THE SOUTHERNER

_A ROMANCE OF THE REAL LINCOLN_

BY

THOMAS DIXON

_"Have you never realized it, my friends, that Lincoln, though graftedon the West, is essentially, in personnel and character, a Southerncontribution?"_--WALT WHITMAN. 

ILLUSTRATED BY J. N. MARCHAND

NEW YORK AND LONDOND. APPLETON AND COMPANY1913

COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY THOMAS DIXON

_All rights reserved, including that of translation into allforeign languages, including the Scandinavian_

Printed in the United States of America

 * * * * *DEDICATED TO

OUR FIRST SOUTHERN-BORN PRESIDENT SINCE LINCOLN, MY FRIEND AND COLLEGEMATE WOODROW WILSON

 * * * * *THE SOUTHERNER

BOOKS BY MR. DIXON

The SouthernerThe Sins of the FatherThe Leopard's SpotsThe ClansmanThe Traitor

***

The One WomanComradesThe Root of Evil

***

The Life Worth Living

[Illustration: "From a thousand throats rose the cry: 'Lee to therear!'"]

TO THE READER

_Lest my readers should feel that certain incidents of this story arestartling and improbable, I wish to say that every word in it relatingto the issues of our national life has been drawn from authentic recordsin my possession. Nor have I at any point taken a liberty with anessential detail in historical scenes. _

 THOMAS DIXON. 

CONTENTS

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER

 I. THE MAN OF THE HOUR II. JANGLING VOICES III. IN BETTY'S GARDEN IV. A PAIR OF YOUNG EYES V. THE FIRST SHOT VI. THE PARTING OF THE WAYS VII. LOVE AND DUTY VIII. THE TRIAL BY FIRE IX. VICTORY IN DEFEAT X. THE AWAKENING XI. THE MAN ON HORSEBACK XII. LOVE AND PRIDE XIII. THE SPIRES OF RICHMOND XIV. THE RETREAT XV. TANGLED THREADS XVI. THE CHALLENGE XVII. THE DAY'S WORK XVIII. DIPLOMACY XIX. THE REBEL XX. THE INSULT XXI. THE BLOODIEST DAY XXII. BENEATH THE SKIN XXIII. THE USURPER XXIV. THE CONSPIRACY XXV. THE TUG OF WAR XXVI. THE REST HOUR XXVII. DEEPENING SHADOWS XXVIII. THE MOONLIT RIVER XXIX. THE PANIC XXX. SUNSHINE AND STORM XXXI. BETWEEN THE LINES XXXII. THE WHIRLWIND XXXIII. THE BROTHERS MEET XXXIV. LOVE'S PLEDGE XXXV. THE DARKEST HOUR XXXVI. THE ASSASSIN XXXVII. MR. DAVIS SPEAKSXXXVIII. THE STOLEN MARCH XXXIX. VICTORY XL. WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

"From a thousand throats rose the cry: 'Leeto the rear!'" _Frontispiece_. 

"'Be a man among men, for your mother'ssake--'"

"'Good-bye--Ned!' she breathed softly. ""Betty glanced at the stolid, set face and firmlips. "

"'You're a brave man, Ned Vaughan. '"

"Waving his plumed hat . . . He put himself atthe head of his troops and charged. "

LEADING CHARACTERS OF THE STORY

1809-1818

_Scene: A Cabin in the Woods_

TOM, A Man of the Forest and Stream. NANCY, The Woman Who Saw a Vision. THE BOY, Her Son. DENNIS, His Cousin. BONEY, A Fighting Coon Dog. 

1861-1865

_Scene: The White House_

SENATOR GILBERT WINTER, The Radical Leader. BETTY, His Daughter. JOHN VAUGHAN, A Union Soldier. NED VAUGHAN, His Brother, a Rebel. ABRAHAM LINCOLN, The President. MRS. LINCOLN, His Wife. PHOEBE, Her Maid. JULIUS CÆSAR THORNTON, Who Was Volunteered. COLONEL NICOLAY, The President's Secretary. MAJOR JOHN HAY, Assistant Secretary. WILLIAM TECUMSEH SHERMAN, Who Stole a March. GEORGE B. MCCLELLAN, The Man on Horseback. ROBERT E. LEE, The Southern Commander. 

THE SOUTHERNER

PROLOGUE

I

Tom seated himself at the table and looked into his wife's face with asmile:

"Nancy, it's a meal fit for a king!"

The supper over, he smoked his pipe before the cabin fire of blazinglogs, while she cleared the wooden dishes. He watched her get the paper, goose-quill pen and ink as a prisoner sees the scaffold building for hisexecution. 

"Now we're all ready, " she said cheerfully. 

The man laid his pipe down with a helpless look. A brief respite flashedthrough his mind. Maybe he could sidestep the lessons before she pinnedhim down. 

"Lord, Nancy, I forgot my gun. I must grease her right away, " he cried. 

He rose with a quick decisive movement and took his rifle from the rack. She knew it was useless to protest and let him have his way. 

Over every inch of its heavy barrel and polished walnut stock he rubbeda piece of greased linen with loving care, drew back the flint-lock andgreased carefully every nook and turn of its mechanism, lifted the gunfinally to his shoulder and drew an imaginary bead on the head of aturkey gobbler two hundred yards away. A glowing coal of hickory wood inthe fire served for his game. 

He lowered the gun and held it before him with pride:

"Nancy, she's the dandiest piece o' iron that wuz ever twisted inter theshape of a weepon. Old 'Speakeasy's her name! She's got the softestvoice that ever whispered death to a varmint or an Injun--hit ain't muchlouder'n the crack of a whip, but, man alive, when she talks she sayssomethin'. 'Kerpeow!' she whispers soft an' low! She's got a voice likeyourn, Nancy--kinder sighs when she speaks----"

"Well, " the wife broke in with a shake of her dark head, "has mother'slittle boy played long enough with his toy?"

"I reckon so, " Tom laughed. 

"Then it's time for school. " She gently took the rifle from his hands, placed it on the buck horns and took her seat at the table. 

The man looked ruefully at the stool, suddenly straightened his massiveframe, lifted his hand above his head and cocked his eye inquiringly:

"May I git er drink er water fust?"

The teacher laughed in spite of herself:

"Yes, you big lubber, and hurry up. "

Tom seized the water bucket and started for the door. 

"Where are you going?" she cried in dismay. 

"I'll jest run down to the spring fer a fresh bucket----"

"O Tom!" she exclaimed. 

"I'll be right back in a minute, Honey, " he protested softly. "Hit'sgoin' ter be powerful hot--I'll need a whole bucket time I'm through. "

Before she could answer he was gone. 

He managed to stay nearly a half hour. She put the baby to sleep and satwaiting with her pensive young eyes gazing at the leaping flames. Sheheard him stop and answer the call of an owl from the woods. Awhip-poor-will was softly singing from the bushes nearby. He stopped tocall him also, and then found an excuse to linger ten minutes morefooling with his dogs. 

The laggard came at last and dropped on his stool by her side. He satfor five minutes staring helplessly at the copy she had set. Big beadsof perspiration stood on his forehead when he took the pen. He held itawkwardly and timidly as if it were a live reptile. She took his clumsyhand in hers and showed him how to hold it. 

"My, but yo' hand's soft an' sweet, Nancy, --jest lemme hold that awhile----"

She rapped his knuckles. 

"All right, teacher, I'll be good, " he protested, and bent his hugeshoulders low over his task. He bore so hard on the frail quill pen theink ran in a big blot. 

"Not so hard, Tom!" she cried. 

"But I got so much strenk in my right arm I jist can't hold it back. "

"You must try again. "

He tried again and made a heavy tremulous line. His arm moved at asnail's gait and wobbled frightfully. 

"Make the line quicker, " she urged encouragingly. "Begin at the top andcome down----"

"Here, you show me how!"

She took his rough hand quietly in hers, and guided it swiftly fromright to left in straight smooth lines until a dozen were made, when hesuddenly drew her close, kissed her lips, and held the slender fingersin a grip of iron. She lay still in his embrace for a moment, releasedherself and turned from him with a sigh. He drew her quickly to thelight of the fire and saw the unshed tears in her eyes. 

"What's the use ter worry, Nancy gal?" he said. "Give it up ez a badjob. I wouldn't fool with no sech scholar ef I wuz you. Ye can't teachan old dog new tricks----"

"I won't give up!" she cried with sudden energy. "I can teach you and Iwill. I won't give up and be nobody. O Tom, you promised me before wewere married to let me teach you--didn't you promise?"

"Yes, Honey, I did----" he paused and his fine teeth gleamed through theblack beard--"but ye know a feller'll promise any thing ter git hisgal----"

"Didn't you mean to keep your word?" She broke in sharply. 

"Of course I did, Nancy, I never wuz more earnest in my life--'ceptinwhen I got religion. But I had no idee larnin' come so hard. I'd rutherfight Injuns an' wil' cats or rob a bee tree any day than ter tacklethem pot hooks you're sickin' after me----"

"Well, I won't give up, " she interrupted impatiently, "and you'd just aswell make up your mind to stick to it. You can do what other men havedone. You're good, honest and true, you're kindhearted and popular. They've already made you the road supervisor of this township. Learn toread and write and you can make a good speech and go to theLegislature. "

"Ah, Nancy, what do ye want me ter do that fur, anyhow, gal? I'd be thehappiest man in the world right here in this cabin by the woods ef you'djest be happy with me. Can't ye quit hankerin' after them things, Honey?"

She shook her dark head firmly. 

"You know, Nancy, we wuz neighbors to Dan'l Boone. We thought he wuzabout the biggest man that ever lived. Somehow the love o' the woods an'fields is always singin' in my heart. Them still shinin' stars up in thesky out thar to-night keep a callin' me. I could hear the music o' myhounds in my soul ez I stood by the spring a while ago. Ye know whatscares me most ter death sometimes, gal?" He paused and looked into hereyes intently. 

"No, what?" she asked. 

"That you'll make a carpenter outen me yit ef I don't mind. "

Again a smile broke through the cloud in her eyes: "I don't thinkthere's much danger of _that_, Tom----"

"Yes ther is, too, " he laughed. "Ye see, I love you so and try ter makeye happy, an' ef there wuz ter come er time that there wuz plenty o'work an' real money in it, I'd stick to it jist ter please you, an' be alost an' ruined soul! Yessir, they'd carve on my headstone jest oneline:

 "BORN A MAN--AND DIED A JACKLEG CARPENTER. 

"Wouldn't that be awful?"

The momentary smile on the woman's sensitive face faded into a look ofpain. She tried to make a good-natured reply, but her lips refused tomove. 

The man pressed on eagerly:

"O Nancy, why can't ye be happy here? We've a snug little cabin nest, we've enough to eat and enough to wear. The baby's laughin' at yer heelsall day and snugglin' in her little bed at night. The birds make musicfur ye in the trees. The creek down thar's laughin' an' singing' winteran' summer. The world's too purty an' life's too short ter throw hitaway fightin' an' scramblin' fur nothin'. "

"For something--Tom--something big----"

"Don't keer how big 'tis--what of it? All turns ter ashes in yer handsbye an' bye an' yer life's gone. We can't live these young days overagain, can we? Ye know the preacher says: 'What shall hit profit a manef he gain the whole world an' lose his life?' Let me off'n theselessons, Honey? I'm too old; ye can't larn me new tricks now. Let me offfer good an' all, won't ye?"

"No, " was the firm answer. "It means too much. I won't give up and letthe man I love sign his name forever with a cross mark. "

"I ain't goin' ter sign no more papers nohow!" Tom broke in. 

"I signed our marriage bond with a mark, Tom, " she went on evenly, "justbecause you couldn't write your name. You've got to learn, I won't giveup!"

"Well, it's too late to-night fur any more lessons, now _ain't_ it?"

"Yes, we'll make up for it next time. "

The tired hunter was soon sound asleep dreaming of the life that was thebreath of his nostrils. 

Through the still winter's night the young wife lay with wide staringeyes. Over and over again she weighed her chances in the grim strugglebegun for the mastery of his mind. The longer she asked herself thequestion of success or failure the more doubtful seemed the outcome. Howstill the world!

The new life within her strong young body suddenly stirred, and afeeling of awe thrilled her heart. God had suddenly signalled from theshores of Eternity. 

When her husband waked at dawn he stared at her smiling face insurprise. 

"What ye laughin' about, Nancy?" he cried. 

She turned toward him with a startled look:

"I had a vision, Tom!"

"A dream, I reckon. "

"God had answered the prayer of my heart, " she went on breathlessly, "and sent me a son. I saw him a strong, brave, patient, wise, gentleman. Thousands hung on his words and great men came to do him homage. With bowed head he led me into a beautiful home that had shining whitepillars. He bowed low and whispered in my ear: 'This is yours, my angelmother. I bought it for you with my life. All that I am I owe to you. '"

She paused a moment and whispered:

"O Tom, man, a new song is singing in my soul!"

II

The woman rose quietly and went the rounds of her daily work. She madeher bed to-day in trance-like silence. It was no gilded couch, but ithad been built by the hand of her lover and was sacred. It filled thespace in one corner of the cabin farthest from the fire. A single postof straight cedar securely fixed in the ground held the poles in placewhich formed the side and foot rail. The walls of the cabin formed theother side and head. Across from the pole were fixed the slender hickorysticks that formed the springy hammock on which the first mattress ofmoss and grass rested. On this was placed a feather bed made from thewild fowl Tom had killed during the past two years. The pillows were ofthe finest feathers from the breasts of ducks. A single quilt of amplesize covered all, and over this was thrown a huge counterpane of bearskins. Two enormous bear rugs almost completely covered the dirt floor, and a carpet of oak leaves filled out the spaces. 

The feather bed beaten smooth, the fur covering drawn in place and thepillows set upright against the cabin wall, she turned to the two bunksin the opposite corner and carefully re-arranged them. They might beused soon. This was the corner of her home set aside for guests. Tom hadskillfully built two berths boat fashion, one above the other, in thiscorner, and a curtain drawn over a smooth wooden rod cut this space offfrom the rest of the room when occupied at night by visitors. 

The master of this cabin never allowed a stranger to pass without urginghim to stop and in a way that took no denial. 

A savory dish of stewed squirrel and corn dumplings served for lunch. The baby's face was one glorious smear of joy and grease at its finish. 

The mother took the bucket from its shelf and walked leisurely to thespring, whose limpid waters gushed from a rock at the foot of the hill. The child toddled after her, the little moccasined feet steppinggingerly over the sharp gravel of the rough places. 

Before filling the bucket she listened again for the crack of Tom'srifle, and could hear nothing. A death-like stillness brooded over thewoods and fields. He was probably watching for muskrat under the bluffof the creek. He had promised to stay within call to-day. 

The afternoon dragged wearily. She tried to read the one book shepossessed, the Bible. The pages seemed to fade and the eyes refused tosee. 

"O Man, Man, why don't you come home!" she cried at last. 

She rose, walked to the door, looked and listened--only the distantrattle of a woodpecker's beak on a dead tree in the woods. The snowbegan to fall in little fitful dabs. It was two miles to the nearestcabin, and her soul rose in fierce rebellion at her loneliness. It waseasy for a man who loved the woods, the fields and running waters, thislife, but for the woman who must wait and long and eat her heart outalone--she vowed anew that she would not endure it. By the sheer pull ofher will she would lift this man from his drifting life and make himtake his place in the real battle of the world. If her new baby wereonly a boy, he could help her and she would win. Again she stooddreaming of the vision she had seen at dawn. 

The dark young face suddenly went white and her hand gripped the facingof the door. 

She waited half doubting, half amused at her fears. It was only thetwinge of a muscle perhaps. She smiled at her sudden panic. The thoughthad scarcely formed before she blanched the second time and the firmlips came together with sudden energy as she glanced at the childplaying on the rug at her feet. 

She seized the horn that hung beside the door and blew the pioneer'slong call of danger. Its shrill note rang through the woods against thehills in cadences that seemed half muffled by the falling snow. 

Again her anxious eyes looked from the doorway. Would he never come! Thetrembling slender hand once more lifted the horn, a single wild noterang out and broke suddenly into silence. The horn fell from her limpgrasp and she lifted her eyes to the darkening sky in prayer, as Tom'svoice from the edge of the woods came strong and full:

"Yes, Honey, I'm comin'!"

There was no question of doctor or nurse. The young pioneer mother onlyasked for her mate. 

For two fearful hours she gripped his rough hands until at last hernails brought the blood, but the man didn't know or care. Everysmothered cry that came from her lips began to tear the heart out of hisbody at last. He could hold the long pent agony no longer without words. 

"My God, Nancy, what can I do for ye, Honey?"

Her breath came in gasps and her eyes were shining with a strangeintensity. 

"Nothing, Tom, nothing now--I'm looking Death in the face and I'm notafraid----"

"Please lemme give ye some whiskey, " he pleaded, pressing the glass toher lips. 

"No--no, take it away--I hate it. My baby shall be clean and strong or Iwant to die. "

The decision seemed to brace her spirit for the last test when thetrembling feet entered the shadows of the dim valley that lies betweenLife and Death. 

The dark, slender figure lay still and white at last. A sharp cry fromlusty lungs, and the grey eyes slowly opened, with a timid wonderinglook. 

"Tom!" she cried with quick eager tones. 

"Yes, Nancy, yes!"

"A boy?"

"Of course--and a buster he is, too. "

"Give him to me--quick!"

The stalwart figure bent over the bed and laid the little red bundle inher arms. She pressed him tenderly to her heart, felt his breath on herbreast and the joyous tears slowly poured down her cheeks. 

III

Before the first year of the boy's life had passed the task of teachinghis good-natured, stubborn father became impossible. The best the wifecould do was to make him trace his name in sprawling letters thatresembled writing and painfully spell his way through the simplestpassages in the Bible. 

The day she gave up was one of dumb despair. She resolved at last tolive in her boy. All she had hoped and dreamed of life should be his andhe would be hers. Her hands could make him good or bad, brave orcowardly, noble or ignoble. 

He was a remarkable child physically, and grew out of his clothes fasterthan she could make them. It was easy to see from his second year thathe would be a man of extraordinary stature. Both mother and father wereabove the average height, but he would overtop them both. When hetumbled over the bear rugs on the cabin floor his father would roar withlaughter:

"For the Lord's sake, Nancy, look at them legs! They're windin' blades. Ef he ever gits grown, he won't have ter ax fer a blessin', he kin jestreach up an' hand it down hisself!"

He was four years old when he got the first vision of his mother thattime should never blot out. His father was away on a carpenter job offour days. Sleeping in the lower bunk in the corner, he waked with astart to hear the chickens cackling loudly. His mother was quietlydressing. He leaped to his feet shivering in the dark and whispered:

"What is it, Ma?"

"Something's after the chickens. "

"Not a hawk?"

"No, nor an owl, or fox, or weasel--or they'd squall--they're cackling. "

The rooster cackled louder than ever and the Boy recognized the voice ofhis speckled hen accompanying him. How weird it sounded in the darknessof the still spring night! The cold chills ran down his back and hecaught his mother's dress as she reached for the rifle that stood besideher bed. 

"You're not goin' out there, Ma?" the Boy protested. 

"Yes. It's a dirty thief after our horse. "

Her voice was low and steady and her hand was without tremor as shegrasped his. 

"Get back in bed. I won't be gone a minute. "

She left the cabin and noiselessly walked toward the low shed in whichthe horse was stabled. 

The Boy was at her heels. She knew and rejoiced in the love that madehim brave for her sake. 

She paused a moment, listened, and then lifted her tall, slim form andadvanced steadily. Her bare feet made no noise. The waning moon wasshining with soft radiance. The Boy's heart was in his throat as hewatched her slender neck and head outlined against the sky. Never had heseen anything so calm and utterly brave. 

There was a slight noise at the stable. The chickens cackled with loudercall. Five minutes passed and they were silent. A shadowy figureappeared at the corner of the stable. She raised the rifle and flashed adagger-like flame into the darkness. 

A smothered cry, the shadow leaped the fence and the beat of swift feetcould be heard in the distance. 

The Boy clung close to her side and his voice was husky as he spoke:

"Ain't you afraid, Ma?"

The calm answer rang forever through his memory:

"I don't know what fear means, my Boy. It's not the first time I'vecaught these prowling scoundrels. "

Next morning he saw the dark blood marks on the trail over which thethief had fled, and looked into his mother's wistful grey eyes with anew reverence and awe. 

IV

The Boy was quick to know and love the birds of hedge and field andwoods. The martins that built in his gourds on the tall pole had openedhis eyes. The red and bluebirds, the thrush, the wren, the robin, thecatbird, and song sparrows were his daily companions. 

A mocking-bird came at last to build her nest in a bush beside thegarden, and her mate began to make the sky ring with his song. Thepuzzle of the feathered tribe whose habits he couldn't fathom was thewhip-poor-will. His mother seemed to dislike his ominous sound. But thesoft mournful notes appealed to the Boy's fancy. Often at night he satin the doorway of the cabin watching the gathering shadows and theflicker of the fire when supper was cooking, listening to the tirelesssong within a few feet of the house. 

"Why don't you like 'em, Ma?" he asked, while one was singing withunusually deep and haunting voice so near the cabin that its echo seemedto come from the chimney jamb. 

It was some time before she replied:

"They say it's a sign of death for them to come so close to the house. "

The Boy laughed:

"You don't believe it?"

"I don't know. "

"Well, I like 'em, " he stoutly declared. "I like to feel the coldshivers when they sing right under my feet. You're not afraid of alittle whip-poor-will?"

He looked up into her sombre face with a smile. 

"No, " was the gentle answer, "but I want to live to see my Boy a finestrong man, " she paused, stooped, and drew him into her arms. 

There was something in her tones that brought a lump into his throat. The moon was shining in the full white glory of the Southern spring. Anight of marvellous beauty enfolded the little cabin. He looked into hereyes and they were shining with tears. 

"What's the matter?" he asked tenderly. 

"Nothing, Boy, I'm just dreaming of you!"

 * * * * *

The first day of the fall in his sixth year he asked his mother to lethim go to the next corn-shucking. 

"You're too little a boy. "

"I can shuck corn, " he stoutly argued. 

"You'll be good, if I let you go?" she asked. 

"What's to hurt me there?"

"Nothing, unless you let it. The men drink whiskey, the girls dance. Sometimes there's a quarrel or fight. "

"It won't hurt me ef I 'tend to my own business, will it?"

"Nothing will ever hurt you, if you'll just do that, Boy, " the fatherbroke in. 

"May I go?"

"Yes, we're invited next week to a quilting and corn-shucking. I'll gowith you. "

The Boy shouted for joy and counted the days until the wonderful event. They left home at two o'clock in the wagon. The quilting began at three, the corn-shucking at sundown. 

The house was a marvellous structure to the Boy's excited imagination. It was the first home he had ever seen not built of logs. 

"Why, Ma, " he cried in open-eyed wonder, "there ain't no logs in thehouse! How did they ever put it together?"

"With bricks and mortar. "

The Boy couldn't keep his eyes off this building. It was a simple, one-story square structure of four rooms and an attic, with littledormer windows peeping from the four sides of the pointed roof. McDonald, the thrifty Scotch-Irishman, from the old world, had built itof bricks he had ground and burnt on his own place. 

The dormer windows peeping from the roof caught the Boy's fancy. 

"Do you reckon his boys sleep up there and peep out of them holes?"

The mother smiled. 

"Maybe so. "

"Why don't we build a house like that?" he asked at last. "Don't youwant it?"

The mother squeezed his little hand:

"When you're a man will you build your mother one?"

He looked into her eyes a moment, caught the pensive longing andanswered:

"Yes. I will. "

She stooped and kissed the firm mouth and was about to lead him into thelarge work-room where the women were gathering around the quiltsstretched on their frames, when a negro slave suddenly appeared to takeher horse to the stable. He was fat, jolly and coal black. His yellowteeth gleamed in their blue gums with a jovial welcome. 

The Boy stood rooted to the spot and watched until the negrodisappeared. It was the first black man he had ever seen. He had heardof negroes and that they were slaves. But he had no idea that one humanbeing could be so different from another. 

In breathless awe he asked:

"Is he folks?"

"Of course, Boy, " his mother answered, smiling. 

"What made him so black?"

"The sun in Africa. "

"What made his nose so flat and his lips so thick?"

"He was born that way. "

"What made him come here?"

"He didn't. The slave traders put him in chains and brought him acrossthe sea and sold him into slavery. "

The little body suddenly stiffened:

"Why didn't he kill 'em?"

"He didn't know how to defend himself. "

"Why don't he run away?"

"He hasn't sense enough, I reckon. He's got a home, plenty to eat andplenty to wear, and he's afraid he'll be caught and whipped. "

The mother had to pull the Boy with her into the quilting room. His eyesfollowed the negro to the stable with a strange fascination. The thingthat puzzled him beyond all comprehension was why a big strong man likethat, if he were a man, would submit. Why didn't he fight and die? Acurious feeling of contempt filled his mind. This black thing thatlooked like a man, walked like a man and talked like a man couldn't beone! No real man would grin and laugh and be a slave. The black foolseemed to be happy. He had not only grinned and laughed, but he wentaway whistling and singing. 

In three hours the quilts were finished and the men had gathered for thecorn-shucking. 

Before eight o'clock the last ear was shucked, and a long white pile ofclean husked corn lay glistening in the moonlight where the dark pyramidhad stood at sunset. 

With a shout the men rose, stretched their legs and washed their handsin the troughs filled with water, provided for the occasion. They satdown to supper at four long tables placed in the kitchen and work room, where the quilts had been stretched. 

Never had the Boy seen such a feast--barbecued shoat, turkeys, ducks, chickens, venison, bear meat, sweet potatoes, wild honey, corn dodgers, wheat biscuit, stickies and pound cake--pound cake until you couldn'teat another mouthful and still they brought more!

After the supper the young folks sang and danced before the big firesuntil ten o'clock, and then the crowd began to thin, and by eleven thelast man was gone and the harvest festival was over. 

It was nearly twelve before the Boy knelt at his mother's knee to sayhis prayers. 

When the last words were spoken he still knelt, his eyes gazing into theflickering fire. 

The mother bent low:

"What are you thinking about, Boy? The house you're going to build forme?"

"No. "

"What?"

"That nigger--wasn't he funny? You don't want me to get you any niggerswith the house do you?"

"No. "

"I didn't think you would, " he went on thoughtfully, "because you saidGeneral Washington set his slaves free and wanted everybody else to doit too. "

He paused and shook his head thoughtfully. "But he was funny--he waslaughin' and whistlin' and singin'!"

V

The air of the Southern autumn was like wine. The Boy's heart beat withnew life. The scarlet and purple glory of the woods fired hisimagination. He found himself whistling and singing at his tasks. Heproudly showed a bee tree to his mother, the honey was gathered andsafely stored. A barrel of walnuts, a barrel of hickory-nuts and twobushels of chestnuts were piled near his bed in the loft. 

But the day his martins left, he came near breaking down. He saw themcircle high in graceful sweeping curves over the gourds, chattering andlaughing with a strange new note in their cries. 

He watched them wistfully. His mother found him looking with shiningeyes far up into the still autumn sky. His voice was weak and unsteadywhen he spoke:

"I--can--hardly--hear--'em--now; they're so high!"

A slender hand touched his tangled hair:

"Don't worry, Boy, they'll come again. "

"You're sure, Ma?" he asked, pathetically. 

"Sure. "

"Will they know when it's time?"

"Some one always tells them. "

"Who?"

"God. That's what the Bible means when it says, 'the stork knoweth herappointed time. ' I read that to you the other night, don't youremember?"

"But maybe God'll be so busy he'll forget my birds?"

"He never forgets, he counts the beat of a sparrow's wing. "

The mother's faith was contagious. The drooping spirit caught the flashof light from her eyes and smiled. 

"We'll watch for 'em next spring, won't we? And I'll put up new gourdslong before they come!"

Comforted at last, he went to the woods to gather chinquapins. Thesquirrels were scampering in all directions and he asked his father thatnight to let him go hunting with him next day. 

"All right, Boy!" was the hearty answer. "We'll have some fun thiswinter. "

He paused as he saw the mother's lips suddenly close and a shadow passover her dark, sensitive face. 

"Hit's no use ter worry, Nancy, " he went on good-naturedly. "I promisedyou not ter take him 'less he wanted ter go. But hit's in the blood, andhit's got ter come out. "

Tom picked the Boy up and placed him on his knee and stroked his darkhead. Sarah crouched at his feet and smiled. He was going to tell aboutthe Indians again. She could tell by the look in his eye as he watchedthe flames leap over the logs. 

"Did ye know, Boy, " he began slowly, "that we come out to Kaintuck withDaniel Boone?"

"Did we?"

"Yes sirree, with old Dan'l hisself. It wuz thirty years ago. I wuz alittle shaver no bigger'n you, but I remember jest as well ez ef it wuzyistiddy. Lordy, Boy, thar wuz er man that wuz er man! Ye couldn't amade no jackleg carpenter outen him----" He paused and cast a sly winkat Nancy as she bent over her knitting. 

"Tell me about him?" the Boy cried. 

"Yessir, Dan'l Boone wuz a man an' no mistake. The Indians would ketch'im an' keep er ketchin' 'im an' he'd slip through their fingersslicker'n a eel. The very fust trip he tuck out here he wuz captured bythe Redskins. Dan'l wuz with his friend John Stuart. 

"They left their camp one day an' set out on a big hunt, and all of asudden they wuz grabbed by the Injuns. "

"Why didn't they shoot 'em?" the Boy asked. 

"They wuz too many of 'em an' they wuz too quick for Dan'l. He didn'thave no show at all. The Injuns robbed 'em of everything they had an'kept 'em prisoners. 

"But ole Dan'l wuz a slick un. He'd been studyin' Injuns all his lifean' he knowed 'em frum a ter izard. They didn't have nothin' but bowsan' arrers then an' he had a rifle thes like mine. He never gotflustered or riled by the way they wuz treatin' him, but let on like hewuz happy ez er June bug. Dan'l would raise his rifle, put a bullettwixt a buffalo's eyes an' he'd drap in his tracks. The Injuns wuztickled ter death an' thought him the greatest man that ever lived--an'he wuz, too. So they got ter likin' him an' treatin' 'im better. Forseven days an' nights him an' Stuart helped 'em hunt an' showed 'em howter work er rifle. The Injuns was plum fooled by Dan'l's friendly waysan' didn't watch 'im so close. 

"So one night Dan'l helped 'em ter eat a bigger supper than ever. Theywuz all full enough ter bust, an' went ter sleep an' slept like logs. Hit wuz a dark night an' the fire burned low, an' long 'bout midnightDan'l made up his mind ter give 'em the slip. 

"Hit wuz er dangerous job. Ef he failed hit wuz death shore-nuff, fornothin' makes a Injun so pizen mad ez fer anybody ter be treated nice by'em an' then try ter get away. The Redskins wuz all sleepin' round thefire. They wuz used ter jumpin' in the middle o' the night or anyminute. Mebbe they wuz all ersleep, an' mebbe they wasn't. 

"Old Dan'l he pertended ter be sleepin' the sleep er the dead, an' Itell ye he riz mighty keerful, shuck Stuart easy, waked him up an'motioned him ter foller. Talk about sneakin' up on a wild duck er aturkey--ole Dan'l done some slick business gettin' away frum that fire!Man, ef they'd rustled a leaf er broke a twig, them savages would a allbeen up an' on 'em in a minute. Holdin' tight to their guns--you kin betthey didn't leave them--and a steppin' light ez feathers they crept awayfrom the fire an' out into the deep dark o' the woods. They stopped an'stood as still ez death an' watched till they see the Injuns hadn'twaked----"

The pioneer paused and his white teeth shone through his black beard ashe cocked his shaggy head to one side and looked into the Boy's wideeyes. 

"And then what do you reckon Dan'l Boone done, sir?"

"What?"

"Waal, ye seed the way them bees made fer their trees, didn't ye, whenthey got a load er honey?"

"Yes, that's the way I found their home. "

"But you had the daylight, mind ye! And Dan'l was in pitch black night, but, sir, he made a bee-line through them dark woods straight for hiscamp he'd left seven days afore. And, man, yer kin bet they made trackswhen they got clear o' the Redskins! Hit wuz six hours till day an' whenthe Injuns waked they didn't know which way ter look----"

Tom paused and the Boy cried eagerly:

"Did they get there?"

"Git whar?" the father asked dreamily. 

"Get back to their own camp?"

"Straight ez a bee-line I tell ye. But the camp had been busted androbbed and the other men wuz gone. "

"Gone where?"

Tom shook his shaggy head. 

"Nobody never knowed ter this day--reckon the Injuns scalped 'em----"

He paused again and a dreamy look overspread his rugged face. 

"Like they scalped your own grandpa that day. "

"Did they scalp my grandpa?" the Boy asked in an awed whisper. 

"That they did. Your Uncle Mordecai an' me was workin' with him in thenew ground, cleanin' it fur corn when all of a sudden the Injuns rizright up outen the ground. Your grandpa drapped dead the fust shot, an'Mordecai flew ter the cabin fer the rifle. A big Redskin jumped over alog an' scalped my own daddy before my eyes! He grabbed me an' startedpullin' me ter the woods, an' then, Sonny, somethin' happened----"

Tom looked at the long rifle in its buck's horn rest and smiled:

"Old 'Speakeasy' up thar stretched her long neck through a chink in thelogs an' said somethin' ter Mr. Redskin. She didn't raise her voice muchlouder'n a whisper. She jist kinder sighed:

"_Kerpeow!_"

"I kin hear hit echoin' through them woods yit. That Injun drapped myhands before I heerd the gun, an' she hadn't more'n sung out afore hewuz lyin' in a heap at my feet. The ball had gone clean through him----"

Tom paused again and looked for a long time in silence into the glowingcoals. The little cabin was very still. The Boy lifted his face to hismother's curiously:

"Ma, you said God counted the beat of a sparrow's wing?"

"Yes. "

"Well, what was He doin' when that Indian scalped my grandpa?"

The mother threw a startled look at the bold little questioner andanswered reverently:

"Keeping watch in Heaven, my Boy. The hairs of your head are numberedand not one falls without his knowledge. We had to pay the price ofblood for this beautiful country. Nothing is ever worth having thatdoesn't cost precious lives. "

Again the cabin was still. An owl's deep cry boomed from the woods and asolitary wolf answered in the distance. The Boy's brow was wrinkled fora moment and then he suddenly looked up to his father's rugged face:

"And what became of Dan'l Boone?"

"Oh, he lit on his feet all right. He always did. He moved on withStuart, built him another camp in the deepest woods he could find andhunted there all winter--jest think, Boy, all winter--every day--tharwuz a man that wuz a man shore nuff!"

"Yes, sirree!" the listener agreed. 

The mother lifted her head and thoughtfully watched the sparkling eyes. 

"And do you want to know why Daniel Boone was great, my son?" shequietly asked. 

"Yes, why?" was the quick response. 

"Because he used his mind and his hands, while the other men around himjust used their hands. He learned to read and write when he was a littleboy. He mixed brains with his powder and shot. "

"Did he, Pa?" the questioner cried. 

The father smiled. He could afford to be generous. The Boy looked to himas the authority on Daniel Boone. 

"Yes, I reckon he did. He wuz smart. I didn't have no chance when I wuzlittle. "

"Then I'm going to learn, too. Ma can teach me. " He leaped from hisfather's lap and climbed into hers. "You will, won't you, Ma?"

The mother smiled us she slowly answered:

"Yes, Honey, I'll begin to-morrow night when you get back from hunting. "

VI

Slowly but surely the indomitable will within the Boy's breast conqueredthe cries of aching muscles, and he went about his daily farm taskswith the dogged persistence of habit. He had learned to whistle at hiswork and his eager mind began to look for new worlds to conquer. 

At the right moment the tempter appeared. It rained on Saturday andAustin, his neighbor, came over to see him. They cracked walnuts andhickory-nuts in the loft while the rain pattered noisily on the boardroof. Austin had a definite suggestion for Sunday that would break themonotony of life. 

"Let's me an' you not go ter meetin' ter-morrow?" the neighbor venturedfor a starter. 

"All right!" the Boy agreed. "Preachin' makes me tired anyhow. "

"Me, too, an' I tell ye what I'll do. I'll get my Ma ter let me come teryour house to stay all day, an' when your folks go off ter meetin', mean' you'll have some fun!"

"What?"

"We'll stay all day on the creek banks, find duck nests, turkey andquail nests, an', ----" Austin paused and dropped his voice, "go inswimmin' if we take a notion----"

The Boy slowly shook his head. 

"No, less don't do that. "

"Why?"

"'Cause Ma don't 'low me to go in the creek till June--says I mightketch my death o' cold. "

"Shucks! I've been in twice already!"

"Have ye?"

"Yep!"

