficient to 
 hold him. In default of this he was given twenty- 
 four hours to get out of the lines. From Holly 
 Springs, where Mr. Mayhew had remained, David 
 received two days later a lengthy letter. Mr. May- 
 hew wrote that, while he still did not believe that 
 Salesburg was guilty of the charge brought against 
 him, he had discovered facts which made him glad 
 their connection had been severed. If he had known 
 these facts before, as a loyal Union man, he would 
 have been forced to lodge the information at head- 
 quarters. With an exclamation of disgust David 
 chucked the letter into the fire. At the same time 
 he was conscious that his action sprang from an 
 impulse as intangible as was the feeling which always 
 made him uneasy in his uncle's presence. 
 
 But two weeks of hard riding, while the Captain 
 organised his connections with the North and made 
 ready to move on Vicksburg when the time came, 
 
 322
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 banished these thoughts from his mind. Boone had 
 been sent north on special duty connected with 
 enrolments, and was not expected back for ten days. 
 Again and again, 'coming into his room at night, 
 David sat down to a table in the corner and drew 
 paper to him and wet a pen, and there remained, 
 scratching aimless figures, and writing the one word, 
 " Lee," " Lee," over and over, in the end each time 
 to drop the pen and tear up the paper. What was 
 the use of writing when no answer came? 
 
 323
 
 XXI 
 
 FROM 
 THE FRONT 
 
 IT seemed to Lee as if that summer would never 
 end, but, at last, October came and the sun's heat 
 was lifted from the country about St. Louis. She 
 began to ride again. For weeks Dick had stamped in 
 his stall or run at will about the big field which 
 was his exclusive possession. He would canter to 
 the fence at the first sight of her approaching figure 
 and nose into her hand for the apple which he was 
 sure to find. While he munched it she would stroke 
 his muzzle and talk to him. Then he learned 
 things which he had never known before, and it 
 may be his soft eyes sometimes gave her the answer 
 for which she asked. 'Lias polished the horse's 
 coat and time and again brought him saddled and 
 bridled to the mounting block, and poked his head 
 into the library door with a brisk, " Dick's all 
 ready, Miss Lee." But she would reply, " I don't 
 think I will ride to-day," and had always ready some 
 good reason for the decision. Never did she show 
 surprise. It would have puzzled the most observing 
 
 324
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 onlooker to say that the horse had not been brought 
 to the house by her express order. 
 
 Back to the stable each time Dick was slowly led, 
 'Lias muttering to himself for every step of the way, 
 and, while the saddle and bridle were being re- 
 moved, the muttering went on. Dick, grinding 
 feed in the manger or cropping late grass in the 
 back field, reflected on these vagaries. He was told 
 there had been no letter from the master since Sep- 
 tember. But had not the last letter said they must 
 not be alarmed if they did not hear from him directly 
 for some time? He was marching through a 
 country rent with war, where communication with 
 the North was almost impossible and always uncer- 
 tain. He would write, of course, but that was all 
 he could promise. 
 
 With this knowledge why did she come down to 
 the pasture bars that day in early November and 
 press her cheek against Dick's neck and wind her 
 fingers in his mane and stand so silent even when he 
 rubbed his nose against her shoulder? There had 
 been another battle, to be sure. But the lists of the 
 killed and wounded had been printed in the news- 
 papers. 'Lias had read them aloud that morning. 
 The master's name was not in them. Nor did it 
 appear in any of the reports which followed. He 
 tried to tell her to get the newspaper and see this for 
 herself. But she only shook her head and kissed the 
 
 325
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 white spot between his eyes, and then went away, 
 walking swiftly toward the house. 
 
 After that there were three weeks in which she 
 came often to see him, her face white, her eyes dry 
 but far-away and empty in their gaze, and she so 
 very, very silent. 'Lias told him she had written. 
 To Captain Ford twice, and no answer came. 
 Then a letter to the young man with the chestnut 
 hair who sat so easily the gray horse which made 
 him (Dick) stretch his lean legs to their very limit 
 in a burst of speed on the Gravois road one day 
 now almost a year ago. 'Lias shook his head over 
 this last letter. " If Mr. David had not answered, 
 how could she expect anything from the rebel side? 
 And the Doctor was safe, of course. But it would be 
 mighty comforting to hear so, just the same." 
 
 Old Betty, who had recovered from her latest 
 mortal illness, was deeply concerned, and one day 
 when Lee came to the cabin door to bid her good 
 morning, laid a gnarled hand on her arm. " Honey, 
 it bust m' ole heart, it jes' do, t' see yo' frettin' 
 yo-self dis hyar way 'bout de Doctah. He am all 
 right. Miss Lee. De Lawd's done watchin' ober 
 him, yo' kin be sho' he am. He won't 'low one o' 
 his lambs t' be shawn o' her only parent. Pray t' him, 
 Mis' Lee. Git down on yo' knees an' pray t' him. 
 Pray'r is wond'rful comfurtin', honey. An' it done 
 'suade de Lawd more'n once, I tell yo', it done 
 do dat sho', many times." 
 
 326
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " I know that, Betty." Lee looked into the plead- 
 ing old face and smoothed the withered hand be- 
 tween her own. " I do pray, many, many times." 
 
 " But mebbe yo' ain't done pray'd hard 'nough, 
 honey. A pow'rful lot 'pends on dat. An' yo' 
 mustn't try t' tell de Lawd what he oughter do. 
 Jess gib yo'self 'nto his hands, an' tell him yo' 
 'lows he will do what is fo' de best. I know, honey, 
 I know, case I done hab 'sperience. Der wuz de 
 time when I wuz married t' Zach'riah Peyton, tha' 
 shif'less Georgy nigger what yo' pa done brung up 
 'long wif him on one o' his trips. Yo' wuz a li'l girl 
 den, honey, no more'n high ez Ole Betty's knee, but 
 I done rmember it all well ez it wuz yest'day. Zach- 
 'riah suttinly did beat m' cruel, but I jes' went on, 
 an' didn't do nuffin', an' jest stood it long ez I cud. 
 Den when it gotten so bad dat it didn't seem it 
 cud git no wusser, I begun t' pray. I pray'd pow'rful 
 hard, honey, an' I pray'd night an' mornin', an' 
 'tween meals, when de sun wuz riz an' when it 
 wuz a-settin' an' 'long in de night-time, too. But 
 I didn't try t' tell de Lawd what he oughter do. 
 All I ast him wuz jes' t' take Ole Betty outer her 
 trubble. ' Lawd,' I sez, ' good Lawd, dis yer state 
 o' misery cain't go on. It am too sham'ful. An' 
 I knows yo' won't 'low it. One o' us gotter go. 
 Take one o' us, Lawd! Take Zach, er take Ole 
 Betty.' Dat's what I said. 'Take Zach er take 
 Ole Betty. I doan't cyar which. I'm sho' wo'n 
 
 327
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 out, an' I wanter die.' An' he done it. He heard 
 me. An' thank de Lawd, he done take Zach." 
 
 If the sympathy of the rest of her people did not 
 take the form of exhortation and the recitation of 
 experience, it was not less constant, and Lee found 
 consolation many a time in the arms of Mammy 
 Rachel, who had been a body-servant till age retired 
 her to the post of a privileged character with nomi- 
 nal duties in the kitchen. 
 
 So November drew to a close, and one afternoon, 
 riding homeward, Lee saw a wagon coming toward 
 her, and recognised the crippled figure in a back 
 seat. It surprised her. Mr. Mayhew had not been 
 seen in Gravois for a month past, and 'Lias had 
 repeated an ugly rumour about the business which 
 took him away. Nevertheless, by the time the car- 
 riage was opposite, she had made up her mind to 
 speak to him. So determined was she that, even 
 when she realised that he had shrunk back in the 
 shadow of the carriage cover and turned his face 
 away, she called to him. She called him by name 
 a second time when he did not turn, and then his 
 face came about. "Oh, Miss Shirley!" he ex- 
 claimed. " I did not expect to see you. I was 
 very tired. I rather think I was half-asleep." 
 
 She did not reply to the lie. " I called to you," 
 she explained, " because I thought you might be 
 able to tell me something about David.'* 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 328
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Her lips closed tightly, she almost repented of 
 having spoken. But she remembered her misery and 
 that here was a chance, and no chance must go by. 
 " Do you know where he is? " she asked. 
 
 " I believe he is at Holly Springs." 
 
 "Holly Springs?" 
 
 " In Mississippi." Mr. Mayhew's eyes had not 
 travelled over her face for nothing. He added, 
 with sudden interest, " Can I do anything for you? 
 I may be near there soon. Holly Springs is 
 headquarters the Union headquarters just at 
 present. And I am luckily able to be of some small 
 service to the Captain, now and then. So I might 
 be of service to you also." 
 
 " If you will take a letter for me to David, you 
 will do me a great favour. It is about my father. 
 I have not heard from him,. I thought David might 
 be able to find out why why it is so." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew's mouth opened, and she thought 
 that he was going to question her. But his tongue 
 passed over his lips, and he drew down his brows. 
 " That is too bad," he said. " But you must not be 
 worried. Your father is all right, of course. You 
 cannot depend on letters which have to come through 
 the Union lines, remember. I will take your letter 
 with the greatest pleasure." 
 
 He rode into the gate behind her, and waited in 
 the carriage while she ran into the house and wrote 
 a short note She hesitated with the flap of the 
 
 329
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 envelope unsealed, then ran out again, and handed 
 it to him. He turned it in his hands. " With your 
 permission," he said, smiling; and touched it to 
 his lips, and pressed the flap down. " Times are 
 uncertain," he vouchsafed. " And some accidental 
 hand might not be as friendly as mine." 
 
 She was afraid he saw the disgust which this 
 civil remark brought into her face. But then he 
 was driving away and still smiling on' her as he 
 raised his hat. She never knew that as soon as his 
 head was withdrawn into the carriage, a pointed 
 nail was slipped beneath the extreme edge of the 
 flap of the envelope, and that satisfaction narrowed 
 his eyes as he leisurely perused the folded sheet of 
 paper which he extracted. Yet it was a simple note, 
 a frank call to an old friend and comrade to help her. 
 Between the lines might have been another message, 
 and, perhaps, it was that which made Mr. Mayhew's 
 smile last for as long as he balanced the paper in his 
 fingers. 
 
 The girl, standing on the porch, watched the 
 carriage drive away with wishes in her heart which 
 she hardly understood. But she was not smiling, 
 and, presently, gathering up her riding-dress, with 
 a little sigh she descended the steps and walked 
 toward the stable, leading Dick. 
 
 'Lias met her half-way, and took the bridle. He 
 was scowling. She asked him why. He jerked a 
 
 330
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 thumb over his shoulder down the road. " That! " 
 he said, " Mr. Mayhew." 
 
 " Why, what's the matter? He has just done me a 
 service. He has taken a letter for me. Perhaps 
 we will soon hear about the Doctor." 
 
 "If he helps bring word from him I'll be ready 
 to forget a good deal, Miss Lee," 'Lias answered. 
 " But, if so, it'll be the first thing he's done to my 
 liking. Do you know what he came up here for? " 
 
 " I hadn't thought anything about it." 
 
 " Well, it was to get rid of his property. I heard 
 some time ago that he was trying to sell it. Yester- 
 day, so Abe Happel up at the store says, he sold 
 the house and farm. I don't know what he did 
 with the niggers, but they're all gone too." 
 
 " If he did, it is his own business," she returned. 
 " He has a right to do what he wishes with what be- 
 longs to him." But she did not feel the indifference 
 which she voiced; and, when 'Lias shook his head, 
 she demanded, " Why did he sell the place? " 
 
 " Nobody knows for certain. But " He 
 looked up suddenly and his eyes were wrathful. 
 " They say he got out of here because he knew that 
 it soon wouldn't be healthy for him to be about these 
 parts. He's been corresponding with a man in St. 
 Louis whom they locked up a week ago for treason. 
 It's that lawyer he used to have so much business 
 with. ' Cotton trading,' he called it. I don't mind 
 out-and-out fighting. But there's been ugly, under- 
 
 331
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 hand business going on here for two years past. 
 I told Mr. David about it long before the war started. 
 Now they've found it out, and I doubt if Mr. 
 Mayhew is seen here again. If he is !" He 
 shook a fist. 
 
 " 'Lias, what is all this talk ? " she returned. " You 
 mustn't believe everything you hear. I sha'n't, any- 
 how. See that Dick is well rubbed down." With 
 that she turned and went back to the house. But 
 more than once in the following week of unbroken 
 silence from the South, wondering whether her 
 letter had yet reached its destination, Mr. Mayhew's 
 face drew itself for her in space. And each time 
 it seemed to be laughing at her. Dick, champing 
 over his manger and pawing the planks, twisted his 
 neck in vain whenever the stable door opened. She 
 and he rode no more together for that time. 
 
 Kitty came to the house regularly, and once or 
 twice Lee took supper with her and with Miss Sarah 
 Pinckney. But Kitty's inconsequential chatter, and 
 Miss Pinckney's occasional sniffing comments upon 
 the conduct of the war alike failed to draw her from 
 her recollections for longer than the moment. 
 
 Then there came that day in December when Dick 
 knew that a new thing had happened. 'Lias entered 
 the roomy stall and patted his neck, and said, 
 " Good-bye" Something had got into 'Lias's faded 
 eyes and his jaw worked nervously. After that 
 another hand led Dick to the watering-trough and 
 
 332
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 gave him his oats, and he turned his head about 
 and whinnied in vain. Neither his mistress nor 
 'Lias came to see him. He could not understand. 
 
 On that morning she had returned from a long 
 ride on the Barracks road, and went into the house, 
 and she had sat, her hands folded in her lap, her 
 eyes fixed on the picture above the fireplace, how 
 long she did not know, when she heard Mammy 
 Rachel's dragging steps, and then her voice talking 
 to herself. " Yessir, yessir, Mis' Lee done be at 
 home, I reckon. But I ain't goin' t' tell yo' dat 
 till I done be sho' she wants t' see yo'." 
 
 But Mammy Rachel's cautious inquiry was fore- 
 stalled. Something cold tightened about Lee's heart, 
 and one long look she gave to the kindly face which 
 looked down on her from the wall, and whispered 
 to it, "Oh, wait for me! Wait for me! I will 
 hurry hurry so fast. If you will only wait ! " 
 Then she ran to the doorway and asked Mammy 
 Rachel a question and received her answer. It was 
 Philip who had come. He waited for her in the 
 apple orchard. There she sped. 
 
 He stepped from a clump of blackberry canes 
 which screened him from inquisitive eyes, and hur- 
 ried to her and clasped her hands. 
 
 Her fingers were icy and her eyes fastened them- 
 selves on his. She did not speak, but he knew that 
 the hardest part of his duty was done for him. 
 " Yes," he said, " he is wounded. But he will not 
 
 333
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 die. I am sure he will not die now that he knows 
 you are coming." 
 
 He put an arm about her shoulders and led her 
 to the old bench under the nearest tree, and knelt 
 beside her. " It was at Oxford," he went on. " He 
 was shot leading a charge. They say he was 
 far ahead of his men. They had been driven back 
 almost when he put himself at their head. He is at 
 Vicksburg now. I am going to take you there." 
 
 " Yes," she answered. " Yes, I will be ready at 
 once." She was on her feet swiftly, straight, and 
 tall, and so steady that the hand he put out to sup- 
 port her was not needed. She started forward, then 
 suddenly turned on him. 
 
 " Vicksburg ? " she cried. " Why is he there ? " 
 
 " It was the best place. Beatrix is there. He is 
 at her house." 
 
 " But Oxford ? " she insisted, and he knew that, 
 if he had concealed the truth, he would have had to 
 tell it then. " Oxford? That happened long ago." 
 
 " Yes," he answered. " But I only knew about 
 him a week ago. I that is, they took him to 
 Vicksburg then, and I am here." 
 
 But, Philip, you were not sent, and it was not 
 " they " who brought him from the crowded misery 
 of that little Mississippi hospital to the comfort and 
 care of the old mansion back of the Vicksburg bluffs. 
 She knew this instantly. And half an hour later 
 when she and you and 'Lias were driving for St, 
 
 334
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Louis and she asked you, " The letter I sent you 
 about two weeks ago? You never got it?" he 
 answered, " No." He did not guess all that she 
 gave him with that hand which was laid in his 
 own. She did not know herself. But this was in 
 her heart. He alone had come to her when a friend 
 was needed most. 
 
 On the Friday afternoon following that same 
 Wednesday two letters were placed in David's hands. 
 They were both from her, and the envelope of each 
 was a map of those stamps and endorsements which 
 confessed the failure of a military post. He read 
 them to learn that the South had called the Doctor 
 away at last, and that she was alone, and very 
 lonely. He read the letters through many times, 
 hoping to find that which would make it less hard 
 for him to know that he had failed her. Once he 
 had promised the Doctor something. This was the 
 way he had carried out that promise. He put the 
 letters away and went straight to the Captain's 
 quarters to ask for a leave of absence. He was 
 sure he would get it when he told not all, but 
 enough to make his reason plain. 
 
 In front of him, as he entered the room where 
 the Captain sat at a table, stalked a tall man, mud- 
 splashed to his hips. David knew him for a cavalry 
 officer who had led a raid to the north. 
 
 The Captain looked up, gave one glance to the 
 
 335
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 officer's face, then twisted in his chair with the sharp 
 demand, "Van Dorn? Where is he?" 
 
 " The last sign I saw of him was near Potonoc 
 on the railroad. He was moving north with a large 
 number of men." 
 
 In a flash the Captain was bending above the 
 table, and a pen flying over a sheet of paper. One 
 sheet after another was tossed aside. Orderly, aides 
 were summoned. In five minutes horses were clat- 
 tering up to headquarters and away as fast as the 
 orders could be handed them. David, bidden to stay 
 where he was, stood by a window and waited. In a 
 little while the Captain whirled around. " I may 
 want you in a few hours. Get some sleep." He 
 turned to his work again. 
 
 David hesitated and made a step toward the bent 
 figure by the table. Then he faced about and went 
 out. And he tried to take the Captain's advice. 
 But sleep! What was the chance of that with this 
 miserable uncertainty in his mind, and against his 
 breast two letters to remind him, if he should forget 
 for a moment, that she had asked him to help her? 
 It was not his fault. That only made it harder to 
 wait here, his hands tied. He had heard enough in 
 the Captain's office to guess at the rest. Van Dorn 
 was out, and might cut them off from the North. 
 To every post commander's orders were speeding to 
 watch for him, .and hold the stations at any cost. 
 For himself David knew that there was work ahead 
 
 336
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 which would keep him how long could any one 
 say? 
 
 It was at that most chill and dreary of all hours, 
 when dawn seems never so far away, that an orderly 
 touched him on the shoulder. The Captain wanted 
 him at once. 
 
 David found him sitting by the table where he had 
 left him, its top littered with papers, a saucer filled 
 with stumps of cigars by his elbow, a fresh one 
 burning furiously and the room so thick with smoke 
 that his short body was hardly more than a blot in 
 the haze of blue. There were deep hollows below 
 his eyes which were feverishly bright. " Take this 
 order to Colonel Murphy at once at Holly Springs," 
 he said. " See that he understands that it is impera- 
 tive. I am sending reinforcements. You can't get 
 there too soon." 
 
 337
 
 XXII 
 
 AT HOLLY SPRINGS 
 
 FOR three days Boone had been doing what 
 he detested most, clerical work. Detailed 
 to help verify and correct the rolls of forces 
 in the district, he had come to Holly Springs the 
 day before and here had encountered what made his 
 task more irksome, a commanding officer who 
 chose to take his arrival as an intrusion and his- 
 inquiries as an imputation upon his own capacity. 
 There were fifteen hundred men in the town. Boone 
 saw enough of the discipline within an hour to sat- 
 isfy him that his report upon the post and its con- 
 dition would not please its commander. But he 
 maintained an unruffled front to the surly treatment, 
 and stuck to the room overlooking the main street 
 where he had his papers spread out on a table. 
 
 On this afternoon the fading light made him halt 
 when he was but half through his labours. With 
 the prospect of a long night's work he stretched his 
 arms so that the muscles cracked, and tilted back 
 his chair. The muddy street under a gray sky made 
 
 338
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 a cheerless outlook. He was growing weary of the 
 everlasting figures in blue who paced the front of 
 headquarters a hundred feet away or marched in 
 small squads across town to relieve guard. It was 
 an immense relief when a ramshackle wagon pulled 
 by a starved horse turned the corner above and sunk 
 into instant repose in front of the one-time hotel. 
 He watched with quickened curiosity its occupants 
 emerge from between its tattered curtains. 
 
 First got down a tall, raw-boned man in an over- 
 coat, who continued to hold the reins and whip, next 
 a much younger man, his soft hat pulled low, and 
 his black clothes, for all their ill fit, exhibiting a cer- 
 tain smartness in the fashion they were worn. Bare- 
 headed, the young man spoke to some one within, 
 then extended an arm and handed out a lady. 
 Boone stared. There were a few women about town, 
 to be sure, but none like this. She carried herself 
 with an air which even the long travelling wrap did 
 not disguise. But she wore a veil, and that article 
 of apparel was distinctly irritating. It completely 
 hid her face. She walked to the steps ; there she 
 stopped. After a moment's conversation, her escort 
 left her and entered the building. The girl sat down 
 on the steps. She leaned against a post, her hands 
 dropped in her lap, and it was plain that she was 
 very tired. 
 
 If a squad of soldiers in Confederate gray had 
 driven up in the wagon they would hardly have 
 
 339
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 gained more attention than had the travellers. It 
 seemed that notice of their arrival had communi- 
 cated itself instantly to many quarters. From up 
 and down the street half a dozen of the younger offi- 
 cers converged upon the house. Most of them 
 strolled by it with obvious carelessness ; two of them 
 mounted the steps and met on the porch. There 
 they went through a pantomime behind the back 
 of the girl which brought chuckles from their ob- 
 servers. They affected sudden surprise, then lo- 
 quacity; one slapped the other on the shoulder. 
 Boone made sure that they were assuring each other 
 that the next day would be clear if it did not rain, 
 or elucidating some equally safe proposition. Be- 
 tween whiles they took side-shots at the girl on 
 the step. After a minute they ceased to try to con- 
 ceal this and nudged elbows apparently to spur recip- 
 rocal courage to the point where a polite approach 
 might be made upon the object of their interest. 
 They were so engaged when the lady's escort came 
 out of the door and stopped short, staring at them 
 with an intentness which made possible only retreat 
 or immediate reprisal. The officers hesitated, then 
 had the grace to show confusion, and retreated. 
 Boone grinned and waited to see the rest of the 
 play. It was soon over. The girl rose and raised 
 her veil as she mounted the steps. For a moment 
 the profile of her face was plain. The glimpse made 
 
 340
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Boone frown, then lean back and begin to search 
 his recollection. 
 
 Round the mess-table that night there was little 
 talked but of the three travellers or rather one 
 of them. They had come from Columbus that day, 
 it seemed, and were on their way south. A break- 
 down on the road eight miles north had left them 
 the choice of an indefinite wait or a drive. They 
 had chosen to try the latter and had impressed the 
 ramshackle wagon in a hazard of the lakes of mud 
 and knee-deep ruts which were all that was left 
 of the wagon-road into Holly Springs. This much 
 information, supplemented by the fact that they had 
 passes for the front issued in St. Louis, was the 
 stock in trade of the table's conversation. It was 
 enough to encourage the making of many bets that 
 no more would be known when the travellers left 
 town. The Holly Springs hotel probably had more 
 casual visitors in uniform that evening than on any 
 one occasion since its occupation by the Union 
 forces. 
 
 But Boone was not one of these. With a pipe 
 and a determination to complete his work he seated 
 himself at the table immediately after supper, and 
 it was midnight when he threw down his pen and 
 began a last smoke before bed. Then entered a lieu- 
 tenant of his acquaintance, and precipitated himself 
 upon the bed with a violence which made that 
 
 341
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 venerable article groan. " No use," he grumbled. 
 " Couldn't find out a thing." 
 
 Boone laughed. " What did you expect? Did 
 you think they were spies ? " 
 
 " They could be anything they wanted if I learned 
 what it was. It looks as if that five dollars I bet was 
 to go to feed the crowd And I'm a whole month 
 behind on pay already." 
 
 Boone puffed away, and the other continued. 
 " That's an idea, though about their being spies. 
 I'll throw out a word or two. If the old man got 
 it into his head that they were, he " 
 
 The pipe came out, and Boone remarked, sagely, 
 " The dog might have caught the rabbit if he hadn't 
 stopped to scratch for a flea. The colonel ' might ' 
 but he ' wouldn't.' He isn't troubling himself much 
 about anything." He gave a grunt of disgust. 
 " It's the devil the way some things go on anyhow. 
 Look at that canting, smooth old hypocrite, May- 
 hew ! poking his nose into everything, sneaking 
 out of town and back again, always so damn polite. 
 I tell you, cripple or no cripple, I'd like to see him 
 hung up by the thumbs. And, pass or no pass, I'd 
 fire him out of lines for good and all. But how 
 is he treated ? " 
 
 The other man laughed. 
 
 " As for the colonel," Boone pursued, " he's not 
 much better, to my way of thinking. How did he 
 treat that order from headquarters to-day to look out 
 
 342
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 for Van Dorn ? Said he'd see it was carried out 
 to-morrow. He's unfit to command. To-morrow! 
 As ' Old Sugar-Coated ' says, ' You can't afford to 
 let to-morrow care for itself.' By that time Why, 
 we might all be gobbled up by then ! " 
 
 The other kicked his heels. " What if we were? 
 Anything's better than this devilish sitting still 
 around a lot of horse-meat and crackers and beans 
 and tin cans and shoddy blankets and saltpetre, that 
 comes in one day and goes out the next." 
 
 " Did you ever figure what that horse-meat and 
 crackers and tin cans is worth. Close to a million 
 dollars, by my reckoning. They're the supplies for 
 forty thousand men or more south of us. Rather 
 good to have someone ' sitting around ' them, with 
 the rebs as thick as flies." 
 
 " Oh, I suppose so. But it's slow. Anything for 
 a change, I say." 
 
 " Well, let me get out of here before your 
 ' change ' comes. I've got some papers that I've put 
 a lot of hard work into, and the Johnnies wouldn't 
 object at all to reading them." Boone gave a tre- 
 mendous yawn. " And now if you don't mind 
 get off that bed and out of this room. I'm going 
 to try to get some sleep, and right away." 
 
 The officer left with a remark about " unsociable 
 brutes." In five minutes Boone was snoring. 
 
 When he first realised that he had been awakened, 
 he cast a half-opened eye at the window, and, seeing 
 
 343
 
 there only a frame of the gray blackness of an ugly 
 dawn, muttered to himself about the poor taste of 
 those who made his door-step the place for an alter- 
 cation at such an unseemly hour. Then he turned his 
 head on the pillow. But the dispute below the 
 window grew louder, and when he had tried in vain 
 to close his ears to it, he got out of bed, slipped on 
 his trousers and coat, and stumbled down the stairs 
 to the street door. 
 
 A sentry stood there parleying with two men. 
 Apparently they were in bad temper and he in little 
 better. Boone spoke to them sharply. " What are 
 you talking to that guard for ? Get out of here ! " 
 
 "Get out, yourself, you damn Yankee!" one of 
 the men snapped back. 
 
 Boone made a step forward. " Put that man 
 under arrest," he ordered. 
 
 But the sentry lost the chance to do so, and his 
 musket in the same instant. The two men leaped 
 at him and bore him to the ground. As Boone 
 jumped to his aid three more men ran around the 
 corner of the house. And by then it was become 
 evident even to his sleep-clouded eyes that the 
 strangers wore gray uniforms. For a second he 
 stood in astonishment, then whirled about, stepped 
 back into the house, and flung to the door. He had 
 bolted it and was speeding up-stairs before the new- 
 comers were at the steps. His papers ! That was his 
 first thought. They lay on the mantel-shelf. He 
 
 344
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 held them a moment undecided. But a yell below 
 resolved him. He crammed them into the heart of 
 what remained of a fire on the hearth, and ran back 
 to the window of his room. 
 
 At sight of his head a shout went up from the 
 street, " Come out here ! We've got the town ! " 
 
 The street was swarming with gray coats. There 
 was shouting now and the sound of shots came from 
 the far end of the street. But of sign of organised 
 resistance there was none, and the glint of arms was 
 at every corner. Boone believed that the truth had 
 been told him. So much for the disobedience of 
 orders by a colonel who once before had surrendered 
 his post without a blow. 
 
 He cast a look toward the fireplace. Smoke was 
 curling from the papers. Another demand rose 
 from the street. " Come out here, you Yankee, or 
 we'll pull you out ! " He called back to make time. 
 Then a little ruddy glow on the wall by his side gave 
 him the signal he waited for, and he drew in his 
 head. The papers were blazing. They would be 
 of no service to any one in another minute. He 
 pulled on his boots and stirred the charred mass on 
 the hearth. Below they were battering on the door. 
 He went down and opened it. They greeted his 
 appearance with a shout. In another minute he 
 was being marched up the street toward the hotel. 
 
 At the door of the front parlour, a man with a 
 musket brought them to a halt. Van Dorn, the 
 
 345
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 rebel leader who had taken the town, was examining 
 the Union colonel, and the orders were that no one 
 was to be brought in. Boone was shoved ahead to 
 the next door. It opened into a small room. There 
 they left him. " Stick your head out the window, 
 Yank, and you'll get it shot off! " was the warning. 
 Then the door was closed on him, and he was alone. 
 The room was dark, the blinds were lowered, and 
 prudence suggested it would be as well not to at- 
 tempt to raise them. He found a chair after much 
 stumbling. The partition walls on either side of 
 him were thin, and through these came the sound 
 of conversation. 
 
 From the back room he fancied he distinguished 
 a woman's voice. That should be the girl who had 
 come into town last evening. She spoke so low that 
 only occasional words were clear. But the voice in 
 conversation with her was stronger, and he made 
 out that an argument was in progress, and caught 
 the drift of it. A man was pleading with her. He 
 reasoned patiently and calmly, and her protests were 
 faint. Presently his voice fell, and he said some- 
 thing of which only a few words were plain. But 
 those were past misunderstanding and, after a little 
 silence, Boone heard her answer, and knew that she 
 had yielded. He heard the man say something 
 briskly. Then he left the room, and his footsteps 
 passed Boone's door. After a minute his voice 
 sounded in the room on the other side. There was 
 
 346
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 another brief argument there, and again the man's 
 footsteps went by the door. Then the man and the 
 girl were talking again. 
 
 But Boone had no chance to hear more. He was 
 ordered to come out, and next he was standing in 
 front of Van Dorn. 
 
 The Confederate leader was seated by a table, his 
 muddy boots on a chair. On the table was a double 
 sheet of closely written paper. He smoked while he 
 turned the leaves of a letter-book. Boone recog- 
 nised this as the record of the Captain's orders at 
 Tuka and Corinth. 
 
 Van Dorn tapped the book with a forefinger. 
 " Interesting reading," he remarked. " I'll keep it 
 to remember your chief by." Boone's smile was 
 rather sour. The other laughed. " But I won't 
 bother you that way. We're going to get out of 
 here as soon as we finish our little bonfire. We've 
 got about a thousand bales of cotton blazing down 
 the street and a rather considerable lot of mixed 
 goods to help along the fire." He picked up the sheet 
 of paper and read from it. It was an inventory of 
 the supplies and a statement of the Union forces at 
 Holly Springs. " All down, you see," he remarked. 
 He laughed. " Now about you," he said, suddenly, 
 looking up. " How do you feel about going free? " 
 
 " What do you mean ? " 
 
 " What I say. We'll parole you. We've paroled 
 a good many of your men already." 
 
 347
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Boone's silence quickened the other's temper. ' 
 " But you want to be right smart about it. Answer 
 me!" 
 
 " I will. I won't give you my parole. You want 
 it too badly." 
 
 " You'll soon wish that you had the chance to 
 give it." 
 
 Boone did not answer, and the demand was re- 
 peated. " Will you give your parole? " 
 
 " No I told you I wouldn't." 
 
 "Very well. We'll attend to you later." Van 
 Dorn shouted for the sentry at the door. Boone 
 was pushed into the next room. There he sat down 
 again. It was a dreary wait. From the back room 
 there was no sound. He heard Van Dorn's voice 
 and the voices of others in the front room for 
 awhile; then they ceased. Presently, the noise of 
 trampling down the hall. The dead silence which 
 followed informed him that the Confederate leader 
 had gone out of the building. But he was reason- 
 ably sure that the door of his own room was 
 guarded, and that, if he showed his head, it would 
 be to furnish a target. So he sat and made guesses 
 at what was going on. With every burst of yelling 
 in the streets he braced himself for a fulfilment of 
 the threat. But no one came near him, and two 
 hours dragged by. At last he ventured to raise the 
 blind at one of the windows. It was broad day- 
 light. Men were pouring up the side streets, mov- 
 
 348
 
 THECAPTAIN 
 
 ing toward the eastern end of the town. A great 
 pall of smoke floated over the house-tops, and he 
 could hear occasional shouting. But apparently he 
 was forgotten, and he watched from the window for 
 half an hour, and at last was sure of one thing. The 
 Confederates were making ready to leave the town. 
 With that thought and the philosophic reflection 
 that, having been overlooked where he was, he had 
 better remain there, he returned to the chair, and 
 tried to draw comfort from a crushed cigar while 
 he pondered on the conversation overheard. 
 
 A very muddy rider on a worn horse entered 
 Holly Springs that morning, an hour ahead of the 
 column of Federal reinforcements, and pulled up to 
 take count of the smouldering remains of Southern 
 jubilation. Then he rode on and, by and by, Boone 
 and he were facing each other on the steps of the 
 hotel. 
 
 " I'm about four or five hours too late from the 
 looks of things," David remarked. 
 
 " It depends upon the point of view," returned 
 Boone. " From mine which was that window 
 yonder for almost the length of time you mention 
 you had all the best of it. Anyhow " 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 " It wouldn't have made much difference if you 
 had come yesterday afternoon." 
 
 " Why not ? I have orders." 
 
 349
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " For the colonel ? Well, you'll find him some- 
 where about town. That's the point. If you had 
 had those orders then and delivered them into his 
 hands I don't think it would have saved the place. 
 He showed what he was made of at luka, two 
 months ago. It was bound to be the same story 
 here." 
 
 David twisted his lips grimly. " It couldn't 
 be worse," he said. " But come and help me find 
 him. I'll give him these orders, anyway." He slid 
 from his horse and shook himself. 
 
 " You know what this means ? " he said, as they 
 walked up the street. 
 
 " The end of the movement on Vicksburg for the 
 time being. The Captain will have to fall back until 
 supplies come down, and his line of communica- 
 tions is safe. Everything is against this campaign. 
 Won't Rawlins swear ? And Sherman " 
 
 " Sherman will have to go it alone down there 
 for awhile. But only for awhile, I tell you. The 
 Captain had made up his mind to have Vicksburg. 
 He'll have it whether it takes a month or a year." 
 
 Boone nodded. Then he dove into his coat and 
 pulled out a paper. " By the way," he said. " here 
 is something interesting. A complete itemised 
 account of our supplies that were, and men that 
 are, at this place. Van Dorn read some of it to 
 me at that little interview we had. He vamoosed 
 in such a hurry when he heard our reinforcements 
 
 350
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 were coming that he forgot it. I picked it up from 
 the table when he left. The question is, how did he 
 get it?" 
 
 David held out a hand, and unfolded the paper. 
 He glanced at it carelessly. Then his fingers closed 
 convulsively on it, but this his companion did not 
 see. 
 
 " Well," Boone asked, " what do you make of 
 it?" 
 
 " Of this ? Oh, not much. It's it's curious, 
 though, isn't it? What are you going to do with 
 it?" 
 
 " I thought of giving it to the colonel, but I 
 changed my mind. It isn't any good now, except as 
 evidence. If we could catch the fellow who gave 
 the information " 
 
 " Yes, but not unless you caught him," David 
 echoed. " And you haven't caught him." 
 
 " Caught him ? Certainly not. Nobody's seen 
 this paper yet. It's too late anvhow, now/' 
 
 " Yes, yes, of course." David slowly refolded 
 the paper. He remarked after a moment, " I am 
 going back~ to Oxford to-morrow unless orders 
 change. I believe this paper ought to be there. Sup- 
 pose I take it with me and report ? " 
 
 " Go ahead. I don't care. Headquarters is where 
 it belongs." 
 
 David put the paper into his pocket. To Boone's 
 steady stream of talk as they walked on he made 
 
 351
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 little response. But at a corner he halted abruptly. 
 " Hold on ! " he exclaimed. " I won't go to the 
 colonel's just yet. I have a message to deliver, and 
 the colonel will keep, as things stand. Mr. May- 
 hew? Is he in town? " 
 
 " He was." Boone did not try to conceal his dis- 
 gust. " He was among his own when the rebels 
 held the place and " He broke off abruptly. 
 " Yes, he's here. I saw him after they left. If you're 
 worrying, let me say that not a hair of his head was 
 harmed." 
 