"And ye didn't get sick?"

"Do I _look_ sick?"

"Not a bit. "

"Well, then?"

"All right--we'll go. "

The spirit of freedom born of the fields and woods had grown intosomething more than an attitude of mind. He was ready for the deed--thepositive act of adventure. He didn't like to disobey his mother. But hecouldn't afford to let Austin think that he was a molly-coddle, a merebabe hanging to her skirts. He was doing a man's work. It was time hetook a few of man's privileges. 

He revelled in the situation of adventure that night and saw himself thehero of stirring scenes. 

Next morning on Austin's arrival he asked his mother to let him stay athome and play. 

"Don't you want to go to meeting and hear the new preacher?" she askedpersuasively. 

"No, I'm tired. "

The mother smiled indulgently. He was young--far too young yet to knowthe meaning of true religion. She was a Baptist, and the first principleof her religion was personal faith and direct relations of theindividual soul with God. She remembered her own hours of torture inchildhood. 

"All right, Boy, " she said graciously. "Be good now, while we're gone. "

His big toe was digging in the dirt while he murmured:

"Yes'm. "

The wagon had no sooner disappeared than he and Austin were flying withswift bare feet along the path that led to the creek. It was the hottestday of the spring--a close air and broiling sun to be remembered longerthan the hottest day of August. 

They ran for a mile without a pause, rolled in the sand on the banks ofthe creek and shouted their joy in perfect freedom. They explored thedeep cane brakes and stalked imaginary buffaloes and bears withoutnumber, encountering nothing bigger than a grey fox and a couple ofmuskrats. 

"Let's cross over!" Austin cried. "I saw a bear track on that side oneday. We can trail him to his den and show him to your Pap when he comeshome. Here's a log!"

The Boy looked dubiously, measured it with his eye, and shook his head. 

"Nope--it's too little and too high in the air--it'll wobble, " hedeclared. 

"But we can coon it over!" Austin urged. "We can grab hold of a limbover there and slide down--it's easy--come on!"

Before he could make further objection, the young adventurer quicklystraddled the swaying pole, and, with the agility of a cat, hoppedacross, grasped one of the limbs and slipped to the sand. 

"Come on!" he shouted. "See how easy it is!"

The Boy looked doubtfully at the swaying sapling and wished he had goneto hear that preacher after all. It would never do to say he was afraid. The other fellow had done it so quickly. And it was no use to argue withAustin that his legs were shorter, his body more compact and so mucheasier to hold his balance. The idea of cowardice was something too vilefor thought. The Boy felt that he was doomed to fall before he movedbut he waved a brave little hand in answer:

"All right, I'm comin'!"

Half way across the pole began to tear its roots from the bluff. He feltit sinking, stopped and held his breath as it suddenly broke with acrash and fell. 

"Look out! Hold tight!" Austin yelled. 

He did his best, but lost his balance and toppled head downward into thedeep still water. 

His mouth flew open at the first touch of the chill stream; he gaspedfor breath and drew into his lungs a strangling flood. The blood rushedto his brain in a wild explosion of terror. He struck out madly with hislong arms and legs, fighting with desperation for breath and drinking inonly the agony and fear of death. His mother's voice came low and faintand far away in some other world, saying softly:

"Be good now, while we're gone!"

Again he struck out blindly, fiercely, madly into the darkness that wasslowly swallowing him body and soul. 

His hand touched something as he sank, he grasped it with instinctiveterror and knew no more until he waked in the infernal regions with theDevil sitting on his stomach glaring into his eyes and holding him bythe throat trying to choke him to death. His head was down a steep hill. 

With a mighty effort he threw the Devil off, loosed his hold and suckedin a tiny breath of air, and then another and another, coughing andspluttering and wheezing foam and water from his mouth and ears and noseand eyes. 

At last a voice gasped:

"Is--that--you--Austin?"

"You bet it's me! I got ye a breathin' all right now--who'd ye think itwuz?"

The Boy coughed again and squeezed his lungs clear of water. 

"Why--I was afraid I was dead and you was the Old Scratch and had me. "

"Well, I thought you was a goner shore nuff till yer hand grabbed thepole I stuck after ye. Man alive, but you did hold onto it! I lakenedter never got yer hand loose so's I could pull ye up on the bank andturn ye upside down and squeeze the water outen ye. "

"Did you sit on my stomach and choke me?" the Boy asked. 

"I set on yer and mashed the water out, but I didn't choke you. "

"I thought the Old Scratch had me!"

For an hour they talked in awed whispers of Sin and Death and Troubleand then the blood of youth shook off the nightmare. 

They were alive and unhurt. They were all right and it was a good joke. They swore eternal secrecy. The day was yet young and it was a gloriousone. Their clothes were wet and they had to be dried before night. Thatsettled it. They would strip, hang their clothes in the hot sun andwallow in the sand and play in the shallow water until sundown. 

"And besides, " Austin urged, "this here's a warnin' straight from theLord--me and you must learn ter swim. "

"That's so, ain't it?" the Boy agreed. 

"It's what I calls a sign from on high--and it pints right into thecreek!"

They agreed that the thing to do was to heed at once this divinerevelation and devote the whole Sabbath day to the solemn work--in thecreek. 

They found a beautifully sunny spot with an immense sand bar and wideshallow safe waters. They carefully placed their clothes to dry andbasked in the bright sun. They practiced swimming in water waist deepand Austin learned to make three strokes and reach the length of hisbody before sinking. 

They rolled in the sun again and ate their lunch. They ran naked throughthe woods to a branch that flowed into the creek, followed it to thesource and drank at a beautiful spring. 

Through the long afternoon they lived in a fairy world of freedom, ofdreams and make-believe. They talked of great hunters and discussed thebest methods of attacking all manner of wild beasts. 

The sun was sinking toward the western hills when they hastily picked uptheir clothes and found a safe ford across which they could wade, holding their things above their heads. 

The Boy reached the house just as the wagon drove up to the door. Hehurried to help his father with the horse. A sense of elation filled hismind that he was shrewd enough to keep his own secrets. Of course, hismother needn't know what had happened. He was none the worse for it. 

In answer to her question of how he had spent the day he vaguelyanswered:

"In the woods. They're awfully pretty now with the dogwood all inbloom. "

He talked incessantly at supper, teasing Sarah about her jolly time atthe meeting. Toward the end of the meal he grew silent. A curioussensation began on his back and shoulders and arms. He paid no attentionto it at first, but it rapidly grew worse. The more he tried to shakeoff the feeling the more distinct and sharp it grew. At last every inchof his body seemed to be on fire. 

He rose slowly from the table and walked to his stool in the cornerwondering--wondering and fearing. He sat in dead silence for half anhour. The perspiration began to stand out on his forehead. It was no uselonger to try to fool himself, there was something the matter--somethingbig--something terrible! A fierce and scorching fever was burning him todeath. He dared not move. Every muscle quivered with agony when hetried. 

The mother's keen eye saw the tears he couldn't keep back. 

"What's the matter, Boy?" she tenderly asked while his father was at thestable putting the wagon under the shed. 

"I don't know 'm, " he choked. "I'm all on fire--I'm burnin' up----"

She touched his forehead and slipped her arm around his shoulders. 

He screamed with pain. 

The mother looked into his face with a sudden start. 

"Why, what on earth, child? What have you been doing to-day?"

He hesitated and tried to be brave, but it was no use. He felt that hewould drop dead the next moment unless relief came. He buried his facein her lap and sobbed his bitter confession. 

"Do you think I'm going to die?" he asked. 

She smiled:

"No, my Boy, you're only sunburned. How long were you naked in the sun?"

"From 'bout ten o'clock till nearly sundown----"

He moved again and screamed with agony. 

The mother tenderly undressed the little, red, swollen body. The roughclothes had stuck to the blistered skin in one place and the pain was sofrightful he nearly fainted before they were finally removed. 

For two days and nights she never left his side, holding his hand togive him courage when he was compelled to move. Almost his entire body, inch by inch, was blistered. She covered it with cream and allowed onlytwo greased linen cloths to touch him. 

On the second day as he lay panting for breath and holding her hand withfeverish grasp he looked into her pensive grey eyes through his ownbleared and bloodshot with pain and said softly:

"I'm sorry, Ma. "

She pressed his hand:

"It's all right, my Boy; your mother loves you. "

"I'm not sorry for the pain, " he gasped. "What hurts me worse is thatyou're so sweet to me!"

The dark face bent and kissed his trembling lips:

"It's all for the best. You couldn't have understood the preacher Sundaywhen he took the text: 'The stars in their courses fought againstSisera. ' You learned it for yourself the only way we really learnanything. God's in the wind and rain, the sun, the storm. All natureworks with him. You can easily fool your mother. It's not what you seemto others; it's what you are that counts. God sees and knows. You seeand know in your little heart. I want you to be a great man--only a goodman can ever be great. "

And so for an hour she poured into his heart her faith in God and Hisglory until He became the one power fixed forever in the child'simagination. 

VII

The Boy lost his skin but grew another and incidentally absorbed someideas he never forgot. 

On the day he was able to put on his clothes, it poured down rain andwork in the fields was impossible. A sense of delicious joy filled him. He worked because he had to, not because he liked it. He was too proudto shirk, too brave to cry when every nerve and muscle of his littlebody ached with mortal weariness, but he hated it. 

The sun rose bright and warm and shone clear in the Southern sky nextmorning before he was called. He climbed down the ladder from his loftwondering what marvellous thing had happened that he should be sleepingwith the sun already high in the heavens. 

"What's the matter, Ma?" he asked anxiously. "Why didn't you call me?"

"It's too wet to plow. Your father's going to chop wood in the clearing. He wanted you to pile brush after him, but I asked him to let you off togo fishing for me. "

He ate breakfast with his heart beating a tattoo, rushed into thegarden, dug a gourd full of worms, drew his long cane rod from theeaves of the cabin, and with old Boney trotting at his heels was soon onhis way to a deep pool in the bend of the creek. 

Fishing for _her_! His mother understood. He wondered why he had everbeen fool enough to disobey her that Sunday. He could die for herwithout a moment's hesitation. 

It was glorious to have this marvellous day of spring all his own. Thebirds were singing on every field and hedge. The trees flashed theirpolished new leaves. The sweet languor of the South was in the air andhe drew it in with deep breaths that sent the joy of life tinglingthrough every vein. 

Four joyous hours flew on tireless wings. He had caught five catfish anda big eel--more than enough for a good meal for the whole family. 

He held them up proudly. How his mother's eyes would sparkle! He couldsee Sarah's admiring gaze and hear his father's good-natured approval. 

He had just struck the path for home when the forlorn figure of a roughbearded man came limping to meet him. 

He stepped aside in the grass to let him pass. But the man stopped andgazed at the fish. 

"My, my, Sonny, but you've got a fine string there!" he exclaimed. 

"Pretty good for one day, " the Boy proudly answered. 

"An' just ter think I ain't had nothin' ter eat in 'most two days. "

"Don't you live nowhere?" the youngster asked in surprise. 

"I used ter have a home afore the war, but my folks thought I wuz deadan' moved away. I'm tryin' ter find 'em. Hit's a hard job with aBritisher's bullet still a-pinchin' me in the leg. "

"Did you fight with General Washington?"

"Lordy, no, I ain't that old, ef I do look like a scarecrow. No, I fitunder Old Hickory at New Orleans. I tell ye, Sonny, them Britishersburnt out Washington fur us but we give 'em a taste o' fire at NewOrleans they ain't goin' ter fergit. "

"Did we lick 'em good?"

"Boy, ye ain't never heard tell er sich a scrimmage--we thrashed 'emtill they warn't no fight in 'em, an' they scrambled back aboard themships an' skeddaddled home. Britishers can't fight nohow. We've licked'em twice an' we kin lick 'em agin. But the old soldier that does thefightin'--everybody fergits him!"

The Boy looked longingly at his string of fish for a moment with thepride of his heart, and then held up his treasure. 

"You can have my fish if ye want 'em; they'll make you a nice supper. "

The old soldier stroked the tangled hair and took his string of fish. 

"You're a fine boy! I won't fergit you, Sonny!"

The words comforted him until he neared the house. And then a sense ofbitter loss welled up in spite of all. 

"Did I do right, Ma?" he asked wistfully. 

She placed her hand on his forehead:

"Yes--I'm proud of you. I know what that gift cost a boy's heart. It wasbig because it was all you had and the pride of your soul was in it. "

The sense of loss was gone and he was rich and happy again. 

When the supper was over and they sat before the flickering firelight heasked her a question over which his mind had puzzled since he left theold soldier. 

"Why is it, " he said thoughtfully, "British soldiers can't fight?"

The mother smiled:

"Who said they couldn't fight?"

"The old soldier I gave my fish to. He said we just made hash out o'them. We've licked 'em twice and we can do it again!"

The last sentence he didn't quote. He gave it as a personal opinionbased on established facts. 

"We didn't win because the British couldn't fight, " the mother gravelyresponded. 

"Then why?" he persisted. 

"The Lord was good to us. "

"How?"

The question came with an accent of indignation. Sometimes he couldn'thelp getting cross with his mother when she began to give the Lordcredit for everything. If the Lord did it all why should he give hisstring of fish to an old soldier!

The grey eyes looked into his with wistful tenderness. She had beenshocked once before by the fear that there was something in this child'seternal why that would keep him out of the church. The one deep desireof her heart was that he should be good. 

"Would you like to hear, " she began softly, "something about theRevolution which my old school teacher told me in Virginia?"

"Yes, tell me!" he answered eagerly. 

"He said that we could never have won our independence but for God. Wedidn't win because British soldiers couldn't fight. We held out for tenyears because we outran them. We ran quicker, covered more ground, gotfurther into the woods and stayed there longer than any fighters theBritish had ever met before. That's why we got the best of them. Our menwho fought and ran away lived to fight another day. General Washingtonwas always great in retreat. He never fought unless he was ready andcould choose his own field. He waited until his enemies were in snugquarters drinking and gambling, and then on a dark night, so dark andcold that some of his own men would freeze to death, he pushed across ariver, fell on them, cut them to pieces and retreated. 

"The number of men he commanded was so small he could not face his foesin the open if he could avoid it. His men were poorly armed, poorlydrilled, half-clothed and half-starved at times. The British troops werethe best drilled and finest fighting men of the world in their day, armed with good guns, well fed, well clothed, and well paid. "

She paused and smiled at the memory of her teacher's narrative. 

"What do you suppose happened on one of our battlefields?"

"I dunno--what?"

"When the Red-coats charged, our boys ran at the first crack of a gun. They ran so well that they all got away except one little fellow who hada game leg. He stumbled and fell in a hole. A big British soldier raiseda musket to brain him. The little fellow looked up and cried: 'Allright. Kill away, ding ye--ye won't get much!'

"The Britisher laughed, picked him up, brushed his clothes and told himto go home. "

The Boy laughed again and again. 

"He was a spunky one anyhow, wasn't he?"

"Yes, " the mother nodded, "that's why the Red-coat let him go. And wenever could have endured if God hadn't inspired one man to hold fastwhen other hearts had failed. "

"And who was he?" the Boy broke in. 

"General Washington. At Valley Forge our cause was lost but for him. Ourmen were not paid. They could get no clothes, they were freezing andstarving. They quit and went home in hundreds and gave up in despair. And then, Boy----"

Her voice dropped to a tense whisper:

"General Washington fell on his knees and prayed until he saw theshining face of God and got his answer. Next day he called his ragged, hungry men together and said:

"'Soldiers, though all my armies desert, the war shall go on. If I must, I'll gather my faithful followers in Virginia, retreat to the mountainsand fight until our country is free!'

"His words cheered the despairing men and they stood by him. We weresaved at last because help came in time. Lord Cornwallis had laid theSouth in ashes, and camped at Yorktown, his army of veterans laden withspoils. He was only waiting for the transports from New York to take hisvictorious men North, join the army there and end the war, and then----"

She drew a deep breath and her eyes sparkled:

"And then, Boy, it happened--the miracle! Into the Chesapeake Bay inVirginia, three big ships dropped anchor at the mouth of the York River. Our people on the shore thought they were the transports and that theend had come. But the ships were too far away to make out their flags, and so they sent swift couriers across the Peninsula, to see if therewere any signs in the roadstead at Hampton. There--Glory to God! lay agreat fleet flying the flag of France. The French had loaned us twentymillions of dollars, and sent their navy and their army to help us. Hadthe Lord sent down a host from the sky we couldn't have been moresurprised. They landed, joined with General Washington's ragged men, andclosed in on Cornwallis. Surprised and trapped he surrendered and wewon. 

"But there never was a year before that, my Boy, that we were strongenough to resist the British army had the mother country sent a realgeneral here to command her troops. "

"Why didn't she?" the Boy interrupted. 

Again the mother's voice dropped low:

"Because God wouldn't let her--that's the only reason. If Lord Clive hadever landed on our shores, Washington might now be sleeping in atraitor's grave. "

The voice again became soft and dreamy--almost inaudible. 

"And he didn't come?" the Boy whispered. 

"No. On the day he was to sail he put the papers in his pocket, wentinto his room, locked the door and blew his own brains out. This isGod's country, my son. He gave us freedom. He has great plans for us. "

The fire flickered low and the Boy's eyes glowed with a strangeintensity. 

VIII

A barbecue, with political speaking, was held at the village ten milesaway. The family started at sunrise. The day was an event in the livesof every man, woman and child within a radius of twenty miles. Many cameas far as thirty miles and walked the whole distance. Before nineo'clock a crowd of two thousand had gathered. 

The dark, lithe young mother who led her boy by the hand down thecrowded aisle of the improvised brush arbor that day performed a deedwhich was destined to change the history of the world. 

The speaker who held the crowd spellbound for two hours was Henry Clay. The Boy not only heard an eloquent orator. His spirit entered for alltime into fellowship with a great human soul. 

In words that throbbed with passion, he pictured the coming glory of amighty nation whose shores would be washed by two oceans, whose wealthand manhood would be the hope and inspiration of the world. Never beforehad words been given such wings. The ringing tones found the Boy's souland set his brain on fire. A big idea was born within his breast. Thiswas his country. His feet pressed its soil. Its hills and plains, itsrivers and seas were his. His hands would help to build this vision of agreat spirit into the living thing. He breathed softly and his eyessparkled. When the crowd cheered, he leaped to his feet, swung hislittle cap into the air and shouted with all his might. When the lastglowing picture of the peroration faded into a silence that could befelt, and the tumult had died away, he saw men and women crowding aroundthe orator to shake his hand. 

"Take me, Ma!" he whispered. "I want to see him close!"

The mother lifted him in her arms above the crowd, pressed forward, andthe Boy's shining eyes caught those of the brilliant statesman. Over theheads of the men by his side the orator extended his hand and graspedthe trembling outstretched fingers. 

He smiled and nodded, that was all. The Boy understood. From that momenthe had an ideal leader whose words were inspired. 

The mother's dark face was lit for a moment with tender pride. She madeno effort to reach the orator's side. It was enough that she had seenthe flash from her Boy's eyes. She was content. The day was filled witha great joy. 

The summer camp meetings began the following week. The grounds werelocated a mile from the straggling little village which was the centerof the county's activities. All religious denominations used thespacious auditorium for their services. The Methodists camped there anentire month. The Baptists stayed but two weeks. The Baptist temperamentfrowned on the social frivolities which were inseparable from these longintimate associations at close quarters. The more volatile temperamentof the Methodists revelled in them, and Methodism grew with astoundingrapidity under the system. 

The auditorium was simply a huge quadrangular shed with board roofuphold by cedar posts. At one end of the shed stood the platform onwhich was built the pulpit, a square box-like structure about four feethigh. The seats were made of rough-hewn half logs set on pegs driven inaugur holes. There were no backs to them. A single wide aisle led fromthe end facing the pulpit, and two narrow ones intersected the mainaisle at the centre. 

In front of the pulpit were placed the mourner's benches facing thethree sides of the space left for the free movement of the mournersunder the stress of religious emotion. 

The Boy's mother and father were devout members of the Baptist Church, but they were not demonstrative. They modestly and reverently took theirseats in an inconspicuous position about midway the building, enteringfrom one of the small aisles on the side. The Boy had often been to aregular church service before, but this was his first camp meeting. 

Four preachers sat in grim silence behind the pulpit's solid box front. The Boy could just see the tops of their heads over the board that heldthe big gilt-edged Bible. 

The entire first two days and nights were given to a series of terrificsermons on Death, Hell, and the Judgment, with a brief glimpse of thepearly gates of Heaven and a few strains from the golden harps insidefor the damned to hear by way of contrast. The first purpose of thepreachers was to arouse a deep under-current of religious emotionalexcitement that at the proper moment would explode and sweep the crowdwith resistless fire. Usually the fuse was timed to explode on themorning of the third day. Sometimes, when sermons of extraordinarypower had followed each other in rapid succession, the fire broke out bya sort of spontaneous combustion on the night of the second day. 

It did so this time. The mother had no trouble in keeping the Boy by herside through these first two days. He felt instinctively the growingemotional tension about him, and knew in his bones that something wouldbreak loose soon. He was keyed to a high pitch of interest to see justwhat it would be like. 

The storm broke in the middle of the second sermon on the second night. The preacher had worked himself into a frenzy of emotional excitement. His arms were waving over his head, his eyes blazing, his feet stamping, his voice screaming in anguish as he described the agony of a soul lostforever in the seething cauldron of eternal hell fire!

A tremulous startled moan, half-wail, half-scream came from a girl justin front of the Boy, as she dropped her head in her hands. 

"What's the matter with her?" he whispered. "Has she got a pain?"

His mother pressed his hand:

"Sh!"

And then the storm broke. From every direction came the startled criesof long pent terror and anguish. The girl staggered to her feet andstarted stumbling down the aisle to the mourners' bench withoutinvitation, and from every row of seats they tumbled, crowding on herheels, sobbing, wailing, screaming, groaning. 

The preacher ceased to talk and, in a high tremulous voice, that rangthrough the excited crowd as the peal of the Archangel's trumpet, beganto sing:

 "Come humble sinners in whose breasts A thousand thoughts revolve!"

The crowd rose instinctively and all who were not mourning, joined inthe half-savage, terror-stricken wail of the song. The sinners thathadn't given up at the first break of the storm could not resist thethrill of this wild music. One by one they pushed their way through thecrowd, found the aisle and staggered blindly to the front. 

The Boy noticed curiously that it seemed to be the rule for them tocompletely cover their streaming eyes with a handkerchief or with thebare hands and go it blindly for the mourners' benches. If they missedthe way and butted into anything, a church member kindly took them bythe arm and guided them to a vacant place where they dropped on theirknees. 

The Boy had leaped on the bench and stood beside his mother to get abetter view of the turmoil. He couldn't keep his eyes off a tall, red-headed, thick-bearded man just across the aisle three rows behindwho kept twitching his face, looking toward the door and strugglingagainst the impulse to follow the mourners. Presently he broke down witha loud cry:

"Lord, have mercy!"

He placed his hands over his face and started on a run to the front. 

The Boy giggled, and his mother pinched him. 

"Did ye see that red-headed feller, Ma, " he whispered. "He didn't dofair. He peeked through his fingers--I saw his eyes!"

"Sh!"

The preachers had come down from the pulpit now and stood over thewailing prostrated mourners and exhorted them to repent and believebefore it was forever and eternally too late. Three of them were talkingat the same time to different groups of mourners. The louder theyexhorted the louder the sinners cried. The fourth preacher walked downthe aisle searching for those who were yet hardening their hearts andstiffening their necks. He paused beside a prim little old maid who hadlately arrived from Tidewater Virginia. Her bright eyes were dry. 

"Dear lady, are you a child of God?" the preacher cried. 

The prim figured stiffened indignantly:

"No, sir! I'm an Episcopalian!"

The preacher groaned and passed on and the Boy stuffed his fist in hismouth. 

For half an hour the roar of the conflict was incessant, and itsviolence indescribable. It was broken now and then by a kindly soulamong the elderly women raising a sweet old-fashioned hymn. 

Suddenly an exhorter threw his hands above his head and, in a voice thatsoared above the roar of mourners and their attendants, cried:

"Behold the Lamb of God that taketh away the sins of the world!"

Quick as a flash came an answering shout from the red-headed man wholeaped to his feet and with wide staring eyes looked up at the roof. 

"I see him! I see Jesus up a tree!"

A fat woman lifted her head and shouted:

"Hold him till I get there!"

And she started for the red-headed man. There was a single moment ofstrange silence and the Boy laughed aloud. 

His mother caught and shook him violently. He crammed his little fistagain into his mouth, but the stopper wouldn't hold. 

He dropped to his seat to keep the people from seeing him, buried hisface in his hands and laughed in smothered giggles in spite of all hismother could do. 

At last he whispered:

"Take me out quick! I'm goin' to bust--I'll bust wide open I tell ye!"

She rose sternly, seized his arm and led him a half mile into the woods. He kept looking back and laughing softly. 

She gazed at him sorrowfully:

"I'm ashamed of you, Boy! How could you do such a thing!"

"I just couldn't help it!"

He sat down on a stone and laughed again. 

"What makes the fools holler so?" he asked through his tears. 

"They are praying God to forgive their sins. "

"But why holler so loud? He ain't deaf--is He? You said that God's inthe sun and wind and dew and rain--in the breath we breathe. Ain't Heeverywhere then? Why do they holler at Him?"

The mother turned away to hide a smile she couldn't keep back, and acloud overspread her dark face. Surely this was an evil sign--thisspirit of irreverent levity in the mind of a child so young. What couldit mean? She had forgotten that she had been teaching him to think, anddidn't know, perhaps, that he who thinks must laugh or die. 

After that she let him spend long hours at the spring playing with boysand girls of his age. He didn't go into the meetings again. But heenjoyed the season. The watermelons, muskmelons, and ginger cakes werethe best he had ever eaten. 

IX

During the Christmas holidays the father got ready for a coon hunt inwhich the Boy should see his first battle royal in the world of sport. 

Dennis came over and brought four extra dogs, two of his own and twowhich he had borrowed for the holidays. 

A sudden change came over the spirit of old Boney--short for NapoleonBonaparte. He understood the talk about coons as clearly as if he couldspeak the English language. He was in a quiver of eager excitement. Heknew from the Boy's talk that he was going, too. He wagged his tail, pushed his warm nose under his little friend's arm, whining andtrembling while he tried to explain what it meant to strike a coon'strail in the deep night, chase him over miles of woods and swamps andfield, tree him and fight it out, a battle to the death between dog andbeast!

At two o'clock, before day, his father's voice called and in a jiffy hewas down the ladder, his eyes shining. He had gone to sleep with hisclothes on and lost no time in dressing. 

Without delay the start was made. Down the dim pathway to the creek andthen along its banks for two miles, its laughing waters rippling softmusic amid the shadows, or gleaming white and mirror-like in thestarlit open spaces. 

In half an hour the stars were obscured by a thin veil of fleecy clouds, and, striking no trail in the bottoms, they turned to the big tract ofwoods on the hills and plunged straight into their depths for two miles. 

"Hush!"

Tom suddenly stopped:

Far off to the right came the bark of a dog on the run. 

"Ain't that old Boney's voice?" the father asked. 

"I don't think so, " the Boy answered. 

The note of wild savage music was one he had never heard before. 

"Yes it was, too, " was the emphatic decision. He squared his broadshoulders and gave the hunter's shout of answer-joy to the dog's call. 

Never had the Boy heard such a shout from human lips. It sent shiversdown his spine. 

The dog heard and louder came the answering note, a deep tremulous boomthrough the woods that meant to the older man's trained ear that he wason the run. 

"That's old Boney shore's yer born!" the father cried, "an' he ain't gotno doubts 'bout hit nother. He's got his head in the air. The trail's sohot he don't have ter nose the ground. You'll hear somethin' in a minutewhen the younger pups git to him. "

Two hounds suddenly opened with long quivering wails. 

"Thar's my dogs--they've hit it now!" Dennis cried excitedly. 

Another hound joined the procession, then another and another, and intwo minutes the whole pack of eight were in full cry. 

Again the hunter's deep voice rang his wild cheer through the woods andevery dog raised his answering cry a note higher. 

"Ain't that music!" Tom cried in ecstacy. 

They stood and listened. The dogs were still in the woods and with eachyelp were coming nearer. Evidently the trail led toward them, but in therear and almost toward the exact spot at which they had entered theforest. 

"Just listen at old Boney!" the Boy cried. "I can tell him now. He canbeat 'em all!"

Loud and clear above the chorus of the others rang the long savage boomof Boney's voice, quivering with passion, defiant, daring, sure ofvictory! It came at regular intervals as if to measure the miles thatseparated him from the battle he smelled afar. He was far in the lead. He was past-master of this sport. The others were not in his class. 

The Boy's heart swelled with pride. 

"Old Boney's showin' 'em all the way!" he exclaimed triumphantly. 

"Yer can bet he always does that, Sonny!" the father answered. "That's ahot trail. Nigh ez I can figger we're goin' ter have some fun. There'smore'n one coon travelin' over that ground. "

"How can you tell?" Dennis asked incredulously. 

"Hit's too easy fer the other pups--they'd lose the scent now an' thenef they weren't but one. They ain't lost it a minute since they struckit--Lord, jest listen!"

He paused and held his breath. 

"Did ye ever hear anything like hit on this yearth!" Dennis cried. 

Every dog was opening now at the top of his voice at regular intervals, the swing and leap of their bodies over the brush and around the treesregistering in each stirring note. 

Again Tom gave a shout of approval. 

The sound of the leader's voice suddenly flattened and faded. 

"By Gum!" the old hunter cried, "they've left the woods, struck thatfield an' makin' for the creek! Ye won't need that axe ter-night, Dennis. "

"Why?"

"Wait an' see!" was the short answer. 

They hurried from the woods and had scarcely reached the edge of thefield when suddenly old Boney's cry stopped short and in a moment theothers were silent. 

"Good Lord, they've lost it!" Dennis groaned. 

And then came the quick, sharp, fierce bark of the leader announcingthat the quarry had been located. 

Tom gave a yell of triumph and started on a run for the spot. 

"Up one o' them big sycamores in the edge o' that water I'll bet!"Dennis wailed. 

"You'll need no axe, " was the older man's short comment. 

They pushed their way rapidly through the cane to the banks of the creekand found the dogs scratching with might and main straight down into thesand about ten feet from the water's edge. 

"Well, I'll be doggoned, " Dennis cried, "if I ever seed anything likethat afore! They've gone plum crazy. They ain't no hole here. A cooncan't jist drap inter the ground without a hole. "

The old hunter laughed:

"No, but a coon mought learn somethin' from a beaver now an' then an'locate the door to his house under the water line an' climb up here terfind a safe place, couldn't he?"

"I don't believe it!" Dennis sneered. 

"You'll have ter go to the house an' git a spade, " Tom said finally. "It'll take one ter dig a hole big enough ter ever persuade one er thesedogs ter put his nose in that den. Hit ain't more'n a mile ter thehouse--hurry back. "

Dennis started on a run. 

"Don't yer let 'em out an' start that fight afore I git here!" hecalled. 

"You'll see it all, " Tom reassured him. 

He made the dogs stop scratching and lie down to rest. 

"Jest save yer strenk, boys, " Tom cried. "Yer'll need it presently. "

They sat down, the father lit his pipe and told the Boy the story of agreat fight he had witnessed on such a creek bank once before in hislife. 

Day was dawning and the eastern sky reddening. 

The Boy stamped on the solid ground and couldn't believe it possiblethat any dog could smell game through six feet of earth. 

He lifted Boney's long nose and looked at it curiously. His wonderfulnostrils were widely distended and though he lay quite still in the sandon the edge of the hole his muscles were quivering with excitement andhis wistful hound eyes had in them now the red glare of coming battle. 

It was quick work when Dennis arrived to throw the sand and soft earthaway and open a hole five feet in depth and of sufficient width to allowall the dogs to get foothold inside. 

Suddenly the spade crashed through an opening below and the rasp ofsharp desperate teeth and claws rang against its polished surface. 

"Did you hear that?" Tom laughed. 

Another spadeful out and they could be plainly seen. How many it wasimpossible to tell, but three pairs of glowing bloodshot eyes in theshadows showed plainly. 

Tom straightened his massive figure and gave a shout to the dogs. Theyall danced around the upper rim of the hole and barked with fierceboastful yelps, but not one would venture his nose within two feet ofthose grim shining eyes. 

"Well, Dennis, " Tom sighed, "I reckon I'll have ter shove you down tharan' hold ye by the heels while yer pull one of 'em out!"

"I'll be doggoned ef yer do!" he remarked with emphasis. 

Tom laughed. "You wuz afeared ye wouldn't git here in time ye know. "

"Oh, I'm in time all right!"

The hunter put his hands in his pockets and gazed at the warriors below. 

"Waal, we'll try ter git a dog ter yank one of 'em out an' then they'llall come. But I have my doubts. I don't believe that Godamighty ever yetbuilt a dog that'll stick his nose in that hole. Hit takes three dogster kill one coon in a fair fight. Old Boney's the only pup I ever seeddo it by hisself. But it's askin' too much o' him ter stick his nose ina place like that with three of 'em lookin' right at him ready ter tearhis eyes out. But they ain't nothin' like tryin'----"

He paused and looked at the old warrior of a hundred bloody fields, pointed at the bottom of the hole and in stern command shouted:

"Fetch 'em out, Bone!"

With a deep growl the faithful old soldier sprang to the front. Withteeth shining in white gleaming rows he scrambled within a foot of theopening of the den, circled it twice, his eyes fixed on the flashinglights below. They followed his every move. He tried the stratagem ofright and left flank movements, but the space was too narrow. He dashedstraight toward the opening once with a loud angry cry, hoping to getthe flash of a coward's back. He met three double rows of whiteneedle-like teeth daring him to come on. 

He squatted flat on his belly and growled with desperate fury, but hewouldn't go closer. The hunter urged in vain. 

"Hit's no use!" he cried at last. "Jest ez well axe er dog ter walk intoa den er lions. I don't blame him. "

The Boy's pride was hurt. 

"I can make him bring one out, " he said. 

Tom shook his head:

"Not much. Less see ye?"

The Boy stepped down to the dog's side. 

"Look out, ye fool, don't let yer foot slip in thar!" his fatherwarned. 

The Boy knelt beside the dog, patted his back and began to talk to himin low tense tones:

"Fetch 'im out, Bone! Go after 'm! Sick 'em, boy, sick 'em!"

Closer and closer the brave old fighter edged his way, only a low madgrowl answering to the Boy's urging. His eyes were blazing now in thered rays of the rising sun like two balls of fire. With a sudden savageplunge he hurled himself into the den and quick as a flash of lightninghis short hairy neck gave a flirt, and a coon as large as one of thehounds whizzed ten feet into the air, and, with his white teeth shining, struck the ground, lighting squarely on his feet. A hound dashed for himand one slap from the long sharp claws sent him howling and bleedinginto the canes. 

But old Boney had watched him in the air, and, circling the pack thatfaced the coon, with a quick leap had downed him. Then every dog waswith him and the battle was on. Eight dogs to one coon and yet so sharpwere his claws, so keen the steel-like points of his teeth, he sometimeshad four dogs rolling in agony beside the growling mass of fur and teethand nails. 

The fight had scarcely begun when one of the remaining coons leaped outof the den. Tom's watchful eye had seen him. He pulled three dogs fromthe first battle group and hurled them on the new fighter. He hadscarcely started this struggle when the third sprang to the top of theearthen breastwork, surveyed the field and with sullen deliberation, trotted to the water's edge, jumped in and, placing two paws on aswaying limb, dared any dog to come. 

Here was work for the veteran! Boney was the only dog in the pack whowould dare accept that challenge. Tom choked him off the first coon, pulled him to the bank and showed him his enemy in the water. He lookedjust a moment at the snarling, daring mouth and made the plunge. 

The boy had followed the dog and watched with bated breath. He circledthe coon twice, swimming in swift graceful curves. But his enemy was tooshrewd. A flank movement was impossible. The coon's fierce mouth wassquarely facing him at every turn and the dog plunged straight on hisfoe. 

To his horror the Boy saw the fangs sink into his friend's head, foursets of sharp claws circle his neck, a tense grey ball of fur hangingits dead weight below. The water ran red for a moment as both slowlysank to the bottom. 

Eyes wide with anguish he heard his father cry:

"By the Lord, he'll kill that dog shore--he's a goner!"

"No, he won't neither!" the Boy shouted, leaping into the water where hesaw them go down. 

Before his father could warn him of the danger his head disappeared inthe deep still eddy. 

"Look out for us, Dennis, with a pole I'm goin' ter dive fer 'em!"

In a moment they came to the surface, the man holding the Boy, the Boygrasping his dog, the coon fastened to the dog's head. 