 David took no notice of the implication. " I will 
 see him now," he said. " He has urgent business to 
 attend to. Suppose you go back, old man. I'll join 
 you in your room in an hour. I'll find the colonel 
 all right." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew, seated by a table in a front room, 
 raised his head quickly as David entered, and shot 
 out a hand in welcome. " Why," he cried, " I'm 
 mighty glad you've come. I suppose you've brought 
 soldiers, good Union soldiers? We've had com- 
 pany, unpleasant visitors, you know and " 
 He stopped. 
 
 David was standing stiffly a few feet away. " I 
 have ordered a horse and wagon for you," he said, 
 quietly. " They will be at this door in half an hour. 
 You will be ready to leave then." 
 
 352
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Mr. Mayhew stared. " Leave ? Where do you 
 suppose I am going?" 
 
 " I don't know that. Wherever you choose. 
 So that it is outside the Federal lines." 
 
 Still Mr. Mayhew stared. Then he laughed. 
 " To be sure. But I don't believe I quite understand 
 what you're talking about. Sit down and explain." 
 
 .David took two steps forward and laid a hand 
 upon the table top. " I do not know what these 
 papers here are," he said. " But I have something 
 in my pocket which you wrote. If you insist I will 
 show it to you. It was left behind by Van 
 Dorn. To-morrow it will be in the hands of head- 
 quarters. But not till to-morrow." 
 
 Mr. Mayhew again moistened his lips with his 
 tongue and for a moment not a muscle moved. 
 As he drew up his crippled leg slowly, his upper 
 lip lifted, and beneath his lowered lids showed that 
 strange phosphorescent gleam. But for a little while 
 he was silent. Then, " Oh," he said, and dropping 
 the words, " So it is that way. It was very thought- 
 ful on your part to come to me first." His hand 
 slipped down to the crutch resting against the chair 
 and fingered it. There was something in the move- 
 ment which made David's muscles stiffen. But the 
 crippled figure hoisted itself in the chair. " When 
 did you say my wagon would be here? " 
 
 " In half an hour." 
 
 353
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " So soon ! It is short notice. But I can be ready 
 if I must. Is there anything else?" 
 
 " No." David turned on his heel. 
 
 Mr. Mayhew spoke softly. " There's this," he 
 said, and chuckled. " Don't forget it. You might 
 have saved yourself some trouble, and perhaps your 
 people might not have lost their supplies here if 
 if you had read the paper in your pocket on the 
 day you carried it for me down to Oxford. For 
 it was a copy of the memorandum which you now 
 make so much of, and perfectly plain. But you 
 brought it back, brought it back and never broke the 
 seal." He heaved a sigh. " It's your one failing, 
 David, let me tell you. The damned thing which 
 I suppose you call honour." 
 
 That was the last word David ever heard his 
 uncle speak. It was the only time he remembers to 
 have heard him utter a profanity. He strode from 
 the house with the soft voice in his ears, without a 
 backward look, and walked far up the street and out 
 to where the country road began, swinging along 
 at a rapid pace. And so back again to Boone's door. 
 
 At the door a darkey swept off his battered hat 
 and held out a letter. " Dis yer's fo' Mista Capt'n 
 Foad," he explained. 
 
 " That's my name." David took the letter. 
 "Who's it from?" 
 
 " Don't know dat, Capt'n. Gem'lem guv it t' 
 m' while 'go, back th' road a ways." 
 
 354
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 David tore open the envelope. The note inside 
 was in his uncle's handwriting. " David," it ran, 
 " one good turn deserves another. You'll be inter- 
 ested perhaps to hear that Miss Shirley is travelling 
 to Vicksburg with a gentleman. Major Randolph, 
 I think, is his name. It gives me pain to say that 
 our worthy neighbour, the Doctor, has been badly 
 wounded. It is a pity you were not more forbearing 
 a little while ago. I have faint recollection of a letter 
 from Miss Shirley for you which came into my 
 hands a few weeks since. But you were so abrupt 
 you really were, David that you quite drove 
 the mention of it out of my head, and I have lost 
 the letter itself. Very careless of me, but you must 
 be patient, as you always were before, and doubtless 
 Major Randolph would say it was as well anyhow." 
 
 When David walked up to Boone's room and 
 pushed open the door he found Boone was stretched 
 in a rocker, his feet cocked up. The latter said, 
 " Hello," and made no further remark after a look 
 at David's face. But he wondered a good deal. 
 David lighted a pipe and flung himself on the bed. 
 For awhile there was silence, and this grew into 
 such length that at last David was aroused. He 
 cast a look of inquiry upon his companion. 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 Boone took his pipe from his mouth, and his lips 
 parted. But he quickly put the pipe back again, and 
 pulled on it vigorously. David, on an elbow, 
 
 355
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 watched him, and again the pipe came out, and its 
 holder rubbed the bowl with the palm of his hand. 
 " Well ? " David repeated, and this time Boone tried 
 to laugh it off. But it was a failure, and David 
 remarked, " Come, you've got something on your 
 mind. What is it? " 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 " Yes, it is. Speak it out." 
 
 " I have something to say," Boone acknowledged. 
 He did not look up. " Something I meant to tell 
 you before. But, the fact is, I don't know where 
 to begin." 
 
 " At the start. Is it unpleasant ? It is or you 
 wouldn't have any trouble." 
 
 " It's oh, the devil ! " Boone shook his pipe. 
 " Why, here I've gone and made a mountain out of 
 what is only rather odd. You probably know 
 something about it. A lady and two men drove into 
 Holly Springs yesterday. They were coming down 
 from Columbus, and there was a break on the rail- 
 road." 
 
 "Well?" 
 
 "One of the m'en was Major Randolph." 
 
 " But you said a lady." 
 
 " Yes, I did. She Well, the other man who 
 accompanied her was that old fellow who used to 
 work on Doctor Shirley's place." 
 
 " 'Lias ? Oh ! " David's eyes opened wide, and 
 he remained staring at Boone for a moment. Then 
 
 356
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 his brow contracted, and the seconds ticked off. 
 And at last he said, " The lady was Miss Shirley." 
 He spoke so calmly that astonishment checked the 
 reply on Boone's tongue. So they sat until David 
 asked, " Did you speak to her? Why did she come 
 here?" 
 
 Boone answered, quickly. " No, I didn't get the 
 chance to speak to them. But I know that they are 
 bound for the South Vicksburg, I think. They 
 came into town for the night." 
 
 David did not appear to hear. He was regarding 
 his pipe which he turned slowly in his fingers. A 
 feeling possessed Boone that all this was known to 
 his companion before. For himself he had guessed 
 at a good deal on the day when David spoke of 
 writing a letter; yet he had looked for something 
 different when he should tell him what he just had 
 told. He struck a match. David started and spoke. 
 "She was not hurt?" 
 
 " Hurt ? By the rebels, you mean ? Why, 
 no. The fact is Oh, no, she is all right." 
 
 " Then she is still here? " David cried, and sat 
 upright suddenly. 
 
 It was borne in upon Boone that he should have 
 begun his story at the other end. " They were going 
 to Vicksburg. I thought I said that," he explained. 
 " I don't know why they were going there, but " 
 
 " But I do. Where is she? Where is she now? " 
 
 " She is not here. The railroad line was cut below 
 
 357
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the town also. They could not get out that way. 
 So Major Randolph thought best and they rode 
 toward Potonoc, with Van Dorn, this morning." 
 
 "This morning?" David repeated. "She went 
 away with " He slid to the floor and walked 
 over to the window. There he stood, looking down 
 on the street. When he turned again his face made 
 Boone wonder. " Major Randolph is a cousin of 
 Miss Shirley's," he said, quietly. " You did not know 
 that. And they went to Vicksburg to her father. 
 He has been wounded. I just learned of it. But 
 you could not know that either. It is very simple 
 when one understands, you see. You do under- 
 stand?" 
 
 Boone nodded. David caught up his hat. " I 
 believe I will go out for awhile," he said. " Don't," 
 as Boone rose, " don't come with me. I'll be back 
 soon." 
 
 358
 
 XXIII 
 
 MR. LINCOLN'S KEY 
 
 CHRISTMAS Day in Vicksburg, and thou- 
 sands watching from the high bluffs. North, 
 a few miles above where the river made a 
 great bend, pillars of smoke smirched the sky. 
 From Memphis slowly down the river for days a 
 fleet of transports and gunboats had been moving 
 Sherman on his way. Now he was come. Vicks- 
 burg knew for what, and was ready for him. Mr. 
 Lincoln had said, " Vicksburg is the key to the 
 Mississippi. We must have it in our pocket." Miles 
 of fortifications, raised above and around the town, 
 dared the men whom Mr. Lincoln had sent to take 
 the key. From the high Walnut Hills on the north 
 to far below the city where the bluffs sheered from 
 the river, was piled battery on battery, and on the 
 ridges to the east other embankments, each with its 
 separate defiance. On this Christmas Day Vicks- 
 burg, looking at the pillars of smoke, declared, 
 " Here will the Yankees learn that the South holds 
 her own." 
 
 359
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Back of Vicksburg, on the western slopes of a 
 high ridge, was a house which had sheltered two 
 generations of one family, and was the home of a 
 third. It was a double house, larger than its neigh- 
 bours, and it was painted white and had a porch with 
 high columns and a veranda and a wooden fan-work 
 above, that, and behind it was another porch. The 
 big room in front, with its prim old furniture and 
 curious knicknacks and its wall-paper of pictures 
 taken from " Paul and Virginia," had long been the 
 delight of children for miles around. Breezes from 
 the Walnut Hills to the west cooled it. From it could 
 be seen the court-house on the hill in the city, its 
 cupola and steeple above the open bell-tower shining 
 in the sun. The noise of the city came but faintly 
 to it, through its garden of magnolias and gums 
 and its double row of china-trees. Plantations 
 stretched beyond it on the other side of the succes- 
 sive ridges, plantations of cotton, with here and 
 there an old gin, and scattered cabins, or a more pre- 
 tentious house set near the old road to Jackson, and 
 standing out starkly, for the trees had been cut down 
 on every exposed place to give open ground for the 
 defence. 
 
 The master of the big white house long ago had 
 been carried to where his father, and his father 
 before him, lay, and since then the negroes, whose 
 quarters showed through a group of magnolias, had 
 known only the will of the daughter and of Miss 
 
 360
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Celia, whose proud boast it was that the Pember- 
 tons and Shirleys had given more soldiers and law- 
 yers to their country than any two families of the 
 South. One of her name now held the chief com- 
 mand in Vicksburg. Another, her nephew, recently 
 serving with Forrest, was the colonel of a regiment 
 in the city; and it is not unlikely that Miss Celia's 
 confidence in the impregnability of the place was 
 rooted rather in these two facts than in all the frown- 
 ing lines of guns with twenty thousand men behind 
 them which defended Vicksburg. 
 
 It was from a night of work in these defences 
 that, on this Christmas morning, came that nephew 
 riding along the bare road and into the hollow 
 among the trees which girdled his cousin's place. 
 There, dismounting, he walked to the end of the 
 porch where a girl stood, looking toward the hills 
 to the north. " Lee," he said, " I have come for 
 breakfast." 
 
 She turned and gave him her hand. " I was hop- 
 ing you would," she answered. " And this is 
 Christmas. I give you my best wishes. I am sorry 
 it is nothing more." 
 
 " Why, you are here," he returned. " This is the 
 first Christmas I have been able to say that. I 
 thought of it a great many times last night when I 
 was down to Warrenton. And when I come back to- 
 night if I am able to you will still be here. 
 The Yankees cannot take you from me." 
 
 361
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Her face was turned from him with a quick little 
 movement, and he understood. He slipped an arm 
 through hers. In his happiness he had forgotten 
 her sorrow. Four days before, they had arrived in 
 the city to find that she was too late, that her father 
 had given for his cause the most that man has to 
 give. Her black-robed figure, as it moved so silently 
 about the house, had wrenched Philip's heart. From 
 the moment at Gravois when he told her why he 
 came for her, she had been this way. Except when 
 she knelt beside the still form and kissed the fore- 
 head, and then gazed and gazed into the face whose 
 folded lips seemed almost to answer her pleading, 
 " Father ! Father ! " he had seen no tear. So 
 now, when her face was turned again her eyes 
 looked into his own with a brave smile, and she 
 asked him, " They have come, then ? " 
 
 " Yes Sherman and his Yankee army and the 
 fleet were reported above Chickasaw Bayou last 
 night. They will probably land to-day. But they 
 are a good many miles away, and we don't intend 
 to allow them to get much nearer. We are almost 
 ready for them. I must leave again in an hour. 
 Come and eat Christmas breakfast with me. I 
 may not be able to have another breakfast with you 
 soon." 
 
 But it was not to be that way. Vicksburg was 
 better guarded than even its defenders believed ; and 
 December passed and January came in, and still the 
 
 362
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 city reared its bold front above the river and defied 
 its enemies, and hundreds perished in the swamps 
 to the north and on the sides of the bluffs. Then 
 on the last day of the first month of the new year, 
 Vicksburg heard that the beginning of its real strug- 
 gle was at hand. The Captain had arrived at 
 Young's Point. The self-important general who 
 had met his match in the staunch old admiral of the 
 Union fleet was deprived of his command. New 
 plans were to be tried to put the key of the Missis- 
 sippi into Mr. Lincoln's pocket. 
 
 Vicksburg knew of these things, as it knew of 
 what things followed almost, as it seemed to its 
 enemies, before they happened. They laughed in 
 Vicksburg then at the projects of the bearded man 
 with sober eyes who had set himself to do what the 
 " Bear " and a fleet of ironclads apparently had 
 shown to be impossible. 
 
 Miss Celia, when she heard Philip's news, con- 
 temptuously declared, " Let them dig their canal. 
 The Mississippi has chosen its path for a good many 
 years. I hardly believe it will change its ways 
 because this Yankee farmer says it must." Miss 
 Celia had been told about the Gravois days by Lee, 
 and to her the Captain remained a farmer to the 
 last. 
 
 Beatrix laughed. " But, Aunt Celia, a farmer 
 ought to know how to dig- better than anybody else. 
 And just think how terrible it would be if he did 
 
 363
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 steal our river away from us! What would we do 
 without water? And what would he do with it? " 
 
 " Give it to Mr. Lincoln," Miss Celia suggested. 
 " From all I have heard a little water would not be 
 amiss among the Yankees." 
 
 " They will really come to like it if they stay 
 here long enough," Beatrix rejoined. " Philip says 
 there is hardly a yard of dry land along the river 
 above, except on the levees. Lee, when next you 
 see your Captain he probably will have wet feet." 
 
 But Lee did not smile. " I have heard," she 
 said, " that there is a great deal of sickness among 
 them. Smallpox and fever. Do you remember, 
 Beatrix, that drive we took when I was here four 
 years ago? The swamps we saw! I can't forget 
 them. And now the country is flooded, and they 
 are living in water night and day." 
 
 " They need not live there a day longer than they 
 desire," remarked Miss Celia. " Let them go back 
 the way they came. We do not want them. If 
 they will stay they deserve what they get." 
 
 Lee was silent. She was thinking of what her 
 father had suffered while the fever sapped his 
 strength hour by hour until it left him nothing to 
 fight with against the torture of his wound. 
 
 A hint of her thoughts was in her face, and 
 Beatrix wound an arm about her, and reminded 
 her, " Lee, they have their own hospitals. They 
 can send their sick and wounded away where they 
 
 364
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 can have fresh air and everything they need. Our 
 soldiers have to be brought here, into the city. 
 I was at one of the hospitals to-day. They are 
 beginning to be crowded." 
 
 Miss Celia's eyes darkened. " Yes, but we will 
 always have men enough to drive these Yankees 
 back. They can dig and plan till doomsday; they 
 will be whipped every time." 
 
 The Yankees did dig, and they were whipped. 
 The first time it was the river. The Captain's ditch 
 was a failure. Perhaps he expected nothing better 
 of it and allowed it to be undertaken only to employ 
 his men while his army was strengthened and he 
 made other plans. The second time that he tried his 
 hand at digging, his enemies drove him back. 
 Porter was sent with his gunboats to find an open- 
 ing along the tortuous channels of bayous and lakes 
 and creeks far north of Vicksburg and so come down 
 behind the city. While he threaded these, in front 
 of him, out of reach of his guns, under Confederate 
 officers hundreds of unwilling slaves and some who 
 worked willingly, cut down trees and blocked the 
 waterways. When the admiral's boats cleared these 
 trees away it was to find the guns of a newly built 
 fort levelled on the narrow approach, and no dry 
 ground anywhere from which to make an assault. 
 So ended the third attempt on Vicksburg, and 
 Vicksburg laughed again. 
 
 But also it began to wonder. This man who had
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 come against it was very persistent. Stories were 
 repeated of his earlier days. It was said he never 
 gave up, once he started in to do anything. 
 
 But before this the city had a fright. A little 
 ram ran past the batteries in the mists of a bright 
 morning and dealt great damage. The Queen of 
 the West she was called. The Confederates remem- 
 bered her by the great hole she stove in one of their 
 gunboats tied against the bank. Porter, recalling 
 her success, sent another craft down the river one 
 night, and the guns above and the guns beneath the 
 city opened on her, and an avalanche of iron beat 
 upon her sides, and she did not answer. Red fire 
 pouring from her funnels, vast clouds of black 
 smoke trailing behind her, she swept on with the 
 current. Below they saw her coming, and to save 
 it from recapture, blew up the great Union ironclad 
 Indianola which they had captured. 
 
 The next morning they did not dare show their 
 faces because of what they had done. For the 
 invincible craft which had run the batteries was 
 grounded on a shoal, and they perceived that she 
 was a raft of logs, three hundred feet long, with 
 wheelhouses and a formidable casemate of planks 
 out of which wooden guns were thrust. Her smoke- 
 stacks were hogsheads with a flaming kettle of pitch 
 and oakum in each. At her bow was a flag with 
 skull and crossbones on it. Her wheelhouse bore 
 the legend, " Deluded Rebels, Cave In." After that, 
 
 366
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 it is said that the gunners on the Vicksburg heights 
 when they sighted a shadow on the river at night, 
 would advise one another, " Let th' Yank have th' 
 first shot. It ain't right for us to be doing all th' 
 shooting." 
 
 But there was shooting enough done, and to 
 Vicksburg fell its share. North of the city the guns 
 made the air tremble again and again ; along the dry 
 ground between the ridges within the fortifications 
 wound long lines of men. Those who moved north 
 went with jogging step; those coming toward the 
 city most often were with broken ranks, and among 
 these scores of men with arms tied up and bandaged 
 faces. And then, covered wagons, and groans from 
 these which sounded in one's ears long after the 
 wagons had rumbled on. 
 
 Lee had seen the wagons go by and knew what 
 they held. One evening Philip found her sitting 
 at the end of the porch alone. A passion vine stirred 
 its leaves at the touch of a gentle breeze which sifted 
 through the magnolias and from the north bore a 
 faint noise like distant thunder. It had been warm 
 that day and the sun had shone, and now the sky 
 overhead was flushed with its reflection. He came 
 over and sat down on the edge of the porch by her 
 chair, and leaned his back against a pillar. He was 
 satisfied with the welcoming smile she gave him, 
 and in silence they watched the fading glow to- 
 gether. 
 
 367
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Then she began to speak about the wounded men 
 she had seen, and he answered, " That is all part 
 of war. We are losing no more men than the 
 Yankees. And each of us has his chance." 
 
 " But when his chance is taken from him " She 
 caught herself and pressed her hands together. " He 
 never has another," she said, softly. " And every- 
 thing goes on without him." 
 
 " Yes it goes on. But not one of those men 
 would have it stop because he couldn't fight any 
 more." 
 
 " But it is cruel. So cruel and hard." 
 
 After a minute, he said, slowly, " It is hard, but 
 the hardest part must be when you know your 
 chance is going to realise that you could have 
 done better." 
 
 " If you have done what seemed right " she 
 began. 
 
 But he interposed, " No, no, that is not all. 
 Sometimes things are settled for us. We only know 
 this when we look back. Then we wish I hope 
 that I won't have to think I could have done better. 
 I hope I won't." 
 
 " Why, of course you won't," she answered, won- 
 deringly. " Please don't speak that way. And 
 nothing is going to happen to you." 
 
 "Something might happen to me, why not?" 
 Then his voice changed, and he said, carelessly, " I 
 am like the rest. And I reckon I could stand it as 
 
 368
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 well as most. Perhaps better than some, for I've got 
 pretty good pluck when I know it's needed." He 
 laughed. " 'Deed I have." Then he hooked his 
 hands about his knee and looked across at the hills 
 with their bare tops and curving lines of entrench- 
 ments. Presently he went on, " Sometimes I've 
 wondered whether if I had known you before a 
 long time ago it would have been different. 
 It would be very hard when when my chance is 
 gone if I should think that it might have been 
 different," he finished, wistfully. 
 
 His boyish face was raised, but not to hers, and 
 she knew he did not expect her to answer. A great 
 pity flooded her heart. He loved her. Yes, and he 
 would never cease to hope, not until the very end. 
 It was in his voice, in his eyes, in every one of those 
 little tendernesses with which he had surrounded her 
 since he brought her from Gravois. Yet he had 
 never spoken of it after that one day. And now 
 he only told her that he wondered whether anything 
 he could have done would have helped him with her. 
 If his chance was to be taken from him ! 
 
 Her eyes were misty. She bent toward him and 
 touched his head. It was the touch of a mother 
 for her child, but neither of them knew that. 
 " Philip," she said, softly. 
 
 He looked up and into her face, and for an instant 
 was dumb. Then, " Lee! " he cried, and caught her 
 hands in his. How could she tell him the truth then ? 
 
 369
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 How tell him what she knew when all the joy of his 
 heart was in his eager eyes, and his lips were parted 
 to say over and over again that one word, "Lee! 
 Lee ! Lee ! " lower and lower until she barely 
 heard it. 
 
 For three days after that evening she did not see 
 him. Early in the morning he had said good-bye. 
 He was assigned to duty above the city. " Dear," 
 he said, " I dreamed last night that you told me you 
 loved me." Then with a whimsical smile, " Now 
 wasn't that w-dacious of me? " He held her hands 
 in his, wide apart, looking up at her from the step, 
 bare-headed, his face glowing. " But maybe it was 
 true? " he asked. She could not answer, though he 
 waited, then drew her hands together and kissed 
 them. " It was true," he said. " It was to me. I 
 knew it was when I opened my eyes and saw the 
 sun. I knew it when I heard your voice. I will 
 know it always. And to-night I will dream it again. 
 Then, when I come back you will tell me it is true, 
 won't you ? Won't you, sweetheart ? " Beatrix 
 suddenly stood in the doorway, and he dropped her 
 hands. " Say that you love me. Say it to yourself, 
 dear," he whispered. " I will hear you." 
 
 There was fierce fighting in the swamps and 
 flooded land about Steele's Bayou to the north of 
 the city. Admiral Porter and his gunboats for a 
 
 370
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 week had been working through the twistings and 
 tangles of the creeks and arms of the bayou, while 
 their enemies felled trees in front and trees behind, 
 and the low-hanging limbs tore the smoke-stacks and 
 the upper works from the steamers, and smashed 
 small boats, and the mesh of wiry water willows laid 
 hold of the keels. And at last the fleet was tied up, 
 and could move neither forward nor backward, and 
 Porter was at bay with his great guns almost use- 
 less because of the banks, and his enemies closing in 
 on him. Then came Sherman, paddling in a canoe, 
 almost alone, wading through the swamps. And 
 with his infantry drove off the enemy which had 
 fallen on the helpless fleet from every point of dry 
 land. There were strange sights in those days 
 among the swamps. Men to their hips in water 
 sawing at logs which no one could see. A dozen 
 jack-tars wielding the broom, and snakes and scor- 
 pions and bats for refuse to be swept from the decks. 
 All about them trees growing from the swirling 
 current, and at times a darkness from the foliage 
 overhead so dense that fires had to be lighted to 
 work by. In one of the darkest of these places on 
 the night the brave Porter found himself tied hard 
 and fast Philip came suddenly upon an old acquaint- 
 ance and had a few words with him before one side 
 spied the other, and the rifles began to crack, and 
 they were enemies again. He told Lee about it the 
 next evening when he was back again. 
 
 37 1
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " David ? " she said, and repeated it as if there 
 could be no stranger name. " Yes. He asked about 
 you. He knew you were here." 
 
 " Oh, yes, he must have known I was here." 
 
 " I thought you had written to him until he asked 
 about your father. He was wounded himself, he 
 told me, at Corinth, and has been away from the 
 mails so long he was eager for news. I told him 
 what I knew." 
 
 She stared at him so curiously that he caught her 
 arm. " What is wrong? " he asked. " David you 
 mean? Oh, he is all right now. You should have 
 seen him. I thought you must know that." Then, 
 after a halt, " And I forgot you were such old 
 friends." 
 
 " Yes, old friends," she echoed. Then she saw 
 that there was a shadow in his eyes, and smiled. 
 " David is my oldest friend," she said. " I always 
 must think of him that way even though he is fight- 
 ing against us." 
 
 The shadow was lifted from Philip's eyes. " I 
 like him, too," he answered. " He will be our friend 
 too, when this war is over. I can even forgive him 
 all those days when he was with you and I was not. 
 Because Can't you guess why ? " 
 
 " Yes, yes," she answered, hastily, but he would 
 not forego the joy of saying it. " Because he was 
 so blind, so very blind, dear." 
 
 Did she tremble when his arm crept around her 
 
 37 2
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and he drew her to him? If she did he knew why 
 this was, and held her closer until she slipped away 
 from him. 
 
 He had forgotten his meeting with David, when 
 she spoke, very quietly, " You said he was away 
 a long time. When was that? " 
 
 "He? David? Oh, that must have been -let 
 me see! He was wounded when at Corinth, I said. 
 It must have been before he was at Holly Springs." 
 
 "Where?" 
 
 " Holly Springs." 
 
 " Was he there when we were there? " 
 
 " No." He laid his hand over hers. " He must 
 have reached there the day after we left, though 
 when we talked I didn't think that we had passed 
 through there, too." 
 
 That night Beatrix passing Lee's door paused and 
 stood listening. Then she went into the room. Lee 
 was by the open window. She stole over and curved 
 an arm about her shoulders. Buf Lee did not speak 
 and her hands lay loosely in her lap. After a little 
 while Beatrix said, " Philip tells me he saw David." 
 
 The hands in the lap closed on each other. " Yes, 
 he told me. I wish David knew " She did not 
 say what it was she wished he knew, and Beatrix 
 did not ask her. But a little later, when she bent 
 and kissed her good night, Beatrix whispered, " I 
 am going out to Mrs. Ives's to-morrow for a day or 
 two. We have known her a long time, and I know 
 
 373
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 she hopes I will come. She has few friends here 
 since the war began. She has a son with the North. 
 Perhaps I can find a way to let David know what 
 what you want, dear." 
 
 Except for the uniforms there was nothing to 
 speak of war on the headquarters' boat at Milliken's 
 Bend on this night. Fiddles were squeaking, bil- 
 lowy skirts swept the floor of the main cabin, laugh- 
 ing eyes looked up into their partners' faces. The 
 army and navy had joined hands, and the younger 
 officers were in their glory. The country round 
 Vicksburg might be under water, it did not dampen 
 the gaiety of those of its daughters who were here 
 to-night. With the fair visitors from up the river 
 and the east, they found squires, a dozen apiece, 
 whose one thought was to forget all about war and 
 its duties in the polka and the waltz. 
 
 Earlier in the evening healths had been drunk. 
 The Captain, lured from his concealment at the far 
 end of the room, had given them the toast, " Lib- 
 erty and Lincoln, God gave them both to us. Let 
 us fight for them." Afterward he had slipped away, 
 and not all the clapping of hands brought him again 
 to the front. At a small table in a corner of the 
 ladies' cabin, he sat himself down and from his 
 pocket pulled a map. With a nencil he besran to 
 draw lines. A few daring spirits among the visit- 
 ors ventured into his retreat. One of them be- 
 
 374
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 sought him to be her partner in the Virginia Reel 
 just forming. " My dear lady," he answered, " I 
 have a dance here of my own. If you will promise 
 to lead me through that, I will be proud to be your 
 partner now." 
 
 "What dance is it?" she inquired and peeped 
 over his shoulder. " Oh a horrid map ! " 
 
 " Yes, a map," he said, with twinkling eyes. 
 " And I am trying to decide upon the figures for 
 my dance. Are you ready to promise your assist- 
 ance?" 
 
 She pouted. " I know a way into Vicksburg," 
 she said. " But only a woman could find it. The 
 Southern gentlemen are very gallant." Then she 
 turned her shoulder on the Captain, for he had 
 discovered something on his map of great interest, 
 and was not looking at her at all. 
 
 An hour later McPherson, passing the door in 
 front of which he had paused many times before, 
 stopped, then hastened to a table and filled a glass 
 with champagne. He bore it in to the Captain. 
 " You are wearing yourself out," he said. " Drink 
 this. It will do you good. Then come and join us." 
 
 The Captain leaned back in his chair and regarded 
 his friend with gravely smiling face. " Mac," he 
 answered, " that wine won't do me any good. I 
 have work here. If you will be of service, get 
 me half a dozen cigars big ones. They'll be the 
 
 375
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 best help I can have. When I've finished them, per- 
 haps, I'll see my way clear." 
 
 The music went on, midnight struck on the bells, 
 and still he sat, drifts of smoke about his head 
 dropped to one side, his shoulders hunched over the 
 table where the papers and the map were spread. 
 
 Twice David came in to see him and went away 
 with the quiet answer in his ears, " Nobody can aid 
 me to untangle this. Go and enjoy yourself." 
 
 But David, for reasons best known to himself, 
 found little pleasure in the evening's gaiety. More 
 than once it had been impressed upon him that he 
 was a graceless partner in the dance. So with a 
 gaze that took small account of the smiling faces and 
 softly gleaming shoulders which passed and repassed 
 him, he stood at one side and knew that he would 
 be glad when it was all over. A guilty start he gave 
 when a voice behind him declared, " It was a yawn 
 that time, Captain Ford. I was watching, and I 
 saw it." 
 
 He. faced about. "I beg your pardon." Then, 
 " Beatrix ! " he cried. 
 
 She curtsied. " Surely it is Beatrix, unless I have 
 changed my name with my gown." 
 
 " But this is not Vicksburg." 
 
 " No, Vicksburg is down the river a piece. That 
 little piece of water which you want so badly, so 
 very badly, to pass over. But it is not so hard to go 
 up-stream. So here I am." 
 
 376
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " But I don't understand." 
 
 " You never will. It is sad, too. I thought you 
 had learned something that evening in Corinth." 
 A smile hovered on her lips. " It will have to 
 satisfy you that I am here, the guest of a lady who 
 was duly invited on your boat this evening. I am 
 here on promise of good behaviour. So you need 
 not be afraid of me." 
 
 " I am not afraid. But " 
 
 " No buts," she warned. " Perhaps I came be- 
 cause we were tired of waiting for you in Vicks- 
 burg. Perhaps, to see how you Yankees dance." 
 
 " Then," said David, " you will allow me to show 
 you how one of them dances." 
 
 " No, I do not want to dance. But I would rather 
 like to talk. And it is warm here. Do not boats 
 have decks outside? " 
 
 He offered her his arm. " We can find one, I am 
 sure." 
 
 But after they had discovered a place to her 
 liking and he was standing beside her near the rail, 
 he fell into a silence which was the more strange, 
 since she began to talk of Lee, and there were many 
 times when he might have asked her what was. in 
 his mind. She told him of Lee's arrival, and he 
 did not reply. Of her father's death, and he said 
 only, " Yes, I was sure of that," and turned his 
 face away. Then she began to speak of Philip, 
 and she saw his face again ; and to herself she de- 
 
 377
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 clared, " I knew it ! I knew it ! " Which was stranger 
 still, since David was sure face never told less than 
 his did then. He was looking down the river where, 
 over the banks of the great bend, now and then a 
 twinkling light shone from the city; and her voice 
 seemed to come from far off, though he heard every 
 word. 
 
 Then he was aware that she had given a little 
 cry of dismay, and he shook himself free of his 
 moodiness. 
 
 " It was nothing after all," she told him, in 
 answer to his question. " I was rather curious 
 about a friend of yours who should be here. And 
 now I fear it is too late to have you point him out to 
 me." 
 
 " Whom do you mean ? " 
 
 " That tall man, the one you talk about so 
 much., the doctor." 
 
 "Boone? He is not a doctor now. He has a 
 place on the staff. But he is not here. He went 
 to Memphis two days ago." 
 
 " That is curious," she said. " Always in some 
 other place. Tell me, is he as busy as ever? The 
 last time, you remember, it was the same way. He 
 could not spare the time for frivolities. I am 
 beginning to think " 
 
 " What ? " asked David, when she halted, and 
 she answered, indolently, " That he does not exist." 
 
 378
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " But he does. He is very real, and very much in 
 earnest." 
 
 "So? So?" She laughed doubtfully. " But he 
 must be very different from most men, none the 
 less." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " For one thing, because he doesn't care for 
 women's company. You told me What was 
 it?" 
 
 David's gaze searched her face, and he said, 
 slowly, " There is one woman. I believe he cares 
 very much for her. But she, I do not know what she 
 thinks." 
 
 Beatrix leaned her chin in her palms, her elbows 
 on the rail, her face turned slightly away from him, 
 and he could see only the rounded outline of her 
 cheek on which the lashes lay. The paddles of a 
 steamer beat faintly out of the darkness up-stream 
 as the music in the cabin ceased; then came a 
 ripple of soft laughter from the cabin and the hum 
 of conversation. Yet still she did not speak, and 
 he said (and was it of Boone he was speaking?), 
 " If a woman knew that a man loved her, Beatrix, 
 could she not forget that he had not seen some 
 things in the way he should ? " 
 
 " She can easily enough forget," she answered, 
 " if she does not love him. But, if she does love 
 him, he must never let her remember that there 
 
 379
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 was a yesterday until he came. He must show that 
 his love for her is as great as great as her own." 
 
 " But how is he to know that she loves him when 
 everything is against him? Perhaps, some one 
 else, another man who loves her, is with her. And 
 she may be where where he cannot go to her." 
 
 She dropped her hands and threw her head far 
 back. Her eyes rested on him, reproachful, yet the 
 reproach was almost tender. " David," she said, 
 " David, can't you answer that question for your- 
 self? If he loves her, he must be willing to risk 
 something. Look ! " She stretched an arm toward 
 the twinkling lights. " There is Vicksburg. Your 
 Captain wants the city, but he will never take it as 
 he is doing now. And your man is something 
 like him. Wishing, worrying, planning. But too 
 prudent! Too prudent, David! What is a rebuff! 
 What if he does not know all that she knows! A 
 woman worth having is worth a little daring. Love! 
 David, do you know what love means ? When your 
 man has dared, then he may say he knows. And 
 maybe he will learn her secret then." 
 
 380
 
 XXIV 
 
 BY WAY 
 
 OF THE RIVER 
 
 * T T was Boone she meant," David told himself 
 when she was gone. " I was right. She is 
 the girl. And I must let him know. Of 
 course she was speaking of him." A dozen times he 
 repeated this last statement. What doubt of it 
 could there be? Yet he went back over their con- 
 versation. An absurd idea thrust itself upon him, 
 absurd because she could not know what he knew. 
 It drew his eyes many times to the high bluffs raised 
 above the nearer banks of the rolling, muddy river. 
 It put questions into his mind. If she had not meant 
 Boone ? But what was the use of conjuring 
 such possibilities ? The fact remained : What he 
 learned during those lonely hours in the hospital 
 had only been that he might understand more clearly 
 what was lost to him. Vicksburg might stand for 
 ever or it might be taken to-morrow. It would 
 not change this. Yet ? Then he would measure 
 again the distance to the city with its tiers of earth- 
 works, and walk away to plunge into the work which 
 
 3? i
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 went on without pause along the sodden levees and 
 in the flooded fields about where the Union army 
 camped. 
 
 They were heavy-handed, many of those water- 
 soaked, clay-smeared, and sweating fellows, and no 
 respecter of persons when dealing with the enemy. 
 They foraged on the land wherever it raised itself 
 above the flood and there was anything worth taking. 
 Sherman's men, it was said, could catch and skin a 
 hog while on the march without breaking step. A 
 rough humour showed itself in many of their deal- 
 ings. Boone one afternoon piloted a lank, lantern- 
 jawed Mississippian to headquarters. The visitor 
 led a flea-bitten mule by a long rope halter, and had 
 a complaint to make. Sherman came by as he was 
 repeating it, and the Captain called him over. 
 " General, this man complains that he has been 
 robbed of almost everything he owns. He says your 
 men did it." 
 