"Well, don't that beat the devil!" Tom laughed, as he carried them to alittle rocky island in the middle of the creek. 

The Boy intent on saving his dog had held his breath and was not evenstrangled. The dog had buried his nose in the coon's throat and waschewing and choking with savage determination. 

Tom stood over them now on the little island with its smooth stone-pavedbattle arena ringed with the music of laughing waters. He threw bothhands above his shaggy head and yelled himself hoarse--the wild cry ofthe hunter's soul in delirious joy. 

"_Yaaaiih! Yaaaiiih!_"

A moment's pause, and then the low snarl and growl and clash of toothand claw! Again the hunter's gnarled hands flew over his head. 

"_Yaaaiih! Yaaaaiiih! Yaaiih! Yaaaaiiiihhh!!_"

On the shore Dennis stood first over one group of swirling, rolling, snarling brutes, and then over the other, yelling and cheering. 

The coon on the island suddenly broke his assailant's death-like grip, and, with a quick leap, reached the water. Boney was on him in a momentand down they went beneath the surface again. 

The Boy sprang to the rescue. 

His father brushed him roughly aside:

"Keep out! I'll git 'em!"

Three times the coon made the dash for deep water and three times Tomcarried both dog and coon back to the little island yelling his battlecry anew. 

The smooth stones began to show red. Fur and dog hair flew in littletufts and struck the ground, sometimes with the flat splash of redflesh. 

The Boy frowned and his lips quivered. At last he could hold in nolonger. Through chattering teeth he moaned:

"He'll kill Boney, Pa!"

"Let him alone!" was the sharp command. "I never see sich a dog in mylife. He'll kill that coon by hisself, I tell ye!"

Again his enemy broke Boney's grim hold on his throat, sprang back fourfeet and, to the dog's surprise, made no effort to reach the water. Instead he stood straight and quivering on his hind legs and faced hisenemy, his white needle-like fangs gleaming in two rows and his savagefore-claws opening and closing with deadly threat. 

The old warrior, taken completely by surprise by this new stratagem ofhis foe, circled in a vain effort to reach the flank or rear. Each turnonly brought them again face to face, and at last he plunged straight onthe centre line of attack. With a quick side leap the coon struck thedog's head a blow with his claw that split his ear for three inches ascleanly and evenly as if a surgeon's knife had been used. 

With a low growl of rage and pain, Boney wheeled and repeated hisassault with the same results for the other ear. He turned in silenceand deliberately crept toward his foe. There would be no chance for aside blow. He wouldn't plunge or spring. He might get another bloodygash, but he wouldn't miss again. 

This time he found the body, they closed and rolled over and over inclose blood-stained grip. For the first time Tom's face showed doubts, and he called to Dennis:

"Choke off two dogs from that fust coon an' throw 'em in here!"

They came in a moment and clinched with Boney's enemy. The charge of twonew troopers drove the coon to desperation. The sharp claws flew likelightning. The new dogs ran back into the water with howls of pain andscrambled up the bank to their old job. 

Boney paid no attention either to the unexpected assault of his friendsor their ignoble desertion. Every ounce of his dog-manhood was up now. It was a battle to the death and he had no wish to live if he couldn'twhip any coon that ever made a track in his path. 

The Boy's pride was roused now and the fighting instinct that slumbersin every human soul flashed through his excited eyes. He drew near andwatched with increasing excitement and joined with his father at last inshouts and cheers. 

"Did ye ever see such a dog!" he cried through his tears. 

"He beats creation!" was the admiring answer. 

The Boy bent low over the squirming pair and his voice was in perfecttune with his dog's low growl:

"Eat him up, Bone! Eat him alive!"

"Don't touch 'em!" Tom warned. "Let 'im have a fair fight--ef he don'tkill that coon I'll eat 'im raw, hide an' hair!"

Boney had succeeded at last in fastening his teeth in a firm grip on thecoon's throat. He held it without a cry of pain while the claws rippedhis ears and gashed his head. Deeper and deeper sank his teeth until atlast the razor claws that were cutting relaxed slowly and the long leanbody with its beautiful fur lay full length on the red-marked stones. 

The dog loosed his hold instantly. His work was done. He scorned tostrike a fallen foe. He started to the water's edge to quench his thirstand staggered in a circle. The blood had blinded him. 

The Boy sprang to his side, lifted him tenderly in his arms, carried himto the water and bathed his eyes and head. 

"He's cut all to pieces!" he sobbed at last. "He'll die--I just knowit!"

"Na!" his father answered scornfully. "Be all right in two or threedays. "

The Boy went back and looked at the slim body of the dead coon withwonder. 

"Why did this one fight so much harder than the ones on the bank?" heasked thoughtfully. 

"'Cause she's their mother, " Tom said casually, "an' them's her twochildren. "

Something hurt deep down in the Boy's soul as he looked at the gracefulnose and the red-stained fur at her throat. He saw his mother's straightneck and head outlined again against the starlit sky the night she stoodbefore him rifle in hand and shot at that midnight prowler. 

His mouth closed firmly and he spoke with bitter decision:

"I don't like coon hunting. I'm not coming any more. "

"Good Lord, Boy, we got ter have skins h'ain't we?" was the heartyanswer. 

"I reckon so, " he sorrowfully admitted. But all the way home he walkedin brooding silence. 

X

The following winter brought the event for which the mother had plannedand about which she had dreamed since her boy was born--a school!

The men gathered on the appointed day, cut the logs and split the boardsfor the house. Another day and it was raised and the roof in place. 

Tom volunteered to make the teacher's table and chair and benches forthe scholars. He had the best set of tools in the county and he wishedto do it because he knew it would please his wife. There was no money init but his life was swiftly passing in that sort of work. He was toobig-hearted and generous to complain. Besides the world in which helived--the world of field and wood, of dog and gun, of game and the openroad was too beautiful and interesting to complain about it. He was gladto be alive and tried to make his neighbors think as he did about it. 

When the great day dawned the young mother eagerly prepared breakfastfor her children. She wouldn't allow Sarah to help this morning. It mustbe a perfect day in her life. She washed the Boy's face and hands withscrupulous care when the breakfast things were cleared away, and hergrey eyes were shining with a joy he had never seen before. He caughther excitement and the spirit of it took possession of his imagination. 

"What'll school be like, Ma?" he asked in a tense whisper. 

"Oh, this one won't be very exciting; maybe in a little room built oflogs. But it's the beginning, Boy, of greater things. Just spelling, reading, writing and arithmetic now--but you're starting on the way thatleads out of these silent, lonely woods into the big world where greatmen fight and make history. Your father has never known this way. He'sgood and kind and gentle and generous, but he's just a child, becausehe doesn't know. You're going to be a man among men for your mother'ssake, aren't you?"

She seized his arms and gripped them in her eagerness until he felt thepain. 

"Won't you, Boy?" she repeated tensely. 

He looked up steadily and then slowly said:

"Yes, I will. "

She clasped him impulsively in her arms and hurried from the cabinleading the children by the hand. The Boy could feel her slender fingerstrembling. 

When they drew near the cross roads where the little log house had beenbuilt, she stopped, nervously fixed their clothes, took off the Boy'scap and brushed his thick black hair. 

They were the first to arrive, but in a few minutes others came, and bynine o'clock more than thirty scholars were in their seats. The mother'sheart sank within her when she met the teacher and heard him talk. Itwas only too evident that he was poorly equipped for his work. He couldbarely read and could neither write nor teach arithmetic. The onequalification about which there was absolute certainty, was that hecould lick the biggest boy in school whenever the occasion demanded it. He conveyed this interesting bit of information to the assemblage in nouncertain language. 

The mother could scarcely keep back her tears. By the end of the week itwas plain that her children knew as much as their teacher. 

"What's the use?" Tom asked in disgust. "Hit's a waste o' time an'money. Let 'em quit!"

"No, I can't take them out!" was the firm reply. "They may not learnmuch, but if the school keeps going, don't you see, a better man willcome bye and bye, and then it will be worth while. "

Tom shook his head, but let her have her own way. 

"Besides, " she went on, "he'll learn something being with the otherchildren. "

"Learn to fight, mebbe, " the husband laughed. 

He did, too, and the way it came about was as big a surprise to the Boyas it was to the youngster he fought. 

The small bully of the school lived in the same direction as the Boy andSarah. They frequently walked together for a mile going or coming andgrew to know one another well. The Boy disliked this tow-head urchinfrom the moment they met. But he was quiet, unobtrusive and modest andgenerally allowed the loud-mouthed one to have his way. The tow-headtook the Boy's quiet ways for submission and insisted on patronizing hisfriend. The Boy good-naturedly submitted when it cost him nothing ofself-respect. 

At the close of school, the tow-head whispered:

"Come by the spring with me, I want to show you somethin'!"

"No, I don't want to, " he replied. 

"Let Sarah go on an' we'll catch her--I got a funny trick ter show you. You'll kill yourself a-laughin'. "

The Boy's curiosity was aroused and he consented. 

They hastened to the spring where the embers of a fire at which thescholars were accustomed to warm their lunch, were still smouldering. The tow-headed one drew from the corner of the fence a turtle which hehad captured and tied, scooped a red-hot coal from the fire with apiece of board and placed it on the turtle's back. 

The poor creature, tortured by the burning coal, started in a scrambletrying to run from the fire. The tow-head roared with laughter. 

The Boy flushed with sudden rage, sprang forward and knocked the coaloff. 

The two faced each other. 

"You do that again an' I'll knock you down!" shouted the bully. 

"You do it again and I'll knock you down, " was the sturdy answer. 

"You will, will you?" the tow-head cried with scorn. "Well, I'll showyou. "

With a bound he replaced the coal. 

The Boy knocked it off and pounced on him. 

The fight was brief. They had scarcely touched the ground before the Boywas on top pounding with both his little, clinched fists. 

"Stop it--you're killin' me!" the under one screamed. 

"Will you let him alone?" the Boy hissed. 

"You're killin' me, I tell ye!" the tow-head yelled in terror. "Stop itI say--would you kill a feller just for a doggoned old cooter?"

"Will you let him alone?"

"Yes, if ye won't kill me. "

The Boy slowly rose. The tow-head leaped to his feet and with a look ofterror started on a run. 

"You needn't run, I won't hit ye again!" the Boy cried. 

But the legs only moved faster. Never since he was born did the Boy seea pair of legs get over the ground like that. He sat down and laughedand then hurried on to join Sarah. 

He didn't tell his sister what had happened. His mother mustn't knowthat he had been in a fight. But when he felt the touch of her hand onhis forehead that night as he rose from her knee he couldn't bear thethought of deceiving her again and so he confessed. 

"It wasn't wrong, was it, to fight for a thing like that?" he askedwistfully. 

"No, " came the answer. "He needed a thrashing--the little scoundrel, andI'm glad you did it. "

XI

The school flickered out in five weeks and the following summer anotherlasted for six weeks. 

And then they moved to the land Tom had staked off in the heart of thegreat forest fifteen miles from the northern banks of the Ohio. He wouldstill be in sight of the soil of Kentucky. 

The Boy's heart beat with new wonder as they slowly floated across thebroad surface of the river. He could conceive of no greater one. 

"There _is_ a bigger one!" his father said. "The Mississippi is thedaddy of 'em all--the Ohio's lost when it rolls into herbanks--stretchin' for a thousand miles an' more from the mountains inthe north way down to the Gulf of Mexico at New Orleans. "

"And it's all ours?" he asked in wonder. 

"Yes, and plenty more big ones that pour into hit from the West. "

The Boy saw again the impassioned face of the orator telling theglories of his country, and his heart swelled with pride. 

They left the river and plunged into the trackless forest. No roads hadyet scarred its virgin soil. Only the blazed trail for the first tenmiles--the trail Tom had marked with his own hatchet--and then themagnificent woods without a mark. Five miles further they penetrated, cutting down the brush and trees to make way for the wagon. 

They stopped at last on a beautiful densely wooded hill near a stream oflimpid water. A rough camp was quickly built Indian fashion and coveredwith bear skins. 

The next day the father put into the Boy's hand the new axe he hadbought for him. 

"You're not quite eight years old, Boy, " he said, encouragingly, "butyou're big as a twelve-year-old an' you're spunky. Do you think you canswing an axe that's a man's size?"

"Yes, " was the sturdy answer. 

And from that day he did it with a song on his lips no matter how heavythe heart that beat in his little breast. 

At first they cut the small poles and built a half-faced camp, and madeit strong enough to stand the storms of winter in case a cabin could notbe finished before spring. This half-faced camp was made of small logsbuilt on three sides, with the fourth open to the south. In front ofthis opening the log fire was built and its flame never died day ornight. 

To the soul of the Boy this half-faced camp with its blazing logs in theshadow of giant trees was the most wonderful dwelling he had ever seen. The stars that twinkled in the sky beyond the lacing boughs were set inhis ceiling. No king in his palace could ask for more. 

But into the young mother's heart slowly crept the first shadows of anameless dread. Fifteen miles from a human habitation in the depths ofan unmarked wilderness with only a hunter's camp for her home, and shehad dreamed of schools! To her children her face always gave good cheer. But at night she lay awake for long, pitiful hours watching the starsand fighting the battle alone with despair. 

Yet there was never a thought of surrender. God lived and her faith wasin Him. The same stars were shining above that sparkled in old Virginiaand Kentucky. Something within sang for joy at the sight of herBoy--strong of limb and dauntless of soul. He was God's answer to hercry, and always she went the even tenor of her way singing softly thathe might hear. 

His father set him to the task of clearing the first acre of ground forthe crop next spring. It seemed a joke to send a child with an axe intothat huge forest and tell him to clear the way for civilization. And yethe went with firm, eager steps. 

He chose the biggest tree in sight for his first task--a giant oak threefeet in diameter, its straight trunk rising a hundred feet without alimb or knot to mar its perfect beauty. 

The Boy leaped on the fallen monarch of the woods with a new sense ofpower. Far above gleamed a tiny space in the sky. His hand had made it. He was a force to be reckoned with now. He was doing things that countedin a man's world. 

Day after day his axe rang in the woods until a big white patch of skyshowed with gleaming piles of clouds. And shimmering sunbeams werewarming the earth for the seed of the coming spring. His tall thin bodyached with mortal weariness, but the spirit within was too proud towhine or complain. He had taken a man's place. His mother needed him andhe'd play the part. 

The winter was the hardest and busiest he had ever known. He shot hisfirst wild turkey from the door of their log camp the second week afterarrival. Proud of his marksmanship he talked of it for a week, and yethe didn't make a good hunter. He allowed his father to go alone oftenerthan he would accompany him. There was a queer little voice somewherewithin that protested against the killing. He wouldn't acknowledge it tohimself but half the joy of his shot at his turkey was destroyed by thesight of the blood-stained broken wing when he picked it up. 

The mother watched this trait with deepening pride. His practice atwriting and reading was sheer joy now. Her interest was so keen healways tried his best that he might see her smile. 

It was time to begin the spring planting before the heavy logs wererolled and burned and the smaller ones made ready for the cabin. Thecorn couldn't wait. The cabin must remain unfinished until the crop waslaid by. 

It had been a long, lonely winter for the mother. But with the coming ofspring, the wooded world was clothed in beauty so fresh and marvellous, she forgot the loneliness in new hopes and joys. 

Settlers were moving in now. Every week Tom brought the news of anotherneighbor. Her aunt came in midsummer bringing Dennis and his dogs withfun and companionship for the Boy. 

The new cabin was not quite finished, but they moved in and gave theirkin their old camp for a home, all ready without the stroke of an axe. 

Dennis was wild over the hunting and proposed to the Boy a deer hunt allby themselves. 

"Let's just me and you go, Boy, an' show Tom what we can do with a riflewithout him. You can take the first shot with old 'Speakeasy' an' thenI'll try her. The deer'll be ez thick ez bees around that Salt Licknow. "

The Boy consented. Boney went with him for company. As a self-respectingcoon dog he scorned to hunt any animal that couldn't fight with an evenchance for his life. As for a deer--he'd as lief chase a calf!

Dennis placed the Boy at a choice stand behind a steep hill in which thedeer would be sure to plunge in their final rush to escape the dogs whenclose pressed in the valley. 

"Now the minute you see him jump that ridge let him have it!" Dennissaid. "He'll come straight down the hill right inter your face. "

The Boy took his place and began to feel the savage excitement of hisolder companion. He threw the gun in place and drew a bead on animaginary bounding deer. 

"All right. I'll crack him!" he promised. 

"Now, for the Lord's sake, don't you miss 'im!" Dennis warned. "I don'twant Tom ter have the laugh on us. "

The Boy promised, and Dennis called his dogs and hurried into thebottoms toward the Salt Lick. In half an hour the dogs opened on a hottrail that grew fainter and fainter in the distance until they couldscarcely be heard. They stopped altogether for a moment and then took upthe cry gradually growing clearer and clearer. The deer had run thelimit of his first impulse and taken the back track, returning directlyover the same trail. 

Nearer and nearer the pack drew, the trail growing hotter and hotterwith each leap of the hounds. 

The Boy was trembling with excitement. He cocked his gun and stoodready. Boney lay on a pile of leaves ten feet away quietly dozing. Louder and louder rang the cry of the hounds. They seemed to be rightback of the hill now. The deer should leap over its crest at any moment. His gun was half lifted and his eyes flaming with excitement when abeautiful half grown fawn sprang over the hill and stood for a momentstaring with wide startled eyes straight into his. 

The savage yelp of the hounds close behind rang clear, sharp andpiercing as they reared the summit. The panting, trembling fawn glanceddespairingly behind, looked again into the Boy's eyes, and as the firstdog leaped the hill crest made his choice. Staggering and panting withterror, he dropped on his knees by the Boy's side, the bloodshot eyesbegging piteously for help. 

The Boy dropped his gun and gathered the trembling thing in his arms. Ina moment the hounds were on him leaping and tearing at the fawn. Hekicked them right and left and yelled with all his might:

"Down, I tell you! Down or I'll kill you!"

The hounds continued to leap and snap in spite of his kicks and criesuntil Boney saw the struggle, and stepped between his master and histormenters. One low growl and not another hound came near. 

When Dennis arrived panting for breath he couldn't believe his eyes. TheBoy was holding the exhausted fawn in his lap with a glazed look in hiseyes. 

"Well, of all the dam-fool things I ever see sence God made me, thistakes the cake!" he cried in disgust. "Why didn't ye shoot him?"

"Because he ran to me for help--how could I shoot him?"

Dennis sat down and roared:

"Well, of all the deer huntin', this beats me!"

The Boy rose, still holding the fawn in his arms. 

"You can take the gun and go on. Boney and me'll go back home----"

"You ain't goin' ter carry that thing clean home, are you?"

"Yes, I am, " was the quiet answer. "And I'll kill any dog that tries tohurt him. "

Dennis was still laughing when he disappeared, Boney walking slowly athis heels. 

He showed the fawn to his mother and told Sarah she could have him for apet. The mother watched him with shining eyes while he built a pen andthen lifted the still trembling wild thing inside. 

Next morning the pen was down and the captive gone. The Boy didn't seemmuch surprised or appear to care. When he was alone with his mother shewhispered:

"Didn't you go out there last night and let it loose when the dogs wereasleep?"

He was still a moment and then nodded his head. 

His mother clasped him to her heart. 

"O my Boy! My own--I love you!"

XII

The second winter in the wilderness was not so hard. The heavy work ofclearing the timber for the corn fields was done and the new cabin andits furniture had been finished except the door, for which there waslittle use. 

The new neighbors had brought cheer to the mother's heart. 

An early spring broke the winter of 1818 and clothed the wildernessworld in robes of matchless beauty. 

The Boy's gourds were placed beside the new garden and the noise ofchattering martins echoed over the cabin. The toughened muscles of hisstrong, slim body no longer ached in rebellion at his tasks. Work hadbecome a part of the rhythm of life. He could sing at his hardest task. The freedom and strength of the woods had gotten into his blood. In thisworld of waving trees, of birds and beasts, of laughing sky and ripplingwaters, there were no masters, no slaves. Millions in gold were of novalue in its elemental struggle. Character, skill, strength and manhoodonly counted. Poverty was teaching him the first great lesson of humanlife, that man shall eat his bread in the sweat of his brow and thatindustry is the only foundation on which the moral and material universehas ever rested or can rest. 

Solitude and the stimulus of his mother's mind were slowly teaching himto think--to think deeply and fearlessly, and think for himself. 

Entering now in his ninth year, he was shy, reticent, over-grown, consciously awkward, homely and ill clad--he grew so rapidly it wasimpossible to make his clothes fit. But in the depths of his hazel-greyeyes there were slumbering fires that set him apart from the boys of hisage. His mother saw and understood. 

A child in years and yet he had already learned the secrets of the toilnecessary to meet the needs of life. He swung a woodman's axe with anyman. He could plow and plant a field, make its crop, harvest and storeits fruits and cook them for the table. He could run, jump, wrestle, swim and fight when manhood called. He knew the language of the windsand clouds, and spoke the tongues of woods and field. 

And he could read and write. His mother's passionate yearning andquenchless enthusiasm had placed in his hand the key to books and thesecrets of the ages were his for the asking. 

He would never see the walls of a college, but he had already taken hisdegree in Industry, Patience, Caution, Courage, Pity and Gentleness. 

The beauty and glory of this remarkable spring brought him into stillcloser communion with his mother's spirit. They had read every story ofthe Bible, some of them twice or three times, and his stubborn mind hadfought with her many a friendly battle over their teachings. Always toowise and patient to command his faith, she waited its growth in thefulness of time. He had read every tale in "Æsop's Fables" and brought athousand smiles to his mother's dark face by his quaint comments. Shewas dreaming now of new books to place in his eager hands. Corn was tencents a bushel, wheat twenty-five, and a cow was only worth six dollars. Whiskey, hams and tobacco were legal tender and used instead of money. She had ceased to dream of wealth in goods and chattels until conditionswere changed. Her one aim in life was to train the minds of her childrenand to this joyous task she gave her soul and body. It was the onlything worth while. That God would give her strength for this was all sheasked. 

And then the great shadow fell. 

The mother and children were walking home from the woods through theglory of the Southern spring morning in awed silence. The path washedged with violets and buttercups. The sweet odor of grapevine, blackberry and dewberry blossoms filled the air. Dogwood and black-hawlit with white flame the farthest shadows of the forest and the music ofbirds seemed part of the mingled perfume of flowers. 

The boy's keen ear caught the drone of bees and his sharp eye watchedthem climb slowly toward their storehouse in a towering tree. All naturewas laughing in the madness of joy. 

The Boy silently took his mother's hand and asked in subdued tones:

"What is the pest, Ma, and what makes it?"

"Nobody knows, " she answered softly. "It comes like a thief in thenight and stays for months and sometimes for years. They call it the'milk-sick' because the cows die, too--and sometimes the horses. The oldIndian women say it starts from the cows eating a poison flower in thewoods. The doctors know nothing about it. It just comes and kills, that's all. "

The little hand suddenly gripped hers with trembling hold:

"O Ma, if it kills you!"

A tender smile lighted her dark face as the warmth of his love ran likefire through her veins. 

"It can't harm me, my son, unless God wills it. When he calls I shall beready. "

All the way home he clung to her hand and sometimes when they pausedstroked it tenderly with both his. 

"What's it like?" he asked at last. "Can't you take bitters for it intime to stop it? How do you know when it's come?"

"You begin to feel drowsy, a whitish coating is on the tongue, a burningin the stomach, the feet and legs get cold. You're restless and thepulse grows weak. "

"How long does it last?"

"Sometimes it kills in three days, sometimes two weeks. Sometimes it'schronic and hangs on for years and then kills. "

Every morning through the long black summer of the scourge he asked herwith wistful tenderness if she were well. Her cheerful answers at lastbrought peace to his anxious heart and he gradually ceased to fear. Shewas too sweet and loving and God too good that she should die. Besides, both his father and mother had given him a lesson in quiet, simpleheroism that steadied his nerves. 

He looked at the rugged figure of his father with a new sense ofadmiration. He was no more afraid of Death than of Life. He was givinghimself without a question in an utterly unselfish devotion to thestricken community. There were no doctors within thirty miles, and ifone came he could but shake his head and advise simple remedies that didno good. Only careful nursing counted for anything. Without money, without price, without a murmur the father gave his life to this work. No neighbor within five miles was stricken that he did not find a placeby that bedside in fearless, loving, unselfish service. 

And when Death came, this simple friend went for his tools, cut down atree, ripped the boards from its trunk, made the coffin, and with tenderreverence dug a grave and lowered the loved one. He was doctor, nurse, casket-maker, grave-digger, comforter and priest. His reverent lips hadlong known the language of prayer. 

With tireless zeal the mother joined in this ministry of love, and theBoy saw her slender dark figure walk so often beside trembling feet asthey entered the valley of the great shadow, that he grew to believethat she led a charmed life. Nor did he fear when Dennis came onemorning and in choking tones said that both his uncle and aunt werestricken in the little half-faced camp but a few hundred yards away. Hewas sorry for Dennis. He had never known father or mother--only thisuncle and aunt. 

"Don't you worry, Dennis, " the Boy said tenderly. "You'll live with usif they die. "

They both died within a few days. The night after the last burial, Dennis crawled into the loft with the Boy to be his companion for many ayear. 

And then the blow fell, swift, terrible and utterly unexpected. He hadlong ago made up his mind that God had flung about his mother's form thespell of his Almighty power and the pestilence that walked in the nightdared not draw near. An angel with flaming sword stood beside theircabin door. 

Last night in the soft moonlight a whip-poor-will was singing nearby andhe fancied he saw the white winged sentinel, and laughed for joy. 

When he climbed down from his loft next morning his mother was in bedand Sarah was alone over the fire cooking breakfast. 

His heart stood still. He walked with unsteady step to her bedside andwhispered:

"Are you sick, Ma?"

"Yes, dear, it has come. "

He grasped her hot outstretched hand and fell on his knees in sobbinganguish. He knew now--it was the angel of Death he had seen. 

XIII

Death stood at the door with drawn sword to slay not to defend, but theBoy resolved to fight. She should not give up--she should not die. Hewould fight for her with all the hosts of hell and single-handed if hemust. 

He rose from his knees still holding her hand, his first hopeless burstof despair over, his heart beating with desperate resolution. 

"You won't give up, will you, Ma?" he whispered. 

She smiled wanly and he rushed on with breathless intensity: "I'm notgoing to let you die. I won't--I tell you I won't. I'll fight thisthing--and you've got to help me--won't you?"

"I'm ready for God's will, my Boy, " she said simply. 

"I don't want you to say that!" he pleaded. "I want you to fight andnever give up. Why you can't die, Ma--you just can't. You're my onlyteacher now. There ain't no schools here. How can I learn books withoutyou to help me? Say you'll get well. Please say it for me--please, justsay it----"

He paused and couldn't go on for a moment, "Say you'll try then--justfor me--please say it!"

"I'll try, Boy, " she said tenderly at last. 

He flew to the creek bank and in two hours came home with an armful offresh sarsaparilla roots. He cut and pounded them into a soft pulp andmade a poultice. Sarah helped him put it in place. He made his motherdrink the bitters every hour. He got stones ready and had them hot towrap in cloths and put to her feet the moment they felt cold. Hewouldn't take her word for it either. He kept slipping his little handsunder the cover to feel. 

The mother smiled at his tender, eager touch. 

"Now, Boy, " she said softly. "I'm feeling comfortable, will you dosomething for me?"

"What is it?" he cried eagerly. 

She smiled again:

"Read to me. I want to hear your voice. "

"All right--what?"

"The Bible, of course. "

"What story?"

"Not a story this time--the twenty-third Psalm. "

The Boy took the worn Bible from the shelf, sat down on the edge of thebed, opened, and began in low tones to read:

"The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want----"

His voice choked and he stopped:

"O, Ma, I just can't read that now--why--why did he let this come to youif He's your Shepherd--why--why--why!"

He buried his face in his hands and her slender fingers touched hishair:

"He knows best, my son--read on--the words are sweet to my soul fromyour lips. "

With an effort he opened the Book again:

"He maketh me to lie down in green pastures;

"He leadeth me beside the still waters. 

"He restoreth my soul:

"He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. 

"Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, "I will fear no evil; for thou art with me----"

Again the voice choked into silence and he closed the Book. 

"I can't--I can't read it. I'm afraid you're going to give up!" hesobbed. "O Ma, you won't, will you? Please say you won't?"

"No, no, I won't give up, my Boy, " she said soothingly. "I'm just readyfor anything He sends----"

"But I don't want you to say that!" he broke in passionately. "You mustfight. You mustn't be ready. You mustn't think about dying. I won't letyou die--I tell you!"

She stroked his forehead with gentle touch:

"I won't give up for your sake----"

"It's a promise now?" he cried. 

"Yes, I promise----"

"Then I'm going for a doctor right away----"

"You can't find him, Boy, " his father said. "It's thirty miles acrossthe Ohio into Kentucky where he lives. An' in all this sickness he ain'tat home. Hit's foolishness ter go----"

"I'll find him, " was the firm response. 

The father made no further protest. He helped him saddle the horse, buckled the stirrups to fit his little bare legs and gave him as cleardirections as he could. 

"The moon'll be shinin' all night, Boy, " were his last words. "Yer cancross the river before eight o'clock. Ef ye git lost on t'other side axyer way frum the fust house ye come to----"

The Boy nodded, and when had fixed his bare toes in the stirrups heleaned low and whispered:

"You won't give up, Pa, will ye? You'll fight for her till I get back?"

The big gnarled fist closed over the little hand on the pommel of thesaddle, and the father's voice was husky:

"As long as there's breath in her body--hurry now. "

The last command was not needed. The horse felt the quiver of tensesuffering in the low voice and the nervous touch of the switch on hisside. With a quick bound he was off at a full gallop down the trailtoward the river. 

The sun had set before they reached the open country beyond the greatforest, but by seven o'clock the Boy saw from the hill top the shiningmirror of the river in the calm moonlit valley. Before night he hadsucceeded in rousing the ferryman and reached the opposite shore. 

He lost the way once about nine o'clock and a settler whose light he sawin the woods called sharply from the door with his rifle in hand:

"Who are you?"

"I'm just a little boy, " the voice faltered. "I'm trying to find thedoctor's house. My mother's about to die and I'm lost. I want you toshow me the road. "

The rifle was lowered and the cabin stirred. The man dropped back and awoman appeared in the door way. 

"Won't ye come in, Honey, and rest a minute and me give ye somethin' toeat while Pa's gettin' ready to go with ye a piece?"

"No'm I can't eat nuthin'----"

He didn't dare go near that tender voice that spoke so clearly itssympathy in the night. He would be crying in a minute if he did and hecouldn't afford that. 

The settler caught a horse and rode with him an hour to make sure hewouldn't miss the way again. 

He reached the doctor's house by eleven o'clock, and to his joy foundhim at home. The rough old man refused to move an inch until he had fedhis horse and eaten a hearty meal. 

The Boy tried to eat, but couldn't. The food stuck squarely in histhroat. It was no use. 

He went outside and waited beside his horse until the doctor was ready. It seemed an eternity, the awful wait. How serene the still beauty ofthe autumn night! Not a breath of wind stirred. The full moon hung inthe sky straight overhead, flooding the earth with silver radiance, marking in clear and vivid lines the shadows of the trees on the ground. 

Bitter wonder and rebellion filled his young soul. How could God situnmoved among those shining stars and leave his mother to die!

The doctor came at last and they started. 

In vain he urged that they gallop. 

"I won't do it, sir!" the old man snapped. "Your horse has come thirtymiles. I'll not let you kill him and I'm not going to kill myselfplunging over a rough road at night. "

They reached the cabin at daylight. The Boy saw the glow of the flame inthe big fireplace through the woods and his heart beat high with newhope. Now that the doctor was here he felt sure her life could be saved. 

The Boy stood close by his side when he felt her pulse, and looked atthe strange whitish-brown coating on her tongue. 

"You can do something, Doctor?" he asked anxiously. 

"Yes, " was the short answer. 

He asked for a towel and bowl and opened his saddlebags. He examined thepoint of his lancet and bared the slender arm. 

"What are ye goin' ter do?" Tom asked with a frown. 

"Bleed her, of course. It's the only thing to do----"

The Boy suddenly pushed himself between the doctor and the bed andlooked up into his stern face with a resolute stare:

"You shan't do it. I don't know nothin' much about doctorin' but I gotsense enough to know that'll kill her--and you shan't do it!"

The doctor looked angrily at the father. 

"I say so, too, " Tom replied. "She's too weak for that. "

With a snort of anger, the old man threw the lancet into his saddlebags, snapped them together and strode through the cabin door. 

The Boy followed him wistfully to the stable, and when he seized thebridle to put on the horse, caught his hand and looked up:

"Please don't go, " he begged. "I'm mighty sorry I made you mad. I didn'tgo to do it. You see----" his voice faltered--"I love her so I justcouldn't let you cut her arm open and see her bleed. I didn't mean tohurt your feelings. Won't you stay and help us? Can't ye do somethin'else for her? I'll pay ye. I'll go work for ye a whole year or fiveyears if ye want me--if you'll just save her--just save her, that'sall--don't go--please don't!"

Something in the child's anguish found the rough old man's heart. Hiseyes grew misty for a moment, he slipped one arm about the Boy'sshoulders and drew him close. 

"God knows I'd stay and do something if I could, Sonny, but I don't knowwhat to do. I'm not sure I'm right about the bleeding or I'd stay andmake you help me do it. But I'm not sure--I'm not sure--and I can do nogood by staying. Keep her warm, give her all the good food her stomachwill retain. That's all I can tell you. She's in God's hands. "

With a heavy heart the Boy watched him ride away as the sun rose overthe eastern hills. The doctor's last words sank into his soul. She wasin God's hands! Well, he would go to God and beg Him to save her. Hewent into the woods, knelt behind a great oak and in the simple words ofa child asked for the desire of his heart. Three times every day andevery night he prayed. 

For four days no change was apparent. She was very weak and tired, butsuffered no pain. His prayer was heard and would be answered!

The first symptom of failure in circulation, he promptly met by placingthe hot stones to her feet. And for hours he and Sarah would rub heruntil the cold disappeared. 

On the morning of the seventh day she was unusually bright. 

"Why, you're better, Ma, aren't you?" he cried with joy. 

Her eyes were shining with a strange excitement:

"Yes. I'm a lot better. I'm going to sit up awhile. I'm tired lyingdown. "

She threw herself quickly on the side of the bed and her feet touchedthe bear-skin rug. She rose trembling and smiling and took a step. Shetottered a bit, but the Boy was laughing and holding her arm. Shereached the chair by the fire and he wrapped a great skin about her feetand limbs. 

"Look, Pa, she's getting well!" the Boy shouted. 

Tom watched her gravely without reply. 

She took the Boy's hand, still smiling:

"I had such a wonderful dream, " she began slowly--"the same one I hadbefore you were born, my Boy. God had answered my prayer and sent me ason. I watched him grow to be a strong, brave, patient, wise and gentleman. Thousands hung on his words and the great from the ends of theearth came to do him homage. With uncovered head he led me into abeautiful home with white pillars. And then he bowed low and whisperedin my ear: 'This is yours, my angel mother. I bought it for you with mylife. All that I am I owe to you'----"

Her voice sank to a whisper that was half a sob and half a laugh. 

"See how she's smiling, Pa, " the Boy cried. "She's getting well!"

"Don't ye understand!" the father whispered. "Look--at her eyes--she'snot tellin' you a dream--she's looking through the white gates ofheaven--it's Death, Boy--it's come--Lord God, have mercy!"

With a groan he dropped by her side and her thin hand rested gently onhis shaggy head. 

The Boy stared at her in agonizing wonder as she felt for his hand andfeebly held it. She was gazing now into the depths of his soul with herpensive hungry eyes. 

"He good to your father, my son----" she paused for breath and looked athim tenderly. She knew the father was the child of the future--this Boy, the man. 

"Yes!" he whispered. 

"And love your sister----"

"Yes. "

"Be a man among men, for your mother's sake----"

"Yes, Ma, I will!"

The little head bent low and the voice was silent. 

They went to work to make her coffin at noon. An unused walnut log ofburled fibre had been lying in the sun and drying for two years, sinceTom had built the furniture for the cabin. Dennis helped him rip theboards from this dark, rich wood, shape and plane it for the pieces hewould need. 

The Boy sat with dry eyes and aching heart, making the wooden nails tofasten these boards together. 

He stopped suddenly, walked to the bench at which his father was workingand laid by his side the first pins he had whittled. 

"I can't do it, Pa, " he gasped. "I just can't make the nails for hercoffin. I feel like somebody's drivin' 'em through my heart!"

The rugged face was lighted with tenderness as he slowly answered:

"Why, we must make it, Boy--hit's the last thing we kin do ter show ourlove fur her--ter make it all smooth an' purty outen this fine darkwood. Yer wouldn't put her in the ground an' throw the cold dirt righton her face, would you?"