 " Nonsense." Sherman eyed the man severely. 
 " What do you say has been taken ? " 
 
 " G'n'ral, they've done tuk everything. First 
 they stole ma ducks an' chick-ens. Then they come 
 an' robbed ma tater hole. Th' other night ma hawgs 
 begun t' sque-a/ and foah I could get thyar, nothin' 
 wuz left, seh, but th' troughs they aten outa. It wuz 
 bright 'nough, G'n'ral, fur t' see th' soldiers run- 
 nin' away." 
 
 Under Sherman's observation at that moment 
 
 382
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 something transpired which made his face grow 
 stern, then relax. " You saw them, did you? Well, 
 did you see the hogs ? " 
 
 " No, seh. But they done hev them somewhar 
 'bout them, fur they wuz go-an. Why, G'n'ral," 
 fingering the frayed ends of the halter, " they'd 
 have tuk ma ole mu-el 'f I hadn't done brought 't 
 'long with me t'day." 
 
 "What mule?" 
 
 " Why, this hyar one." The Mississippian turned 
 about and pointed with a bony finger. Then his 
 jaw fell, and he remained fixed in astonishment, his 
 eyes bulging. From his hand the long halter ran 
 to a small tree near by, and there its end was looped 
 on a branch. From his gaping mouth came a 
 hollow sound. " I'll be damned 'f they ain't done 
 tuk th' mu-el," he groaned. 
 
 But if they took from those who had, and some- 
 times left little behind them, they spared many 
 whose little meant much to its owners, and the Cap- 
 tain drove this lesson in with a discipline which was 
 inexorable. They saw him do things, too, which 
 worked more good with them than did any regu- 
 lation; but these things he did in a fashion of his 
 own. 
 
 Riding one day past a tumble-down cabin, a 
 woman came out and stood by the doorway gazing 
 at them silently. Her face, sallow and peaked, was 
 lined with fever marks. A child clutched at her 
 
 383
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 skirts, and deep hollows were beneath its eyes. The 
 Captain looked down at the woman, and rode on. 
 But half a mile away he told Boone to go back and 
 inquire about the woman. Boone reported that her 
 husband had served with the Confederates until he 
 was brought home wounded and sick. They were 
 miserably poor. 
 
 " Send back a guard to protect the cabin," the 
 Captain ordered. 
 
 A minute later he spoke again, " Send a surgeon 
 to see what can be done for the sick man." 
 
 Hardly was the order delivered when he com- 
 manded, " And see that a dozen rations go with the 
 surgeon. They can't live without food." 
 
 The following day a newspaper correspondent 
 inquired about the incident. The Captain's memory, 
 it seemed, did not serve him so far. 
 
 Perhaps he had done this in one of those spells 
 of irresponsibility of which his enemies at Wash- 
 ington continued to complain. They urged his 
 removal again and again, and the tall, lank man 
 who watched over all with patient, sorrowful eyes, 
 and whose hand held forgiveness always for South 
 and North alike, asked them, " Why should he be 
 removed ? " 
 
 " Because he drinks too much." 
 
 Then the shadow lifted a moment from those 
 wonderful eyes, and their owner replied, " Is it so ? 
 I have been wondering a long time where he got 
 
 384
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 his whiskey. Can you tell me? I should like to 
 send a barrel of the same kind to each of our gen- 
 erals." 
 
 If the Captain drank too much, those who were 
 about him did not know it. Yet silent he always 
 was, except when he had something to say, and then 
 it was seldom about himself he spoke. 
 
 He walked and rode among them, solid, erect, 
 spattered with day, his hat pulled down and bat- 
 tered, his head most often dropped a little forward, 
 his bearded lips closed, his eyes grave but missing 
 few things which they should see. And the word 
 would pass along, " The old man is coming." 
 Straightway men forgot that they were standing 
 knee-deep in mud and that their shoulders ached, 
 and that smallpox and fever cut them down, and 
 that there was hardly a dry spot to lay a coffin in. 
 
 So the spring came, and still Vicksburg was on 
 the east bank, the Captain on the west bank of the 
 Mississippi. A mile of river flowed between, and 
 mile on mile of tangled bayous and creeks and tinv 
 bered swamps defied his efforts on the east and 
 north. The river itself rose in a night and ended 
 the labour of days and days which had been put 
 upon another plan to get the gunboats and trans- 
 ports behind the city. In Washington, told of this 
 latest failure, the President answered those who 
 besieged him to remove so incompetent a com- 
 
 385
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 mander, " No, I have a sort of liking for him. I 
 will try him a little longer." 
 
 The Captain, studying the river's work that 
 day, pulled at his beard and pondered. When he 
 turned away, a steely glint was in his eyes. That 
 same night he called his generals and engineers to- 
 gether. " I have another plan for getting at the 
 city," he said. " We will use the canal which is 
 already dug for us." 
 
 Sherman wrinkled his brows. " Which is that ? " 
 
 " The river itself. Protect our boats with cotton 
 bales and whatever else will do, and run the bat- 
 teries. One boat has done it. It can be done 
 again." 
 
 Sherman's astonishment burst into speech. " Take 
 a fleet of those paper-shell craft past the banks of 
 big guns at short range ! They would stand no 
 chance at all. Riddled ? They'd be sunk before they 
 were clear of the bend." 
 
 The Captain heard and was silent. One after 
 another of the council condemned the suggestion, 
 and his lips only closed tighter on the cigar. When 
 they had finished he said, quietly, " I have not 
 changed my mind. Be prepared to move down the 
 river." 
 
 Sherman remained to remonstrate. " I shall give 
 my heartiest support to whatever move you order, 
 but I believe it is my duty to put my protest in writ- 
 ing!" 
 
 386
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Send along your protest," answered the Captain, 
 with a smile. The letter was sent. Months after- 
 ward the Captain drew the letter from his pocket 
 and returned it to its writer. The seal was un- 
 broken. " Here is something to interest you," he 
 remarked. Things had happened in the interval 
 which made Sherman twist his mouth over the letter 
 in a wry grin. 
 
 " It is a mistake," Boone declared to David, as 
 they stood by the brink of the Yazoo and watched 
 Porter's men at work on the steamers. " Very few 
 of those boats will get below the city." 
 
 " Why do they say that ? The Queen of the West 
 went through." 
 
 " By sheer luck and audacity. The Confederates 
 are better prepared now. I know a little about 
 Vicksburg, and look at those bluffs ! " 
 
 It was David's opportunity. " A girl once told 
 me," he said, slowly, "a Vicksburg girl she was, 
 that her city would never be taken by waiting and 
 wishing, as she put it. She made a curious com- 
 parison, of a man in love with a woman. Some- 
 thing had sent him away from her, and well, she 
 said this woman could not mean much to him." 
 Boone gave one quick look at David's face, then was 
 staring out over the river. He made no reply. 
 "And she was right," David added. "The man 
 is unfair to himself and to her." 
 
 387
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 "What chance has he?" Boone said, sharply. 
 "Tell me, what chance?" 
 
 " Beatrix said," returned David, " that the 
 woman, if she were the man, would not ask that. 
 That, if her love was worth having, it was worth 
 daring something for." 
 
 Boone's face came about swiftly, and his lips 
 parted. But as abruptly he looked away again, and 
 when he spoke it was deliberately. " Perhaps you 
 are right." His voice as much as his words forbade 
 David to go on, and for awhile neither of them 
 spoke. Then Boone began to talk again of running 
 the batteries, and of what was being done to prepare 
 for it. " These volunteers for the transports," he 
 said. " I asked to-day to be allowed to go down on 
 one of the steamers. But they have enough men 
 already. It is my luck." 
 
 " Mine is better," David returned. " I applied 
 two days ago. To-day I was assigned to the Henry 
 Clay." 
 
 Boone swung on his heel, and gripped his com- 
 panion's shoulders. " Some day," he said, " I will 
 know you as you are. Forgive me." 
 
 The gunboats with their convoy of steamers 
 dropped into the current of the Mississippi one dark 
 night in April, and, from a transport anchored in 
 midstream as far down as was safe, Boone stood 
 behind the Captain, and saw that wonderful sight, 
 
 388
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and tried to make out the dim shape of the steamer 
 Henry Clay, where David was, long after she had 
 been swallowed up by the night. 
 
 First a row of dark bulks emerging from the 
 shadows of the banks above and floating fast down 
 and into the shadows, a glowworm of a lamp now 
 and then sending back its winking message to the 
 boat next astern. An orchestra of frogs cheeping 
 and strumming from the nearest bank. Except for 
 this, silence above and below, and the loom of the 
 dark banks where the city hung in its great nest 
 of forts unbroken by a point of light. They spoke 
 in hushed voices around the Captain. Once a chair 
 was knocked to the deck, and they softly cursed the 
 offender. To them hours seemed to pass while that 
 straggling, little fleet, hay and cotton bales stacked 
 along its guards and about its boilers, dropped down- 
 stream, Porter in the Benton showing the way. It 
 seemed that sleep had fallen on the five miles of 
 battery-crested heights. 
 
 Then a spark of light glowed on the bluffs and 
 rose in the air, trailing a faint, luminous line across 
 the sky, and burst into a tiny shower of sparks. At 
 the signal a jet of orange flame leaped from the bank 
 far beyond, and before the report had travelled to 
 the Captain's ear, came another flash, then a sheet 
 of fire. Then along the banks above, below, and 
 where the batteries shook the city itself, the Vicks- 
 burg cannoneers loosed their guns. Opposite the 
 
 389
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 city a house sprang into a blaze, and another, and 
 then an old hulk near the Louisiana shore. Ribbons 
 of rosy light were unrolled upon the stream. The 
 gunboats and steamers, the black smoke pouring 
 from their funnels, were uncovered. The batteries 
 flamed from end to end. From the river came an 
 answer now, the guns of the fleet. Flashes sprang 
 from every gun they could bring to bear, and thick 
 white smoke rolled out to be seamed with lightning- 
 bolts, and the thunder was a continuous, mighty 
 roar. 
 
 " The boats can never live under that," said an 
 officer. 
 
 Boone shook his head. But the stocky figure be- 
 fore him was motionless except for a rocking of the 
 head now and then or a shifting of the cigar in the 
 lips which held it so tightly. Once he asked a ques- 
 tion, "Where do you place the Benton now?" 
 And some one answered, " Below the lowest battery, 
 by her fire." The Captain nodded. 
 
 But suddenly a bright light sprang upon the 
 river's surface and grew, and above it rose a great 
 volume of smoke. The Captain spoke again, 
 sharply, " What steamer is that on fire? " 
 
 " It ought to be the Henry Clay by her position." 
 
 Boone gripped the rail and declared it could not 
 be. The Henry Clay must be much further down- 
 stream. Why, the gunboat Tuscumbia was further 
 
 390
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 down, as any one could see by the flash of her guns. 
 And she had been the last vessel to start. 
 
 The Captain heard him, but did not answer. 
 Presently, when the blazing hulk veered toward the 
 Mississippi shore, and they could see that the firing 
 from the gunboats was now all below her, he said 
 over his shoulder to Boone, " They have had time 
 enough to get off of her. I believe they are all on 
 land by now." 
 
 While he spoke the flashes from the nearest bat- 
 teries became less frequent. Steadily silence and 
 darkness moved down-stream along the city's front, 
 and soon only the lowest guns were firing. The 
 blaze on the other side of the river died down, the 
 flare on the sky paled. The thunder rolled sullenly 
 but dully. There was a moment's hush, a single 
 gush of fire and a dull report that echoed again and 
 again. Then silence profound fell on the river. 
 The seconds ticked off, not a man stirred on the 
 boat where the Captain stood. Across the water 
 came the faint peep of a frog. Some one spoke, " It 
 is all over ! " 
 
 The next morning they knew that the entire fleet 
 had passed the batteries in safety except the Henry 
 Clay. She had been disabled and set on fire. Her 
 crew had taken to the boats. One yawl had been 
 upset, and four men and an officer who were in it 
 had not yet reported. 
 
 39 i
 
 XXV 
 
 f^> 
 
 L.OME 
 AND TAKE ME" 
 
 THE ball which Colonel Wilson of the Vicks- 
 burg garrison was to give had been talked 
 of for a week. To-night it was to be, and 
 Beatrix was going. In front of the glass of the 
 old walnut bureau she sat, and behind her stood 
 Lee combing and piling the rippling coils of ruddy 
 hair. " Beatrix," she said, " you will meet some one 
 to-night. I wonder what you will say to him." 
 
 " Now, I wonder ? What will he say to me ? " 
 
 " What he has been saying every time he sees you. 
 What he said coming home from church last Sun- 
 day. It is no secret." 
 
 Beatrix tilted her chin and surveyed herself in the 
 glass. She curved a rounded bare arm and twirled 
 with a finger-tip a tiny curl on the nape of her neck. 
 " Dear me," she said, " what a dreadfully long 
 memory you have." 
 
 " Not as long as his. How long is His memory, 
 Beatrix? When I was here before it was the same 
 way." She stepped to one side and stood with head 
 
 39 2
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 cocked critically. " No," she said, " I am quite sure 
 he will never let you leave him to-night until he has 
 his answer. If you could see yourself " 
 
 " Fiddlesticks ! " exclaimed Beatrix. Then, 
 wearily, " Oh, how tired I am of myself ! As to 
 him " She paused. " Lee," she finished, " I do 
 not think Major Carson will be at the party to-night. 
 He went to Warrenton right after our walk on 
 Sunday last. I do not expect to see him again." 
 
 " Oh ! " breathed Lee. " I did not know that. 
 I am very sorry." 
 
 Beatrix sat up straightly. "Why?" she chal- 
 lenged. " Why should you be sorry ? Not for me, 
 surely. And it was all his fault. He was so per- 
 sistent, so blind. How I hate him ! " She clinched 
 a hand vindictively. But something which was 
 neither in her voice nor words made Lee look at her 
 closely, and ask, " Blind to what ? " 
 
 " Why, blind to how I felt toward him, of course." 
 
 Lee came close and slid an arm around the bare 
 shoulders. " No," she corrected, softly, " not to 
 that. But blind to how you felt about some one 
 else. Isn't that what you mean ? " 
 
 Then, when the colour should have flooded Bea- 
 trix's cheeks, instead what was there fled, and with 
 very fair precision she asserted, " No, no, you are 
 wrong utterly wrong." 
 
 But Lee persisted. " Am I ? You know I am 
 not. Why, I have seen him. Don't you remember 
 
 393
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 that night our horses ran away on the Gravois road ? 
 Don't you remember the man who stopped them? 
 You " 
 
 "Well, what did I do? Tell me! I have for- 
 gotten. No, no, you need not tell me, either. I 
 do not want to remember." A moment she halted, 
 then, with chin very high, " He is a Yankee ! A 
 Yankee, you understand ! Is not that enough ? " 
 
 " Is it? " asked Lee. " Is it enough? You know 
 that it isn't. Won't you trust me? " But Beatrix's 
 eyes were set upon the glass and her lips were pressed 
 together. Lee leaned forward until her face was 
 close. " Beatrix," she whispered, " you went across 
 the river one night not long ago. Why was that ? " 
 
 Then the gaze of the wilful eye was shaken. 
 " What do you mean ? What night ? " 
 
 " The night," said Lee, gently, " that you were 
 visiting Mrs. Ives. Yes, I know about it. Her 
 servants told old Caesar, and I overheard him talking 
 next day. Did you go to that Union party, Beatrix, 
 because you had forgotten?" There was a little 
 silence, and she urged, " Dear, tell me all about it, 
 won't you ? I want to help you. And I can under- 
 stand." 
 
 But when Beatrix spoke she was smiling, " Yes, 
 I went there," she said, lightly. " I had the invita- 
 tion from Mr. Ives, and I reckoned I'd have a right 
 good time. And, perhaps, I had. There was a man 
 
 394
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 there who is an old friend of mine, and yours. We 
 talked about Gravois. He asked about you." 
 
 "David!" Did Lee's lips fashion the name? 
 The comb slipped from her fingers and slid to the 
 floor. She stooped and picked it up, then walked 
 across the room and laid it on a table. There she 
 straightened a photograph, a mirror, and a tray, and 
 all the while she said nothing. But when she turned 
 it was to come to where Beatrix sat, and say, quietly, 
 " I was wrong to ask so much. Forgive me." 
 
 Midnight struck and to Lee it had never seemed so 
 still, though in the magnolia-trees close to the win- 
 dow a legion of insects shrilled incessantly. Twice 
 she heard 'Lias pass the house, humming a planta- 
 tion song. A faint sound of contention came from 
 the quarters. Then all was quiet, and she lay, star- 
 ing at the ceiling with wide open eyes. At the ball 
 by now she imagined that they must be having 
 supper. Beatrix would not return for two hours. 
 She tried to drive away the thoughts which would 
 not let her sleep, and she was slipping into slumber 
 when the air quivered with a rumbling echo, and she 
 started up in bed. In a moment it rolled again, and 
 she leaned forward, listening. There had been some 
 firing for several nights; but, now, the thunder of 
 continuous cannonading grew heavier, and she got 
 up quickly and slipped on a gown. Out on the 
 
 395
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 veranda she stepped, and the rattling explosions 
 made her shrink. 
 
 Some one ran around the corner of the house, and 
 'Lias's voice called. The Union forces were firing 
 on the river-front of the city. But there was no 
 danger. Miss Celia came hurrying out. She heard 
 the explanation. She snapped a finger. " It will 
 soon be over," she declared. " The Yankees will be 
 driven back into their swamps ! " 
 
 But the firing continued and every minute it grew 
 heavier. From the end of the veranda through the 
 vines they could see a flare in the sky over the river, 
 and into this field of light from the darkness beyond 
 soared curving lines of brighter fire, meteors which 
 dropped fast and burst, some of them in mid-air, 
 with sharp detonations. The servants crowded to 
 the porch below, and Miss Celia went down to reas- 
 sure them. Her contempt for anything which the 
 Yankees might do was more effective than all the 
 words of comfort she could have spoken. She re- 
 turned to the porch, announcing that, for her part, 
 she would go back to bed. But she lingered, none 
 the less ; and by and by the firing, which had trav- 
 elled to the south, slackened, and between two re- 
 ports they heard the sound of a carriage driven fast 
 toward the house. 
 
 Lee was sure that a sigh of relief came from Miss 
 Celia as Beatrix answered the call. Yes, she called 
 
 396
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 back, she was all right. Then she came up on 
 the veranda. 
 
 Miss Celia on the instant was herself again. 
 " Well, I trust the Yankees will remember this 
 night's lesson ! " 
 
 Beatrix flung the wrap from her shoulders. 
 " The Yankee fleet," she answered, " has passed our 
 forts and gone down river. All but one boat. 
 We set that on fire. I hear we captured two men. 
 Think of it! Two!" 
 