The slim figure shivered:

"No--no--I wouldn't do that! Yes, I'll help--we must make it beautiful, mustn't we?"

And then he went back to the pitiful task. 

They dug her grave, these loving hands, father and son and orphan waif, on a gentle hill in the deep woods. As the sun sank in a sea of scarletclouds next day, they lowered the coffin. The father lifted his voice ina simple prayer and the Boy took his sister's hand and led her insilence back to the lonely cabin. He couldn't stay to see them throwthe dirt over her. He couldn't endure it. 

[Illustration: "'Be a man among men for your mother's sake--'"]

He had heard of ghosts in graveyards, and he wondered vaguely if suchthings could be true. He hoped it was. When the others were asleep, justbefore day, he slipped noiselessly from his bed and made his way to hergrave. 

The waning moon was shining in cold white splendor. The woods weresilent. He watched and waited and hoped with half-faith and half-fearthat he might see her radiant form rise from the dead. 

A leaf rustled behind him and he turned with a thrill of awful joy. Hewasn't afraid. He'd clasp her in his arms if he could. With firm stepand head erect, eyes wide and nostrils dilated, he walked straight intothe shadows to see and know. 

And there, standing in a spot of pale moonlight, stood his dog lookingup into his eyes with patient, loving sympathy. He hadn't shed a tearsince her death. Now the flood tide broke the barriers. He sank to theground, slipped his arm around the dog's neck, and sobbed aloud. 

He wrote a tear stained letter to the only parson he knew. It was hisfirst historic record and he signed his name in bold, well roundedletters--"A. LINCOLN. " Three months later the faithful old man came inanswer to his request and preached her funeral sermon. Something in thelad's wistful eyes that day fired him with eloquence. Through all lifethe words rang with strange solemn power in the Boy's heart:

"O Death, where is thy sting! O grave, where is thy victory! Blessed arethey that die in the Lord! Death is not the chill shadow of thenight--but the grey light of the dawn--the dawn of a new eternal day. Lift up your eyes and see its beauty. Open your ears and hear the stirof its wondrous life!"

When the last friend had gone, the forlorn little figure stood besidethe grave alone. There was a wistful smile on his lips as he slowlywhispered:

"I'll not forget, Ma, dear--I'll not forget. I'll live for you. "

Nor did he forget. In her slender figure a new force had appeared inhuman history. The peasant woman of the old world has ever taught herchild contentment with his lot. And patient millions beyond the seasbend their backs without a murmur to the task their fathers bore threethousand years ago. 

Free America has given the race a new peasant woman. Born among thelowliest of her kind, she walks earth's way with her feet in the dust, her head among the stars. 

This one died young in the cabin beside the deep woods, but not beforeher hand had kindled a fire of divine discontent in the soul of her sonthat only God could extinguish. 

_The Story_

CHAPTER I

THE MAN OF THE HOUR

"It's positively uncanny----"

Betty Winter paused on the top step of the Capitol and gazed over thegreat silent crowd with a shiver. 

"The silence--yes, " Ned Vaughan answered slowly. "I wondered if you hadfelt it, too. "

"It's more like a funeral than an Inauguration. "

The young reporter smiled:

"If you believe General Scott there may be several funerals inWashington before the day's work is done. "

"And you _don't_ believe him?" the girl asked seriously. 

"Nonsense! All this feverish preparation for violence----"

Betty laughed:

"I'm afraid you're not a good judge of the needs of the incomingadministration. As an avowed Secessionist--you're hardly in theirconfidence. "

"Thank God, I'm not. "

"What are those horses doing over there by the trees?"

"Masked battery of artillery. "

"Don't be silly!"

"It's true. Old Scott's going to save the Capital on Inauguration Dayany how! The Avenue's lined with soldiers--sharpshooters posted in thewindows along the whole route of the Inaugural procession, a company oftroops in each end of the Capitol. He has built a wooden tunnel from thestreet into the north end of the building and that's lined with guards. A squad of fifty soldiers are under the platform where we're going tosit----"

"No!"

"Look through the cracks and see for yourself!" Vaughan cried withscorn. 

The sparkling brown eyes were focused on the board platform. 

"I do see them moving, " she said slowly, as a look of deep seriousnessswept the fair young face. "Perhaps General Scott's right after all. Father says we're walking on a volcano----"

"But not that kind of a volcano, Miss Betty, " Vaughan interrupted. "Senator Winter's an Abolitionist. He hates the South with every breathhe breathes. "

Betty nodded:

"And prays God night and morning to give him greater strength with whichto hate it harder--yes----"

"But you're not so blind?"

"There must be a little fire where there's so much smoke. A crazy foolmight try to kill the new President. "

Ned Vaughan's slender figure stiffened:

"The South won't fight that way. If they begin war it will be the mostsolemn act of life. It will be for God and country, and what theybelieve to be right. The Southern people are not assassins. When theytake Washington it will be with the bayonet. "

"And yet your brother had a taste of Southern feeling here the night ofthe election when a mob broke in and smashed the office of the_Republican_. "

"A gang of hoodlums, " he protested. "Anything may happen on electionnight to an opposition newspaper. The Southern men who formed that mobwill never give this administration trouble----"

"I'm so anxious to meet your brother, " Betty interrupted. "Why doesn'the come?"

"He's in the Senate Chamber for the ceremonies. He'll join us before theprocession gets here. "

"He's as handsome as everybody says?" she asked naïvely. 

"I'll admit he's a good-looking fellow if he is my brother. "

"And vain?"

"As a peacock----"

"Conceited?"

"Very. "

"And a woman hater!"

"Far from it--he's easy. He may not think so, but between us he's aneasy mark. I've always been afraid he'll make a fool of himself andmarry without the consent of his younger brother. He's a great care tome. "

The brown eyes twinkled:

"You love him very much?"

Ned Vaughan nodded his dark head slowly:

"Yes. We've quarrelled every day since the election. "

"Over politics?"

"What else?"

"Love, perhaps. "

The dark eyes met hers. 

"No, he hasn't seen you yet----"

Betty's laugh was genial and contagious. 

He had meant to be serious and hoped that she would give him the openinghe'd been sparring for. But she refused the challenge with suchamusement he was piqued. 

"You're from Missouri, but you're a true Southerner, Mr. Vaughan. "

"And you're a heartless Puritan, " he answered with a frown. 

She shook her golden brown curls:

"No--no--no! My name's an accident. My father was born in Maine on theCanada line. But my mother was French. I'm her daughter. I love sunlightand flowers, music and foolishness--and dream of troubadours who singunder my window. I hate long faces and gloom. But my father hasambition. I love him, and so I endure things. "

Ned Vaughan looked at her timidly. For the life of him he couldn't makeher out. Was she laughing at him? He half suspected it, and yet therewas something sweet and appealing in the way she gazed into his eyes. Hegave it up and changed the subject. 

He had promised to bring John to-day and introduce him. He had beenprattling like a fool about this older brother. He wished to God nowsomething would keep him. The pangs of jealousy had already began tognaw at the thought of her hand resting in his. 

From the way Betty Winter had laughed she was quite capable of flyingtwo strings to her bow. And with all the keener interest becausethey happened to be brothers. Why had she asked him so pointedlyabout John? He had excited her curiosity, of course, by his sillybrother--hero-worship. He had told her of his brilliant career in NewYork under Horace Greeley on the _Tribune_--of Greeley's personalinterest, and the flattering letter he had written to Colonel Forney, which had made him the city editor of the New Party organ inWashington--of his cool heroism the night the mob had attacked the_Republican_ office--and last he had hinted of an affair over a woman inNew York that had led to a challenge and a bloodless duel--bloodlessbecause his opponent failed to appear. It was his own fault, of course, if Betty was keeping him at arm's length to-day. No girl could fail tobe interested in such a man--no matter who her father might be--Puritanor Cavalier. 

His arm trembled in spite of his effort at self-control as he led herdown the stately steps of the eastern façade toward the Inauguralplatform. He paused on the edge of the boards and pointed to the hugebronze figure of the statue of Liberty which had been cast to crown thedome of the Capitol. It lay prostrate in the mud and the crowds wereclimbing over it. 

"I wonder if Miss Liberty will ever be lifted to her place on high?" hesaid musingly. 

"If they do finish the dome, " Betty replied, "and crown it with thatbronze, my father should sue for damages. One of his most eloquentfigures of speech will be ruined. That prostrate work of art lying inthe mud has given thousands of votes to the Republicans. I've caughtmyself crying over his eloquence at times myself. "

Ned Vaughan smiled:

"A queer superstition has grown up in Washington that the dome of theCapitol will never be completed----"

"Do you believe it?"

"No. It will be finished. But I'm not sure whether Abraham Lincoln orJefferson Davis will preside on that occasion. "

"And I haven't the slightest doubt on that point, " Betty said with quickemphasis. 

"I thought you were not a student of politics?" he dryly observed. 

"I'm not. It's just a feeling. Women know things by intuition. "

The young man glanced upward at the huge crane which swung from theunfinished structure of the dome. 

"Anyhow, Miss Betty, " he said smilingly, "your Black RepublicanPresident has a beautiful day for the Inaugural. "

"We'll hope it's a sign for the future--shall we?"

"I hope so, " was the serious answer. "God knows there haven't been manyhappy signs lately. It was dark and threatening at dawn this morning anda few drops of rain fell up to eight o'clock. "

"You were up at dawn?" the girl asked in surprise. 

"Yes. The Senate has been in session all night over the new amendment tothe Constitution guaranteeing to the South security in the possession oftheir slaves. "

"And they passed it?"

"Yes----"

"Over my father's prostrate form?"

"Yes--an administrative measure, too. I've an idea from the 'moderation'of your father's remarks that there'll be some fun between the WhiteHouse and the Senate Chamber during the next four years. For my part Ishare his scorn for such eleventh hour repentance. It's too late. Themischief has been done. Secession is a fact and we've got to face it. "

"But we haven't heard from the new President yet, " Betty ventured. 

"No. That's why this crowd's so still. For the first time since thefoundation of the government, the thousands banked in front of thisplatform really wish to hear what a President-elect has to say. "

"Isn't that a tremendous tribute to the man?"

"Possibly so--possibly not. He has been silent since his election. Not aword has fallen from his lips to indicate his policy. He has more realpower from the moment he takes the oath of office than any crowned headof Europe. From his lips to-day will fall the word that means peace orwar. That's why this crowd's so still. "

"It's weird, " Betty whispered. "You can feel their very hearts beat. Doyou suppose the new President realizes the meaning of such a moment?"

"I don't think this one will. I interviewed Stanton, the retiringAttorney General of Buchanan's Cabinet, yesterday. He knows Lincolnpersonally--was with him in a lawsuit once before the United StatesCourt. Stanton says he's a coward and a fool and the ugliest white manwho ever appeared on this planet. He has already christened him 'TheOriginal Gorilla, ' or 'The Illinois Ape'----"

"I wonder, " Betty broke in with petulance, "if such a man could beelected President? I'm morbidly curious to see him. My father, as anAbolitionist, had to vote for him and he must support his administrationas a Republican Senator. But his favorite name for the new ChiefMagistrate is, 'The Illinois Slave Hound. ' I've a growing feeling thathis enemies have overdone their work. I'm going to judge him fairly. "

Vaughan's lips slightly curved. 

"They say he's a good stump speaker--a little shy on grammar, perhaps, but good on jokes--of the coarser kind. He ought to get one or two goodguffaws even out of this sober crowd to-day. "

"You think he'll stoop to coarse jokes?"

"Of course----"

"Is that your brother?" Betty asked with a quick intake of breath, lifting her head toward a stalwart figure rapidly coming down the widemarble steps. 

Ned Vaughan looked up with a frown:

"How did you recognize him?"

"By his resemblance to you, of course. "

"Thanks. "

"You're as much alike as two black-eyed peas--except that you're moreslender and boyish. "

"And not quite so good-looking?"

A low mischievous laugh was her answer as John lifted his hat and stoodsmiling before them. 

"Miss Winter, this is my brother, whose praises I've long been chanting. I've a little work to do in the crowd--I'll be back in a few minutes. "

There was just a touch of irony in the smile with which the younger manspoke as he hurried away, but the girl was too much absorbed in thestriking picture John Vaughan made to notice. The sparkling brown eyestook him in from head to foot in a quick comprehending flash. The fameof his personal appearance was more than justified. He was the moststrikingly good-looking man she had ever seen, and to her surprise therewas not the slightest trace of self-consciousness or conceit about him. His high intellectual forehead, thick black hair inclined to curl at theends and straight heavy eyebrows suggested at once a man of brains andpower. He looked older than he was--at least thirty, though he had justturned twenty-six. The square strong jaw and large chin were eloquent ofreserve force. Two rows of white, perfect teeth smiled behind the blackdrooping moustache and invited friendship. The one disquieting featureabout him was the look from the depths of his dark brown eyes--so darkthey were black in shadow. He had been a dreamer when very young andfollowed Charles A. Dana to Brook Farm for a brief stay. 

Before he had spoken a dozen words the girl felt the charm of hissingular and powerful personality. 

"I needn't say that I'm glad to see you, Miss Winter, " he began, with afriendly smile. "Ned has told me so much about you the past month I'dmade up my mind to join the Abolitionists, and apply for a secretaryshipto the Senator if I couldn't manage it any other way. "

"And you'll be content to resume a normal life after to-day?"

She looked into his eyes with mischievous challenge. She had recoveredher poise. 

He laughed, and a shadow suddenly swept his face:

"I wonder, Miss Winter, if any of us will live a normal life afterto-day?"

"You've seen the Rail-splitter, our new President?"

"No, I didn't wait in the Senate Chamber. I came out here to make sureof my seat beside you----"

"To hear every word of the Inaugural, of course, " Betty broke in. 

"Yes, of course----" he paused and the faintest suggestion of a smileflickered about the corners of his eyes. "Ned told me you had three goodseats. I am anxious to hear what he says--but more anxious to see himwhen he says it. I can read his Inaugural, but I want to see the soul ofthe man behind its conventional phrases----"

"He'll use conventional phrases?"

"Certainly. They all do. But no man ever came to the Presidential chairwith as little confidence back of him. The Abolitionists have alreadybegun to denounce him before he has taken the oath of office. The rankand file of the party that elected him are not Abolitionists and neverfor a moment believed that the Southern people were in earnest when theythreatened Secession during the campaign. We thought it bluff. To saythat the whole North and West is panic-stricken is the simple truth. 

"Horace Greeley and the _Tribune_ are for Secession. 

"'Let our erring sisters go!' the editor tells the millions who hang onhis words as the oracle of heaven. 

"The North has been talking Secession for thirty years, and now that theSouth is doing what they've been threatening, we wake up and try topersuade ourselves that no such right exists in a sovereign state. Yetwe all know that Great Britain surrendered to the thirteen colonies assovereign states and named each one of them in her articles of surrenderand our treaty of peace. We know that there never would have been aConstitution or a Union if the men who drew it and created the Union haddared to question the right of either of these sovereign states towithdraw when they wished. They didn't dare to raise the question. Theyleft it for their children to settle. Now we're facing it with avengeance. 

"Our fathers only dreamed a Union. They never lived to see it. Thiscountry has always been an aggregation of jangling, discordant, antagonistic sections. How is this man who comes into power to-day, thishumble rail-splitter, this County Court advocate, to achieve what ourgreatest statesmen have tried for nearly a hundred years and failed todo? Seward, the man he has called to be Secretary of State, has beenhere for two months, juggling with his enemies. He's a Secessionist atheart and expects the Union to be divided----"

"Surely, " Betty interrupted, "you can't believe that. "

"It's true. We don't dare say this in our paper, but we know it. So sureis Seward of the collapse of the Lincoln administration that he withdrewhis acceptance of the post of Secretary of State, only day beforeyesterday. It's uncertain at this hour whether he'll be in thecabinet----"

"Why?" Betty asked in breathless surprise. 

The young editor was silent a moment and spoke in low tones:

"You can keep a secret?"

"State secrets--easily. "

"Mr. Seward expects to be called to a position of greater power thanPresident----"

"You mean?"

"The Dictatorship. That's the talk in the inner circles. Nobody in theNorth expects war or wants war----"

"Except my father, " Betty laughed. 

"The Abolitionists don't count. If we have war there are not enough ofthem to form a corporal's guard--to say nothing of an army. The North ishopelessly divided and confused. If the South unites--if North Carolina, Virginia, Tennessee, Kentucky, Arkansas, Missouri and Maryland join theConfederacy under Davis, the Union is lost. What's going to hinder themfrom uniting? They are all Slave States. They believe the new Presidentis a Black Abolitionist Republican. He isn't, of course, but theybelieve it. How can he reassure them? The States that have alreadyplunged into Secession have hauled the flag down from every fort andarsenal except Sumter and Pickens. The new President can only retakethese forts by force. The first shot fired will sweep every Slave Stateout of the Union and arraign the millions of Democratic voters in theNorth solidly against the Government. God pity the man who takes theoath to-day to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution!"

When John Vaughan's voice died away at last into a passionate whisper, Betty stood looking at him in a spell. She recovered herself with astart and a smile. 

"You've mistaken your calling, Mr. Vaughan, " she said with emotion. 

"Why do you say that?"

"You're a statesman--not an editor--you should be in the Cabinet. "

"Much obliged, Miss Betty--but I'm not in this one, thank you. Besides, you're mistaken. I'm only an intelligent observer and reporter ofevents. I've never had the will to do creative things. "

"Why?"

"The responsibility is too great. Fools rush in where angels fear totread. Only God Almighty can save this Nation to-day. It's too much toexpect of one man. "

"Yet God must use man, mustn't He?"

"Yes. That's why my soul goes out in sympathy to the lonely figure whosteps out of obscurity and poverty to-day to do this impossible thing. No such responsibility was ever before laid on the shoulders of one man. In all the history of the world he has no precedent, no guide----"

Ned interrupted the flow of John's impassioned speech by suddenlyappearing with uplifted hand. 

"Never such a crowd as this!"

"Why, they say it's smaller than usual!" Betty exclaimed. 

"I don't mean size, " Ned went on rapidly. "It's their temper that'sremarkable. An Inauguration crowd should support the administration. TheLord help the Rail-splitter if that sullen dumb mob are hisconstituents! Half of them are downright hostile----"

"Washington's a Southern town, " John remarked. 

"They are not Washington folks--not one in a hundred. And the onlyhonest backers old Abe seems to have are about a thousand serious youngfellows from the West, whom General Scott has armed as a special guardto circle the crowd. "

He paused and pointed to a group of a dozen Westerners standing beside abush in the outer rim of the throng. 

"There's a bunch of them--and there's one stationed every ten yards. Theartillery in position, the infantry in line, the sharpshooters masked inwindows, the guard under the platform with muskets cocked, and athousand volunteers to threaten the crowd from without, I think the newPresident should get a respectful hearing! The procession is coming upthe Avenue now with a guard of sappers and miners packed so closelyaround the open carriage you can't even see the top of old Abe'shead----"

"Let's get our seats!" Betty cried. 

They had scarcely taken them when a ripple of excitement swept the crowdas every head was turned toward the aisle that led down the centre ofthe platform. 

"Oh, it's Mrs. Lincoln and the children and her sisters!" Bettyexclaimed. "What perfect taste in her dress! She knows how to wear it, too. What a typical, plump, self-poised Southern matron she looks. And, oh, those darling little boys--aren't they dears! She's a Kentuckian, too--the irony of Fate! A Southerner with a Southern wife entering theWhite House and eight great Southern States seceding from the Unionbecause of it. It's a funny world, isn't it?"

"The South hardly claims Mr. Lincoln as a Southerner, " Ned remarkeddryly. 

"Claim it or not, he is, " John declared, nodding toward Betty, "as trulya Southerner as Jefferson Davis. They were both born in Kentucky almoston the same day----"

Another ripple of excitement and the Diplomatic Corps entered withmeasured stately tread, their gorgeous uniforms flashing in the sun. They took their seats on the left of the canopy, Lord Lyons, the Britishminister, seated beside the representative of the Court of France, twomen destined to play their parts in the drama of Life and Death on whosefirst act the curtain of history was slowly rising. 

The black-robed Supreme Court of the Republic, in cap and gown, slowlyfollowed and took their places on the right, opposite the DiplomaticCorps. 

The Marine band struck the first notes of the National Hymn amid asilence whose oppressiveness could be felt. The tension of a great fearhad gripped the hearts of the crowd with icy fingers. The stoutest soulfelt its spell and was powerless to shake it off. 

Was it the end of the Republic? Or the storm clouded dawn of a new andmore wonderful life? God only could tell, and there were few men presentwho dared to venture a prediction. 

A wave of subdued excitement rippled the throng and every eye wasfocused on the procession from the Senate Chamber. 

"They're coming!" Betty whispered excitedly. 

The contrast between the retiring President, James Buchanan, and AbrahamLincoln was startling even at the distance of the first view from theplatform. The man of the old era was heavy and awkward in his movements, far advanced in years, with thin snow white hair, his pallid full faceseamed and wrinkled and his head curiously inclined to the leftshoulder. An immense white cravat like a poultice pushed his highstanding collar up to the ears. The sharp contrast of the blackswallow-tailed coat, with the dead white of cravat, collar, face andhair, suggested the uncanny idea of a moving corpse. 

With his eyes fixed on Buchanan, John suddenly exclaimed:

"A man who's dead and don't know it!"

Only for a moment did the actual President hold the eye. The man of thehour loomed large at the head of the procession and instantly fixed theattention of every man and woman within the range of vision. His giantfigure seemed to tower more than a foot above his surroundings. Everything about him was large--an immense head, crowned with thickshock of coarse black hair, his strong jaws rimmed with bristling newwhiskers, long arms and longer legs, large hands, big features, everymovement quick and powerful. The first impression was one of enormousstrength. He looked every inch the stalwart backwoods athlete, capableof all the feats of physical strength campaign stories had credited tohis record. One glance at his magnificent frame and no one doubted theboast of his admirers that he could lift a thousand pounds, five hundredin each hand, or bend an iron poker by striking it across the muscle ofhis arm. 

As he reached the speaker's stand beneath the crowded canopy, there wasan instant's awkward pause. In his new immaculate dress suit with blacksatin vest, shining silk hat and gold-headed cane, he seemed a littleill at ease. He looked in vain for a place to put his hat and cane andfinally found a corner of the railing against which to lean the stick, but there seemed no place left for his new hat. Senator Stephen A. Douglas, his defeated Northern opponent for the Presidency, with afriendly smile, took it from his hands. 

As Douglas slipped gracefully back to his seat, he whispered to the ladybeside him:

"If I can't be President, at least I can hold his hat!"

The simple, but significant, act of courtesy from the great leader ofthe Northern Democracy was not lost on the new Chief Magistrate. Hecould hardly believe what his eyes had seen at first, and then hesmiled. Instantly the rugged features were transformed and his wholebeing was lighted with a strange soft radiance whose warmth wascontagious. 

Betty's eyes were dancing with excitement. 

"He's not ugly at all!" she whispered. 

Ned softly laughed:

"He certainly is not a beauty?"

"Who expects beauty in a real man?" she answered, with a touch of scorn. And Ned shot a look of inquiry at John's handsome face. But the olderbrother was too intent on the drama before him to notice. The editor'seyes were riveted on the new President, studying every detail of hisimpressive personality. He had never seen him before and was trying toform a just and accurate judgment of his character. Beyond a doubt hewas big physically--this impression was overwhelming--everythinglarge--the head with its high crown of skull and thick, bushy hair, deepcavernous eyes, heavy eyebrows which moved in quick sympathy with everyemotion, large nose, large ears, large mouth, large, thick under lip, very high cheek bones, massive jaw bones with upturned chin, a sinewylong neck, long arms, and large hands, long legs, and big feet. A giantphysically--and yet somehow he gave the impression of excessivegauntness and about his face there dwelt a strange impression of sadnessand spiritual anguish. The hollowness of his cheeks accented by hisswarthy complexion emphasized this. 

The crowd had recognized him instantly, but without the slightestapplause. The silence was intense, oppressive, painful. John glanced upand saw the huge figure of Senator Wigfall, of Texas, looking down onthe scene from the base of one of the white columns of the centralfaçade. He waved his arm defiantly and laughed. His presence in theSenate after all his associates had withdrawn was the subject of keenspeculation. He was believed to be a spy of the Confederate Government. He had asked General Scott, half in jest, if he would dare to arrest aSenator of the United States for treason. The answer was significant ofthe times. Looking the Senator straight in the eye the old hero slowlysaid:

"No--I'd blow him to hell!"

Evidently the Senator was not as yet unduly alarmed. His expression oftriumphant contempt for the evident lack of enthusiasm could not bemistaken. When John Vaughan recalled the confusion in the ranks of thetriumphant party he knew that the Senator's scorn would he redoubled ifhe but knew half the truth. Again he turned toward the tall, lonely manwith sinking heart. 

The ceremony moved swiftly. The silence was too oppressive to admitdelay. Senator Baker, of Oregon, the warm personal friend of Lincoln, stepped quickly to the edge of the platform. With hand outstretched inan easy graceful gesture, he said:

"Fellow Citizens: I introduce to you Abraham Lincoln, thePresident-elect of the United States of America. "

Again the silence of death, as the once ragged, lonely, barefoot boyfrom a Kentucky cabin stepped forward into the fiercest light that everbeat on human head. 

He quickly adjusted his glasses, drew his tall figure to its fullheight, and began to read his address, his face suddenly radiant withthe poise of conscious reserve power, oblivious of crowd, ceremony, hostility or friendship. His voice was strong, high pitched, clear, ringing, and his articulation singularly and beautifully perfect. Hiswords carried to the outer edge of the vast silent throng. 

Betty watched his mobile features with increasing fascination. His bushyeyebrows and the muscles of his sensitive face moved and flashed insympathy with every emotion. In a countenance of such large and ruggedlines every movement spoke unusual power. The lift of an eyebrow, thecurve of the lip, the flash of the eye were gestures more eloquent thanthe impassioned sweep of the ordinary orator's arm. He made no gesturewith hand or arm or the mass of his towering body. No portrait of thisman had ever been made. She had seen many pictures and not one of themhad suggested the deep, subtle, indirect expression of hisface--something that seemed to link him with the big forces of nature. 

The crowd was feeling this now and men were leaning forward from theirseats on the platform. The venerable Chief Justice of the Supreme Court, Roger B. Taney, whose clear, accurate and mercilessly logical decisionon Slavery had created the storm which swept Lincoln into power, waswatching him with bated breath, and not for an instant during theInaugural address did he lower his sombre eyes from the face of thespeaker. 

John C. Breckenridge, the retiring Vice-President, his defeated opponentfrom the Southern States, the proud Kentucky chevalier, was listeningwith keen and painful intensity, his handsome cultured features palewith the consciousness of coming tragedy. 

His opening words had been reassuring to the South, but woke no responsefrom the silent thousands who stood before him as he went on:

"I have no purpose directly or indirectly to interfere with theinstitution of Slavery in the States where it exists. I believe I haveno lawful right to do so, and I have no inclination to do so. "

The simplicity, directness and clearness of this statement could find noparallel in the pompous words of his predecessors. The man was talkingin the language of the people. It was something new under the sun. 

And then, with the clear ring of a trumpet, each syllable falling cleancut and sharp with marvellous distinctness, he continued:

"I hold that the Union of these States is perpetual----"

He paused for an instant, his voice suddenly failing from deep emotionand then, as if stung by the silence with which this thrilling thoughtwas received, he uttered the only words not written in his manuscript, and made the only gesture of his entire address. His great fist camedown with a resounding smash on the table and in tones heard by the lastman who hung on the edge of the throng, he said:

"No State has the right to secede!"

And still no cheer came from the strangely silent crowd--only a vagueshiver swept the hearts of the Southern people before him. If the Northloved the Union they were giving no tokens to the tall, lonely figure onthat platform. 

At last the sentences, big with the fate of millions, were slowly andtenderly spoken:

"I shall take care that the laws of the Union be faithfully executed inall the States. Doing this I deem to be a simple duty on my part, and Ishall perform it----"

At last he had touched the hidden powder magazine with an electricspark, and a cheer swept the crowd. It died away at last--rose with newpower and rose a third time before it subsided, and the clear voice wenton:

"I trust this will not be regarded as a menace, but only as the declaredpurpose of the Union that it will constitutionally defend and maintainitself. In doing this there needs be no bloodshed or violence; and thereshall be none unless it be forced upon the National authority. The powerconfided in me will be used to hold and occupy and possess the propertyand places belonging to the Government. "

Again the powder mine exploded, and a cheer rose. The grim walls of FortSumter and Pickens, in far off Southern waters, flashed red before everyeye. 

The applause suddenly died away into the old silence, and a man in thecrowd before the platform yelled:

"We're for Jefferson Davis!"

There was no answer and no disorder--only the shrill cry of theSoutherner through the silence, and the speaker continued his address. Senator Douglas looked uneasily over the crowd toward the spot fromwhence came the cry. His brow wrinkled with a frown. 

John Vaughan leaned toward Betty and whispered half to himself:

"I wonder if those cheers were defiance after all?"

But the girl was too intent on the words of the speaker to answer. Hisnext sentence brought a smile and a nod of approval from SenatorDouglas. 

"But beyond what may be necessary for those objects, there will be noinvasion, no using of force against or among the people anywhere----"

Again and again Douglas nodded his approval and spoke it in low tones:

"Good! Good! That means no coercion. "

And then, followed in solemn tones, the fateful sentences:

"In _your_ hands, my dissatisfied fellow countrymen, and not in _mine_is the momentous issue of civil war. The Government will not assail_you_ unless you _first_ assail _it_. You can have no conflict withoutyourselves being the aggressors. _You_ have no oath registered in Heavento destroy the Government, while _I_ shall have the most solemn one to'preserve, protect and defend' it. _You_ can forbear the _assault_ uponit; _I_ can _not_ shrink from the _defense_ of it----"

Again he paused, and the crowd hung spellbound as he began his closingparagraph in tender persuasive accents throbbing with emotion, his clearvoice breaking for the first time:

"I am loath to close. We are not enemies, but friends. We must not beenemies. Though passion may have strained, it must not break our bondsof affection. The mystic chords of memory stretching from everybattlefield and patriot grave to every living heart and hearthstone allover this broad land will yet swell the chorus of the Union when againtouched, as surely they will be, by the better angels of our nature. "

The closing words fell from his sensitive lips with the sad dreamy eyesblinded by tears. 

At last he had touched the hearts of all. The sincerity and beauty ofthe simple appeal for the moment hushed bitterness and passion and thecheer was universal. 

The black-robed figure of the venerable Chief Justice stepped forwardwith extended open Bible. His bony, trembling fingers and cadaverousintellectual face gave the last touch of dramatic contrast between theold and new régimes. 

The tall, dark man reverently laid his left hand on the open Book, raised his right arm, and slowly repeated the words of the oath:

"I do solemnly swear that I will faithfully execute the office ofPresident of the United States, and will, to the best of my ability, preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, sohelp me God!"

The words had scarcely died on his lips when the distant boom of cannonproclaimed the new President. The crowd on the platform rose and stoodwith uncovered heads, while the procession formed in the same order asat its entrance and returned to the White House. 

"What do you think of it?" Betty asked breathlessly, turning to Ned. 

The firm young lips came together with sudden passion:

"The argument has ended. To your tents, O Israel! It means war----"

"Nonsense, " John broke in impetuously. "It means anything or nothing. It's hot and cold--a straddle, a contradiction----"

He paused and turned to Betty:

"What do you think?"

"Of the President?" she asked dreamily. 

"Of his Inaugural, " John corrected. 

"I don't know whether it means peace or war, not being a statesman, butof one thing I'm sure----"

She paused and Ned leaned close:

"Yes?"

"That a great man has appeared on the scene----"

Both men laughed and she went on with deep earnestness:

"I mean it--he's splendid--he's wonderful! He's a poet--a dreamer--andso typically Southern, Mr. Ned Vaughan. I could easily picture himfighting a duel over a fine point of honor, as he did once. He'spatient, careful, wise, cautious--very tender and very strong. To mehe's inspired----"

Again both men laughed. 

"I honestly believe that God has sent him into the Kingdom for such atime as this. "

"You get that impression from his rambling address with its obviouseffort to straddle the Universe?" John asked incredulously. 

"Not from what he said, " Betty persisted, "so much as the way he saidit--though I got the very clear idea that his purpose is to save theUnion. He made that thought ring through my mind over all others. "

"You really like him?" Ned asked with a cold smile. 

"I love him, " was the eager answer. "He's adorable. He's genuine--a manof the people. We've had many Presidents who wore purple and fine linenand professed democracy--now we've the real thing. I wonder if they'llcrucify him. All through his address I could see the little raggedforlorn boy standing beside his mother's grave crying his heart out indespair and loneliness. He's wonderful. And he's not overawed by thesebig white pillars above us, either. The man who tries to set up for aDictator while he's in the White House will find trouble----"

"The two leading men he has called to his cabinet, " John broke inmusingly, "hold him in contempt. "

"There's a surprise in store for Mr. Seward and Mr. Chase, " Bettyventured. 

"I'm afraid your father will not agree with you, Miss Betty, " Nedlaughed, glancing toward Senator Winter. "I foresee trouble for you. "

"No danger. My father never quarrels with me over politics. He justpities my ignorance and lets it go at that. He never condescends to mylevel----"

She stopped suddenly and waved her hand toward the group of excited menwho had gathered around Senator Winter. 

A smile of recognition lighted the sombre Puritan face, as he pushed hisfriends aside and rapidly approached. 

"How's my little girl?" he cried tenderly. "Enjoy the show?"

"Yes, dear, immensely--you know Mr. John Vaughan, Father, don't you?"

The old man smiled grimly as he extended his hand:

"I know who he is--though I haven't had the honor of an introduction. I'm glad to see you, Mr. Vaughan--though I don't agree with many of youreditorials. "

"We'll hope for better things in the future, Senator, " John laughed. 

"What's your impression of the Inaugural, Senator?" Ned asked, with atwinkle of mischief in his eye. 

"You are asking me that as a reporter, young man, or as a friend of mydaughter?"

"Both, sir. "

"Then I'll give you two answers. One for the public and one for you. I've an idea you're going to be a rebel, sir----"

"We hope not, Senator, " John protested. 

"I've my suspicions from an interview we had once. But you're a goodreporter, sir. I trust your ability and honesty however deeply I suspectyour patriotism. As a Republican Senator I say to you for publication:The President couldn't well have said less. It might have been unwise tosay more. To you, as a budding young rebel and a friend of my daughter, I say, with the utmost frankness, that I have no power to express mycontempt for that address. From the lips of the man we elected tostrangle Slavery fell the cowardly words:

"'I have no purpose directly or indirectly to interfere with theinstitution of Slavery in the States where it exists'----"

The grim blue-grey eyes flashed with rage, he paused for breath andthen, livid with suppressed emotion, continued:

"For fifty years every man who has stood on this platform to take theoath as President has turned his face to the South and bowed the knee toBaal. We hoped for better things to-day----" He paused a moment and hiseyes filled with angry tears:

"How long, O Lord! How long!"

"But you mustn't forget, Senator, that he didn't run and we didn't winon an Abolition platform. We only raised the issue of the extension ofSlavery into the new territories----"

"Yes!" the old man sneered. "But you didn't fool the South! They arepast masters in the art of politics. The South is seceding because theyknow that the Republican Party was organized to destroy Slavery--andthat its triumph is a challenge to a life and death fight on that issue. It's a waste of time to beat the devil round the stump. We've got toface it. I hate a trimmer and a coward!--But don't you dare print thatfor a while, young man----"

"Hardly, sir, " Ned answered with a smile. 

"I've got to support my own administration for a few days at least--andthen!--well, we won't cross any bridges till we come to them. "

He stopped abruptly and turned to John:

"Come to see us, Mr. Vaughan. Your paper should be a power before theend of the coming four years. I know Forney, your chief. I'd like toknow you better----"

"Thank you, Senator, " the young editor responded cordially. 

"Can't you dine with us to-morrow night, Mr. Vaughan?" Betty asked, unconsciously bending toward his straight, well poised figure. Nedobserved her with a frown, and heard John's answer in a sudden surge ofanger. 

"Certainly, Miss Betty, with pleasure. "

To Ned's certain knowledge it was the first invitation of the kind hehad accepted since his advent in Washington. Again he cursed himself fora fool for introducing them. 

Betty beamed her friendliest look straight into his eyes and softlysaid:

"You'll come, of course, Mr. Ned?"

For the life of him he couldn't get back his conventional tones for ananswer. His voice trembled in spite of his effort. 

"Thank you, " he said slowly, "it will not be possible. I've anassignment at the White House for that evening. "

He turned abruptly and left them. 