 Her aunt snorted. " It is so," Beatrix affirmed. 
 " Oh ! it was shameful ! Some of our cannons, they 
 say, were useless. The whole city is in the streets." 
 
 " For what? " demanded Miss Celia. " I should 
 like to know for what ! Where have you been ? In 
 the street, too?" 
 
 Beatrix burst into a laugh. " Exactly, I was 
 driven into the street. I could not help myself. 
 I was almost crushed. When the first shell dropped 
 near by everybody rushed out of the room. Some 
 fool said we were not safe indoors, and all the women 
 ran pell-mell to the pavement. The men could not 
 stop them. I was dragged along by a girl who was 
 frightened half to death. I never saw such a ridicu- 
 lous sight. Another shell came over, and somebody 
 shrieked, ' Lie down ! Lie down, quick ! ' That was 
 enough. Every woman dropped right down in the 
 dust. Oh ! " with another burst of vexed laughter, 
 " it was the most absurd proceeding ever was. 
 
 397
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 At last I found a man who had sense enough left 
 to escort me back to Colonel Wilson's, and there 
 I had a time finding Caesar. He was hidden in a 
 cellar with most of the other servants. When I did 
 find him I could hardly persuade him to bring round 
 the carriage. We came home most of the way on 
 two wheels." 
 
 Miss Celia rose in her wrath. " The Yankees 
 passed our forts ! " she exclaimed. " I do not believe 
 they did. I shall order the carriage to-morrow 
 morning and learn the truth for myself. The 
 Yankees! Stuff and nonsense!" With that she 
 swept from the veranda. 
 
 But the next day she returned from her drive too 
 indignant to communicate her news. Philip came 
 hurrying to the house late in the afternoon. " Yes," 
 he said, " all the Yankee gunboats and all of the 
 transports with them, except one, passed down 
 the river safely." The steamer which had been dis- 
 abled had burned to her guards. Her crew got away 
 in small boats. He believed that one of these boats 
 had been upset. Two men had been taken from the 
 river. That was all. The Union fleet, it was 
 thought, would attack below the city, and try to 
 land the troops which were marching down along 
 the opposite bank. He was ordered to Warrenton. 
 
 Miss Celia retired into the fortifications of silence 
 that evening, and refused to be drawn out by 
 Philip's account of what was being done to prepare 
 
 398
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 against an attack. Beatrix asked many questions, 
 and Lee tried to do her part. But it became harder 
 for her to speak as the meal drew to a close, and she 
 knew that Philip would soon be leaving, for how 
 long he could not tell. 
 
 There was to be fighting, of course. That he 
 knew. So, when he rose and kissed his aunt and 
 Beatrix, and came around the table to where she sat, 
 she did not move. She gave him her hand, and 
 " Good-bye," she said, faintly, then drew her fingers 
 away. 
 
 He stooped and picked up something from the 
 floor, and for a moment stood beside her. She knew 
 he was hoping she would go to the door with him. 
 But she could not do that ; and when he understood 
 that she was not going, and saw his aunt about 
 to rise, he said, quickly, " No, no one must come out. 
 It would be bad luck. Good-bye again," and walked 
 to the doorway. There he paused, and only Lee 
 saw him raise something to his lips. It was her 
 handkerchief, and above it his eyes rested on hers, 
 so gaily, yet so tenderly. Then he was gone. 
 
 April went by and the May days came, and 
 Vicksburg, girdled with hills, became a city of caves. 
 From below had marched a great army, and slowly 
 it wound its way north and about the city till it 
 held it tightly in its immense folds. Jackson, the 
 place from which help was to come, was captured by 
 
 399
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 a move which set the whole military world agog. 
 Johnston, the expected deliverer, was driven back. 
 Then Vicksburg knew it must fight its own battle, 
 and with grim resolution settled in its semicircle of 
 entrenchments. Within the city the people turned 
 themselves into moles. Day and night the digging 
 went on, and burrows soon were at every corner and 
 by the sides of houses, and in the face of every hilly 
 street. In these was the only safety from the whir- 
 ring shells and blasts of grape which sped from the 
 hills on the south and the east and the north and 
 again from the river itself. On the slope of the 
 city eastward where the few houses were half-buried 
 in the thick foliage of trees, and pink myrtles and 
 magnolias scented the air, and the passion-vine clus- 
 tered over porches and roses bloomed, there the 
 ravines and the nearer hills were a shield at first, 
 and those who lived there knew only by the riven 
 tree-trunks and the torn earth in some open spot 
 how near was death to their doorsteps. Beatrix 
 and Lee and Miss Celia could hear the sigh and 
 whistle of what the Union guns launched from their 
 throats a mile away, yet in the shadow of the ridge 
 which rose steeply behind them remained secure. 
 
 But Beatrix would not be penned in. Long after 
 Miss Celia's scorn of Yankee achievements broke 
 down under the strain of sleepless nights and scenes 
 of fright and death and she weakly retired to her 
 room with her prayer-book, Beatrix dared to make 
 
 40O
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the journey to the city. She had volunteered for 
 service in the hospitals. Each day these became 
 more crowded, though the mounting heat and dis- 
 ease and poor food emptied scores of beds in a night ; 
 and the work kept her always busy. But what a 
 nurse she was ! No hand more gentle or step more 
 light than hers, and she smoothed many a pillow and 
 raised many a head with a tenderness which brought 
 a smile to unshaven lips. Of words, though, it is to 
 be feared, she had few which were heard from other 
 nurses. And once the old surgeon beckoned to her. 
 His face was grave, though something twitched his 
 lips. And, " Miss Pemberton," he said, " if I might 
 suggest. Those boys have done their righting for the 
 present. Wait till we get them out of bed. Then 
 you can start them at it again, and no one could 
 make them do more then, I know." 
 
 Beatrix flushed. Perhaps she remembered the ad- 
 vice. At least, the next day, one broad-shouldered, 
 wasted young fellow with bandaged shoulder raised 
 himself on his good arm to call to the surgeon, 
 " Hey, there, doctor, we ain't done been whipped 
 again, have we?" and to the surgeon's surprised 
 " no," explained, " I done reckon sho' we had, when 
 thet fightin' nurse a mine come 'long an' was so 
 quiet. She ain't got no call t' be that quiet, doctor. 
 It makes th' boys feel pow'rful down-hearted." 
 Beatrix ! Beatrix ! How often did you and your sis- 
 ters of the South put fire into the breasts of those 
 
 4OI
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 gallant, weary, ragged fellows who fought under 
 your flag. 
 
 But the sick and wounded who were brought in 
 from the lines were not the only ones who needed 
 a nurse, and the care of one of these fell on Lee. 
 A great heat laid hold of the city as June came in, 
 and Miss Celia succumbed to it, and Lee chose to 
 stay by her. So, day after day she spent in the 
 room with darkened windows, and sometimes read 
 and sometimes talked to the old lady, now become 
 querulous and impatient, until she fell asleep. 
 While her patient slept she would steal out, and on 
 the veranda sit and watch the hills to the south 
 and north, which ever breathed fire and smoke. 
 More than once with Beatrix she had travelled over 
 the Jackson road to the city, and up the little hill 
 between the rows of oaks to the court-house, and 
 climbed its narrow stairway to the railed balcony 
 which ran around the cupola beneath the bell-tower. 
 It was from there she had first seen the smoke of the 
 Union fleet, lying heavily upon the lowlands. And 
 in these later days over the hills and across the river 
 an encampment was spread out, the tents dotting 
 every piece of dry ground among the plantations, 
 while along the river were strung the steamers and 
 the squat, ugly hulks of the gunboats. But down 
 the river, to where it made its abrupt sweep north- 
 ward again, around the tongue of land opposite 
 the city that great host of men in blue soon pushed 
 
 402
 
 T. HE CAPTAIN 
 
 its way; and mounted guns on the Louisiana shore; 
 and even the heights of Sky Parlour Hill, up whose 
 steep steps climbed a swarm of sightseers on every 
 clear day, became a danger spot. After that, when 
 she was able to evade the vigilance of 'Lias, Lee ven- 
 tured beyond the shelter of the hills only to walk 
 along the lane which wound in the hollows between 
 near-by ridges. 
 
 But there were other dangers, and the hills gave 
 no comfort from these. Hunger ! It was spoken of 
 in April as a far-away thing, an incident of cele- 
 brated sieges. In May it was something to be con- 
 sidered. In June Vicksburg knew what it meant. 
 Within the compass of his army, stretched from 
 river-bank to river-bank, the Captain held the city, 
 and- no living thing might pass into it or out of it, 
 either on the earth or on the water, except by his 
 consent. No, that is not so; a few men did float 
 on logs along the banks and so gain the city; but 
 besides these none, and they carried no food, only 
 percussion-caps hidden in their clothes, and one of 
 them a message from General Johnston hovering 
 futilely in the north. Vicksburg saw no other new 
 face from the day the Captain sat down about it 
 and said it should be his. 
 
 But how long was it to be until he should redeem 
 his word? June waxed, and the red sun beat down 
 hotly and dried the great floods, and disease stalked 
 by night and day. Yet Vicksburg held its own. 
 
 403
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 The blue lines which had sunk into the hills and 
 ravines moved slowly toward the city. Soon they 
 were close to the warren where the city's defenders 
 lay on their bellies and shot the caps from every 
 head which showed above ground. So close that a 
 hand might toss a bit of tobacco or a spill of coffee 
 across the space between. Then would they talk 
 to each other and exchange the news. To the man 
 in blue the Vicksburg man would call, " Hey, there ! 
 What do you uns reckon y'r doing? " 
 
 "Teachin' you fellows how t' keep boardin'- 
 house for yourselves." 
 
 " Thet so ? Well, ain't seen Vicksburg gettin' 
 tired of th' job yet." 
 
 "What's th' hurry? Fourth a July is time 
 enough." 
 
 " Fourth a July'll be hot as hell if you-uns try for 
 that." 
 
 It was hot enough already. What the sun did not 
 do the big guns and the small made shift to accom- 
 plish. But it was never so hot that one man of the 
 vast army in those hills could not go into the 
 trenches and straighten the coils. He walked with 
 little care for his safety and no more care for how 
 he looked. The red mud of the ditches was smeared 
 to his boot-tops, dust was in every crease of his 
 wrinkled clothes, dust in the hollows of his face. 
 But the eyes beneath the low-pulled hat-brim never 
 missed fire. It was said in the earliest of those days 
 
 404
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 that a tooth-brush and a pipe were all his baggage. 
 Often he was among the men and gone before they 
 knew that he had come. But when he was needed 
 he remained. Remained, though the chances were 
 ten to one against his ever leaving if he waited. 
 Where they were clearing the ground and piling 
 earth for a new battery one day the Confederate 
 sharpshooters made the air hum, and twice the 
 workers broke and ran for cover. From a little clump 
 of trees just then stepped the Captain, chewing the 
 fag end of a long cigar, and walked to a pile of split 
 logs. There he drew out his knife and picked up 
 a bit of wood. The noonday sun blazed on him, 
 bullets struck slivers from the logs and channelled 
 the ground at his feet. But on the wood in his hand 
 he seemed intent, and he never raised his eyes. 
 " Damned if I can lie back while he whittles that 
 stick out there ! " said one old sergeant. " It ain't 
 in human riatur'." So out into the open the fugi- 
 tives came, and began to serve the guns again. 
 
 After a minute more the Captain closed his knife 
 and stood up. " This isn't the only hot place, men," 
 he remarked. Then he walked away. 
 
 Hotter it was and in more places than one, as 
 June drew to a close. An afternoon came when the 
 sun was a brazen ball and the red earth a furnace 
 sending up its own stifling heat, the 25th of June. 
 On that morning Philip had gone to his post near 
 the great fortification which towered above the 
 
 405
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Jackson road; and at the dinner-table Beatrix was 
 speaking of the report that the place was to be as- 
 saulted, when a dull explosion, deeper, more omi- 
 nous than any which they had heard, shook the 
 house and started them from their seats. They ran 
 out on the porch. To the southeast, not far away, 
 above the hills piled a great rounded cloud of white 
 smoke. Rising through this a denser fountain of 
 dust which spread a pall over the sky there. That 
 was all, and the fierce roar of the guns which fol- 
 lowed drowned out every other sound. At night- 
 fall they heard that a vast mine had been sprung 
 beneath the fortification. In the crater which it left 
 scores were blown apart by hand grenades, crushed 
 by rocks, and riddled by bullets before Vicksburg's 
 defenders made good their title to the place. 
 
 Beatrix was gone to the hospital at five o'clock, 
 and when she did not return they remembered the toll 
 which the crater had taken, and knew why. Philip 
 rode up in the early morning, so powder-stained 
 and haggard that Lee scarce recognised him. He 
 was away again in an hour. He was ordered to 
 the water-front, where they were building many 
 boats. It might be that an attempt would be made 
 to escape by the river. He expected to be away for 
 several days at least. 
 
 As he stood on the steps of the porch while old 
 Caesar was bringing his horse, Lee's fingers closed 
 on his and clung to them. In his face was some- 
 
 406
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 thing she had never seen there before. Not all the 
 bravery of his smile nor his sparkling eyes deceived 
 her. He said, " We will beat them off yet," and 
 she knew in an instant that he knew that this was 
 not to be. Yet the old spirit spoke, the spirit of the 
 South, gallant and challenging in its most desperate 
 hour. 
 
 " Philip," she said, " Vicksburg is not all. When 
 you come back, if it is for me, I will I will be 
 here." 
 
 A minute later he was riding away along the 
 sunken road. As he mounted a little rise he turned 
 in the saddle, looking back, and swung his cap. 
 The kiss which he had pressed upon her palm seemed 
 to linger there, and she was sure she could never 
 forget the joy which had kindled his eyes. 
 
 At ten o'clock of that morning Beatrix's old 
 friend, the surgeon, came to her with a request. An 
 adjoining house had been made into a temporary 
 receiving-ward for the hospital. There had been 
 brought, the night before, a score of new patients. 
 The surgeon twisted his grizzled moustache. " One 
 of them is a Yankee." 
 
 " I am not nursing Yankees," she answered. 
 
 " That is so," said the surgeon, reflectively. " So 
 of course he must die. No one wants to take care 
 of a Yankee, and he has been in prison a long time." 
 
 "In prison?" 
 
 407
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " He was in prison until to-day, because he would 
 not give his parole. We fished him out of the river 
 the first night the batteries were run. He was 
 wounded. He's pretty nearly done for now. But 
 he's a Yankee." 
 
 " Point him out to me," she said, suddenly. " I 
 will do what I can for him." But she was angry 
 with herself. Why should she leave her people to 
 make it easier for one of those who had filled the 
 beds and even the floors around her with the hollow- 
 eyed, starved, and broken fellows who lay so pa- 
 tiently in their misery? 
 
 The old surgeon made no reply. He piloted her 
 to the door, and told the orderly there to do what 
 she requested, then stalked away, a smile on his 
 thin lips. He was wondering what lesson this mili- 
 tant nurse of his would preach to her crippled foe. 
 
 Beatrix began her ministrations at the doorway, 
 and as cot and pallet were passed by, and the gray 
 or butternut clothes of the sufferers told her on which 
 side they had fought, she almost forgot the Yankee 
 who somewhere here waited for her. Without 
 warning she was looking down upon him. 
 
 His head was turned to one side, and his eyes 
 were closed. The cheek-bones stood out in grim 
 prominence and the curling hair was long and 
 matted. A thin hand played with the edge of the 
 sheet, which was drawn up so that the lower part 
 of his face was hid. But Beatrix knew him on the 
 
 408
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 instant. She bent and laid a hand on his wrist. 
 The pulse throbbed under her fingers. Then he 
 opened his eyes. But the stare was vacant, and 
 when she spoke to him his eyelids stirred only to 
 drop quickly. She found the orderly and questioned 
 him. But he knew nothing. Then she stood by the 
 door, looking along the street with the shattered 
 houses at its far end and the dirty yellow mounds 
 up and down its length with a tattered square of 
 cloth or a blanket fastened over the mouth of many 
 of the caves. A hundred feet away on the other 
 side of a little hill there was a crash, a ripping ex- 
 plosion, and a great puff of dust, and she knew 
 that another shell had found its way into the town. 
 Two men toiled up the steep rise, a stained strip 
 of canvas slung on two poles between them, a man's 
 arm swinging over the edge. A Yankee shell ! And 
 this the work of Yankees ! Resentment flashed into 
 her eyes. " I would not moisten his lips ! " she de- 
 clared between her teeth, and turned to go back 
 into the house. Then came a recollection which 
 made her pale cheeks burn, and she stepped into the 
 street, and sought the surgeon. 
 
 That gentleman twisted his moustache again, and 
 was in a quandary. Her request was without prece- 
 dent. If he had foreseen anything of this kind 
 The Yankee was a military prisoner ; he had refused 
 parole. That he was wounded badly well, there 
 
 409
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 were hundreds in the same state, and Confederate 
 soldiers at that. 
 
 But Beatrix had her way ; it was seldom she had 
 not, and her name and services were worth some- 
 thing then and there. Only she must pledge the 
 custody and good behaviour of her prisoner. " Pris- 
 oner? " A sad smile touched her lips. " You have 
 not looked at him closely," she said. " But I will 
 promise what is required." 
 
 It was in one of those inexplicable brief pauses in 
 the firing when the Union guns seemed to be taking 
 a rest, that Beatrix late in the afternoon of two 
 days later stepped softly along the darkened hall of 
 her home. There was a room on the western side 
 of the building with a window opening on the 
 veranda. There she had had David brought. On 
 the first day, it seemed, only to have him die; but, 
 on the next, as she knew when she laid a hand on 
 his forehead, to take a new hold on life. She had 
 left him this morning still unconscious of where he 
 was or with whom. Now she stopped at the door- 
 way and looked in to see him with face upturned, 
 sleeping. 
 
 But it was not this which made her stand where 
 she was. A figure kneeled by the side of the couch, 
 and over him leaned a face whose lips in the dim 
 light she could not be sure but they seemed to 
 be moving; and surely she caught the echo of a 
 name faintly spoken, " David ! David ! " Then a 
 
 4IO
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 slim hand hovered above the speaker's head, and for 
 an instant touched the tangled hair on the pillow, 
 and a curious, little, broken sound came to her ears. 
 The figure rose ; Beatrix turned and sped away. 
 