CHAPTER II

JANGLING VOICES

The roar of the Inauguration passed, and Washington was itself again--anold-fashioned Southern town of sixty thousand inhabitants, no longerasleep perhaps, but still aristocratic, skeptical, sneering in itsattitude toward the new administration. 

Behind the scenes in his Cabinet reigned confusion incredible. The talldark backwoodsman who presided over these wrangling giants appeared atfirst to their superior wisdom a dazed spectator. 

He had called them because they were indispensable. Now that the issueswere to be faced, Mr. Seward, Mr. Chase, Mr. Cameron and Mr. Batesrealized that the country lawyer who had won the Presidency over theirsuperior claims knew his weakness and relied on their strength, training, and long experience in public affairs. 

Certainly it had not occurred to one of them that his act in calling thegreatest men of his party, and the party of opposition as well, into hisCabinet was a deed of such intellectual audacity that it scarcely had aparallel in history. 

Mr. Seward, the Secretary of State, had reluctantly consented to enterthe Cabinet at the last moment as an act of patriotism to save thecountry from impending ruin too great for any other man to face. Hisattitude was a reasonable one. He was the undoubted leader of thetriumphant party. 

Without a moment's hesitation on the first day of his service asSecretary of State he assumed the position of a Prime Minister, whoseduties included a general supervision of all the Departments ofGovernment, as well as a Regent's supervision over the Executive. 

Salmon P. Chase, the Secretary of the Treasury, at once took up thegauntlet thrown down by his rival. He not only regarded the Presidentwith contempt, but he extended it to the political trickster who daredto assume the airs of Premiership in a Democratic Republic. 

To these Cabinet meetings came no voices of comfort from the country. The Abolitionist press, which represented the aggressive conscience ofthe North, continued to ridicule and denounce the Inaugural address inunmeasured terms. 

The simple truth was soon apparent to the sombre eyes of the President. He was facing the gravest problem that ever confronted a statesmanwithout an organized party on which he could depend for support. But twoof his Cabinet had any confidence in his ability or genuineloyalty--Gideon Welles, a Northern Democrat, and Montgomery Blair, aSouthern aristocrat. 

The problem before him was bigger than faction, bigger than party, bigger than Slavery. Could a government founded on the genuineprinciples of Democracy live? Could such a Union be held togethercomposed of warring sections with vast territories extending overthousands of miles, washed by two oceans extending from the frozenmountains of Canada to the endless summers of the tropics?

If the Southern people should unite in a slave-holding Confederacy, itwas not only a question as to whether he could shape an army mightyenough to conquer them, the more urgent and by far the graver problemwas whether he could mould into unity the warring factions of theturbulent, passion-torn North. These people who had elected him--couldhe ever hope to bind them into a solid fighting unit? If theirrepresentatives in his Cabinet were truly representatives the task wasbeyond human power. 

And yet the tall, lonely figure calmly faced it without a tremor. In thedepths of his cavernous eyes there burned a steady flame but few of themen about him saw, or understood if they saw--that flame was somethingnew in the history of the race--a faith in the common man which dared togive a new valuation to the individual and set new standards for theDemocracy of the world. He believed that the heart of the masses of thepeople North, South, East and West was sound at the core and that astheir Chief Magistrate he could ultimately appeal to them over the headsof all traditions--all factions, and all accepted leaders. 

He was the most advised man and the worst advised man in history. Itbecame necessary to think for himself or cease to think at all. 

General Scott, the venerable hero of Lundy Lane, in command of the army, had suggested as a solution of the turmoil the division of the countryinto four separate Confederacies and had roughly drawn their outlines!

Horace Greeley had made the _Tribune_ the most powerful newspaper in thehistory of America. The Republicans throughout the country had beeneducated by its teachings and held its authority second only to the Wordof God. And yet from the moment of Lincoln's election the chiefoccupation of this powerful paper was to criticize and condemn themeasures and policies of the President. 

Over and over he repeated the deadly advice to the Nation:

"If the Cotton States shall decide that they can do better out of theUnion than in it, we insist on letting them go in peace. "

He serenely insisted:

"If eight Southern States, having five millions of people, choose toseparate from us, they cannot be permanently withheld from doing so byFederal cannon. The South has as good right to secede from the Union asthe Colonies had to secede from Great Britain. If they choose to form anindependent Nation they have a clear moral right to do so, and we willdo our best to forward their views. "

Is it to be wondered at that the Southern people were absolutely clearin their conception of the right to secede if such doctrines were taughtin the North by the highest authority within the party which had electedAbraham Lincoln?

If his own party leaders were boldly proclaiming such treason to theUnion how could he hope to stem the tide that had set in for its ruin?

The thousands of conservative men North and South who voted for Bell andEverett demanded peace at any price. An orator in New York at a greatmass meeting dared to say:

"If a revolution of force is to begin it shall be inaugurated at home!It will be just as brutal to send men to butcher our brothers of theSouth as it will be to massacre them in the Northern States. "

The business interests of the Northern cities were bitterly andunanimously arrayed against any attempt to use force against the South. The city of New York was thoroughly imbued with Secession sentiment, andits Mayor, through Daniel E. Sickles, one of the members of Congress, demanded the establishment of a free and independent Municipal State onthe island of Manhattan. 

Seward had just written to Charles F. Adams, our minister to England:

"Only an imperial and despotic government could subjugate thoroughlydisaffected and insurrectionary members of the State. This FederalRepublican country of ours is, of all forms of Government, the very onewhich is the most unfitted for such a labor. "

This letter could only mean one of two things, either that the firstmember of the Cabinet was a Secessionist and meant to allow the South togo unmolested, or he planned to change our form of Government by a _coupd'état_ in the crisis and assume the Dictatorship. In either event hisattitude boded ill for the new President and his future. 

Wendell Phillips, the eloquent friend of Senator Winter, declared inBoston in a public address:

"Here are a series of states who think their peculiar institutionsrequire that they should have a separate government. They have the rightto decide that question without appealing to you or me. Standing withthe principles of '76 behind us, who can deny them the right? AbrahamLincoln has no right to a soldier in Fort Sumter. There is no longer aUnion. You can not go through Massachusetts and recruit men to bombardCharleston or New Orleans. Nothing but madness can provoke a war withthe Gulf States. "

The last member of his distracted, divided, passion-ridden Cabinet hadgone at the close of its first eventful sitting. The dark figure of thePresident stood beside the window looking over the mirror-like surfaceof the Potomac to the hills of Virginia. 

The shadow of a great sorrow shrouded his face and form. The shouldersdrooped. But the light in the depths of his sombre eyes was growingsteadily in intensity. 

Old Edward, the veteran hallman, appeared at the door with his endlesseffort to wash his hands without water. 

"A young gentleman wishes to see you, sir, a reporter I think--Mr. NedVaughan, of the _Daily Republican_. "

Without lifting his eyes from the Virginia hills, the quiet voice said:

"Let him in. "

In vain the wily diplomat of the press sought to obtain a declaration ofpolicy on the question of the relief of Fort Sumter. In his easy, friendly way the President made him welcome, but only smiled and slowlyshook his head in answer to each pointed question, or laughed aloud atthe skillful traps he was invited to enter. 

"It's no use, my boy, " he said at last, with a weary gesture. "I'm notgoing to tell you anything to-day----" he paused, and the light suddenlyflashed from beneath his shaggy brows, "----except this--you can say toyour readers that my course is as plain as a turnpike road. It is markedout by the Constitution. I am in no doubt which way to go. I am going totry to save the Union. "

"In short, " Ned laughed, "you propose to stand by your Inaugural?"

"That's a pretty good guess, young man! I'm surprised that you paid suchclose attention to my address. "

"Perhaps I had an interpreter?"

"Did you?"

"Yes. "

"Who?"

"A very beautiful young woman, Mr. President, " Ned answered serenely. 

The hazel-grey eyes twinkled:

"What's her name, sir?"

"Miss Betty Winter. "

"Not the daughter of that old grizzly bear who's always camping on mytrail?"

"The same, sir. "

The swarthy face lighted with a radiant smile:

"What did she say about my Inaugural?"

"That it was the utterance of a wise, patient, great man. "

Two big hands suddenly closed on Ned's and the tall figure bent low. 

"Thank you for telling me that, my boy. It helps me after a hard day!"

"She said many other things, too, sir, " Ned added. 

"Did she?"

"With enthusiasm. "

"Tell her to come to me, " the President said slowly. "I want to talk toher. "

He paused, turned to his desk and seized a pen:

"I'll send a subpoena for her--that's better. "

On one of his cards he quickly wrote:

 "MY DEAR MISS WINTER:

 "You are hereby summoned to immediately appear before the Chief Magistrate to testify concerning grave matters of State. 

 A. LINCOLN. "

He slipped his long arm around Ned's shoulder and walked with him to thedoor:

"Serve that on her for me, will you, right away?"

With a nod and a smile, the reporter bowed and turned his steps towardthe Senator's house. 

CHAPTER III

IN BETTY'S GARDEN

Ned Vaughan paused with a moment of indecision before the plain, old-fashioned, brick house in which Senator Winter lived on the CapitolHill. It was a confession of abject weakness to decline her invitationto dinner with his brother and jump at the first chance to butt inbefore the dinner hour. 

Why should he worry? She was too serious and honest to play with anyman, to say nothing of an attempt to flirt with two at the same time. 

He refused to believe in the seriousness of any impression she had madeon his brother's conceited fancy. His light love affairs had becomenotorious in his set. He was only amusing himself with Betty and she wastoo simple and pure to understand. Yet to warn her at this stage of thegame against his own brother was obviously impossible. 

He suddenly turned on his heel:

"I'm a fool. I'll wait till to-morrow!"

He walked rapidly to the corner, stopped abruptly, turned back to thedoor and rang the bell. 

"Anyhow, I'm not a coward!" he muttered. 

The pretty Irish maid who opened the door smiled graciously andknowingly. It made him furious. She mistook his rage for blushes andgiggled insinuatingly. 

"Miss Betty's in the garden, sor; she says to come right out there----"

"What?" Ned gasped. 

"Yiss-sor; she saw you come up to the door just now and told me to tellyou. "

Again the girl giggled and again he flushed with rage. 

He found her in the garden, busy with her flowers. The border of talljonquils were in full bloom, a gorgeous yellow flame leaping from bothsides of the narrow walkway which circled the high brick wall coveredwith a mass of honeysuckle. She held a huge pair of pruning shears, clipping the honeysuckle away from the budding violet beds. 

She lifted her laughing brown eyes to his. 

"Do help me!" she cried. "This honeysuckle vine is going to cover thewhole garden and smother the house itself, I'm afraid. "

He took the shears from her pink fingers and felt the thrill of theirtouch for just a moment. 

His eyes lingered on the beautiful picture she made with flushed faceand tangled ringlets of golden brown hair falling over forehead andcheeks and white rounded throat. The blue gingham apron was infinitelymore becoming than the most elaborate ball costume. It suggested homeand the sweet intimacy of comradeship. 

"You're lovely in that blue apron, Miss Betty, " he said withearnestness. 

"Then I'm forgiven for making home folks of you?"

"I'm very happy in it. "

"Well, you see I had no choice, " she hastened to add. "I just had tofinish these flowers before dressing for dinner. I'm expecting thathandsome brother of yours directly and I must look my best for him, nowmustn't I?"

She smiled into his eyes with such charming audacity he had to laugh. 

"Of course, you must!" he agreed, and bent quickly to the task ofclearing her violet bed of entangled vines. In ten minutes his stronghand had done the work of an hour for her slender fingers. 

"How swiftly and beautifully you work, Ned!" she exclaimed as he rosewith face flushed and gazed a moment admiringly on the witchery of herexquisite figure. 

"How would you like me for a steady gardener?"

"I hope you're not going to lose your job on your brother's paper?"

"It's possible. "

"Why?"

"We don't agree on politics. "

"A reporter don't have to agree with an editor. He only obeys orders. "

"That's it, " Ned answered, with a firm snap of his strong jaw. "I'm notgoing to take orders from this Government many more days from thepresent outlook. "

Betty looked him straight in the eye in silence and slowly asked:

"You're not really going to join the rebels?"

The slender boyish figure suddenly straightened and his lips quivered:

"Perhaps. "

"You can't mean it!" she cried incredulously. 

"Would you care?" he asked slowly. 

"Very much, " was the quick answer. "I should be shocked and disappointedin you. I've never believed for a moment that you meant what you said. Ithought you were only debating the question from the Southern side. "

"Tell me, " Ned broke in, "does your father mean half he says aboutLincoln and the South?"

"Every word he says. My father is made of the stuff that kindles martyrfires. He will march to the stake for his principles when the timecomes. "

"You admire that kind of man?"

"Don't you?"

"Yes. And for that reason I can't understand why you admire a trimmerand a time server. "

"You mean?"

"The Rail-splitter in the White House. "

"But he's not!" Betty protested. "I can feel the hand of steel beneathhis glove--wait and see. "

Ned laughed:

"Let Ephraim alone, he's joined to his idols! As our old preacher usedto say in Missouri. Your delusion is hopeless. It's well the Presidentis safely married. "

Betty's eyes twinkled. Ned paused, blushed, fumbled in his pocket anddrew out the card the President had given him to deliver. 

"I am ordered by the administration, " he gravely continued, "to servethis document on the daughter of Senator Winter. "

Betty's eyes danced with amazement as she read the message in thehandwriting of the Chief Magistrate. 

"He sent this to me?"

[Illustration: "'Good-bye--Ned!' she breathed softly. "]

"Ordered me to serve it on you at once--my excuse for coming at thisunseemly hour. "

"But why?"

"I gave him a hint of your opinion of his Inaugural. I think it's a caseof a drowning man grasping a straw. "

"Well, this is splendid!" she exclaimed. 

"You take it seriously?"

"It's a great honor. "

"And are you going?"

"I'd go to-night if it were possible--to-morrow sure----"

She looked at the card curiously. 

"I've a strange presentiment that something wonderful will come of thismeeting. "

"No doubt of it. When Senator Winter's daughter becomes the champion ofthe 'Slave Hound of Illinois' there'll be a sensation in the Capitalgossip to say nothing of what may happen at home. "

"I'll risk what happens at home, Ned! My father has two great passions, the hatred of Slavery and the love of his frivolous daughter. I cantwist him around my little finger----"

She paused, snapped her finger and smiled up into his face sweetly:

"Do you doubt it, sir?"

"No, " he answered with a frown, dropping his voice to low tender tones. "But would you mind telling me, Miss Betty, why you called me 'Mr. Ned'the other day when I introduced you to John?"

The faintest tinge of red flashed in her cheeks:

"I must have done it unconsciously. "

"Please don't do it again. It hurts. You've called me Ned too long todrop it now, don't you think?"

"Yes. "

Her eyes twinkled with mischief as she took his hand in parting. 

"Good-bye--Ned!" she breathed softly. 

And then he did a foolish thing, but the impulse was resistless. He bentlow, reverently kissed the tips of her fingers and fled without daringto look back. 

CHAPTER IV

A PAIR OF YOUNG EYES

When Betty's card was sent in at the White House next morning, a smilelighted the sombre face of the President. He waved his long armsimpulsively to his Secretaries and the waiting crowd of Congressmen:

"Clear everybody out for a few minutes, boys; I've an appointment atthis hour. "

The tall figure bowed with courtly deference over the little hand andhis voice was touched with deep feeling:

"I want to thank you personally, Miss Betty, for your kind words aboutmy Inaugural. They helped and cheered me in a trying moment. "

"I'm glad, " was the smiling answer. 

"Tell me everything you said about it?" he urged laughingly. 

"I'm afraid Mrs. Lincoln might not like it!" she said demurely. 

"We'll risk it. I'm going to take you in to see her in a minute. I wanther to know you. Tell me, what else did you say?"

He spoke with the eager wistfulness of a boy. It was only too plain thatfew messages of good cheer had come to lighten the burden hisresponsibilities had brought. 

A smile touched her eyes with tender sympathy:

"You won't be vain if I tell you exactly what I said, Mr. President?"

"After all the brickbats that have been coming my way?" he laughed. Noman could laugh with more genuine hearty enjoyment. His laughterconvulsed his whole being for the moment and fairly hypnotized hishearer into sympathy with his mood. 

"Out with it, Miss Betty, I need it!" he urged. 

"I said, Mr. President, that you were very tender and very strong----"she paused and looked straight into his deep set eyes "----and that agreat man had appeared in our history. "

He was still for a moment and a mist veiled the light at which shegazed. He took her hand in both his, pressed it gently and murmured:

"Thank you, Miss Betty, I shall try to prove worthy of my littlechampion. "

"I think you do things without trying, Mr. President, " she answered. 

"And you don't want an office, do you?"

"No. "

"You have no favors to ask for your friends, have you?"

"None whatever. "

"And you're Senator Winter's daughter?"

"Yes. "

"The old grizzly bear! He hates me--but I've always liked him----"

"I hope you'll always like him, " Betty quickly broke in. 

"Of course I will. I've never cherished resentments. Life's too short, and the office I fill is too big for that. Do you know why I've sent foryou?"

Betty smiled:

"To have me flatter you, of course. All men are vain. The greater theman, the greater his vanity. "

Again he laughed with every muscle of his face and body. 

"Honestly--no, that's not the reason, " he said confidentially. "I wantyou to accept a position in my Cabinet. "

"I didn't know that women were admitted?"

"They're not, but I've always been in favor of votes for women and I'mgoing to make a place for you. "

Betty's lips trembled with a smile:

"What's the salary?"

"No salary, save the eternal gratitude of your Chief--will you accept?"

"I'll consider it--what duty?"

He looked steadily into her brown eyes:

"You have very bright, clear eyes, Miss Betty, I can see myself in themnow more distinctly than in that mirror over the mantel. I'd like toborrow your eyes now and then to see things with. Will you accept theposition?"

"If I can be of service, yes. "

"The White House is open to you at all hours, and I shall send for yousometimes when I'm blue and puzzled and want a pair of pure, beautiful, young eyes--you understand?"

Betty extended her hand and her voice trembled:

"You have conferred on me a very great honor, Mr. President. "

"For instance now, " he said dreamily: "You endorse my Inaugural?"

"I'm sure it was wise, firm, friendly, dignified. "

"I couldn't have said less than that I must possess and hold theproperty of the Government, could I? Well, I must now order a fleet tosail for Charleston Harbor to relieve our fort or allow the men who wearour uniform and fly our flag to die of starvation or surrender. Prettypoor Commander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy if I do that, am I not?Suppose I send a fleet to provision our men in Fort Sumter, notreinforce it--mind you, merely provisions for the handful of men who arethere, --and suppose the Southern troops manning those land batteriesopen fire on our flag and force Major Anderson to surrender--what wouldhappen in the North?"

He paused and looked at her steadily. The fine young figure suddenlystiffened:

"Every man, woman and child would say fight!"

The big jaws came together with firm precision and his huge fist struckthe table:

"That's what I think. And at the same time something else would behappening over there----" His long arm swept toward the hills ofVirginia, dark and threatening on the horizon. "The moment that shotcrashes against our fort, North Carolina, Virginia, Arkansas, andTennessee will join the Confederacy, to say nothing of what may happenin Maryland, Delaware, Kentucky and Missouri--all Slave States. Theshock will be felt on both sides with precisely opposite effects. Sometimes we must do our duty and leave the rest to God, mustn't we?Yes--of course we must--and now, I've kept you too long, Miss Betty. It's a bargain, isn't it? You accept the position in my Cabinet?"

"Of course, Mr. President, --but if my duties are no heavier than I findthem on this occasion, I fear I shall be of little help. "

"You've been of the greatest service to me. You've confirmed my decisionon a great problem of State. Come now and see Mother and the children. Iwant you to know them and like them. "

He led her quickly into the family apartment and introduced her to Mrs. Lincoln. He found her in the midst of a grave discussion with LizzieGarland, her colored dressmaker. 

"This is old Grizzly's lovely daughter, Miss Betty Winter, Mother. Shehas joined the administration, stands squarely with us against theworld, the flesh, the devil--and her father! I told her you'd give herthe keys to the house----"

With a wave of his big hand he was gone. 

Mrs. Lincoln's greeting was simple and hearty. In half an hour Betty hadfound a place in her heart for life, the boys were claiming her as theirown, and a train of influences were set in motion destined to makehistory. 

CHAPTER V

THE FIRST SHOT

The first month of the new administration passed in a strange peace thatproved to be the calm before the storm. On the first day of April, AllFool's Day, Mr. Seward decided to bring to a definite issue the questionof supreme authority in the government. That Abraham Lincoln was thenominal President was true, of course. Mr. Seward generously decided toallow him to remain nominally at the head of the Nation and assumehimself the full responsibilities of a Dictatorship. 

The Secretary of State strolled leisurely into the executive office morecareless in dress than usual, the knot of his cravat under his left ear, a huge lighted cigar in his hand. He handed the President a folded sheetof official paper, bowed carelessly and retired. 

He had drawn up his proclamation under the title:

SOME THOUGHTS FOR THE PRESIDENT'S CONSIDERATION. 

In this remarkable document he proposed to assume the Dictatorship andoutlined his policy as director of the Nation's affairs. 

He would immediately provoke war with Great Britain, Russia, Spain andFrance!

The dark-visaged giant adjusted his glasses and read this paper with asmile of incredulous amazement. He wiped his glasses and read it again. And then without consultation with a single human being, and without amoment's hesitation he wrote a brief reply to the great man and hisgenerous offer. There was no bluster, no wrath, no demand for an apologyto his insulted dignity, but in the simplest and friendliest and mostdirect language he informed his Secretary that if a dictator were neededto save the country he would undertake the dangerous and difficult jobhimself inasmuch as he had been called by the people to be theirCommander-in-Chief, and that he expected the coöperation, advice andsupport of _all_ the members of his Cabinet. 

He did not even refer to the wild scheme of plunging the country intowar with two-thirds of the civilized world. The bare announcement ofsuch a suggestion would have driven the Secretary from public life. Thequiet man who presided over the turbulent Cabinet never hinted to one ofits members that such a document had reached his hands. 

But as the shades of night fell over the Capitol on that first day ofApril, 1861, there was one distinguished statesman within the city whoknew that a real man had been elected President and that he was going towield the power placed in his hands without a tremor of fear or aninstant's hesitation. 

It took many months for other members of his Cabinet to learn this--butthere was no more trouble with his Secretary of State. He became at oncehis loyal, earnest and faithful counsellor. 

On April the 6th, the fleet was sent to sea under sealed orders torelieve Fort Sumter in the harbor of Charleston, South Carolina. ThePresident had been loath to commit the act which must inevitably provokewar--unless the whole movement of Secession in the South was one ofpolitical bluff. The highest military authority of the country hadadvised him that the fort could not be held by any force at presentvisible, and that its evacuation was inevitable in any event. 

His Cabinet, with two exceptions, were against any attempt to relieveit. The sentiment of the people of the North was bitterly opposed to waron the South. 

On April the 7th, the fleet was at sea on its way to the Southern coast, its guns shotted, its great battle flags streaming in the wind. 

In accordance with the amenities of war the President notified GeneralBeauregard, Commander of the Southern forces in Charleston Harbor, thathe had sent his fleet to put provisions into Sumter, but not at presentto put in men, arms or ammunition, _unless the fort should be attacked_. 

On the night this message was dispatched Roger A. Pryor, of Virginia, made a speech in Charleston, from the balcony of the Mills Hotel topractically the entire white population of the city. Its message wasfierce, direct, electric. It was summed up in a single sentence:

"Strike the first armed blow in defense of Southern rights and withinone hour by Shrewsbury clock, old Virginia will stand, her battle flagsflying, by your side!"

On the morning of the 11th General Beauregard sent Pryor as a specialmessenger to Major Anderson demanding the surrender of Fort Sumter, andon his refusal, which was a matter of course, instructed him to go atonce to the nearest battery and order its Commander to open fire. 

The formalities at Sumter quickly ended, Pryor repaired to BatteryJohnson, met the young Captain of artillery in command and presented hisorder. 

With a shout the Captain threw his arms around the messenger and withstreaming eyes cried:

"Your wonderful speech last night made this glorious thing possible! Youshall have the immortal honor of firing the first gun!"

And then a strange revulsion of fooling--or was it a flash of forebodingfrom the hell-lit, battle-scorched future! The orator hesitated andturned pale. It was an honor he could not now decline and yet heinstinctively shrank from it. 

He mopped the perspiration from his brow and looked about in a helplessway. His eye suddenly rested on a grey-haired, stalwart sentinel passingwith quick firm tread. He recognized him immediately as a distinguishedfellow Virginian, a man of large wealth and uncompromising opinions onSouthern rights. 

When Virginia had refused to secede, he cursed his countrymen as a setof hesitating cowards, left the State and moved to South Carolina. Hehad volunteered among the first and carried a musket as a privatesoldier in spite of his snow-white hairs. 

Pryor turned to the Commandant:

"I appreciate, sir, the honor you would do me, but I could not think oftaking it from one more worthy than myself. There is the man whosedevotion to our cause is greater than mine. "

He introduced Edmund Ruffin and gave a brief outline of his career. Theboyish Commandant faced him:

"Will you accept the honor of firing the first shot, sir?"

The square jaw closed with a snap:

"By God, I will!"

The old man seized the lanyard and waited for the Captain and messengerto reach the front to witness the effect of the shot. 

They had scarcely cleared the enclosure when the first gun of actualcivil war thundered its fateful message across the still waters of thebeautiful Southern harbor. 

They watched the great screaming shell rise into the sky, curve downwardand burst with sullen roar squarely over the doomed fort. 

The deed was done!

Instantly came the answering cry of fierce, ungovernable wrath from themillions of the North. The four remaining Southern States wheeled intoline, flung their battle flags into the sky, and the bloodiest war inthe history of the world had begun. 

CHAPTER VI

THE PARTING OF THE WAYS

The wave of fiery enthusiasm for the Union which swept the North wasprecisely what the clear eyes of the President had foreseen. A halfmillion men would have sprung to their arms if there had been any tospring to. The whole country, North, South, East and West was utterlyunprepared for war. The regular army of the United States consisted ofonly sixteen thousand men scattered over a vast territory. 

The President called for seventy-five thousand volunteer militiamen forthree months' service to restore order in the Southern States. Even thisnumber was more than the War Department could equip before their termswould expire and the President had no authority to call State troops fora longer service. 

On the day following the call, Massachusetts started three fullyequipped regiments to the front. The first reached Baltimore on the19th. On their march through the streets to change cars for Washington, they were attacked by a fierce mob and the first battle of the Civil Warwas fought. The regiment lost four killed and thirty-six wounded and themob, twelve killed and a great number wounded. Grimed with blood anddirt the troops reached Washington at five o'clock in the afternoon, thefirst armed rescuers of the Capital. They were quartered in themagnificent Senate Chamber on the Capitol Hill. 

The President was immediately confronted by the gravest crisis. Thefirst blood had stained the soil of the only Slave State, which laybetween Washington and the loyal North. If Maryland should join theConfederacy it would be impossible to hold the Capital. The city wouldbe surrounded and isolated in hostile territory. 

From the first he had believed that the only conceivable way to save theUnion was to prevent the Border Slave States of Maryland, Kentucky andMissouri from joining the South. For the moment it seemed that Marylandwas lost, and with it the Capital of the Nation. A storm of fury sweptthrough the city of Baltimore and the whole State over the killing ofher unarmed citizens by the "Abolition" troops from Massachusetts!

The Mayor of Baltimore sent a committee to the President who declared inthe most solemn tones:

"It is not possible for more soldiers to pass through Baltimore unlessthey fight their way at every step. "

And to make sure that the attempt would not be repeated he burned therailroad bridges connecting the North and cut every telegraph wirecompletely isolating the Capital. 

Gilbert Winter, with his cold blue eyes flashing their slumbering firesof hate, stalked into the White House as the Baltimore committee werepassing down the steps. Without announcement he confronted thePresident. 

"In the name of the outraged dignity of this Republic, " he thundered, "Idemand that these traitors be arrested, tried by drumhead court-martialand hanged as spies!"

The patient giant figure lifted a big hand in a gesture of mild protest:

"Hardly, Senator!"

"And what was your answer?"

"I have written the Governor and the Mayor, " the quiet voice went on, "that for the future troops _must_ be brought here, but I make no pointof bringing them through Baltimore----"

"Indeed!" Winter sneered. 

"All I want is to get them here. I have ordered them to march aroundBaltimore. And in fulfilment of this promise I've sent a regiment backto Philadelphia to come by water----"

"Great God--could cowardice sink to baser crawling!"

The tall man merely smiled--his furious visitor starting for the door, turned and growled:

"It is absolutely useless to discuss this question further?"

"Absolutely, Senator. "

"And you will not order our regular troops to take Baltimore immediatelyat the point of the bayonet?"

"I will not. "

"Good day, sir!"

"Good day, Senator. "

With a muttered explosion of wrath Gilbert Winter shook the dust of theWhite House floor from his feet and solemnly promised God it would bemany moons before he degraded himself by again entering its portals. 

The President had need of all his patience and caution in dealing withMaryland. The next protest demanded that troops should not pass by wayof Annapolis or over any other spot of the soil of the State. 

He calmly but firmly replied:

"My troops must reach Washington. They can neither fly over the State ofMaryland nor burrow under it: therefore, they must cross it, and yourpeople must learn that there is no piece of American soil too good to bepressed by the foot of a loyal soldier on his march to the defense ofthe Capital and his country. "

During these anxious days while the fate of Maryland hung in the balancethe Government was given a startling revelation of what it would mean tohave Maryland hostile territory. 

For a week the President and his Cabinet were in a state of siege. Theygot no news. They could send none save by courier. The maddest rumorswere daily afloat. The President was supposed to be governing a countryfrom which he was completely isolated. 

The tension at last became unbearable. The giant figure stood for hoursalone before his window in the White House, his sombre hazel-grey eyesfixed on the hills beyond the Potomac. When the silence could no longerbe endured the anguish of his heart broke forth in impassioned protest:

"Great God! Why don't they come? Why don't they come! Is our Nation amyth? Is there no North?"

And then the tide turned and the troops poured into the city. 

His patient, careful and friendly treatment of the Marylanders quicklyproved its wisdom. A reaction in favor of the Union set in and the Stateremained loyal to the flag. The importance of this fact could not beexaggerated. Without Maryland, Washington could not have been held. Andthe moment the Capital should fall Europe would recognize theConfederacy. 

The saving of Maryland for the Union, in fact, established Washington asthe real seat of Government, though it was destined to remain for yearsbut an armed fortress on the frontiers of a new Nation. 

The stirring events at Sumter and Baltimore brought more than one familyto the grief and horror of brother against brother and father againstson. 

John Vaughan stood in his room livid with rage confronting Ned on thefirst day that communication was opened with the outside world. 

"You are not going to do this insane thing I tell you, Ned!"

The boyish figure stiffened:

"I am going home to Missouri on the first train out of Washington, raisea company and fight for the South. "

The older man's voice dropped to persuasive tones:

"Isn't there something bigger than fighting for a section? Let's standby the Nation!"

"That's just what I refuse to do. The United States have never been aNation. This country is a Republic of Republics--not an Empire. TheSouth is going to fight for the right of local self-government and theliberties our fathers won from the tyrants of the old world. The Southis right eternally and forever right. The States of this Union havealways been sovereign. "

"All right--all right, " John growled impatiently, "granted, my boy. Still Secession is impossible. A Nation can't jump out of its own skinonce it has grown it. This country has become a Nation. Steam andelectricity have made it so. Railroads have bound us together in ironbands. Can't you see that?"

"No, I can't. Right is right. "

"But if we have actually grown into a mighty united people with onetongue and one ideal is it right to draw the sword to destroy what Godhas joined together? Silently, swiftly, surely during the past thirtyyears we have become one people and the love of the Union has become adeathless passion----"

"You've had a poor way of showing it!" Ned sneered. 

"Still, boy, it's true. I didn't realize it myself until that fort wasfired on and the flag hauled down. And then it came to me in a blindingflash. Old Webster's voice has been hushed in death, but his soul livesin the hearts of our boys. There's hardly one of us who hasn't repeatedat school his immortal words. They came back to me with thrilling powerthe day I read of that shot. They are ringing in my soul to-day----"

John paused and a rapt look crept into his eyes, as he began slowly torepeat the closing words of Webster's speech:

"'When mine eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun inheaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragmentsof a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent;or a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, withfratricidal blood! Let their last feeble and lingering glance ratherbehold the gracious ensign of the Republic, now known and honoredthroughout the earth, still full high advanced, its arms and trophiesstreaming in their original lustre, not a stripe erased or polluted, nota single star obscured, bearing for its motto no such miserableinterrogatory as "What is all this worth?" nor those other words ofdelusion and folly, "Liberty first and Union afterward, " but everywhere, spread all over with living light, blazing in all its ample folds, asthey float over the sea and over the land and in every wind under thewhole heavens, that other sentiment dear to every Americanheart--"Liberty _and_ Union, now and forever, one and inseparable----"'"

He paused, his voice choking with emotion, as he seized Ned's arm:

"O, Boy, Boy, isn't that a greater ideal? That's all the President isasking to-day--to stand by the Union----"

"He is making war on the South!"

"But only as the South is forcing him reluctantly to defend the Union byforce. The South is mad. She will come to her senses after the shock ofthe first skirmish is over. With the Southern members in their places, they have a majority in Congress against the President. He can moveneither hand nor foot. What has the South to gain by Secession? Theyalways controlled the Union and can continue to do so if they standunited with their Northern friends. In the end their defeat is as sureas that twenty millions of free white Americans can whip five millionsof equal courage and daring. They have everything to lose and nothing togain. It's madness--it surpasses belief!"

"That's why I'm going to fight for them!" Ned's answer flashed. "Theystand for a principle--their equal rights under the Republic theirfathers created. They haven't paused to figure on success or failure. Five million freemen have drawn the sword against twenty millionsbecause their rights have been invaded. Might has never yet made right. The South's daring is sublime and, by God, I stand with them!"

His words had the ring of steel in their finality. The two men facedeach other for a moment, tense, earnest, defiant. 

The younger extended his hand:

"Good-bye, John. "

The handsome face of the older brother went suddenly white and he shookhis head:

"No. From to-day we are no longer brothers--we can't be friends!"

Ned smiled, waved his hand and from the door firmly answered:

"As you like--from to-day--foes----"

He closed the door and with swift step turned his face toward the houseof Senator Winter. 

CHAPTER VII

LOVE AND DUTY

The pretty Irish maid nodded and smiled with such a sympathetic look asshe ushered Ned into the cosy back parlor, he wondered if it meantanything. Could she have guessed Betty's secret? She might give him ahint that would lift the fear from his heart. 

He smiled back into her laughing eyes and began awkwardly:

"Oh, I say, Peggy----"

She dropped a pretty courtesy:

"Yiss-sor?"

Somehow it wouldn't work. The words refused to come. Love was too bigand sweet and sacred. It couldn't be hinted at to a third person. And sohe merely stammered:

"Will you--er--please--tell Miss Betty I'm here?"

"Yiss-sor!" Peggy giggled. 

He was glad to be rid of her. He drew his handkerchief, mopped theperspiration from his brow and sat down by the open window to wait. Hisheart was pounding. He looked about the room with vague longing. He hadspent many a swift hour of pain and joy in this room. The sight andsound of her had grown into his very life--he couldn't realize howintimately and how hopelessly until this moment of parting perhapsforever. 

The portrait of her mother hung over the mantel--a life-size oilpainting by a noted French artist, the same brilliant laughing eyes, thesame deep golden brown hair, its wayward ringlets playing loosely abouther fine forehead and shell-like ears. 

Beyond a doubt this pretty mother with the sunshine of France in herblood had known how to flirt in her day--and her beautiful daughter wasenough like that picture to have been her twin sister. 

On the mantel beneath this portrait sat photographs in solid silverframes, one of Wendell Phillips, one of William Lloyd Garrison and oneof John C. Fremont, the first Republican candidate for President. Directly opposite on the wall hung an oil painting of John Brown. Nedcaught the flash of the fanatic in the old madman's eye and was startledat the striking resemblance to Senator Winter. He had never thought ofit before. Gilbert Winter might have been his brother in the flesh as heundoubtedly was in spirit. 

The thought chilled. He looked out the window with a sigh and wonderedhow far the old tyrant would carry his hatred of the South into hisdaughter's life. His eye rested for a moment on the row of lilacs infull bloom in the garden and caught the flash of the big new leaves ofthe magnolia which shadowed the rear wall. The early honeysuckle hadbegun to blossom on the south side, and the violet beds were a solidmass of gorgeous blue. Through the open window came the rich odor of thelong rows of narcissus in full white glory where the jonquils had flameda month ago. 