 Wednesday morning the Wednesday of July 
 ist and the crests about Vicksburg were ringed 
 with a fire such as in its worst days Vicksburg had 
 not known before. Under this fiery breath and the 
 pitiless heat of the sun it seemed as if the city must 
 be consumed utterly, and no life or habitation be 
 left. Every avenue, from the fortifications in the 
 rear to the heights where the court-house still reared 
 its cupola above the river, was a pathway of death, 
 except those winding ditches which cut through the 
 hills. And along these the dead were carried. 
 
 Vicksburg was living on the meat of its mules and 
 on a dole of ground peas. But still its guns spoke 
 back, slowly and sullenly. A few days before, a 
 Confederate woman had written to her husband out- 
 side the city, " We put our trust in Heaven and Joe 
 Johnston." That letter was placed in the Captain's 
 hands. Reading it a smile was on his lips. " Sher- 
 man," he said, " they seem to put a great deal of 
 trust in Heaven and Johnston. We'll lick Johnston 
 as soon as we've finished this Vicksburg job." 
 
 " When will that be? " asked Sherman, with grim 
 humour. 
 
 " I can't tell exactly," the Captain answered. 
 
 411
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " But I shall stay here to do it if it takes twenty 
 years." 
 
 So on this July morning, in the house under 
 the first hills back of the fortifications, they heard 
 the whimpering of shrapnel balls and the scream of 
 the shell hurrying overhead, and knew that it would 
 not be twenty years nor yet twenty days until the 
 tale of Vicksburg was told. In that vale with its 
 trees clustered close to the hillside and the ravine 
 below where the headquarters' horses grazed amid 
 a shower of bullets dropping from the sky, only this 
 house and one other near by, where temporary field 
 headquarters had been established, were safe from 
 the withering storm of lead and iron which poured 
 from four sides upon the city on the heights. 
 
 David, propped up on pillows, was writing a 
 letter. It was against orders. Beatrix was doctor, 
 and she had forbidden it. But there are some things 
 a wise physician yields, and Beatrix had yielded this. 
 The day before when he spoke of Boone she had 
 promised that word should be got to him soon. 
 'Lias knew a way. He had already carried one 
 message through. 
 
 The intelligence was all that was needed to 
 determine David to write. He argued that Boone 
 would lose no chance to write him under similar 
 circumstances. " Now would he? " He appealed to 
 Beatrix (they were alone at the time). 
 
 " I am no judge," she said. 
 
 412
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 " Because you are prejudiced." 
 
 " Yes, I reckon that is so." Her hand smoothed a 
 fold in her gown, but he could make nothing of her 
 face. 
 
 " So I am going to write," he announced, and 
 began his task. But even the one side of a sheet 
 of note-paper, which his uncertain hand filled with 
 sprawling letters, was a task which overtaxed him. 
 All at once he sank back on the pillow, his arms 
 falling weakly. " I didn't know what a cripple I 
 was," he said, apologetically. " Beatrix, be good 
 to me. Finish my letter. There are only a few lines 
 more." 
 
 Apparently she did not hear him. She was stand- 
 ing by the window overlooking the path to the 
 ravine. He asked her again, and she came toward 
 the bedside. " Oh, yes, I will finish it. But you 
 do not deserve it. What shall I say? " 
 
 He began to dictate. It was easy enough now, 
 and messages crowded to his lips. But he spoke 
 slowly, and over the edge of the bed coverings he 
 saw her, the paper spread on a book, her head bent 
 over it. The tip of the pen told him that she was 
 writing rapidly. So when he said, " That is enough, 
 thank you," and still her face remained bent, he 
 remarked, "Was I saying all that? I must have 
 spoken too fast." 
 
 Her head straightened quickly. She raised the 
 letter and scanned it. 
 
 413
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 He held out his hand. " No," she said, hurriedly, 
 " you have done too much already. I will read it 
 to you." She read it carefully, and folded it and put 
 it in the envelope. While she sealed it, she remarked, 
 " 'Lias must start with it at once. I signed it for 
 you." She rose. 
 
 "Oh, did you?" said David, and was a little 
 surprised. " I had something to put into a post- 
 script," he added. 
 
 She was at the door, when she turned, and her 
 eyes were defiant. " There is a postscript," she said. 
 " It is about Vicksburg. I have told him what 
 she says ' If you want me come and take me! ' " 
 
 414
 
 XXVI 
 LEE 
 
 LATE in the afternoon of the next day David 
 awakened, and for a few minutes lay in the 
 old chintz-covered chair by the window 
 winking at the ceiling and knowing that he was 
 much stronger. A thin breeze sifted through the 
 lowered blinds, and it was almost free of the acrid 
 taint of burnt powder which had hung in the air 
 for so long. The firing from the hills had dwindled. 
 Then Beatrix entered, tiptoeing across the room, and 
 he turned his head and saw on the little round-top 
 marble table by his bed a nosegay. He reached over, 
 his eyes brightened. These were the first flowers he 
 had seen for many weeks. Sniffing their fragrance, 
 he thanked her for them. 
 
 She shook her head and, with a mysterious smile, 
 replied, " From a friend." She crossed to the 
 further window and raised the blind. The sun had 
 fallen below the nearest ridge and a big sweet-gum 
 stirred its dusty leaves close by. Long shadows 
 were creeping down the slope of the ravine's water- 
 
 415
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 cut banks of clay, and there a dozen horses cropped 
 the foliage of the bushes. Further on guns were 
 stacked, and a long line of men was stretched in the 
 shade, many of them asleep, a few squatted around 
 little piles of sticks from which twisted lazy spirals 
 of smoke. Beatrix drew in a long breath of the air, 
 and asked, " Do you feel that breeze? It has been so 
 hot to-day that I reckon the sun just 'had to give it 
 up for awhile." 
 
 There was no response from the chair, and she 
 looked over and saw that his eyes were on the 
 flowers which he was turning in his hands. A 
 minute or more slipped by. She left the window 
 and mechanically straightened the chair and rear- 
 ranged some books on the bureau. All the while 
 she stole glances at him. But he did not raise his 
 eyes, and his silence disturbed her. She guessed 
 that he 1 was wondering why Lee had not come with 
 her flowers. Twice he had asked about her, once 
 that morning; and it had not been easy to answer 
 him. He had made no remark when he heard that 
 she was busy nursing Miss Celia. But Beatrix knew 
 that the reason for Lee's absence lay not with Miss 
 Celia. An hour before she had seen her standing 
 by the door, the flowers in her hand, listening, until, 
 sure that he was asleep, she stole in, and soon came 
 out very softly. A little later, coming upon her 
 unexpectedly, Beatrix saw that her eyes were wet, 
 and the ringers which she closed so quickly did not 
 
 416
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 quite conceal a single flower like those she had 
 left in his room. 
 
 But this David could not know, and Beatrix did 
 not tell him. If he had known it, she doubted that it 
 would have helped him. But one thing she could 
 tell him, and this, it was but fair to Lee and to 
 him that he should know. With those flowers in 
 his hands he would surely understand what was 
 meant. So, standing by the window, she spoke 
 about the soldiers in the ravine. " They came in 
 last night, and looked so worn out. Think of it! 
 On half-rations, peas and mule meat at that, they 
 say. And hard duty, day and night almost, for over 
 five weeks ! One of their officers told me last night 
 that they expect to go upon the redoubt on the Jack- 
 son road to-day." 
 
 " Yes," he answered, listlessly. Then, recollec- 
 tion stirred by the mention of that highway against 
 which his own soldiers were massed, he asked, 
 quickly, "'Lias? Has he come back?" 
 
 " Not yet." 
 
 " But he was to be in this morning. He hasn't 
 been stopped ? " 
 
 " Oh, he will come soon," she said, soothingly. 
 
 " You promise to let me see him as soon as he 
 comes ? " 
 
 " Of course. But I was going to tell you what 
 was it? Oh, yes, the officer who came to the house 
 last night brought a message from Philip. He 
 
 417
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 said we might expect to see Philip this evening 
 here." 
 
 She was purposely looking out the window. She 
 hoped that he would say something which would 
 make it easier for her to continue. But only a faint 
 rustle from the big chair told her that he had heard 
 and perhaps understood. The silence drove her to 
 go on, " He is coming for dinner. Philip, I mean. 
 Dinner ! " with comic dismay. " David, let me give 
 you the bill of fare. No, I won't. It is better any- 
 how than what they get where he has been." 
 
 From the big chair still no respond: and once 
 more the silence became an embarrassment. " And 
 that reminds me," she said, trying- valiantly to be 
 cheerful, " Miss Celia brightened this morning and 
 sat up for the first time. She declared she felt right 
 hungry, and believed that she would like to have 
 some what do you suppose?" 
 
 Still again she waited in vain. Then she saw 
 that he was not looking at her at all. He was lean- 
 ing back against the pillow, the flowers loose in his 
 extended hands, his head turned away. It was on 
 her tongue to bid him take courage. But something 
 forbade it, and she wondered could : he go to Lee 
 and tell her. 
 
 And David? He was fighting a harder battle 
 than any he had fought before harder than any in 
 those days of troubled indecision when he walked 
 the floor of his room at college and wrestled with 
 
 418
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the problem Mr. Lincoln set for him. This fight he 
 had thought won. First when six months ago he 
 rode out of Holly Springs, remembering that he had 
 failed her, and that the man who had not failed her 
 had passed through there with her but a few hours 
 before. Again, when Beatrix had left him on the 
 Union boat at Milliken's Bend, and he had reasoned 
 out what she had told him, and in the end shaken his 
 head. Still again, he thought he had settled with 
 himself when he waked in the house where he now 
 lay, and a dream returned to him, a dream of a 
 face bent over his, and a voice whispering his name. 
 And he put the dream from him, telling himself 
 that it could never be more than a dream. But now ? 
 Now came these flowers, and, when he held them 
 against his face, there was a message in their fra- 
 grance which made his heart leap. But in another 
 moment he had decided that the message was the 
 keepsake of a memory only. He was more sure of 
 this when he heard that Philip was coming. " Fare- 
 well," the flowers whispered. Or, if they did not, 
 they asked him to remember the old days always. 
 So, when Beatrix spoke again, he had the message 
 next his heart and answered quietly, and never 
 thought to give a reason for it, " Beatrix, ask Lee if 
 she will come and see me for a little while. I am 
 going back to the hospital to-day." 
 
 " Going back to the hospital ? You ? To-day ? 
 
 419
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 Why you can't." You had guessed at a good 
 deal, Beatrix; you had never thought of this. 
 
 " But I am," he returned. " As soon as 'Lias 
 comes. I count on you to help me." 
 
 " Help you do that ? It would kill you ! I will 
 not help you not one inch." 
 
 " Then I must try to get there without your help." 
 He smiled. " For I am going to-day." He lifted 
 himself on his elbow, and his thin face was pale 
 and stubborn. Lee would have known what that 
 closed jaw meant. Beatrix understood enough to 
 make her say, quickly, " Well, I will tell Lee. But 
 that is all." 
 
 She left him lying with the flowers in his hand, 
 staring at the opposite wall, and walked slowly down 
 the stair. While she stood in the hallway, ponder- 
 ing how much she could tell, Lee came in from the 
 porch. Then she gave her the message and turned 
 away quickly and climbed to her own room and 
 locked the door and flung herself on the bed. All 
 the world seemed gone wrong. The throbbing 
 thunder of the guns had begun again. She heard 
 them dully, and into her mind came recollections 
 of what she had written into David's letter to Boone. 
 A challenge? Yes, it was that and nothing else, 
 she told herself. And a challenge, a boast of the 
 South, he had taken it to be, of course ; and by now 
 had forgotten it most likely. What else might she 
 expect? Suddenly she buried her face in the pil- 
 
 420
 
 lows and tried to muffle her ears to the sound which 
 had grown hateful to her with a hatefulness distinct 
 from its message of command and death. 
 
 At the door of David's room Lee was knocking. 
 He called to her to come in. He was sitting up 
 straightly, and the pillows were piled at one side. 
 " I'm mighty glad you were able to come so soon," 
 he exclaimed. " Won't you sit here near me, where 
 we can talk ? " He was smiling at her in the old 
 friendly way, and his voice was clear and cheerful if 
 it was not very strong. It carried her back to 
 Gravois days, and brought a sense of peace with it. 
 " Why, David, you are like yourself again," she 
 said, as she settled herself in the chair by him. 
 " Now we have only to get some colour into your 
 cheeks." 
 
 " That will come as soon as I get out in the air. 
 And I have been taken such good care of here that 
 I have no excuse to stay any longer." 
 
 " I didn't know you needed an excuse," she said, 
 reproachfully. " I am sure Beatrix is glad to have 
 you. And I well, I reckon, we're too old friends 
 to talk about excuses. Aren't we? Besides, now 
 that Miss Celia is better, I intend to help take care 
 of you. You see she has been so nervous and miser- 
 able till now that " 
 
 " Yes, I know," he put in, quickly. " You've had 
 your hands full. I didn't expect you to come. And 
 
 421
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 I heard from you each day. But now I have decided 
 that I should report for duty." 
 
 " I don't think I understand." 
 
 " Go back, I mean where I came from last. 
 Time's up, and they want me." 
 
 Lee's heart was tugging at her lips. She leaned 
 forward, her hands together in her lap, with puzzled 
 brows. " But you are in Vicksburg. Besides, you 
 are not strong enough." 
 
 " Not strong enough ? " he laughed. " Look at 
 this ! " He leaned sideways and picked up a pil- 
 low, flourishing it above his head. " How's that? " 
 Then the pillow dropped, and his arm fell loosely. 
 The little spots of colour in his cheeks went out, and 
 he swayed, catching at the cover over his knees. 
 She had sprung to her feet and was beside him. But 
 as she reached out a hand, he recovered himself. " I 
 am all right now," he declared. " I am sorry I 
 frightened you. If I had a glass of water " 
 
 Did he lean away from her? Even in her fright 
 she was conscious that he had. For a moment her 
 arm remained outstretched, an open hand extended 
 to him. Then it dropped, and she turned and ran 
 to the table in a corner where a pitcher stood. She 
 tilted it. It was empty. " Never mind," he called. 
 " I'll be all right in a minute." 
 
 " No, no," she said. " I will get some water from 
 the cistern. It won't take a minute." 
 
 She sped to the door, and he heard her run down 
 
 422
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 the stairs. A moment passed and he heard another 
 step on the stairs. Some one came up and along 
 the hallway. Beatrix, he thought, and feared she 
 would come in. But the steps went by and toward 
 the door which gave on the veranda outside his 
 window. While he was yet wondering who it was, 
 Lee came into the room again. 
 
 She poured a glass of the water and came over 
 with it. He was lying back against the pillows, and 
 reached out for it. But this time she was determined. 
 She put the water down on the table and slid an arm 
 beneath his shoulders and raised him, David, you 
 did your best, but you were very weak for all your 
 boast. And she knew it. Her arm curved about 
 you gently and yet so firmly that you had no chance 
 to resist. And you could not warn her. So she 
 raised you, raised you and drew you toward her. 
 Then, all at once, your head in the hollow of her 
 arm, you were looking your danger in the face, and 
 all else was forgotten. All but the eyes whose 
 depths of tenderness you had never known before, 
 and the lips a little parted which did not move, yet 
 whispered to you the one word you cared to hear. 
 She pressed you closer, and a lock of hair brushed 
 your temple. Then your heart spoke. " Lee," you 
 said. " Lee," and " Lee," again. And in that in- 
 stant all was changed. The light in her eyes was 
 gone, a frightened quiver at her lips, and the arm 
 slipped from beneath you. " Oh ! oh ! " she cried. 
 
 423
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 But David lifted himself and stretched out an 
 arm. 
 
 "Don't! David, don't," she begged. "You 
 don't understand." 
 
 "I do," he cried. "I understand. But I love 
 you." 
 
 " No, no, you are wrong. And it was my 
 fault. I tell you it was a mistake." She did not 
 look at him, and repeated, " It was a mistake." 
 
 " It was not a mistake," he answered. " If it 
 was " He halted there, and in a moment spoke 
 again, quietly. " Lee, we have known each other 
 a long, long time. We were always good comrades, 
 and when we were together back home we trusted 
 each other always. Isn't that so, dear? " 
 
 A little broken " yes " came to his ear. 
 
 " Then why can't we trust each other now ? It is 
 not so different. I am David, just the same as I 
 used to be, and you are Lee. Only now I under- 
 stand. I know why it was that you were always 
 more to me than anyone else, why I was always 
 lonely without you. And, dear, if I was a long time 
 understanding this, you must forgive me because 
 we will go over all those years again together." 
 
 " But we can't, we can't ! Oh, David ! don't you 
 see we can't? It is too late." 
 
 " It is not too late. It would only be too late 
 if you did not love me. But you do. I know it. 
 
 424
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 You have told mfe so. Trust me. Look at me, dear, 
 and tell me so again." 
 
 How long it was before she looked at him, 
 her eyes entreating him to believe her and a 
 tremble at her mouth ! " David, David, dear, you 
 don't understand even yet. I can't say what you 
 want. I have no right to say that to you now." 
 Then she laid her hand in his, and his fingers closed 
 on it. But his face was turned away. 
 
 The firing from the hills had died in a rumble 
 in the south and the voice of a man shouting came 
 from the garden. Another voice replied from the 
 veranda just outside the window, and she started 
 away with a whispered cry. " Philip ! He was 
 there on the veranda." 
 
 David did not answer, and while they waited they 
 heard him come 'into the hallway and go down- 
 stairs. Then a strange voice speaking to him. " I 
 have my orders, Colonel. They are from head- 
 quarters. Communicating with the Yankees. The 
 man was seen going through the lines this morning. 
 It is the second time a tall man with sandy hair. 
 He was recognised." 
 
 " What of it ? It has nothing to do with this 
 house." 
 
 " But he is known to have come from here." 
 
 " Well, catch him. Then come back. But don't 
 come until you do. I am no detective. Give that 
 message to your officer with my compliments." 
 
 425
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 A moment's pause, then the other man again, 
 " Sorry, Colonel, but my orders are to bring back 
 that Yankee officer you're nursing. I have a detail 
 here." 
 
 " What Yankee officer ? " Philip burst out. " Are 
 you harking back to that nonsense? What do you 
 take this house for? Do you know my name? If 
 you don't, report it at headquarters before you go 
 further." 
 
 " I know all that, sir. And so does headquarters. 
 A Yankee officer, I was told." 
 
 "Look here!" Philip was speaking evenly but 
 stiffly. " I suppose my word will be accepted. 
 You'll find it is where you came from." 
 
 " Of course, if you say " 
 
 " I do. I say that I have seen no Yankee officer 
 in this house. And as I live here I ought to know. 
 Is that sufficient?" 
 