What a beautiful world to be beaten into a scarred battlefield!

For just a moment the thought wrung the heart of youth and love. It washard just when the tenderest and sweetest impulses that ever filled hissoul wore clamoring for speech, to turn his back on all, say good-byeand go--to war--perhaps to kill his own brother. 

And there could be no mistake, war had come. Overhead he caught thesteady tramp of Senator Winter's feet, a caged lion walking back andforth with hungry eyes turned toward the South. He could feel his deadlyhostility through the very walls. 

A battery of artillery suddenly roared through the streets, the dullheavy rattle of its wheels over the cobblestones, and the crack of thedriver's whip echoing and reëchoing through the house. Behind it camethe steady tramp, tramp, of a regiment of infantry, the loud call oftheir volunteer officers ringing sharply their orders at the turn of thestreet. Far off on the Capitol Hill he heard the sharp note of a bugleand the rattle of horses' hoofs. Every hour the raw troops were pouringinto the city from the North, the East and the West. 

He wondered with a strange catch in his throat what difference this wasgoing to make between him and the girl he loved. There was no longer anyquestion about the love. He marvelled that he had been too stupid torealize it and speak before this shadow had fallen between them. Sheknew that his sympathies were with the South and he knew with equalcertainty she had never believed that he would fight to destroy theUnion when the test should come. He dreaded the shock when he must tellher. 

His heart grew sick with fear. What chance had he with everythingagainst him--her old, fanatical father who loved her with the tenderdevotion of his strong manhood--her own blind admiration for the newPresident, whose coming had brought war--and worst of all he must go andleave John by her side! His brother had given no hint of his realfeelings, but his deeds had been more eloquent than words. He had seenBetty every week since the day they had met--sometimes twice. This heknew. There may have been times he didn't know. 

All the more reason why he must put the thing to the test. Besides he_must_ speak. His hour had struck. His country was calling, and he mustgo--to meet Death or Glory. The woman he loved must know. 

He heard the soft rustle of her dress on the stairs and sprang to hisfeet. She paused in the doorway a vision of ravishing beauty in fullevening dress, her bare arms and exquisite neck and throat gleaming inthe shadows. 

She smiled graciously, her brown eyes sparkling with the conscious powerwhich youth and beauty can never conceal. 

She held out her soft warm hand and his trembling cold fingers graspedit. 

"I'm sorry to have kept you, Ned, " she began softly, "but I was dressingfor the reception at the White House. I promised Mrs. Lincoln to helpher. "

"I didn't mind the wait, Miss Betty, " he answered soberly. "Come intothe garden--I can talk better there among your flowers--I never mindwaiting for you. "

"Why?"

"I've time to dream. "

"Before you must wake?" she laughed. 

"I'm afraid it's so this time----"

"Why so serious--what's the matter?"

"I'm going to the front. "

"So are thousands of brave men, Ned. I've always known you'd go when thetest came. "

He bit his lips and was silent. It was hard, but he had to say it:

"I am going to fight for the South, Miss Betty. "

The silence was painful. She looked steadily into his dark earnest eyes. There was something too big and fine in them to be met with anger orreproach. He was deadly pale and waited breathlessly for her to speak. 

"I'm sorry, " she breathed softly. 

"You know that it costs me something to say this to you, " he stammered. 

"Yes, I know----"

"But it must be. It's a question of principle--a question that cuts tothe bone of a fellow's life and character. A man must be true to what hebelieves to be right, mustn't he?"

His voice was tender, wistful, pleading. The sweet, young face upturnedto his caught his mood:

"Yes, Ned. "

"I couldn't be a real man and do less, could I?"

"No--but I'm sorry"--she paused and suddenly asked, "Your brother agreeswith you?"

Ned frowned: "Why do you ask that question?"

"Because I was sure that he was on our side----"

"Is that all?"

"And I've always supposed he was a sort of guardian----"

"Only because he has always been my big brother and I've loved andadmired him very much. I cried my eyes out the day he left home out inMissouri and came East to college. "

"And you're going to fight him?"

"It's possible. "

"It's horrible!"

"And yet, men who are not savages could only do such things drawn by themightiest forces that move a human soul--you must know that, MissBetty. "

"Yes. "

"There's only one thing in life that's bigger----"

"And that?"

"Is love. I've held it too high and holy a word to speak lightly. Ishall tell but one woman that I love her----"

She looked at him tenderly:

"You glorious, foolish boy!"

Pale and trembling he took her hand, led her to a seat and sank on hisknees by her side. 

"I love you, Betty!" he gasped. "I've loved you from the moment we met, tenderly, madly, reverently. I've been afraid to touch your hand latelylest you feel the pounding of my heart and know. And now it's come--thishour when I must say I love you and good-bye in the same breath! Begentle and sweet to me. I'm afraid to ask if you love me. It's too goodto be true. I'm not worthy to even touch your little hand--and yet I'mdaring to hold it in mine----"

He paused and bowed his head, overcome with emotion. 

Betty gently pressed his trembling fingers. Her voice was low. 

"I'm proud of your love, Ned. It's very beautiful----"

"But you don't love me?" he groaned. 

"Not as you love me. "

He looked searchingly and hungrily into her brown eyes:

"Is it John?"

She shook her head slowly and thoughtfully:

"No. "

"And it's no one else?"

"No. "

"Then I won't take that answer!" he cried with desperate earnestness. "I'm going to win you. I'll love you with a love so big and true I'llmake you love me. Everything's against me now. Your father's against me. I'm going to fight your country and your people. You admire the newPresident. I despise him. The passions of war have separated us, that'sall. But I won't give up. The war can't last long. You'll see things ina different way when it ends. "

Betty smiled into his pleading eyes:

"How little you know me, Boy! Nothing on this earth could separate mefrom the man I love----" she paused and breathed quickly "----I'd followhim blindfold to the bottomless pit once I'd given him my heart!"

Ned rose suddenly to his foot and drew Betty with him. His hand now washot with the passion that fired his soul. 

"Then you're worth fighting for. And I'm going to fight--fight for whatI believe to be right and fight for you----"

He stopped suddenly and his slender figure straightened:

"I'm coming back to you, Betty!" he said with clear ringing emphasis. "I'm coming back to Washington. I'll be with an army conquering, triumphant, because they are right. There'll be a new President in theWhite House and I'll win!"

He bowed and reverently kissed the tips of her fingers. 

"You glorious boy!" she sighed. "It's beautiful to be loved like that!I'm proud of it--I'll hold my head a little higher with every thought ofyou----"

"And you'll think of me sometimes when war has separated us?"

"I'll never forget!"

"And remember that I'm fighting my way back to your side?"

A tender smile played about the corners of her eyes and mouth:

"I'll remember. "

With a quick, firm movement he turned, passed through the house, andstrode toward the iron gate. 

He suddenly confronted John entering. 

The two brothers faced each other for a moment angrily and awkwardly, and then the anger slowly melted from the younger man's eyes. 

"You are taking dinner with Miss Betty to-night?" Ned asked in friendlytones. 

"Yes, I'm going with her to the White House, " was the cold reply. 

"I'm leaving in an hour. Don't you think it's foolish for two brotherswho have been what you and I have been to each other to part like this?We may not see one another again. "

John hesitated and then slowly slipped his arm around the younger man, holding him in silence. When his voice was steady he said:

"Forgive me, Boy. I was blind with anger. It meant so much to me. Butwe'll face it. We'll have to fight it out--as God gives us wisdom to seethe right----"

Ned's hand found his, and clasped it firmly:

"As God gives us to see the right, John--Good-bye. "

"Good-bye, Boy, --it's hard to say it!"

They clung to each other for a moment and slowly drew apart as theshadows of the soft spring night deepened. 

CHAPTER VIII

THE TRIAL BY FIRE

The troops transformed Washington from a lazy Southern town of sixtythousand inhabitants into an armed fortress of the frontier, swarmingwith a quarter of a million excited men and women. Soldiers thronged thestreets and sidewalks and sprawled over every inch of greensward, theiruniforms of every cut and color on which the sun of heaven had shoneduring the past two hundred years of history. 

When the tumult and the shouts of departing regiments had died away fromthe home towns in the North and the flags that were flying from everyhouse had begun to fade under the hot rays of the advancing summer, thepatriotic orators and editors began to demand of their President why hisgrand army of seventy-five thousand lingered at the Capital. When hemildly suggested the necessity of drilling, equipping and properlyarming them he was laughed at by the wise, and scoffed at as a coward bythe brave. 

Mutterings of discontent grew deeper and more threatening. They demandeda short, sharp, decisive campaign. Let the army wheel into line, marchstraight into Richmond, take Jefferson Davis a prisoner, hang him and afew leaders of the "rebellion, " and the trouble would be over. Thisdemand became at length the maddened cry of a mob:

"On to Richmond!"

Every demagogue howled it. Every newspaper repeated it. As city aftercity, and State after State took up the cry, the pressure on the man atthe helm of Government became resistless. It was a political necessityto fight a battle and fight at once or lose control of the people he hadbeen called to lead. 

The Abolitionists only sneered at this cry. They demanded an answer to asingle insistent question:

"What are you going to fight about?"

A battle which does not settle the question of Slavery they declared tobe a waste of blood and treasure. If the slave was not the issue, whyfight? The South would return to the Union which they had always ruledif let alone. Why fight them for nothing?

Gilbert Winter, their spokesman at Washington, again confronted thePresident with his uncompromising demand:

"An immediate proclamation of emancipation!"

And the President with quiet dignity refused to consider it. 

"Why?" again thundered the Senator. 

His answer was always the same:

"I am not questioning the right or wrong of Slavery. If Slavery is notwrong, nothing is wrong. But the Constitution, which I have sworn touphold in the Border States of Maryland, Missouri and Kentucky, guarantees to their people the right to hold slaves if they choose. Wehave already eleven Southern States solidly arrayed against us. Add theBorder States by such a proclamation, and the contest is settled beforea blow is struck. I know the power of State loyalty in the South. I wasborn there. Many a mother in Richmond wept the days the stars andstripes were lowered from their Capitol. And well they might--for theirsires created this Republic. But they brushed their tears away and senttheir sons to the front next day to fight that flag in the name ofVirginia. So would thousands of mothers in these remaining Slave Statesif I put them to the test. I'm going to save them for the Union. InGod's own time Slavery will be destroyed. "

Against every demand of the heart of the party which had given himpower, he stood firm in the position he had taken. 

But there was no resisting the universal demand for a march on Richmond. The cry was literally from twenty millions. He must heed it or yield thereins of power to more daring hands. 

To add to the President's burden, his Secretary of State was stilldreaming of foreign wars. He had drawn up a letter of instruction to ourMinister to Great Britain which would have provoked an armed conflict. When the backwoodsman from Southern Illinois read this document he wascompelled to lay aside his other duties and practically rewrite it. Hiswork showed a freedom of mind, a balance of judicial temperament, aninsight into foreign affairs, a skill in the use of language, a delicacyof criticism, a mastery of the arts of diplomacy which placed him amongthe foremost statesmen of any age, and all the ages. 

He saved the Nation from a second disastrous war, as a mere matter ofthe routine of his office, and at once turned to the pressing work ofthe approaching battle. 

John Vaughan had joined the army as correspondent for his paper, andBetty had been his companion on many tours of inspection through camp, hospitals and drill grounds. Her quick wit and brilliant mind were aninspiring stimulus. She was cool and self-possessed and it rested him tobe near her. She was the only restful woman he had ever encountered atshort range. He was delighted that she seemed content withoutlove-making. There was never a moment when he could catch the challengeof sex in a word or attitude. He might have been her older brother, soperfect and even, so free and simple her manner. 

Betty had watched him with the keenest caution. The first glance atJohn's handsome face had convinced her of his boundless vanity andbeneath it a streak of something cruel. She would have liked himinstantly but for this. His vanity she could forgive. All good-lookingmen are vain. His character was a study of which she never tired. Hestrangely distressed and disturbed her--and this kept puzzling andpiquing her curiosity. Every time she determined to end theirassociation this everlasting question of the man's inner character cameto torment her imagination. 

She was a little disappointed at his not volunteering at the first callas his gallant young brother had done. Yet his reasoning was sound. 

"What's the use?" he replied to her question. "Five men have alreadyvolunteered for every one who can be used. I'm not a soldier byprofession or inclination. A campaign of thirty days, one big battle andthe war's over. The President has more men than he can arm or equip. Mypaper needs me----"

The army encamped along the banks of the Potomac received orders toadvance for the long expected battle in the hills of Virginia. 

Betty stood with the crowds of sweethearts and wives and sisters andmothers and watched them march away through the dust and heat and grimeof the Southern summer, drums throbbing, banners streaming, bayonetsflashing and bands playing. 

John Vaughan was in the ranks of a New York regiment. He pressed Betty'shand with a lingering touch he hadn't intended. She seemed unconsciousthat he was holding it. 

"You are going to march in the ranks?" she asked in surprise. 

"Yes. I want to see war as it is. These boys are my friends from NewYork. "

"You will fight with them?"

"No--just see with their eyes--that's all. And then tell you exactlywhat happened. I can hide behind a barn or a tree without beingcourt-martialed. "

She looked at him quickly with a new interest, pressed his hand againand said:

"Good luck!"

"And home again soon!" he cried with a wave of his arms as he hurried tojoin his marching men. 

The army camped at Centreville, seven miles from Beauregard's lines, andspent the 19th and 20th of July resting and girding their loins for thefirst baptism of fire. The volunteers were eager for the fray. The firsttouch of the skirmishers had resulted in fifteen or twenty killed. Butthe action had been too far away to make any serious impression. 

Between the two armies crept the silvery thread of the little stream ofBull Run, its clear beautiful waters flashing in the July sun. 

Saturday night, the 20th, orders were issued to John's regiment to be inreadiness to advance against the enemy at two o'clock before day onSunday morning. A thrill of fierce excitement swept the camp. They wereloaded down with overcoats, haversacks, knapsacks and baggage, baggage, baggage without end. The single New York regiment to which he hadattached himself required forty wagons to move its baggage. They had abakery and cooking establishment that would have done credit toBroadway. They hurriedly packed all they could carry in readiness forthe march into battle. What would happen to the rest God only knew, butthey hoped for the best. Of course, the battle couldn't last long. Itwas only necessary for this grand army to make a demonstration with itsdrums throbbing, its fifes screaming, its bayonets flashing and itsmagnificent uniforms glittering in the sun--the plumes, the Scotchbonnets, the Turkish fez, the Garibaldi shirts, the blue and grey andgold, the black and yellow, and the red and blue of the fireZouaves--when the rebel mob saw these things they would take to theirheels. 

What the boys were really afraid of was that every rebel would escapebefore they could use their handcuffs and ropes. This would be too badbecause the procession through the crowded streets at home would beincomplete without captives as a warning to future traitors. They weregoing to have a load to carry with their blanket rolls, haversack andknapsack and the full fighting rounds of cartridges, but they were notgoing to leave the handcuffs. If they had to drop anything on the marchthey might ease up on a blanket or half their heavy cartridges. 

John found sleep impossible, and was ready to move at one o'clock. Thedust was rising already in parched clouds from the dry Virginia roads. He walked to the edge of the woods and gazed over the dark moonlit hillsaround Centreville. A gentle breeze began to stir the leaves overheadbut it was hot and lifeless. He caught the smell of sweating horses in abattery of artillery, hitched for the march. It was going to be a day offrightful heat under the clear blazing sun of the South, this Sunday, the 21st of July, 1861. He could see already in his imagination the longlines of sweating half fainting marchers staggering under the strain. Yet not for a moment did he doubt the result. 

From a store on the hill at Centreville came the plaintive strains of anegro's voice accompanied by a banjo. A crowd of Congressmen had drivenout from Washington on a picnic to see the spectacle of the first andlast battle of the "Rebellion. " They were drinking good whiskey andmaking merry. 

For the first time a little doubt crept into his mind. Were they all toococksure? It might be a serious business after all. It was only for amoment and his fears vanished. He was glad Ned was not in those greylines in front. His company had been formed promptly, and he had beenelected first lieutenant, but they were still in Southern Missouri underGeneral Sterling Price. He shouldn't like to come on his brother's bodydead or wounded after the battle--the young dare-devil fool!

Promptly at two o'clock the sharp orders rang from the regimentalcommander:

"Forward march!"

The lines swung carelessly into the powdered dust of the road and movedforward into the fading moonlight, talking, laughing, chatting, joking. War was yet a joke and the contagious fire of patriotism had flung itshalo even over this night's work. Except here and there a veteran of theMexican War, not one of these men had ever seen a battle or had theremotest idea what it was like. 

John was marching with Sherman's brigade of Tyler's division. At sixo'clock they reached the stone bridge which crossed Bull Run. On thehills beyond stretched a straggling line of grey figures. It couldn't bean army. Only a few skirmishers thrown out to warn off an attempt tocross the bridge. A white puff of smoke flashed on a hill toward theSouth, and the deep boom of a Confederate cannon echoed over the valley. Tyler's guns answered in grim chorus. The men gripped their muskets andwaited the word of command. John's brigade was deployed along the edgeof a piece of woods on the right of the Warrenton turnpike and stood forhours. A rumble of disgust swept the lines:

"What t'ell are we waitin' for?"

"Why don't we get at 'em?"

"And this is war!"

And no breakfast either. An hour passed and only an occasional crack ofa musket across the shining thread of silver water and the slow sullenecho of the artillery. They seemed to be just practising. The shots allfell short and nobody was hurt. 

Another hour--it was eight o'clock and still they stood and looked offinto space. Nine o'clock passed and the fierce rays of the climbingJuly sun drove the men to the shelter of the trees. 

"If this is war, " yelled a red-breeched, fierce young Zouave, "I'll takefirecrackers and a Fourth of July for mine!"

"Keep your shirt on, Sonny, " observed a corporal. "We _may_ have somefun yet before night. "

At ten o'clock something happened. 

Suddenly a thousand grey clad men leaped from their cover over the hillsand swept up stream at double quick. A solid mass of dust-coveredfigures were swarming below the stone bridge. 

The regiment's battery dashed into position, its guns were trained andtheir roar shook the earth. The swarming grey lines below the bridgepaid no attention. The shots fell short and Sherman sent for heavierguns. 

The men in grey had formed a new line of battle and faced the Sudley andNew Market road. Far up this road could now be seen a mighty cloud ofdust which marked the approach of the main body of McDowell's Unionarmy. He had made a wide flank movement, crossed Bull Run at Sudley Fordand was attempting to completely turn the Confederate position, whileSherman held the stone bridge with a demonstration of force. 

A cheer swept the line as the dust rose higher and denser and nearer. 

Banks of storm clouds were rising from the horizon. The air was thickand oppressive, as the two armies drew close in tense battle array. Theturning movement had only been partly successful. It had been discoveredbefore complete and a grey line had wheeled, gripped their muskets andstood ready to meet the attack. 

The dust, cloud suddenly fell. McDowell's two divisions of eighteenthousand men spread out in the woods and made ready for the shock. 

The sun burst through the gathering clouds for a moment and the edge ofthe woods flashed with polished steel. 

A Federal battery dashed into position and placed one of its bigblack-wheeled guns in the front yard of a little white-washed farmhouse. The farmer's wife faced the commander with indignant fury:

"Take that thing outen my front yard!"

The dust-and sweat-covered men paid no attention. They quickly sunk thewheels into the ground and piled their shells in place for work. 

The old woman stamped her foot and shouted again: "Take that thing awayI tell you--I won't have it here!"

The captain seized his lanyard, trained his piece and the big black lipsroared. 

With a scream of terror the woman covered her ears, rushed inside andslammed the door. They found her torn and mangled body there after thebattle. An answering shell had crashed through the roof and exploded. 

Sherman's men, standing in the woods before the stone bridge waitingorders, saw the white and blue fog of battle rise above the tree topsand felt the earth tremble beneath their feet. 

And then came to John's ears the first full crash of musketry fire inclose deadly range. As company, regiment and brigade joined in volleyafter volley, it was like the sound of the continuous ripping of heavycanvas, magnified on the scale of a thousand. As the storm cloud sweptover the smoke-choked field the rattle of musketry sounded as if anangry God rode somewhere in their fiery depths, and with giant hand wasripping the heavens open!

An hour passed and a shout of triumph swept the Federal lines. Theycharged and drove the Confederate forces back a half mile from theirfirst stand. There was a lull--a strange silence brooded over theflaming woods and the guns opened from their new position--theartillery's deep thunder and the ripping crash of muskets. Another hourand another wild shout of victory. They had driven the Southerners threequarters of a mile further. 

The shouts suddenly stopped. They had struck something. 

The grim dust-covered figure of a Southern Brigadier General on a littlesorrel horse had barred the way. His bulging forehead with its sombreblue eyes hung ominously over the pommel of his saddle. 

General Bee, of South Carolina, rallying his shattered, broken brigade, pointed his sword to the strange figure and shouted to his men:

"See Jackson standing like a stone wall--rally to the Virginians!"

A bursting shell struck him dead in the next instant, but the world hadheard and the name "Stonewall" became immortal. 

With the last shout, the cry of victory had swept the field to thefarthest line of reserves. John Vaughan secured a horse, galloped to thenearest telegraph line and sent the thrilling news to his paper. Alreadythe wires were flashing it to the farthest cities of the North andWest. 

Victory! The first and last battle of the war had been settled. Hespurred his horse through the blistering heat back to his regiment tojoin in the pursuit of the flying enemy. 

They were just dashing across Bull Run going into action, their battleflag flying and their band playing. They were not long in finding thefoe. The obstruction still remained in the path of the advancing hosts. The grim figure on the little sorrel horse had just ordered his brigadeto fix bayonets. 

In sharp tones his command was snapped:

"Charge and take that battery!"

A low grey cloud rose from the hill, swept over the crack Federalbattery of Ricketts and Griffin and captured their guns. 

John's regiment reached the field just in time to see the cannoneersfall in their tracks at the first deadly volley from the charging men. 

Every horse was down dead or wounded. The pitiful cries of the strickenhorses rang over the field above the roar of the battle, pathetic, heartrending, sickening. 

The two armies had clinched now in the grim struggle which meant defeator victory. It was incredible that the army which swept the field forfour terrible hours should fail. The new regiments formed in line andwith a shout of desperation charged Jackson's men and retook thecaptured battery. 

Again the men in grey rallied and tore the guns a second time from thehands of their owners. 

John saw a shell explode directly beneath a magnificent horse on whicha general sat directing his men. The horse was blown to atoms, thegeneral was hurled twenty feet into the air and struck the ground on hisfeet. He was unhurt, called for another horse, mounted and led the thirdcharge to recover the guns. For a moment the two battle lines mingled indeadly hand to hand combat and once more the guns were retaken. 

It had scarcely been done before Jackson's men rallied, turned and swiftas a bolt of lightning from the smoke-covered hill captured the guns thethird time and held them. 

And then the unexpected, unimaginable thing happened. A new dust cloudrose over the hill toward Manassas Junction. The Southerners were hopingagainst hope that it might be Kirby Smith with his lost regiment fromthe Shenandoah Valley. The regiment had been expected since noon. It wasnow half past three o'clock. General McDowell, the Union Commander, washoping against hope that Patterson's army from the Shenandoah would joinhis. 

They were not long in doubt. The fresh troops suddenly swung intoposition on McDowell's right flank. If they were allies all was well. Ifthey were foes! Suddenly from this line of battle rose a new cry on theface of the earth. From two thousand dusty throats came aheaven-piercing, soul-shivering shout, the cry of the Southern hunter insight of his game, a cry that was destined to ring over many a field ofdeath--the fierce, wild "Rebel Yell. "

They charged McDowell's right flank with resistless onslaught. KirbySmith fell desperately wounded and Elzey took command. Beckham's batteryunlimbered and poured into the ranks from the rear a storm of shell. McDowell swung his battle line into a fiery crescent and made his lastdesperate stand. 

Jubal Early, Elzey's brigade, and Stonewall Jackson charged at the samesignal--and then--pandemonium!

Blind, unreasoning panic seized the army of the North. They broke andfled. Brave officers cursed and swore in vain. The panic grew. Menrushed pell mell over one another, white with terror. They threw downtheir muskets, their knapsacks, their haversacks and ran for theirlives, every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. In vainthe regular army, with splendid discipline, formed a rear guard toeffect an orderly retreat. The crack of their guns only made the men runfaster. 

The wildest rumors flew from parched tongue to throbbing ear. 

An army of a hundred thousand fresh troops had fallen on their tired, bloody ranks. They were led by Jeb Stuart at the head of four thousandBlack Horse Cavalry. If a single man escaped alive it would be for onereason, only they could outrun them. It was a crime for officers to tryto round them up for a massacre. That's all it was--a massacre! Witheach mad thought of the rushing mob the panic grew. They cut the tracesof horses from guns and left them on the field. The frantic mob engulfedthe buggies and carriages of the Congressmen and picnickers fromWashington who had come out to see the Rebellion put down at a singleblow. The road became a mass of neighing, plunging horses, broken andtangled wagons, ambulances and riderless artillery teams. Horses neighedin terror more abject than that which filled the hearts of men. Menonce had reason--the poor horse had never claimed it. The blockades onthe road formed no barrier to the flying men on foot. They streamedaround and overflowed into the woods and fields and pressed on with newterror. God in Heaven! They pitied the poor fools engulfed in thosemasses of maddened plunging brutes and smashing wagons. It was only aquestion of a few minutes when Stuart's sabres would split every skull. 

John Vaughan was swept to the rear on the crest of this wave of terror. Up to the moment it began he had scarcely thought of danger. After thefirst few minutes of nerve tension under fire his spirit had risen asthe combat raged and deepened. It didn't seem real, the falling of menaround him. He had no time to realize that they were being torn topieces by shot and shell and the hail of lead that whistled from thoselong sheets of flaming smoke-banks before him. 

And then the panic had seized him. He had caught its mad unreasoningterror from the men who surged about him. And it was every man forhimself. The change was swift, abject, complete from utterunconsciousness of fear to the blindest terror. Some ran mechanically, with their eyes set in front as if stiff with fear, expecting eachmoment to be struck dead, knowing it was useless to try but going on andon because involuntary muscles were carrying them. 

A fat man caught hold of John's coat and held on for half a mile beforehe could shake him off. He begged piteously for help. 

"Don't leave me, partner!" he panted. "I'm a sinful man. I ain't fit todie. You're young and strong--save me!"

The dead weight was pulling him down and John shook the fellow off withan angry jerk. 

"To hell with you!"

They suddenly came to a lot of horses hid in the woods, rearing andplunging and neighing madly. 

John swerved out of their way and an officer rushed up to him crying:

"Why don't you take a horse?"

He looked at him in a dazed way before he could realize his meaning. 

"Take a horse!" he yelled. "The rebels will get 'em if you don't----"

The men were too intent on running to try to save horses. Horses wouldhave to look out for themselves. 

It suddenly occurred to John that a horse might go faster. Funny hehadn't thought of it at once. He turned, seized one, mounted, andgalloped on. There was a quick halt. A panting mob came surging backover the way they had just fled. A ford in front had been blocked, andin the scramble the cry was raised that Stuart's cavalry were on themand cutting every soul down in his tracks at the crossing. 

John leaped from his horse, turned, and ran straight for the woods. Hedidn't propose to be captured by Stuart's cavalry, that was sure. Heturned to look back and ran into a tree. He climbed it. If he could onlyget to the top before they saw him. He had been an expert climber when aboy in Missouri and he thanked God now for this. He never paused forbreath until he had reached the very top, where he drew the swayingbranches close about his body to hide from the coming foe. The sun wasyet hanging over the trees in the woods--a ball of sullen red firelighting up the hiding place of the last poor devil for the eyes of theavenging hosts who were sweeping on. If it were night it would be allright. But this was no place for a man with an ounce of sense in broaddaylight. The sharpshooters would see him in that tall tree sure. Theycouldn't take him prisoner up there--they would shoot him like asquirrel just to see him tumble and, by the Lord Harry, they would doit, too!

He got down from the tree faster than he climbed up and from the edge ofthe woods spied a dense swamp. He never stopped until he reached thecentre of it, and dropped flat on his stomach. 

"Thank God, at last!" he sighed. 

The Northern army fleeing for Washington had left on the fieldtwenty-eight guns, four thousand muskets, nine regimental flags, fourhundred and eighty-one dead, a thousand and eleven wounded and fourteenhundred captured. The road to the rear was literally sown with pistols, knapsacks, blankets, haversacks, wagons, tools and hospital stores. 

And saddest of all the wreck, lay the bright new handcuffs with coils ofhang-man's rope scattered everywhere. 

The Southern army had lost three hundred and eighty-seven killed, including two brigadier generals, Bee and Barton, and fifteen hundredwounded. They were so completely scattered and demoralized by theirmarvellous and overwhelming victory that any systematic pursuit of theirfoe was impossible. 

The strange silent figure on the little sorrel horse turned his blueeyes toward Washington from the last hilltop as darkness fell, liftedhis head suddenly toward the sky, and cried:

"Ten thousand fresh troops and I'd be in Washington to-morrow night!"

The troops were not to be had, and Stonewall Jackson ordered his men tobivouac for the night and sent out his details to bury the dead and carefor the wounded of both armies. 

Monday morning dawned black and lowering and before the sun rose therain poured in steady torrents. Through every hour of this desolatesickening day the weary, terror-stricken stragglers trailed through thestreets of Washington--their gorgeous plumes soaked and drooping, theScotch bonnets dripping the rain straight down their necks and acrosstheir dirty foreheads, the Garibaldi shirts, the blue and grey, theblack and yellow and gold and blazing Zouave uniforms rain-soaked andmud-smeared. 

Betty Winter bought out a peddler's cake and lemonade stand on the mainline of this ghastly procession and through every bitter hour fromsunrise until dark stood there cheering and serving the men withoutmoney and without price, while the tears slowly rolled down her flushedcheeks. 

CHAPTER IX

VICTORY IN DEFEAT

The President had risen at daylight on the fateful Sunday morning. Hewas sorry this first action must be fought on Sunday. It seemed a badomen. The preachers from his home town of Springfield, Illinois, hadissued a manifesto against his election without regard to their partyaffiliations on account of his supposed hostility to religion. It hadhurt and stung his pride more than any single incident in the campaign. His nature was profoundly religious. He was not a church member becausehis religion had the unique quality of a personal faith which refusedfrom sheer honesty to square itself with the dogmas of any sect. Thepreachers had not treated him fairly, but he cherished no ill will. Heknew their sterling worth to the Republic and he meant to use them inthe tremendous task before him. He had hoped the battle would not bejoined until Monday. But he knew at dawn that a clash was inevitable. 

At half past ten o'clock, though keenly anxious for the first news fromthe front, he was ready to accompany Mrs. Lincoln to church. The breezewas from the South--a hot, lazy, midsummer heavy air. 

The Commander-in-Chief bent his giant figure over a war map, spread onhis desk, fixed the position of each army by colored pins, studied thema moment and quietly walked with his wife to the Presbyterian Church tohear Dr. Gurley preach. He sat in reverent silence through the service, his soul hovering over the distant hills. 

Before midnight the panic stricken Congressmen began to drop into theWhite House, each with his story of unparalleled disaster. At oneo'clock the President stood in the midst of a group of excited, perspiring statesmen who had crowded into the executive office, the onecool, shrewd, patient, self-possessed courageous man among them. Hereviewed their stories quietly and with no sign of excitement, to saynothing of panic. 

They marvelled at his dull intellect. 

He was listening in silence, shaping the big new policy of hisadministration. 

He spent the entire night calmly listening to all these stories, speaking a word of good cheer where it would be of service. 

Mr. Seward entered as he had just finished a light breakfast. 

The Secretary's hair was disheveled, his black string tie under his ear, and he was taking two pinches of snuff within the time he usually tookone. 

In thirty minutes the outlines of his message to Congress and his newproclamation were determined. Mr. Seward left with new courage and agrowing sense of reliance on the wisdom, courage and intellectual powerof the Chief he had thought to supplant without a struggle. 

At eight o'clock the man with a grievance made his first appearance. Hiswrath was past the boiling point, in spite of the fact that hishandsome uniform was still wet from the night's wild ride. 

He went straight to the point. He was a volunteer patriot of highstanding in his community. As a citizen of the Republic, wearing itsuniform, he represented its dignity and power. He had been grosslyinsulted by a military martinet from West Point and he proposed to testthe question whether an American citizen had any rights such men mustrespect. 

The President lifted his calm, deep eyes to the flushed angry face, glanced at the gold marks of his rank, and said:

"What can I do for you, Captain?"

"I've come to ask you, Mr. President, " he began with subdued intensity, "whether a volunteer officer of this country, a man of culture andposition, is to be treated as a dog or a human being?"

The quiet man at the desk slipped his glasses from his ears, polishedthem with his handkerchief, readjusted them, and looked up again withkindly interest:

"What's the trouble?"

"A discussion arose in our regiment on the day we were ordered intobattle over the expiration of our enlistment. I held, as a lawyer, sir, that every day of rotten manual labor we had faithfully performed forour country should be counted in our three months military service. Ourtime had expired and I demanded that we be discharged then andthere----"

"On the eve of a battle?"

"Certainly, sir--what had that to do with our rights? We could havereënlisted on the spot. I refused to take orders from the upstart whocommanded our brigade. "

"And what happened?" the calm voice asked. 

"He dared to threaten my life, sir!"

"Who was he?"

"A Colonel in command of our brigade--named Sherman!"

"William Tecumseh Sherman?"

"Yes, sir. "

"What did he say to you?"

"Swore that if I moved an inch to leave his command he'd shoot me----"

"He said that to you?"

"Swore he'd shoot me down in my tracks like a dog!"

The President gravely rose, placed a big hand on the young officer'sshoulder and in serious, friendly tones said:

"If I were in your place, Captain, I wouldn't trust that man Sherman--Ibelieve he'll do it!"

The astonished volunteer looked up with a puzzled sheepish expression, turned and shot out of the room. 

The long figure dropped into a chair and doubled with laughter. He roseand walked to his window, looking out on the trees swaying beneath thestorm, still laughing. 

"They say that every cloud has its silver lining!" he laughed again. "I'll remember that fellow Sherman. "

Late in the day a report reached him of a beautiful young woman servingrefreshments without pay to the straggling, broken men. 

He turned to Nicolay, his secretary:

"Get my carriage, find her, and bring her to me. I want to see her. "

Betty's eyes were still red when she walked into his office. 

He sprang to his feet, and with long strides met her. He grasped herhand in both his and pressed it tenderly. 

"So it's _you_!" he whispered. 

Betty nodded. 

"My little Cabinet comforter----"

"I'm afraid I'll be no good to-day, " she faltered. 

"Then I'll cheer _you_, " he cried. "I just wanted to thank the womanwho's been standing behind a lemonade counter through this desolate daygiving her time, her money, and her soul to our discouraged boys----"

"And you are not discouraged?" Betty asked pathetically. 

"Not by a long shot, my child! Brush those tears away. Jeffy D. 's theman to be discouraged to-day. This will be a dearly bought victory. Markmy word. For the South it's the glorious end of the war. While theyshout, I'll be sawing wood. It needed just this shock and humiliation tobring the North to their senses. Watch them buckle on their armor now indeadly earnest. The demagogues howled for a battle. They pushed us inand they got it. Some of the Congressmen who yelled the loudest for amarch straight into Richmond without a pause even to water the horsesgot tangled up in that stampede from Bull Run. They thought Jeb Stuart'scavalry were on them and lost their lunch baskets in the scramble. They've seen a great light. I'll get all the money I ask Congress forand all the soldiers we need for any length of time. I've asked for fourhundred million dollars and five hundred thousand men for three years. I shouldn't be surprised if they voted more. The people will have senseenough to see that this defeat was exactly what they should haveexpected under such conditions. "

His spirit was contagious. Betty forgot her shame and fear. 

"You're wonderful, Mr. President, " the girl cried in rapt tones. "Now Iknow that you have come into the kingdom for such a time as this. "

"And so have you, my child, " he answered reverently. "And so has everybrave woman who loves this Union. That's what I wanted to say to you andthank you for your example. "

Betty left the White House with a new sense of loyal inspiration. Shewalked on air unconscious of the pouring rain. She paused before athrong that blocked the sidewalk. 

Some of them were bareheaded, the rain drops splashing in their faces, apparently unconscious of anything that was happening. 

She pushed her way into the crowd. They were looking at the bulletinboard of the _Daily Republican_, reading the first list of the dead andwounded. Her heart suddenly began to pound. John Vaughan had notreported his return. He might be lying stark and cold with the rainbeating down on his mangled body. She read each name in the list of thedead, and drew a sigh of relief. But the last bulletin was not cheering. It promised additional names for a later edition. Besides, the WarDepartment might not be relied on for reports of non-combatants. Anewspaper correspondent was not enrolled as a soldier. His death mightremain unrecorded for days. 

On a sudden impulse she started to enter the office and ask if he hadreturned, stopped, blushed, turned and hurried home with a new fearmingled with a strange joy beating in her heart. 

CHAPTER X

THE AWAKENING

John Vaughan had secured a loose horse on emerging from his friendlyswamp. The shadows of night had given him the chance to escape. Hishorse was fresh, the rain had begun to fall, the heat had abated and hemade good time. 

He reached the office before midnight, took his seat at his desk, paleand determined to tell the truth. He wrote an account of the battle andthe panic in which it had ended so vivid, so accurate, so terrible inits confession of riot and dismay, the editor refused to print it. 

"Why not?" John sternly demanded. 

"It won't do. "

"It's true!"

"Then the less said about it the better. Let's hush it up. "

John smiled:

"I'm sorry. I would like to see that thing in type just as I saw andfelt and lived it. It's a good story and it's my last--it's a pity tokill it----"

"Your last? What do you mean?" the chief broke in. 

"That I'm going into the ranks, and see if I am a coward--" he pausedand scowled--"it looked like it yesterday for a while, and mycuriosity's aroused. Besides, the country happens to need me. "

"Rubbish, " the editor cried, "the country will get all the men it needswithout you. You're a trained newspaper man. We need you here. "

"Thanks. My mind's made up. I'm going to Missouri and raise a company. "

The chief laid a hand on John's shoulder. "Don't be a fool. Stand by theship. I'll put your damned story in just as you wrote it if that's whathurts. "

John flushed and shook his head:

"But it isn't. You may be right about the stuff. If I were editor I'dkill it myself. No. My dander's up. I want a little taste of the realthing. I saw enough yesterday to interest me. The country's calling andI've got to go. "

The boys crowded around him and shook hands. From the door he waved hisgood-bye and they shouted in chorus:

"Good luck!"

Arrived at his room, he wrote a note to Betty Winter. He read it overand it seemed foolishly cold and formal. He tore it up and wrote asimpler one. It was flippant and a little presumptuous. He destroyedthat and decided on a single line:

 "MY DEAR MISS BETTY:

 "Can I see you a few minutes before leaving to-night?

 "JOHN VAUGHAN. "

He sent it and began hurriedly to dress, his mind in a whirl of nervousexcitement. His vanity had not even paused to ask whether her answerwould be yes. He was sure of it. The big exciting thing was that he hadmade a thrilling discovery in the midst of that insane panic. He was inlove--for the first time in life foolishly and madly in love. Fightingand elbowing his way through that throng of desperate terror-strickenmen and horses it had come to him in a flash that life was sweet andprecious because Betty Winter was in it. The more he thought of it themore desperate became his determination not to be killed until he couldsee and tell her. Through every moment of his wild scramble throughwoods and fields and crowded road, up that tree and down again, hisheart was beating her name:

"_Betty--Betty--Betty!_"

What a blind fool he had been not to see it before! She, too, had beenblind. It was all clear now--this mysterious power that had called themfrom the first, neither of them knowing or understanding. 

When Betty took his note from the maid's hand her eyes could see nothingfor a moment. She turned away that Peggy should not catch her whiteface. She knew instinctively the message was from John Vaughan. It mayhave been written with his last breath and sent by a friend. She brokethe seal with slow, nervous dread, looked quickly, and laughed aloudwhen she had read, a joyous, half hysterical little laugh. 

"The man's waiting for an answer, Miss, " the maid said. 

Betty looked at her stupidly, and blushed:

"Why, of course, Peggy, in a moment tell him. "

She wrote half a page in feverish haste, telling him how happy she wasto know that he had safely returned, read it over twice, flushed withanger at her silly confusion and tore it into tiny bits. She triedagain, but afraid to trust herself, spread John's note out and used itfor a model, "MY DEAR MR. VAUGHAN:

 "Certainly, as soon as you can call. 

 "BETTY WINTER. "

And then she sat down by her window and listened to the splash of therain against the glass, counting the minutes until he should ring herdoor bell. 

And when at last he came, she had to stand before her clock and countthe seconds off for five minutes lest she should disgrace herself byrushing down stairs. 

Their hands met in a moment of awkward silence. The play of mind on mindhad set each heart pounding. The man of easy speech found for the firsttime that words were difficult. 

"You've heard the black news, of course, " he stammered. 

"Yes----"

Her eyes caught the haggard drawn look of his face with a start. 

"You saw it all?" she asked. 

"I saw so much that I can never hope to forget it, " he answeredbitterly. 

He led her to a seat and she flushed with the sudden realization that hehad been holding her hand since the moment they met. She drew it awaywith a quick, nervous movement, and sat down abruptly. 

"Was it really as bad as it looks to-day?" she asked with an attempt atconventional tones. 

"Worse, Miss Betty. You can't imagine the sickening shame of it all. Iwas never in a battle before. I wouldn't mind repeating that experienceat close quarters--but the panic----"

"The President is the coolest and most courageous man in the countryto-day, " she put in eagerly. "It's inspiring to talk to him. "

A bitter speech against a Commander-in-Chief who could allow himself tobe driven into a battle by the chatter of fools rose to his lips, but heremembered her admiration and was silent. He fumbled at his watch chainand pulled the corner of his black moustache with growing embarrassment. The thing was more difficult than he had dreamed. 

"I have resigned from the paper, " he said at last. 

"Resigned?" she repeated mechanically. 

"Yes. I'm going back home to-night and help raise a company in answer tothe President's proclamation. "

The room was very still. Betty turned her eyes toward the window andlistened to the splash of the wind driven rain. 

"To your home town?" she faltered. 

"Yes. To Palmyra. "

"Where your brother went to raise a company to fight us--strange, isn'tit?" Her voice had a far-away sound as if she were talking to herself. 

"Yes--to fight us, " he repeated in low tones. 

Again a silence fell between them. He looked steadily into her browneyes that were burning now with a strange intensity, tried to speak, andfailed. He caught the gasp of terror in the deep breath with which sheturned from his gaze. 

"My chief was bitter against my going--I--I hope you approve--MissBetty?" He spoke with pauses which betrayed his excitement. 

"Yes, I'm glad----"

She stopped short, turned pale and fumbled at the lace handkerchief shecarried. 

"Every brave man who loves the Union must feel as you do to-day--andgo--no matter how hard it may be for those who--for those he leaves athome----"

She paused in embarrassment at the break she had almost made, andflushed scarlet. 

He leaned close:

"I'm afraid I'm not brave, Miss Betty. I ran with the rest of themyesterday, ran like a dog for my life"--he paused and caught hisbreath--"but I'm not sorry for it now. In the madness of that scrambleto save my skin I had a sudden revelation of why life was sweet----"

He stopped and she scarcely breathed. Her heart seemed to cease beating. Her dry lips refused to speak the question she would ask. The sweetmoment of pain and of glory had come. She felt his trembling hand seizeher ice-cold fingers as he went on impetuously:

"Life was sweet because--because--I love you, Betty. "

She sprang to her feet trembling from head to foot. He followed, whispering:

"My own, I love you--I love you----"

With sudden fierce strength he clasped her in his arms and covered herlips with kisses. 

She lifted her trembling hands:

"Please--please----"

Again he smothered her words and held her in mad close embrace. 

"Let me go--let me go!" she cried with sudden fury, thrusting him fromher, breathless, her eyes blinded with tears. 

"Tell me that you love me!" he cried with desperate pleading. 

The splendid young figure faced him tense, quivering with rage. 

"How dare you take me in your arms like that without a word?" Her eyeswere flashing, her breast rising and falling with quick furiousbreathing. 

He seized her hand and held it with cruel force. Her eyes blazed and hedropped it. She was thinking of the scene with his slender chivalrousbrother. She could feel the soft kiss on the tips of her fingers and theblood surged to her face at the thought of this man's lips pressed onhers in mad, strangling passion without so much as by your leave! Shecould tear his eyes out. 

He looked at her now in a hopeless stupor of regret. 

"Forgive me, Betty, " he faltered. "I--I couldn't help it. "

Her eyes held his in a cold stare:

"I suppose that's all any woman has ever meant to you, and you took mefor granted----"

He lifted his hand in protest. 

"Please, please, Miss Betty, " he groaned. 

"You may go now, " she said with slow emphasis. 

He looked at her a moment dazed, and a wave of sullen anger slowlymounted his face to the roots of his black tangled hair, which hesuddenly brushed from his forehead. 

Without a word he walked out into the storm, his jaws set. The door hadscarcely closed, when the trembling figure crumpled on the lounge in aflood of bitter tears. 

CHAPTER XI

THE MAN ON HORSEBACK

Before the sun had set on the day of storm which followed the panic atBull Run, the President had selected and summoned to Washington the manwho was to create the first Grand Army of the Republic--a man destinedto measure the full power of his personality against the ChiefMagistrate in a desperate struggle for the supremacy of the life of theNation itself. 

General George Brinton McClellan, in answer to the summons, reachedWashington on July the 20th, and immediately took command of the Army ofthe Potomac--or of what was left of it. 

The President did not make this selection without bitter opposition andgrave warning. He was told that McClellan was an aggressive pro-slaveryDemocrat, a political meddler and unalterably opposed to him and hisparty on every essential issue before the people. These arguments foundno weight with the man in the White House. He would ask but onequestion, discuss but one issue:

"Is McClellan the man to whip this new army of 500, 000 citizens into amighty fighting machine and level it against the Confederacy?"

The all but unanimous answer was:

"Yes. "

"Then I'll appoint him, " was the firm reply. "I don't care what hisreligion or his politics. The question is not _whether I shall save theUnion--but that the Union shall be saved_. My future and the future ofmy party can take care of themselves--if they can't, let them die!"

The new Commander was a man of striking and charming personality, butthirty-four years old, and graduated from West Point in 1846. He hadserved with distinction in the war against Mexico, studied militaryscience in Europe under the great generals in command at the Siege ofSebastopol, and had achieved in West Virginia the first success won inthe struggle with the South. He had been opposed in West Virginia byGeneral Robert E. Lee, the man of destiny to whom the President, throughGeneral Scott, had offered the command of the Union army before Lee haddrawn his sword for Virginia. He was a past master of the technicalscience of engineering, defense and military drill. 

In spite of his short physical stature, he was of commanding appearance. On horseback his figure was impressively heroic. It took no secondglance to see that he was a born leader of men. 

On the first day of his active command he had already conceived the ideathat he was a man of destiny. He wrote that night to his wife:

"I find myself in a new and strange position here--President, Cabinet, General Scott and all deferring to me. By some strange operation ofmagic, I seem to have become the power of the land----"

Three days later he wrote again of his sensational reception in theSenate Chamber:

"I suppose half a dozen of the oldest members made the remark I ambecoming so much used to:

"'Why how young you look and yet an old soldier!'

"They give me my way in everything, full swing and unbounded confidence. All tell me that I am held responsible for the fate of the Nation, andthat all its resources shall be placed at my disposal. It is an immensetask that I have on my hands, but I believe I can accomplish it. When Iwas in the Senate Chamber to-day and found those old men flocking aroundme; when I afterward stood in the library looking over the Capital of agreat Nation, and saw the crowd gathering to stare at me, I began tofeel how great the task committed to me. How sincerely I pray God that Imay be endowed with the wisdom and courage necessary to accomplish thework. Who would have thought when we were married, that I should so soonbe called upon to save my country?"

Nor was McClellan the only man who saw this startling vision. He madefriends with astounding rapidity, and held men to him with hooks ofsteel. 

With utter indifference to his own fame or future, the President joinedthe public in praise of the coming star. The big heart at the WhiteHouse rejoiced in the strength of his Commanding General. But the manwho measured the world by the fixed standards of an exact science had nopowers of adjustment to the homely manners, simple unconventional ways, and whimsical moods of Abraham Lincoln. 

McClellan's one answer to all inquiries about his relation to the ChiefExecutive was:

"The President is honest and means well!"

The smile that played about the corners of his fine, keen, blue eyeswhen he said this left no doubt in the mind of his hearer as to his realopinion of the poor country lawyer who had by accident been placed inthe White House. 

And so the inevitable happened. The suggestions of the President and hisWar Department were early resented as meddling with affairs which didnot concern them. 

The President saw with keen sorrow that there were brewing schemesbehind the compelling blue eyes of the "Napoleon" he had created. Thetalk of McClellan's aspirations to a military dictatorship, which wouldinclude the authority of the Executive and the Legislative branches ofthe Government, had been current for more than two months. His recentmanner and bearing had given color to these reports. 

The splendor and ceremony of his headquarters could not have beensurpassed by Alexander or Napoleon. His growing staff already included aPrince of the Royal Blood, the distinguished son of the Emperor ofFrance, and the Comte de Paris his attendant. His baggage train wasdrawn by one hundred magnificent horses perfectly matched, hitched inteams of four to twenty-five glittering new vans. His Grand Army spreadover mile after mile of territory far back into the hills of Virginia. The autumnal days were brilliant with fresh uniforms, stars, sabres, swords, spurs, plate, dinners, wines, cigars, the pomp and pride andglory of war. 

Men stood in little groups and discussed in whispers the significance ofhis continued stay in the Capital. 

"If the President has any friends, the hour has come when they've gotto stand by him!" The speaker was a man of fifty, a foreigner who hadmade Washington his home and liked Lincoln. 

"Nonsense, my dear fellow, " a tall Westerner replied, "we may have toget a few rifles and guard the White House from somebody's attempt tooccupy it, but we'll not need any big guns. "

"If you'd heard the talk last night, " the foreigner replied, with ashrug of his shoulder, "you'd change your mind----"

The Westerner shook his head:

"No! The General's not that big a fool and the men around him havebetter sense. And if they haven't--if they all should go crazy--itcouldn't be done. They couldn't control the army. "

"Did you ever hear the army cheer as 'Little Mac' rides along the line?"

"Yes, but it don't mean an Emperor for all that----"

"I'm not so sure!"

And there were men of National reputation who considered the chances ofthe man on horseback good at this moment. Such a man had openly attachedhimself to the General as his attorney--no less a personage than thedistinguished Attorney General of the late Cabinet, Edwin M. Stanton. During the closing days of Buchanan's crumbling administration Stantonhad become the dominating force of the Capital. His daring and his skillhad defeated the best laid schemes of the Southern party and broken itsgrip on the administration. He had remained in Washington as a lawyerpracticing before the Supreme Court and had become the most aggressiveobserver and critic of Lincoln and his Cabinet. His scorn for thePresident knew no bounds. 

"No one, " he wrote to General John A. Dix, "can imagine the deplorablecondition of this city and the hazard of the Government, who did notwitness the weakness and the panic of the administration and the painfulimbecility of Lincoln. "

To Buchanan, his ex-Chief, he wrote:

"A strong feeling of distrust in the candor and sincerity of Lincoln'spersonality and of his Cabinet has sprung up. It was the imbecility ofthis administration which culminated in the catastrophe of Bull Run. Irretrievable misfortune and National disgrace never to be forgotten areto be added to the ruin of all peaceful pursuits and National bankruptcyas the result of Lincoln's running the machine for five months. Jefferson Davis will soon be in possession of Washington. "

Not only in letters to the leaders of public opinion in the Nation didthe aggressive and powerful lawyer seek to destroy the Government, butin his conversation in Washington he was equally daring, venomous andpersonal in his abuse of the President. "A low, cunning clown" and "theoriginal gorilla" were his choice epithets. 

Stanton's influence over McClellan was decided and vital from the momentof their introduction. It was known among the General's intimate friendsthat he had advised again and again that he use his power as Commanderof the Army to declare a Dictatorship, depose the President and dissolvethe sittings of Congress until the war should be ended. 

How far McClellan had dallied with this dangerous and alluring schemewas a matter of conjecture. It is little wonder that the wildest rumorsof intrigues, of uprisings, of mutiny, filled the air. 

McClellan had doggedly refused either to move his army or to formally gointo winter quarters until the middle of December, when he took to hisbed and announced that he was suffering from an attack of typhoid fever. 

The President was further embarrassed by the course of his Secretary ofWar, Cameron, who, while laboring under the censure of Congress for theconduct of his office, had allowed Senator Winter to stab his chief inthe back by recommending in his report that the slaves be armed by theGovernment and put into the ranks of the armies. Senator Winter, as theRadical leader, knew that to meet such an issue once raised thePresident must rebuke his Secretary and apologize to the Border SlaveStates. He would thus alienate from his support all Cameron's friends, and all friends of the negro. The Senator did not believe the Presidentwould dare to fight on such an issue. 

He had misjudged his man. The President not only rebuked his Secretaryby suppressing his report and revising its language, he demanded andreceived his resignation, notwithstanding the fact that Cameron was themost powerful politician in the most powerful State of the North. 

He at once sought a new Secretary of War, free from all partyentanglements, who could not be influenced by contractors or jobbers orscheming politicians, who was absolutely honest and who had a boundlesscapacity for work. 

Strangely enough, his eye rested on Edward M. Stanton, his arch enemy, the man who had become McClellan's confidential attorney. 

As an aggressive patriotic Democrat, Stanton had won the confidence ofthe public in the last administration. His capacity for work had provedlimitless. He was under no obligations to a living soul who could askaught of Lincoln's administration. He was savagely honest. At the momentthe discovery of gigantic frauds practiced on the War Department bythieving contractors, coupled with fabulous expenditures in dailyexpenses, had destroyed the confidence of the money lenders in theintegrity of the Government. The Treasury was facing a serious crisis. 

And then the astounding thing happened. Without consulting a soul insidehis Cabinet or out, Abraham Lincoln appointed his bitterest foe from theparty of his enemies his Secretary of War. He offered the place to EdwinM. Stanton. 

Perhaps the most astonished man in America was Stanton himself. To theamazement of his friends, as well as his critics, he promptly acceptedthe position. 

Senator Winter, whose radical temperament had found in Stanton acongenial spirit, though as wide as the poles apart in politics, met himin the lobby of the Senate Chamber on the day his appointment wasconfirmed. 

He broke into a cynical laugh and asked:

"And what will you do?"

Stanton's keen spectacled eyes bored him through in silence as hesnapped:

"I may make Abe Lincoln President of the United States. "

Evidently another man was entering the Cabinet under the impression thatthe hands of an impotent Chief Magistrate needed strengthening. Themerest glance at this man's burly thick set body, his big leonine headwith its shock of heavy black hair, long and curling, his huge grizzlybeard and full resolute lips, was enough to convince the most casualobserver that he could be a dangerous enemy or a powerful ally. 

The President was warned of this appointment, but his confidence wasunshaken. His reply was a revelation of personality:

"I have faith in affirmative men like Stanton. They stand between anation and perdition. He has shown a loyalty to the Union that roseabove his own partisan creed of a lifetime. I like that kind of a man. "

"He'll run away with the whole concern, " was his friend's laconic reply. 

The President's big generous mouth moved with a smile:

"Well, we may have to treat him as they sometimes did a Methodistminister I knew out West. He was a mighty man in prayer and exhortation. At times his excitement rose to such threatening heights the elders putbrick bats in his pockets to hold him down. We may be obliged to serveStanton the same way----"

He paused and laughed. 

"But I guess we'll let him jump awhile first!"

The men who knew the inner secrets of Stanton's relations to McClellanwatched this drama with keen interest. Had he gone into the Cabinet toplace the General in supreme power in a moment of crisis? Or had he atheart deserted the Commander with the intention of using the enormouspower of the War Department to further a scheme of equal daring forhimself? They could only watch the swiftly moving scenes of the warpageant for their answer. 

One fact was standing out each day with sharp and clean cutdistinctness, a struggle of giants was on beneath the surface. Startlingsurprise had followed startling surprise during the past months. Meneverywhere were asking one another, what next? The air of Washington wasfoul with the breath of passion and intrigue. Purposes and methods wereeverywhere assailed. Men high in civil life were believed to be plottingwith military conspirators to advance their personal fortunes on theruins of the Republic. 

Around two men were gathering the forces whose clash would decide thedestiny of the Nation--the struggle between the supremacy of civilauthority in the President, and the war-created strength of the MilitaryCommander represented by McClellan. Could the Republic survive this warwithin a war?

CHAPTER XII

LOVE AND PRIDE

Betty Winter had found her fierce resolution to blot John Vaughan fromher life a difficult one to keep. The first two weeks were not so hard. Every instinct of her pure young girlhood had cried out against theconceit which had imagined her conquest so easy. The memory of his armsabout her crushing with cruel force, his hot lips on hers in mad, unasked kisses brought the angry blood mounting to her cheeks. Shewalked the floor in rage and dropped at last exhausted:

"I could kill him!"

The memory which stung deepest was the terror she had felt in hisarms--the sudden fear of the brute quivering in tense muscles andthrobbing in passionate kisses. She had thought this man a gentleman. Inthat flash of self-revealing he was simply a beast. It had unsettled herwhole attitude toward life. For the first time she began to suspect thedarker side of passion. If this were love, she would have none of it. 

Again she resolved for the hundredth time, to banish the last thought ofhim. If there were no cleaner, more chivalrous men in the world shecould live without them. But there were men with holier ideals. NedVaughan was one. She drew from the drawer the only letter she hadreceived from him and the last she would probably get in many a day, ashe had crossed the dead line of war and was now somewhere in the greatsilent South. She read it over and over with tender smiles:

 "DEAR MISS BETTY;

 "I can't disappear behind the battle lines without a last word to you. I just want to tell you that every hour, waking or dreaming, the memory of you is my inspiration. The hardest task is easy because my heart is beating with your name with every stroke. For me the drums throb it, the bugle calls it. I hear it in the tramp of soldiers, the rumble of gun, the beat of horses' hoofs and the rattle of sabre, --for I am fighting my way back, inch by inch, hour by hour, to you, my love!

 "You cannot answer this. There will be no more mails from the South--no more mails from the North until I see you again on the Capitol Hill in Washington. There has never been a doubt in my heart that the South shall win--that I shall win. And when I stand before you then it will not be as conqueror, though victorious. I shall bow at your feet your willing slave. And I shall kiss my chains because your dear hands made them. I can expect no answer to this. I ask none. I need none. My love is enough. It's so big and wonderful it makes the world glorious. 

 "NED. "

How sharp and bitter the contrast between the soul of this chivalrousboy and his vain conceited brother! She loathed herself for her blindstupidity. Why had she preferred him? Why--why--why! The very questioncut her. It was not because John Vaughan had chosen to cast his lot withher people of the North. Rubbish! She had a sneaking admiration for Nedbecause he had dared her displeasure in making his choice. There must besomething perverse in her somewhere. She could see it now. It must be soor the evil in John Vaughan's character would not have drawn her as amagnet from the first. She hadn't a doubt now that all the stories abouthis fast life and his contempt for women were true and much more thangossip had dreamed. 

He would write a letter of apology, of course, in due season. He was tooshrewd a man of the world, too skillful an interpreter of the whims ofwomen to write at once. He was waiting for her to cool--waiting untilshe should begin to be anxious. It was too transparent. She would givehim a surprise when his letter came. The shock would take a little ofthe conceit out of him. She would return his letter unopened by the nextmail. 

When four weeks passed without a word the first skirmish between loveand pride began. Perhaps she had been unreasonable after all. Was itright to blame a man too harshly for being mad about the woman he loved?In her heart of hearts did she desire any other sort of lover? Tears ofvexation came in spite of every effort to maintain her high position. She had to face the plain truth. She didn't desire a cold lover. Shewished him to be strong, manly, masterful--yes, masterful, that wasit--yet infinitely tender. This man was simply a brute. And yet thememory of his mad embrace and the blind violence of his kisses hadbecome each day more vivid and terrible--terrible because of theirfascination. She accepted the fact at last in a burst of bitter tears. 

And then came the announcement in the _Daily Republican_ of his returnto the city and his attachment to the company of cavalry at McClellan'sheadquarters. The thought of his presence sent the blood surging inscarlet waves to her face. There was no longer any question in her mindthat she had wounded him too deeply for forgiveness. Her dismissal hadbeen so cold, so curt, it had been an accusation of dishonor. She couldsee it clearly now. He had poured out his confession of utter love in atorrent of mad words and clasped her in his arms without thought orcalculation, an act of instinctive resistless impulse. He had justlyresented the manner in which she had repulsed him. Yet she had simplyfollowed the impulse of her girlish heart, and she would die sooner thanapologize. 

She accepted the situation at last with a dull sense of pain anddespair, and tried to find consolation in devotion to work in thehospitals which had begun to grow around the army of drillingvolunteers. 

Events were moving now with swift march, and her championship of thePresident gave her days of excitement which brought unexpected relieffrom her gloomy thoughts. She was witnessing the first movements of theNational drama from the inside and its passion had stirred herimagination. Her father's growing hatred of Abraham Lincoln left her inno doubt as to whose master hand had guided the assaults on the rear ofhis distracted administration. 

The fall of Cameron, the Secretary of War, had been the work of herfather, with scarcely a suggestion from without. The Abolitionist haddetermined to force Lincoln to free the slaves at once or destroy himand his administration. They also were whispering the name of theirchosen dictator who would assume the reins of power on his downfall. 

The President was equally clear in his determination not to allow hishand to be forced and lose control of the Border Slave States, whoseinfluence and power were becoming each day more and more essential tothe preservation of the Union. He had succeeded in separating thecounties of Western Virginia and had created a new State out of them. His policy of conciliation and forbearance was slowly, but surely, welding Kentucky, Missouri and Maryland to the Nation. 

Any tinkering at this moment with the question of Slavery would imperilthe loyalty of these four States. He held them now and he refused tolisten to any man or faction who asked him to loosen that grip. 

The true policy of the Radicals, Senator Winter realized, was to fireinto the President's back through his generals in the field in anemancipation crusade which would work the North into a frenzy ofpassion. He had shrewdly calculated the chances, and he did not believethat Lincoln would dare risk his career on a direct order revoking sucha proclamation. 

General Hunger was the first to accept the mutinous scheme. He issued aproclamation declaring all slaves within the lines of the Union armyforever free, and a wave of passionate excitement swept the North. Thequiet self-contained man in the White House did not wait to calculatethe force of this storm. He revoked Hunter's order before the ink wasdry on it. 

Again Senator Winter invaded the Executive office:

"You dare, sir, " he thundered, "to thus spit in the face of themillions of the loyal North who are pouring their blood and treasureinto this war?"

"I do, " was the even answer. "I am the President of the United Statesand as Commander-in-Chief of its Army and Navy I will not be disobeyedby my subordinates on an issue I deem vital to the Nation's existence. If in the fulness of God's time an emancipation proclamation must beissued in order to save the Union, I know my duty and I'll do it withoutthe interference of any of my generals in the field----"

He paused and glanced over the rims of his spectacles with a suddenflash from his deep set eyes:

"Do I make myself clear?"

Winter's face went white with anger as he slowly answered:

"Perfectly. It seems you have learned nothing from the wrath with whichyour sacrifice of John C. Fremont to appease the slave power wasreceived?"

"So it seems, " was the laconic response. "Fremont issued, withoutconsulting me, his famous proclamation last August. I saw your hand, Senator, in that clause 'freeing' the slaves in the State of Missouri. "

"And I warn you now, " the Senator growled, "that the storm ofindignation which met that act was nothing to one that will break aboutyour head to-morrow! The curses of Fremont's soldiers still ring in yourears. The press, the pulpit, the platform and both Houses of Congressgave you a taste of their scorn you will not soon forget. Thousands ofsober citizens who had given you their support, whose votes put you inthis office, tore your picture down from their walls and trampled itunder their feet. For the first time in the history of the Republic theeffigy of a living President was burned publicly in the streets of anAmerican city amid the jeers and curses of the men who elected him. Yoursacrifice of Fremont has made him the idol of the West. He is to themto-day what Napoleon in exile was to France. This is a Government of thepeople. Even a President may go too far in daring to override publicopinion!"

The giant figure slowly rose and faced his opponent, erect, controlled, dignified:

"But the question is, Senator, who is a better judge of true publicopinion, you or I? It remains to be seen. In the meantime I must tellyou once more that I am not the representative of a clique, or faction. I am the Chief Magistrate of all the people--I am going to save thisUnion for them and their children. I hope to live to see the death ofSlavery. That is in God's hands. My duty to-day is as clear as thenoonday sun. I can't lose the Border Slave States at this stage of thegame and save the Union--therefore I must hold them at all hazards. Letthe heathen rage and the people imagine vain things if they will----"

"Then it's a waste of breath to talk!" the Senator suddenly shouted. 

The rugged head bowed gracefully:

"I thought so from the first--but I've tried to be polite----"

"Good day, sir!"

"Good day, Senator, " the President laughed, "come in any time you wantto let off steam. It'll make you feel easier and it won't hurt me. "

Abraham Lincoln knew the real cause of public irritation and loss ofconfidence. The outburst of wrath over Fremont was but a symptom. Thedisease lay deeper. The people had lost confidence in his War Departmentthrough the failure of his first Secretary and the inactivity of thearmy under McClellan. He had applied the remedy to the first cause inthe dismissal of Cameron and the appointment of Stanton. It remained tobe seen whether he could control his Commanding General, or whetherMcClellan would control the Government. 

The situation was an intolerable one--not only to the people who weresacrificing their blood and money, but to his own inherent sense ofhonor and justice. He had no right to organize and drill a mighty armyto go into winter quarters, drink and play cards, and dance while avictorious foe flaunted their flag within sight of the Capitol. 

Besides, the Western division under two obscure Generals, Grant andSherman, had moved in force in mid-winter and with a mere handful of mencompared to the hosts encamped in Washington had captured Fort Henry andFort Donelson and taken fourteen thousand prisoners. The navy hadbrilliantly coöperated on the river, and this fact only made morepainful the disgrace of the Confederate blockade of the Capital by itshalf dozen batteries on the banks of the Potomac. 

The President was compelled to test the ugly question of the extent andpower of General McClellan's personal support. 

He returned from a tour of inspection and stood on the hilltopoverlooking McClellan's miles of tents and curling camp fires. He turnedto Mrs. Lincoln, who had accompanied him:

"You know what that is?"

"The Army of the Potomac, of course, Father. "

"No!" he replied bitterly, "that's only McClellan's body guard--ahundred and eighty thousand. "

The General had persistently refused to take any suggestion from hissuperior as to the movement of his army. Would Lincoln dare to force theissue between them and risk the mutiny of this Grand Army undoubtedlydevoted to their brilliant young leader? There were many who believedthat if he dared, the result would be a _coup d'état_ which would placethe man on horseback in supreme power. 

The moment the President reached the point where he saw that furtherdelay would mean grave peril to the Nation, he acted with a promptnesswhich stunned the glittering military court over which the youngNapoleon presided. From the White House, as Commander-in-Chief of theArmy and Navy, he issued a military order for the advance of McClellan'sforces on Richmond!

The idea of such an order coming from a backwoods lawyer withoutmilitary training was preposterous. Its audacity for a moment stunnedthe Commander of all the divisions of the army, but when the excitementhad subsided on the day it was done, General McClellan, for the firsttime, squarely faced the fact that there was a real man in the WhiteHouse. 

The issue was a square one. He must obey that order or march on theCapital with his army, depose the President, and declare a dictatorship. 

He decided to move on Richmond. He wrangled over the route he wouldtake, but he moved, when once in motion, with remarkable swiftness. 

Within two weeks a magnificent army of one hundred and twenty thousandmen, fourteen thousand horses, forty-four batteries with endless trainsof wagons, supplies, and pontoon bridges were transported by water twohundred miles to the Virginia Peninsula without the loss of a life. 

The day was a glorious one toward the end of March, when Betty stood onthe hill above Alexandria and watched, with heavy heart, the magnificentpageant of the embarking army. The spring was unusually early. The grasswas already a rich green carpet in the shaded lanes. Jonquils wereflaming from every walkway, the violets beginning to lift their blueheads from their dark green leaves and the trees overhead were hangingwith tassels behind which showed the clusters of fresh buds burstinginto leaf. 

The armed host covered hill and plain and stretched out in everydirection as far as the eye could reach. Four hundred ships had moved upthe river to receive them. Companies and regiments of magnificentlyequipped soldiers were marching to the throb of drum and the scream offife. Thousands of cavalrymen, in gay uniforms, their golden yellowshining in the sun, were dashing across a meadow at the foot of thehill. The long lines of infantry stretched from the hills through thestreets of Alexandria down to the water's edge. Everywhere theregimental bands were playing martial music. 

Somewhere among those marching, cheering, laughing, shouting thousandswas the man she loved, leaving without a word. 

An awkward private soldier passed with his arm around his sweetheart. Her eyes were red and she leaned close. They were not talking any more. But a few minutes were left and he must go--perhaps to die. Words hadceased to mean anything. 

Her heart rose in fierce rebellion against the wall of silence her pridehad reared. A group of magnificently equipped young officers passed onhorseback. Perhaps of General McClellan's staff! She looked in vainamong them for his familiar face. If he passed she would disgraceherself--she felt it with increasing certainty. Why had she come here, anyway? As well tell the truth--in the vague hope of a meeting. 

The quick beat of a horse's hoof echoed along the road. She looked andrecognized John Vaughan! He was coming straight toward her. Instinctively and resistlessly she moved to meet him. 

She waved her hand in an awkward little gesture as if she had tried tostop after beginning the movement. His eye had been quick to see andwith a graceful pull on his horse's bridle he had touched the pommel ofthe saddle, leaped to his feet, cap in hand, and stood trembling beforeher. 

"It's too good to be true!" he exclaimed breathlessly. 

She extended her bare hand and he held it without protest. It wastrembling violently. 

"You were going to leave without an effort to see me?" she asked in lowtones. 

"I was just debating that problem when I saw you standing by the road, "he answered soberly. "I don't think I could have done it. It's severalhours before we embark. I was just figuring on how I could reach you intime. "

"Really?" she murmured. 

"Honestly. "

"Well, if you had gone without a word, I couldn't have blamed you"--shepaused and bit her lips--"I was very foolish that day. "

"It was my fault, " he broke in, "all my fault. I was a brute. I realizedit too late. I'd have eaten my pride and gone back to see you the day Ireached Washington if I had thought it any use. I have never seen such alook in the eyes of a woman as you gave me that day, Miss Betty. Ifthere had been any love in your heart I knew that I had killed it----"

She looked into his eyes with a tender smile:

"I thought you had----"

He pressed her hand tenderly. 

"But now?"

"I know that love can't be killed by a kiss. "

She stopped suddenly, threw her arms around his neck, and kissed him. Heheld her close for a moment, murmuring:

"My sweetheart--my darling!"

Through four swift beautiful hours they sat on a log, held each other'shands, and told over and over the old sweet story. Another long, tenderembrace and he was gone. She stood on the little wharf, among hundredsof weeping sisters and mothers and sweethearts, and watched his boatdrift down the river. He waved his handkerchief to her until the bigunfinished dome of the Capitol began to fade on the distant horizon. 

CHAPTER XIII

THE SPIRES OF RICHMOND

To meet three great armies converging on Richmond along the James underMcClellan, from the North under McDowell, and the West by the ShenandoahValley, the South had barely fifty-eight thousand men commanded byJoseph E. Johnston and eighteen thousand under Stonewall Jackson. 

The Southern people were still suffering from the delusion of Bull Runand had not had time to adjust themselves to the amazing defeatssuffered at Fort Henry and Fort Donaldson, to say nothing of thestunning victory of the _Monitor_ in Hampton Roads, which had opened theJames to the gates of the Confederate Capital. 

Jackson was ordered into the Shenandoah Valley to execute the apparentlyimpossible task of holding in check the armies of Fremont, Milroy, Banksand Shields, and at the same time prevent the force of forty thousandmen under McDowell from reaching McClellan. The combined forces of theFederal armies opposed thus to Jackson were eight times greater than hiscommand. And yet, by a series of rapid and terrifying movements whichgained for his little army the title of "foot cavalry, " he succeeded indefeating, in quick succession, each army in detail. 

McDowell was despatched in haste to join Fremont and crush Jackson. Andwhile his army was rushing into the Shenandoah Valley, Jackson withdrewand quietly joined the army before Richmond which moved to meetMcClellan. 

Little Mac, with his hundred and twenty thousand men, had moved up thePeninsula with deliberate but resistless force, Johnston's army retiringbefore him without serious battle until the Army of the Potomac laywithin sight of the spires of Richmond. Faint, but clear, the breezesbrought the far-off sound of her church bells on Sunday morning. 

The two great armies at last faced each other for the first clash ofgiants, McClellan with one hundred and ten thousand men in line, Johnston with seventy thousand Southerners. 

John Vaughan rode along the lines of the Federal host on the afternoonof May 30th, to inspect and report to his Commander. Through the openingin the trees the Confederate army could be plainly seen on the otherside of the clearing. The Federal scouts had already reported thecertainty of an attack. 