 Another pause, then, " Yes, Colonel, I reckon it 
 is. But it's queer. Well good evening, sir." 
 There was a quick step across the porch below, and 
 they heard Philip coming slowly up-stairs. At their 
 door he paused, then went on. The minutes passed, 
 and again they heard his steps in the hallway 
 and on the stairs, going down. The cannonading 
 swept up from the south once more, gathering vol- 
 ume as it moved. For an instant Lee's hand pressed 
 David's. Then she was gone. 
 
 Back in her room, she closed the door behind her, 
 
 426
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 and with her foot on the sill, something white 
 pinned to the cushion on the bureau caught her eye. 
 It was a scrap of paper, with a corner turned down, 
 and her name written across it. Before she opened 
 it she knew what it was to tell her, even as she knew 
 from whom it came. The pin which held it was a 
 five-pointed star of gold with a row of tiny pearls in 
 each point, a treasure of her girlhood days. She 
 had always worn it, worn it until it had become, as 
 he had told her when he begged it from her, " just 
 the nearest thing to being a little bit of yourself, 
 sweetheart. And so I reckon I'm mighty ow-dacious 
 asking you for it as a keepsake." But she had 
 given it to him, her only gift. And he had worn 
 it, as she once discovered, suspended from a ribbon 
 round his neck. " So, you see, it is almost as close 
 to you now, sweetheart, as it was before," he ex- 
 plained. " 'Deed, that's what my heart tells me, 
 anyhow." 
 
 Now it lay in her hand. He had given it back 
 to her unasked. With it he had left ? She un- 
 folded the note and read the dozen words it held. 
 Then she raised the note and pressed her lips to it. 
 "Good-bye! Good-bye!" she whispered. 
 
 Twilight was fading softly. Shadows had en- 
 folded the ravine and filled its far end with purple. 
 Night was stealing into the room. David by the 
 window lay back in the chair, his hands dropped in 
 
 427
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 his lap, gazing away toward the north, and saw 
 neither the sweet-gum stirring in the breeze close by, 
 nor yet the stretch of road which showed a yellow 
 blur through the magnolias beyond. He only knew 
 that he was not alone when a voice spoke close be- 
 hind him. " David." No more, and it was faintly 
 spoken, yet in the word was offered to him some- 
 thing very pitiful and yet so sweet. He reached out 
 a hand, and spoke her name. In the dark her ringers 
 touched his own, then slipped into his clasp, and he 
 knew that she had brought her loneliness and trouble 
 to him. He drew her to him and spoke her name, 
 " Lee, Lee," holding her hand against his cheek so 
 that he felt each beat in the slender wrist. She 
 leaned against the back of the chair, a hand was 
 laid upon his head and rested there. After a little 
 while, he said, " I don't think that I ever knew 
 Philip before. And I would like to tell him 
 something when he comes back." 
 
 " Hush," she said, softly. " He will not come 
 back now." 
 
 " Not come ? " he began, wonderingly. Then it 
 was told him what she meant, and his ringers tight- 
 ened their hold. 
 
 " No," she whispered. " He has said his good- 
 bye." She slipped down beside him and her head 
 was laid against his arm. He drew her hand to 
 his lips. The darkness deepened, not far away a 
 
 428
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 spark glowed against the wall of the ravine and 
 another near the roadside. A tongue of flame licked 
 the blackness, and soon men began to move in and 
 out of the widening circles of light. But David saw 
 none of this. He w*as looking down on the head 
 against his arm, and he was conscious only that 
 she was beside him. She had come to him, she was 
 never to leave him. 
 
 But Lee ? Even in those silent moments when her 
 heart spoke to his and was answered, she remem- 
 bered that somewhere in that night was riding a 
 trim, lithe figure in Confederate gray. A boyish, 
 eager face was before her, and a voice, the voice 
 which always lingered on her name, echoed faintly. 
 For he had loved her truly and tried gallantly to 
 win her. And he had lost, lost bravely, as his South 
 was losing, and gone away, leaving only those few 
 broken words which she could never forget. 
 
 So when she raised her head and David saw her 
 eyes shining through the tears, she answered his 
 unspoken question. " Yes, it is Philip, dear. I was 
 thinking of him. I wish he knew that I would 
 always remember him." 
 
 After that the minutes slipped by, and old Caesar 
 knocked once hesitatingly, and went away. Bea- 
 trix, coming from Lee's empty room to this same 
 door, looked in and, more clear of vision, under- 
 stood, and stole down the hall unnoticed. A star
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 shone out above the cropped top of the big gum- 
 tree, and another came to keep it company. Per- 
 haps the two by the window saw them, and spoke of 
 something that awaited them, far beyond to the 
 north. ' 
 
 430
 
 XXVII 
 
 THE 
 CAPTAIN'S WAY 
 
 FROM the porch Beatrix saw two men in 
 uniform ride along the Jackson road toward 
 the fortifications. While they rounded the 
 shoulder of the ridge she stood, her hands clenched, 
 then turned into the house and climbed the stairs. 
 Before the door of Miss Celia's room she debated 
 before she stepped inside and closed the door. The 
 blinds were lowered. Between the slats sifted little 
 dusty bands of sunlight which slanted across the 
 figure in the high-backed rocking-chair and touched 
 the hands folded upon an open prayer-book. Beatrix 
 just over the threshold hesitated again, her heart 
 failing her. 
 
 Miss Celia opened her eyes. "Yes?" she said, 
 inquiringly. 
 
 " Oh, it's nothing." Beatrix sought for the knob 
 of the door behind her. " You were resting." 
 
 The eyes fixed upon her face were very bright 
 and searching now. " I have been asleep. That 
 makes no difference. What is it?" A hand on 
 
 431
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 either arm of the chair, N Miss Celia raised herself 
 and sat stiffly alert. Suddenly she exclaimed, " They 
 are not firing. This morning you told me " 
 
 Beatrix had found the door-knob, but she no 
 longer meditated retreat. Only it was even harder 
 to tell what she had to tell than it had been to 
 acknowledge the truth to herself. " Yes," she 
 answered, " they are not firing. And what I told 
 you this morning was what I hoped. I was 
 wrong. They are not fighting because there is 
 a white flag over the Jackson road fort." 
 
 "A white flag!" Miss Celia's mouth framed 
 the words. But no sound issued forth. She swayed 
 a little forward, then was rigid once more, looking 
 straight ahead of her and seeming to see far away. 
 So almost a minute of silence. Then, still clutching 
 the arms of the chair, she demanded, " Who has 
 dared? Who has dared to raise a white flag? You 
 are wrong, Beatrix. You must be wrong." 
 
 But Beatrix's face told her no, and, when she 
 sat so still, Beatrix spoke, " No, aunty, it is no 
 mistake. I did not tell you about it till I had to. 
 But I saw General Pemberton ride past the house. 
 A few minutes ago. And, I heard, he was to confer 
 with the Yankees." 
 
 Miss Celia cried out, " Then they haven't yet sur- 
 rendered the city?" A spark glowed in her eyes. 
 " And they never will ! Help me dress. There are 
 men left, thank God ! They must stop this coward- 
 
 432
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 ice. I will see them. I will go to Colonel Wilson. 
 He cannot know about it. Hurry! " 
 
 Beatrix left the door and bent over the chair. 
 " Aunty, aunty, don't you understand ? It is too 
 late for that. Besides they couldn't do anything 
 else. The city is starving." 
 
 The figure in the chair remained tense and up- 
 right, listening, yet did not seem to hear. Slowly 
 her arms relaxed. Beatrix had not the courage to 
 look into her face. A single tear dropped on the 
 trembling, thin fingers. But after that no more, 
 and when Miss Celia spoke her voice was steady 
 but very low and tired. " It will be better if you 
 leave me alone now, dearie. By and by I want 
 to be ready when they come." 
 
 At that same time, so close to the yellow mounds 
 which topped the nearest ridges and to the burrows 
 in the ravines on the other side that the thousands 
 of sweating, dirt-stained faces which looked down 
 from them could see it all, two men sat under a big 
 oak-tree facing each other. One in gray coat, tall, 
 with swarthy face, nervously stripped a twig while 
 he talked. The other, shorter, plain of face, and with 
 coat collar hunched up under his slouch-hat, chewed 
 on a cigar and listened, and spoke only now and 
 then. At last the taller man jumped up, a little knot 
 of officers at one side came forward. The two men 
 under the tree parted ; the tall man rode back into 
 
 433
 
 THE C A P T ~A f N 
 
 the city, the shorter man, still tugging at his cigar, 
 mounted his horse and was swallowed by a turn in 
 a ravine. Then, up and down the lines on either 
 side, even to the river where Porter's gunboats still 
 sent shell screaming into the sky, and back into the 
 city, into every house and cave went the word Sur- 
 render! Vicksburg had yielded her defence. 
 
 Sunday morning came, and Beatrix from the 
 doorway saw the head of the first long, thin line 
 of men in butternut and gray wind along the road 
 with worn faces and dragging feet, bearing the 
 colours to where, beyond the hills, the massed ranks 
 of blue awaited them. It was in her heart to cheer 
 them, but something stifled the cry in her throat, 
 and she turned and fled. Fled up the stairs, past the 
 door where she knew David watched, past Lee, 
 stepping softly with finger on her lips and the news 
 that Miss Celia, after that long night of pacing 
 of the floor, was asleep at last. And so to her own 
 room. Yet even there through an open window she 
 seemed to hear the monotonous tread of thousands 
 of feet, shuffling wearily through the dust, and she 
 ran to shut this out. But from the window one 
 glimpse she got above the tops of the magnolias 
 the tower of the Court-House on the hill, its dome 
 shining in the quivering heat, and, above this, its 
 folds lazily unfolding in the light air, the flag which 
 for so long had been outside the city. She tore 
 down the blinds. Then, with fingers in her ears, 
 
 434
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 threw herself upon the bed, burying her face in the 
 pillows. 
 
 So she closed out the sounds which were dreadful 
 to her and all other sounds as well, and lay still, 
 trying not to think; and before her closed eyes the 
 hot, dusty road and its marching men. Old Caesar 
 must have been at her door for a long time when 
 at last his muffled, anxious voice reached her. She 
 raised her head and bade him go back and say she 
 would not come down. No, it made no difference 
 how urgent her caller might be. But, strangely 
 enough, Caesar did not go away. This caller, he 
 declared, was not to be denied. He had been told 
 she was in the house. " 'Deed, Mis' Be'trix, dere 
 arn't nuffin else t' do but done come down." He 
 had said he must see her. Must! Why, he had even 
 refused his name! Suddenly, she sat upright, and 
 then with angry eyes stood in front of her glass, 
 tucking in a loose lock of hair and promising the 
 insistent visitor a reception he would not forget. 
 
 Down-stairs she went into the darkened hall, her 
 gown caught in one hand, her head back, and anger 
 flaming in her cheeks. So into the hallway, and it 
 was empty; and she stepped to the parlour, and 
 at first saw no one there. Then, by one of the 
 windows, she perceived a tall figure in uniform 
 the hated Yankee uniforms and halted. " You 
 wished to see me, sir?" 
 
 The figure moved toward her and into the light 
 
 435
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 from the hallway. She saw his face, the heavy hair 
 flung back from his forehead. Under the dark 
 brows his eyes kindled. There was a smile on his 
 lips. " Beatrix ! " he said. 
 
 She did not answer at once. The rebuke she had 
 prepared was forgotten. Yet was it surprise which 
 fixed her there at the doorway, leaning a little for- 
 ward, with hot cheeks, her lips parted, the anger 
 melting in her eyes. Her heart caught at her own 
 name, and repeated it. And then ? She heard him 
 say, " Come," and it seemed to her as if she had 
 waited for this always. 
 
 And after that moment's pause, she obeyed. Yes, 
 obeyed. She was so close to him that he had 
 dropped his hat, and his arms were held out to her, 
 before she saw what she had done. A flash of rebel- 
 lion leaped into her face then. " I will not ! " she 
 cried, and threw back her head. 
 
 His arms still held out to her, he repeated, " Bea- 
 trix!" 
 
 She held her head yet higher, fighting down the 
 impulse to answer to the call, and declared, " You 
 have no right here." 
 
 " Vicksburg has surrendered ! " he said, gravely. 
 And when this should have been a taunt and stung 
 her to retaliation or driven her to a cold retreat, it 
 left her curiously weak, and she blundered, " Then 
 go to Vicksburg. Go ! " 
 
 " All I care for is here," he answered. " And 
 
 436
 
 / will not ! " she cried, and threw back her head
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 once I had a letter. Do you remember, Beatrix? 
 I was to come for what I wanted. Now I have 
 come for what belongs to me." 
 
 " Oh, oh, wait ! " she cried. 
 
 It was pitifully weak, that plea, and it won no 
 mercy. " No. Now." This time it was a com- 
 mand ; and, suddenly, all her courage failed her, and 
 at its bidding she took one step toward him. Then 
 was the chance of retreat gone by, and she knew it. 
 Knew it when it was too late. She raised her eyes 
 and looked up into his face. Rebellion was fled 
 from her eyes. Worse than that, they cried aloud 
 their rejoicing over this inglorious surrender, and 
 she was not ashamed that he should see it. 
 
 An hour went by so fast. Then a step outside, 
 and she slipped from him guiltily and moved swiftly 
 to the door. At the coat-skirts of a marching regi- 
 ment, into the road around the shoulder of the ridge 
 ahead, swung three men. And the man between the 
 other two was the Captain; his hands resting on 
 the pommel of his saddle, his shoulders a little 
 stooped, his face set beneath a dusty brim of felt, 
 but his eyes noting even the little pickaninny who 
 darted from a hollow in the bank to whirl a battered 
 hat and screech a welcome. 
 
 A moment Boone stood beside her and pressed her 
 hand. Then he ran to his horse and lifted himself 
 into the saddle. Behind the three riders, Beatrix 
 saw him disappear in the cloud of dust which rose 
 
 437
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 where the Jackson road was beaten to a powder by 
 thousands of feet. 
 
 A stone house stood just above the sunken lane 
 where Lee had so often walked. In front of this 
 the Captain dismounted. On the porch of the house 
 were seated the Confederate commander of the city 
 and his staff. Every chair was filled. The plain 
 man in the blue uniform stood by the stoop, pulling 
 a blade of grass between his fingers, and waiting. 
 When no one offered him a seat, he smiled, and 
 asked for a glass of water. Some one indicated the 
 cistern back of the house, and he walked away. 
 Boone swore wrathfully. 
 
 " Take it easy," the Captain said. " We can stand 
 it if they can." 
 
 Was it a prophecy? How did the conquerors of 
 the city take their triumph ? Let the recollections of 
 those who lived about the Walnut Hills bear witness. 
 Let them tell what they remember of the Captain 
 and the gallant McPherson and the others beside 
 who held the city in those days. Some perhaps 
 will recall the day when the Captain rode out of the 
 city for the last time. 
 
 Toiling up the slope of that highest ridge, from 
 which he had for so long looked upon the city, 
 he drew rein upon its top. Was it given him as 
 he sat there, his head fallen a little forward and to 
 one side, to see the smoky distance of those Tennes- 
 
 4-38
 
 THE CAPTAIN 
 
 see mountains and the trodden fields of Virginia 
 where he was to finish the task to which he had 
 set his hand away back in a little Illinois town? 
 Did some recollection of those earlier days picture 
 for him the gaunt, homely figure of a man in black 
 who had believed in him in the darkest hour, and, 
 in the hour of victory, wrote him, " You were right 
 and I was wrong?" If so, these pictures brought 
 no smile of triumph to his lips. With grave face 
 for a little while he gazed over the wide plain and 
 the great muddy river rolling its ceaseless tide from 
 the north; then he lifted the reins and spoke to his 
 horse. 
 
 " Come, Jeff, there is plenty ahead of us to do." 
 
 THE END. 
 
 439
 
 The Captain 
 
 By CHURCHILL WILLIAMS, author of "J. Devlin 
 Boss." Illustrated by A. I. Keller. t2mo. Dark red 
 cloth, decorative cover, rough edges. Price, $1.50 each. 
 
 TVTHO is the Captain ? thousands of readers of this fine 
 book will be asking. It is a story of love and war, 
 of scenes and characters before and during the great civil 
 conflict. It has lots of color and movement, and the splen- 
 did figure naming the book dominates the whole. 
 
 J. Devlin Boss 
 
 A ROMANCE OF AMERICAN POLITICS. Blue 
 cloth, decorative cover. J2mo. Price, $1.50. 
 
 Mary . Wilkins says : 
 
 " I am delighted with your book. Of all the first novels, 
 I believe yours is the very best. The novel is American 
 to the core. The spirit of the times is in it. It is inimita- 
 bly clever. It is an amazing first novel, and no one 
 except a real novelist could have written it." 
 
 Lothrop Publishing Company - - Boston
 
 By GEORGE GARY EGGLESTON, Author of " Dor- 
 othy South," "A Carolina Cavalier." Six Illustrations 
 by C D. Williams. J2mo. Dark red cloth, illustrated 
 cover, gilt top, rough edges. Price, $1.50 each. 
 
 '""THE MASTER OF WARLOCK "has an interest- 
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 the hero goes to the war, the heroine undergoes many 
 hardships and adventures to serve him, and they are hap- 
 pily united in the end. 
 
 Dorothy South 
 
 A STORY OF VIRGINIA JUST BEFORE THE WAR 
 
 Baltimore Sun says : 
 
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 ploiting the Southern field can, for a moment, compare in 
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 in the late fifties. We are taken into the life of the people. 
 We are shown the hearts of men and women. Characters 
 are clearly drawn, and incidents are skilfully presented. 
 
 A Carolina Cavalier 
 
 A STIRRING TALE OF WAR AND ADVENTURE 
 
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 " As a love story, ' A Carolina Cavalier ' is sweet and 
 true ; but as a patriotic novel, it is grand and inspiring. 
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 Lothrop Publishing Company - - Boston
 
 The Life Within 
 
 12mo. Bound in green cloth, decorative cover, 
 rough edges* Price, $1,50. 
 
 * I 'HIS is a striking story in which Christian Sci- 
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 this able novel. 
 
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 Cliveden 
 
 By KENYON WEST. J2mo. Brown cloth, rough edges. 
 Price, $1.50. 
 
 " /^LIVEDEN" is an historical romance by Kenyon 
 ^^ West, favorably known as the author of sev- 
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 dramatic in situation centres in the famous Chew 
 House in Germantown, during the Revolutionary 
 War, at the time when the battles of Brandywine 
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 Both sides of the struggle are represented, the 
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