The Confederates that night lay down on their arms with orders to attackat daylight. Dark clouds had swirled their storm banks over the skybefore sunset and the heavens were opened. The rain fell in blindingtorrents, until the sluggish little stream of the Chickahominy hadbecome a rushing, widening, treacherous river which threatened to sweepaway the last bridge McClellan had constructed. 

The Confederate Commander was elated. The army of his enemy was dividedby a swollen river. The storm increased until it reached the violence ofa hurricane. Through the entire night the lightning flashed and thethunder pealed without ceasing. At times the heavens were livid withblinding, dazzling light. Tents were a mockery. The earth wastransformed into a vast morass. 

The storm had its compensations for the Northern army though divided. Its frightful severity had so demoralized the Confederates that it wasnearly noon before General A. P. Hill moved to the attack. 

The entrenched army was ready. The Union pickets lay in the edge of thewoods and every soldier in the pits had been under cover for hoursawaiting the onset. 

With a shout the men in grey leaped from their shelter, pouring theirvolleys from close charging columns. The rifle balls whistled throughthe woods, clipping boughs, barking the trees, and hurling the Federalpickets back on their support. In front of the abatis had been planted abattery of four guns. The grey men had fixed their eyes on them. GeneralNaglee saw their purpose and threw his four thousand men into the openfield to meet them. Straight into each other's faces their musketsflamed, paused, and flamed again. The Northern men fixed their bayonets, charged, and drove the grey line slowly back into the woods. Here theymet a storm of hissing lead that mowed their ranks. They broke quicklyand rushed for the cover of their rifle pits. 

The grey lines charged, and for three hours the earth trembled beneaththe shock of their continued assaults. 

Suddenly on the left flank of the Federal army a galling fire was pouredfrom a grey brigade. The movement had been quietly and skillfullyexecuted. At the same moment General Rodes' brigade rushed on theirfront with resistless force. The officers tried to spike their guns andsave them, but were shot down in their tracks to a man. Their guns werelost, and in a moment the men in grey had wheeled them and were pouringa terrible fire on the retreating lines. 

The Confederates now charged the Federal centre, and for an hour and ahalf the fierce conflict raged--charge and countercharge by men of equalcourage led by dauntless officers. The Union right wing had already beencrumpled in hopeless confusion, the centre had yielded, the left wingalone was holding its own. It looked as if the whole Union army on theSouth side of the Chickahominy would be wiped out. 

At Seven Pines Heintzelman had made a stubborn stand. General Keyes sawa hill between the lines of battle which might save the day if he couldreach it in time. He must take men between two battle lines to do so. The Confederate Commander, divining his intention, poured a galling fireinto his ranks and began a race with him for the heights. Keyes won therace and formed his line in the nick of time. The tremendous fire poureddown from this new position was too much for the assaulting Southerncolumn and it halted. 

The Confederate forces had forced the Federal lines back two miles asthe river fog and the darkness slowly rose and enveloped the field. General Johnston ordered his men to sleep on the fields and camps theyhad captured. A minute later he was hurled from his horse by anexploding shell and was borne from the field dangerously wounded. Thefirst day's struggle had ended in reverses for the invading enemy. TheConfederates had captured ten guns, six thousand muskets, and fivehundred prisoners, besides driving McClellan's forces two miles from theopening battle lines. 

Between the two smoke-grimed, desperate armies locked thus in closeembrace there could be no truce for burying the fallen or rescuing thewounded. Over the rain-soaked fields and woods for two miles behind theConfederate front lay the dead, the dying, and the wounded, the blueside by side with their foes in grey. Dim fog-ringed lanterns flickeredfeebly here and there like wounded fireflies over the dark piles on theground. 

The Southern ambulance corps did its best at its new trade. Their longlines of wagons began to creep into Richmond and fill the hospitals. Shivering white-faced women, wives, sweethearts, mothers, sisters werethere looking for their own, praying and hoping. All day they hadshivered in their rooms at the deep boom of cannon, whose thunderrattled the glass in the windows through which they gazed on thedeserted streets. It was the first lesson in real war, this hand to handgrip of the two giants whose struggle must decide the fate of Richmond. 

The wagons left their loads and rattled back over the rough cobblestones and out on the muddy roads to the front again. The night would beall too short for their work. 

In their field hospital, the surgeons, with bare, bloody arms, were busywith knife and saw. Boys who had faced death in battle without a tremor, now pale and trembling, watched the growing pile of legs and arms. Alonein the darkness beyond the voice or touch of a loved hand they must facethis awful thing and hobble through life maimed wrecks. They lookedover their shoulders into the murky darkness and envied the silent formsthat lay there beyond the reach of pain and despair. All night the grimtragedy of the knife and saw, and the low moans that still came from thedarkness of the woods!

Sunday morning, the second day of June, dawned over the battle-scarredearth--an ominous day for the armies of the Republic--for the sun roseon a new figure in command of the men in grey. Robert E. Lee had takenthe place of Joseph E. Johnston. 

General G. W. Smith, second in command when Johnston fell, had formedhis plan of battle, and the new head of the Confederacy, with his highsense of courtesy and justice, permitted his subordinate to direct theconflict for the day. 

As the sun rose, red and ominous through the dark pine forest, GeneralSmith quickly advanced his men at Fair Oaks Station, down the railroad, and fell with fury on the men in blue, who crouched behind theembankment. The men were less than fifty yards apart, and muskets blazedin long level sheets of yellow flame. No longer could the ear catch theeffect of ripping canvas in the fire of small arms. The roar wasendless. For an hour and a half the two blazing lines mowed each otherdown in their tracks without pause. The grey at last gave way and fellback to the shelter of their woods and gathered reinforcements. TheUnion lines had been cut to pieces and suddenly ceased firing whiletheir support advanced. 

The roaring hell had died into a strange ominous stillness. John Vaughanhad just dashed up to the embankment with orders from McClellan to holdthis position until Haskin's division arrived. He sprang on theembankment and looked curiously at the long piles of grey bodies lyingin an endless row as far as the eye could reach. Over the tree tops, faintly mingling with the low cry of a dying boy of sixteen, came thesweet distant notes of a church bell in Richmond. 

"God in heaven--the mockery of it!" he cried. 

A great shout swept the blue lines. Hooker's magnificent division offresh troops swept into view, eager for the fray. They rapidly deployedto the right and left. In front of them lay the open blood-soaked field, and beyond the deep woods bristling with Southern bayonets. The newdivision leaped into this open field, with a wild shout, their eyes seton the woods. They paused, only to fire, and their double quick became arace. 

The Southern batteries followed and tore great holes in their ranks. They closed them with low quick sullen orders sweeping on. They reachedthe edge of the woods and poured into its friendly shelter. And thenabove the tops of oak and pine and beech and ash and tangled undergrowthcame the soul-piercing roar of two great armies, fearless, daring, scorning death, fighting hand to hand, man to man, for what theybelieved to be right. 

The people in church turned anxious faces toward the sound. Its roarrang above the sob of organ and the chant of choir. 

Bayonet clashed on bayonet, as regiment after regiment were locked inclose mortal combat. Hour after hour the stubborn unyielding hosts heldfast on both sides. The storm weakened and slowly died away. Only theintermittent crack of a rifle here and there broke the stillness. 

There was no shout of victory, no sweep of cheering hosts--only silence. The Confederate General in command for the day had lost faith in hisbattle plan and withdrew his army from the field. The men in blue couldmove in and camp on the ground they had held the day before if theywished. 

But there was something more important to do now than maneuver forposition in history. The dead and the dying and wounded crying for waterwere everywhere--down every sunlit aisle of the forest they lay inheaps. In the open fields they lay faces up, the scorching Southern sunof June beating piteously down in their eyes--the blue and the grey sideby side in death as they fought hand to hand in life. 

The trenches were opened and they piled the bodies in one on top of theother, where they had fallen. They turned their faces downward, thesestalwart, brave American boys that the grave-diggers might not throw thewet dirt into their eyes and mouths. O, aching hearts in far-away homes, at least you were not there to see!

Both armies paused now to gird their loins for the crucial test. GeneralLee was in the saddle gathering every available man into his ranks forhis opening assault on McClellan's host. Jackson was in the ShenandoahValley holding three armies at bay, defeating them in detail andparalyzing the efficiency of McDowell's forty thousand men atFredericksburg, by the daring uncertainty of his movements. 

The first act of Lee was characteristic of his genius. Wishing to knowthe exact position of McClellan's forces, and with the further purposeof striking terror into his antagonist's mind for the safety of hislines of communication, he conceived the daring feat of sending a pickedbody of cavalry under the gallant J. E. B. Stuart completely around theNorthern army of one hundred and five thousand men. 

On June the 12th, Stuart with twelve hundred troopers, fighting, singing, dare-devil riders to a man, slipped from Lee's lines andstarted toward Fredericksburg. The first night he bivouacked in thesolemn pines of Hanover. At the first streak of dawn the men swung intotheir saddles in silence. 

Turning suddenly to the east he surprised and captured the Federalpickets without a shot. In five minutes he confronted a squadron ofUnion cavalry. With piercing rebel yell his troopers charged andscattered their foes. 

Sweeping on with swift, untiring dash they struck the York RiverRailroad, which supplied McClellan's army, surprised and captured thecompany of infantry which guarded Tunstall's Station, cut the wires andattacked a train passing with troops. 

Riding without pause through the moonlit night they reached theChickahominy at daybreak. The stream was out of its banks and could notbe forded. They built a bridge, crossed over at dawn, and the followingday leaped from their saddles before Lee's headquarters and reported. 

A thrill of admiration and dismay swept the ranks of the Northern armyand started in Washington a wave of bitter criticism against McClellan. No word of reply reached the world from the little Napoleon. He was busydigging trenches, felling trees and pushing his big guns steadilyforward and always behind impregnable works. He was a born engineer andhis soul was set on training his great siege guns on the ConfederateCapital. 

On the 25th of June his advance guard had pressed within five miles ofthe apparently doomed city. His breastworks bristled from every point ofadvantage. His army was still divided by the Chickahominy River, but hehad so thoroughly bridged its treacherous waters he apparently had nofear of coming results. 

On June the 27th Stonewall Jackson had slipped from the ShenandoahValley, baffling two armies converging on him from different directions, and with a single tiger leap had landed his indomitable little army byLee's side. 

Anticipating his arrival, the Confederate general had hurled Hill'scorps against the Union right wing under Porter. Throughout the day ofthe 26th and until nine o'clock at night the battle raged with unabatedfury. The losses on both sides were frightful and neither had gained avictory. But at nine o'clock the Federal Commander ordered his rightwing to retreat five miles to Gaines Mill and cover his withdrawal ofheavy guns and supplies. They were ordered at all hazards to holdJackson's fresh troops at bay until this undertaking was well under way. It was a job that called for all his skill in case of defeat. Itinvolved the retreat of an army of one hundred thousand men with theirartillery and enormous trains of supplies across the mud-scarred marshyPeninsula. Five thousand wagons loaded to their utmost capacity, theirwheels sinking in the springy earth, had to be guarded and transported. His siege guns, so heavy it was impossible to hitch enough horses tomove them over roads in which they sank to the hubs, had to be saved. Three thousand cattle were there, to be guarded and driven, and it wasmore than seventeen miles to the shelter of his gunboats on the James. 

During the night his wagon trains and heavy guns were moved across theChickahominy toward his new base on the James. 

The morning of the 27th dawned cool and serene. Under the cover of thenight the silent grey army had followed the retiring one in blue. TheSoutherners lay in the dense wood above Gaines Mill dozing and waitingorders. 

A balloon slowly rose from the Federal lines and hung in the scarletclouds that circled the sun. The signal was given to the artillery thatthe enemy lay in the deep woods within range and a storm of shot andshell suddenly burst over the heads of the men in grey and the secondday's carnage had begun. 

For once Jackson, the swift and mysterious, was late in reaching thescene. It was two o'clock when Hill again unsupported hurled his men onthe Federal lines in a fierce determined charge. Twenty-six guns of thematchless artillery of McClellan's army threw a stream of shot and shellinto his face. Never were guns handled with deadlier power. And back ofthem the infantry, thrilled at the magnificent spectacle, poured theirhail of hissing lead into the approaching staggering lines. 

The waves of grey broke and recoiled. A blue pall of impenetrable smokerolled through the trees and clung to the earth. Under the protection oftheir great guns the dense lines of blue pushed out into the smoke fogand charged their foe. For two hours the combat raged at close quarters. A division of fresh troops rushed to the Northern line, and Leeobserving the movement from his horse on an eminence, ordered a generalattack on the entire Union front. 

It was a life and death grapple for the mastery. Jackson's corps was nowin action. A desperate charge of Hood's division at last broke the Unionlines and the grey men swarmed over the Federal breastworks. The linesbroke and began to roll back toward the bridges of the Chickahominy. Theretreat threatened to become a rout. The twilight was deepening over thefield when a shout rose from the tangled masses of blue stragglers bythe bridge. Dashing through them came the swift fresh brigades of Frenchand Meager. General Meager, rising from his stirrups in his shirtsleeves, swung his bare sword above his head, hurled his troops againstthe advancing Confederate line and held it until darkness saved Porter'sdivision from ruin. 

McClellan's one hope now was to pull his army out of the deadly swampsin which he had been caught and save it from destruction. He must reachthe banks of the James and the shelter of his gunboats before he couldstop to breathe. At every step the charging grey lines crashed on hisrear guard. Retreating day and night, turning and fighting as a huntedstag, he was struggling only to escape. 

That there was no panic, no rout, was a splendid tribute to hisorganizing and commanding powers. His army was an army at last in factas well as in name--a compact and terrible fighting machine. Theoncoming Confederate hosts learned this to their sorrow again and againin the five terrible days which followed. 

On July 1st, McClellan reached the shelter of his gunboats andintrenched himself on the heights of Malvern Hill. On its summit heplaced tier after tier of batteries swung in crescent line, commandingevery approach. Surmounting those on the highest point he planted sevenof his great siege guns. His army surrounded this hill, its left flankresting on the James and covered by his gunboats. 

It was late in the afternoon before Lee ordered a general attack. Thegrey army was floundering in the mud in a vain effort to reach itsfleeing enemy in force. At noon they were still burying the dead on theblood-soaked field of Glendale where McClellan's gallant rear guard hadstood until the last wagon train had safely arrived at Malvern Hill. 

Ned Vaughan's company had been hurried from the West to the defense ofRichmond, and reached the field on the night of the 30th, too late forthe battle of Glendale, but in time to walk over its scarred soil in thesoft moonlight and get his first glimpse of war. He was yet to see abattle. 

A group of grey schoolboy comrades were burying one of their numberbeneath a tall pine in the edge of an old field. He joined the circleand watched them. They dug the grave with their bayonets, tenderlywrapped the body in the battle flag of the South and covered it withtheir hands. One of them recited a beautiful Psalm from memory, and nota word was spoken as they drew the damp earth up into a mound. Awhip-poor-will began his song in the edge of the woods as he passed on. 

A few yards further a man in grey was cutting a forked limb into acrutch. Something dark lay huddled on the brown straw. It was a woundedman in blue. The Southerner lifted his enemy, and placed the crutchunder him. 

"Now, partner, " he said cheerfully, "you're all right. You'll find thehospital down there by them lights. They'll look out for ye. "

Ned wondered vaguely how he would really feel under his first baptism offire. He was only a private soldier in this company which had beenordered East. He had resigned from the first he had helped to raise--theambitions and intrigues of its officers had aroused his disgust and hehad taken a place in the ranks of the first company sent to Virginia. Hehad made up his mind he would wear no signs of rank that were not fairlywon on the field of battle. 

To-morrow he was going to face it at short range. Everywhere were strewncanteens, knapsacks, broken guns and blankets. He came suddenly on atrench behind which the men in blue had fought from dark to dark. It wasfull of dead soldiers. 

His regiment was up before day to move at dawn. His company had beenassigned to a regiment of veterans who had fought at Bull Run and hadbeen in three of the battles before Richmond. Their ranks were thin andthe Western boys were given a royal welcome. 

The seasoned men were in good humor, the new company serious. Ned wascarefully shaving by the flickering light of the camp fire. 

"What the divil are you doin' that for?" his Irish messmate asked inamazement. 

"You want to know the truth, Haggerty?" Ned drawled. 

"That's what I want----"

"We're going into our first battle, aren't we?"

"Praise God, we are!"

"And we may come out a corpse?"

"Yis----"

"I'm going to be a decent one. "

"Ah, go'long wid ye--ye bloody young spalpeen--ye're no more afraid thanI am!"

"Maybe not, Haggerty, but it's a solemn occasion, and I'm going to lookmy best. "

"Ye'll live ter see many a scrap, me bye!"

"Same to you, old man! But I'm going to be clean for this one, anyhow. "

The regiment marched toward Malvern Hill at the first streak of dawn. Itwas slow work. Always the artillery ahead were sticking in the mud andthe halts were interminable. 

The new company grew more and more nervous:

"What's up ahead?"

They asked it at every halt the first three hours. And then theirdisgust became more pronounced. 

"What in 'ell's the matter?" Ned groaned. 

"Don't worry, Sonny, " an old corporal called, "you'll get there in timeto see more than you want. "

The regiment reached the battle lines at one o'clock. The morning hourshad been spent in driving in the skirmishers and feeling the enemy'spositions. Lee had given orders for a general charge on a signal yellfrom Armistead's brigade. He was now waiting the arrival of all hisavailable forces before attacking. 

Late in the afternoon General D. H. Hill heard a shout followed by aroar of musketry and immediately ordered his division to charge. Noother General seemed to have heard it and the charge was made withoutsupport. It was magnificent, but it was not war, it was sheer butchery. No army could have stood before the galling fire of those massedbatteries. 

Ned's regiment had deployed in a wood on the edge of a wide field at thefoot of the hill. Their movement caught the eye of a battery on theheights which opened with six guns squarely on their heads. 

The struggling, shattered remnants of a regiment which had been all butannihilated fell back through these woods, stumbling against the waitingmen. 

Ned saw a soldier with a Minie ball sticking in the centre of hisforehead, the blood oozing from the round, clean-cut hole beside thelead. He was walking steadily backward, loading and firing withincredible rapidity. The company halted behind the troops held inreserve, but the man with the ball in his forehead refused to go to therear. He wouldn't believe that he was seriously hurt. He jokingly askeda comrade to dig the ball out. He did so, and the fellow dropped in histracks, the blood gushing from the wound in a stream. 

The uncanny sight had sickened Ned. He looked at his hand and it wastrembling like a leaf. 

And this division was charging up that awful hill again. Ned saw aprivate soldier who belonged to one of its regiments deliberately walkacross the field alone and join his comrades as if nothing of importancewere going on. And yet the bullets were whistling so thickly that their"Zip! Zip!" on the ground kept the air filled with flying dirt and tuftsof grass--a veritable hail of lead through which a sparrow apparentlycouldn't fly. 

The fellow was certainly a fool! No man with a grain of sense would dosuch a thing _alone_--maybe with a crowd of cheering men, but only amaniac _could_ do it alone--Ned was sure of that. 

A shell smashed through the top of a tree, clipped its trunk in two anddown it came with a crash that sent the men scampering. 

A solid shot came bounding leisurely down the hill and rolled into thewoods. A man just in front put out his foot playfully to stop it and itbroke his leg. 

The shriek of shell and the whistle of lead increased in terrifying roareach moment and Ned felt a queer sensation in his chest--a sort ofshortness of breath. In a moment he was going to bolt for the rear! Hefelt it in his bones and saw no way to stop it. He lifted his eyespiteously toward the Colonel who sat erect in his saddle stroking theneck of a restless horse with his left hand. 

The veteran saw the boy's terror under his trial of fire and his heartwent out to him in a wave of fatherly sympathy. 

He rode quickly up to Ned:

"Won't you hold my horse's bridle a minute, young man, while I use myglasses?" he asked coolly. 

Ned's trembling hand caught the reins as a drowning man a straw. The actsteadied his shaking nerves. As the Colonel slowly lowered his glassesNed cried through chattering teeth:

"D-d-d-on't y-you think--I-I-I--am d-d-doing p-pretty well, C-colonel, f-f-f-for my f-f-ffirst battle?"

The Colonel nodded encouragingly:

"Very well, my boy. It's a nasty situation. You'll make a goodsoldier. "

And then the order to charge!

Across the level field torn by shot and shell, the regiment swept ingrey waves. The gaps filled up silently. They started up the hill andmet the sleet of hissing death. The hill top blazed streams of yellowflame through the pall of smoke. Men were falling--not one by one, butin platoons and squads, rolling into heaps of grey blood-soaked fleshand rags. The regiment paused, staggered, reeled and rallied. 

Haggerty fell just in front of Ned, who was loading and firing with theprecision of a machine. If he had a soul--he didn't know it now. The menwere ordered to lie down and fire from the ground. 

Haggerty caught Ned's eye as it glanced along his musket searching forhis foe through the cloud of blue black smoke that veiled the world. 

"Roll me around, Bye, " the Irishman cried, "and make a fince out ofme--I'm done for. "

Ned paid no attention to his call, and Haggerty pulled his mangled bodydown the hill and doubled himself up in front of his friend. 

"Keep down behind me, Bye, " he moaned. "I'll make a good fort for ye!"

It was useless to protest, he had erected the fort to suit himself andNed was fighting now behind it. The sight of his dying friend steadiedhis nerves and sent a thrill of fierce anger like living fire throughhis veins. His eye searched the hilltop for his foe. The smoke rolled indark grey sulphurous clouds down the slope and shut out the sky line. Hewaited and strained his bloodshot eyes to find an opening. It was no useto waste powder shooting at space. He was too deadly angry now forthat. 

A puff of wind lifted the clouds and the blue men could be seen leapingabout their guns. They looked like giants in the smoke fog. Again hefired and loaded, fired and loaded with clock-like, even steady, hand. It was tiresome this ramming an old-fashioned muzzle-loading musketlying flat on the ground. But with each round he was becoming more andmore expert in handling the gun. His mouth was black with powder fromtearing the paper ends of the cartridges. The sulphurous taste of thepowder was in his mouth. 

From the centre of the field rose the awful Confederate yell again. Aregiment of Georgians, led by Gordon were charging. Waiting again forthe smoke to clear in front Ned could see the grey waves spread out andcaught the sharp word of command as the daring young officers threwtheir naked swords toward the sky crying:

"Forward!"

And then they met the storm. From grim, black lips on the hill crestcame the answer to their yell--three hundred and forty mighty guns weresinging an oratorio of Death and Hell in chorus now from those heights. Half the men seemed to fall at a single crash and still the line closedup and rushed steadily on, firing and loading, firing andloading, --running and staggering, then rallying and pressing on again. 

On the right ten thousand men under Hill slipped out into line as if ondress parade--long lines of handsome boyish Southerners. The big gunsabove saw and found them with terrible accuracy. A wide lane of deathwas suddenly torn through them before they moved. They closed like clockwork and with a cheer swept forward to the support of the men who weredying on the blood-soaked slope. 

Ned's heart was thumping now. He felt it coming, that sharp low orderfrom the Colonel before the words rang from his lips. His hour had comefor the test--coward or hero it had to be now. It was funny he hadceased to worry. He had entered a new world and this choking, blindingsmoke, the steady thunder of guns, the long sheets of orange fire thatflashed and flashed and blazed in three rings from the hill, the rippingcanvas of musketry fire in volleys, the dull boom of the great guns onthe boats below, were simply a part of the routine of the new life. Hehad lived a generation since dawn. The years that had gone before seemeda dream. The one real thing was Betty's laughing eyes. They were lookingat him now from behind that flaming hill. He must pass those guns toreach her. Not a doubt had yet entered his soul that he would do it. Menwere falling around him like leaves in autumn, but this had to be. Hesaw the end. No matter how fierce this battle, McClellan was onlyfighting to save his army from annihilation. Lee was destroying him. 

The order came at last. The Colonel walked along in front of his menwith bared head. 

"Now, boys, --that battery on the first crest--we've half theirmen--charge and take those guns!"

The regiment leaped to their feet and started up the hill. They had losttwo hundred men in their first sweep. There were six hundred left. 

"Hold your fire until I give the word!" the Colonel shouted. 

The smoke was hanging low, and they had made two hundred yards beforethe blue line saw them through the haze. The hill blazed and hissed intheir faces. The massed infantry behind the guns found their marks. Mendropped right and left, sank in grey heaps or fell forward on theirfaces--some were knocked backwards down the slope. Yet without a pausethey climbed. 

Three hundred yards more and they would be on the guns. And then a sheetof blinding flame from every black-mouthed gun in line double shottedwith grape and canister! The regiment was literally knocked to itsknees. The men paused as if dazed by the shock. The sharp words of cheerand command from their officers and they rallied. From both flankspoured a murderous hail of bullets--guns to the right, left and front, all screaming, roaring, hissing their call of blood. 

The Colonel saw the charge was hopeless and ordered his men to fire andfall back fighting. The grey line began to melt into the smoke mistsdown the hill and disappeared--all save Ned Vaughan. His eyes were fixedon that battery when the order to fire was given. He fired and chargedwith fixed bayonet alone. He never paused to see how many men were withhim. His mind was set on capturing one of those guns. He reached thebreastworks and looked behind him. There was not a man in sight. A bluegunner was ramming a cannon. With a savage leap Ned was on the boy, grabbed him by the neck and rushed down the hill in front of his own gunbefore the astounded Commander realized what had happened. When he didit was too late to fire. They would tear both men to pieces. 

The regiment had rallied in the woods at the edge of the field fromwhich they had first charged. 

Ned Vaughan led his prisoner, in bright new uniform of blue, up to theColonel and reported. 

"A prisoner of war, sir!"

The Colonel took off his hat and gazed at the pair:

"Aren't you the boy who held my horse?"

Ned saluted:

"Yes, sir. "

"Then in the name of Almighty God, where did you get that man?"

Ned pointed excitedly to the hilltop:

"Right yonder, sir, --there's plenty more of 'em up there!"

The Colonel scratched his head, looked Ned over from head to heel andbroke into a laugh. 

"Well, I'll be damned, " he said at last. "Take him to the rear andreport to me to-night. I want to see you. "

Ned saluted and hurried to the rear with his prisoner. 

The sun was slowly sinking in a sea of blood. The red faded to purple, the purple to grey, the grey into the shadows of night and still theguns were thundering from their heights. It was nine o'clock before theywere silent and Lee's torn and mangled army lay down among their deadand wounded to wait the dawn and renew the fight. They had beencompelled to breast the most devastating fire to which an assaultingarmy had been subjected in the history of war. The trees of the woodshad been literally torn and mangled as if two cyclones had met andripped them to pieces. 

The men dropped in their tracks to snatch a few hours' sleep. 

The low ominous sounds that drifted from the darkness could not beheeded till to-morrow. Here and there a lantern flickered as they pickedup a wounded man and carried him to the rear. Only the desperatelywounded could be helped. The dead must sleep beneath the stars. The low, pitiful cries for water guided the ambulance corps as they stumbled overthe heaps of those past help. 

The clouds drew a veil over the stars at midnight and it began to pourdown rain before day. The sleeping, worn men woke with muttered oathsand stood against the trees or squatted against their trunks seekingshelter from the flood. As the mists lifted, they looked with grimforeboding but still desperate courage to the heights. Every rampart wasdeserted. Not one of those three hundred and forty guns remained. McClellan had withdrawn his army under the cover of the night toHarrison's Landing. 

It would be difficult to tell whose men were better satisfied. 

"Thank God, he's gone from there anyhow!" the men in grey cried withfervor. 

Now they could get something to eat, bury their dead and care for allthe wounded. McClellan's Peninsula Campaign had ended. His Grand Armyhad melted from a hundred and ten thousand fighting men in line toeighty-six thousand. The South had lost almost as many. 

From the wildest panic into which the advance of his army had thrownRichmond, the Confederate Capital now swung to the opposite extreme ofrejoicing for the deliverance, mingled with criticism of their leadersfor allowing the Federal army to escape at all. 

The gloom in Washington was profound. 

An excited General rushed to the White House at two o'clock in themorning, roused the President from his bed and pleaded for the immediatedispatch of a fleet of transports to Harrison's Landing as the onlypossible way to save the army from annihilation. 

The President soothed his fears and sent him home. He was not the man tobe thrown into a panic. Yet the incredible thing had happened. His armyof more than two hundred thousand men, under able generals, had beenhurled back from the gates of Richmond in hopeless, bewildering defeat, and he must begin all over again. 

One big ominous fact loomed in tragic menace from the smoke and flame ofthis campaign--the South had developed two leaders of matchless militarygenius--Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson. It was a fact the Presidentmust face and that without fear or favor to any living man in his ownarmy. 

He left Washington for the front at once. He must see with his own eyesthe condition of the army. He must see McClellan. The demand for hisremoval was loud and bitter. And fiercest of all those who asked for hishead was the iron-willed Secretary of War, Edwin M. Stanton, his formerchampion. 

CHAPTER XIV

THE RETREAT

John Vaughan had become one of his General's trusted aides. His servicesduring the month's terrific struggle had proven invaluable. TheCommander was quick to discern that he was a man of culture andpossessed a mind of unusual power. More than once the General had calledhim to his headquarters to pour into his ears his own grievances againstthe authorities in Washington. Naturally his mind had been embitteredagainst the man in the White House. The magnetic personality ofMcClellan had appealed to his imagination from their first meeting. 

The General was particularly bitter on the morning the President wasexpected. His indignation at last broke forth in impassioned words tohis sympathetic listener. 

The tragic consequence of the impression made in that talk neither mancould dream at the moment. 

Pacing the floor with the tread of a caged lion McClellan suddenlypaused and his fine blue eyes flashed. 

"I tell you, Vaughan, the wretches have done their worst. They can't domuch more----"

He stopped suddenly and drew from his pocket the copy of a dispatch hehad sent to the war office. He read it carefully and looked up withflashing eyes:

"I'll face the President with this dispatch to Stanton in my hands, too. They would have removed me from my command for sending it--if they haddared!"

He slowly repeated its closing words:

"I know that a few thousand more men would have changed this battle froma defeat to a victory. As it is, the Government must not and cannot holdme responsible for the result. I feel too earnestly to-night. I haveseen too many dead and wounded comrades to feel otherwise than that theGovernment has not sustained this army. If you do not do so now, thegame is lost. If I save this army now, I tell you plainly that I owe nothanks to you, or to any other person in Washington. You have done yourbest to sacrifice this army----"

He paused and his square jaws came together firmly. 

"And if that be treason, they can make the most of it!"

"I am curious to know how he meets you to-day, " John said with a smile. 

An orderly announced the arrival of the President and the CommandingGeneral promptly boarded his steamer. In ten minutes the two men werefacing each other in the stateroom assigned the Chief Magistrate. 

Lincoln's tall, rugged figure met the compact General with the easygenerous attitude of a father ready to have it out with a wayward boy. His smile was friendly and the grip of his big hand cordial. 

"I am satisfied, sir, that you, your officers and men have done the bestyou could. All accounts say that better fighting was never done. Tenthousand thanks, in the name of the people for it. "

The words were generous, but the commander put in a suggestion for more. 

"Never, Mr. President, " he said emphatically, "did such a change ofbase, involving a retrogressive movement under incessant attacks from avastly more numerous foe partake of so little disaster. When all isknown you will see that the movement just completed by this army isunparalleled in the annals of war. We have preserved our trains, ourguns, our material, and, above all, our honor. "

"Rest assured, General, " the quiet voice responded, "the heroism andskill of yourself, officers and men, is and forever will beappreciated. "

The President returned to Washington profoundly puzzled as to his duty. He was alarmed at the display of self esteem which his defeated Generalhad naïvely made, and his loyalty was boldly and opened questioned byhis advisers, and yet he was loath to remove him from command. Down inhis square, honest heart he felt that with all his faults, McClellan wasa man of worth, that he had never been thoroughly whipped in a singlebattle and that he hadn't had a fair trial. 

Any other man in power than Abraham Lincoln would have removed himinstantly on the receipt of his insolent and insulting dispatch. Instead, the President had gone to see him with an open mind. Hereturned determined to strengthen his military council by the additionof an expert in Washington as his Commander-in-Chief. 

He called to this post Henry W. Halleck. Although McClellan had waivedthe crown of such power aside with lofty words of unselfish patriotism, he received the announcement of Halleck's promotion and hissubordination with sullen rage. 

"In this thing, " he wrote his wife, "the President and those around himhave acted so as to make the matter as offensive as possible to me. "

And yet against every demand that McClellan should be removed fromcommand the President was obdurate. Again and again his friends urged:

"McClellan is playing for the Presidency. "

The tall man merely nodded:

"All right. Let him. I am perfectly willing that he shall have it if hewill only put an end to this war. "

But if the President refused to remove him from command, Halleck andStanton managed quickly to strip him of half his army by detaching andsending it to join the new army of General Pope. McClellan, with theremainder of his men, had been sent by transport back to Alexandria. General John Pope was summoned from the West to take command of the new"Army of Virginia, " composed of the divisions of Fremont, Banks andMcDowell, and the detached portion of McClellan's men. 

All eyes were now centred on the new Commander. The West had only seensuccess--Fort Henry, Fort Donelson, Pea Ridge, Shiloh, and Island No. 10. 

The new General on the day he began his advance against Lee and Jacksonissued an address to his army which sent a chill to the heart of thePresident. 

"I have come to you from the West, " he proclaimed, "where we have alwaysseen the backs of our enemies--from an army whose business has been toseek the adversary and beat him when found. I desire you to dismiss fromyour minds certain phrases which I am sorry to find much in vogue amongyou. I hear constantly of 'lines of retreat' and 'bases of supplies. 'Let us discard such ideas. Let us look before us, not behind. Fromto-day my headquarters will be in the saddle. "

Every man in the Army of the Potomac which McClellan had created andfought with such fierce and terrible, if unsuccessful power, resentedthis address as an insult. McClellan himself was furious. For somereason only part of the forces from his army which were detached everreached Pope, and those who did were not enthusiastic. It was expectingtoo much of human nature to believe that they could be. 

The outlook for the coming battle was ominous. 

CHAPTER XV

TANGLED THREADS

Betty Winter received a telegram from John Vaughan announcing hisarrival at Alexandria with McClellan on the last day of August. Herheart gave a bound of joy. She could see him to-morrow. It had been fiveyears instead of five months since she had stood on that little pier andwatched him float away into the mists of the river! All life before therevelation which love had brought was now a shadowy memory. Only lovewas real. His letters had been her life. They hadn't come as often asshe had wished. She demanded his whole heart. There could be nocompromise. It must be all, _all_ or nothing. 

She tried to sleep and couldn't. Her brain was on fire. 

"I must sleep and look my best!" she laughed softly, buried her face inthe pillow and laughed again for joy. How could she sleep with her loverstanding there alive and strong with his arms clasping her to his heart!

She rose at daylight and threw open her window. The air was crisp withthe breath of fall. She watched the sun rise in solemn glory. A divisionof cavalry dashed by, the horses' hoofs ringing sharply on the cobblestones, sabres clashing. Behind them came another and another, and in adistant street she heard the rumble of big guns, the crack of theirdrivers' whips and the sharp cries of the men urging the horses to arun. 

Something unusual was on foot. The sun was barely up and the whole cityseemed quivering with excitement. 

She dressed hurriedly, snatched a bite of toast and drank a cup ofcoffee. In twenty minutes she entered the White House to get her pass tothe front. She wouldn't go to the War Department. Stanton was rude andmight refuse. The hour was absurd, but she knew that the President roseat daylight and that he would see her at any hour. 

She found him seated at his desk alone pretending to eat an egg anddrink his coffee from the tray that had been placed before him. Hisdishevelled hair, haggard look and the pallor of his sorrowful faceshowed only too plainly that he had not slept. 

"You have bad news, Mr. President?" Betty gasped. 

He rose, took her hand and led her to a seat. 

"Not yet, dear, but I'm expecting it. "

"We lost the battle yesterday?" she eagerly asked. 

"Apparently not. You may read that. I trust you implicitly. "

He handed her the dispatch he had received from General Pope after thefirst day's fight at Manassas. Betty read it quickly:

"We fought a terrific battle here yesterday with the combined forces ofthe enemy, which lasted with continuous fury from daylight until dark, by which time the enemy was driven from the field which we now occupy. The enemy is still in our front, but badly used up. We lost not lessthan eight thousand men killed and wounded, but from the appearance ofthe field the enemy lost two to one. The news has just reached me fromthe front that the enemy is retreating toward the mountains. "

Betty looked up surprised:

"Isn't that good news?"

"Nothing to brag about. It's the last sentence that worries me----"

"But that seems the best!"

"It might be but for the fact that Jackson is leading that retreattoward the mountains! I've an idea that he will turn up to-day on Pope'srear with Lee's whole army on his heels. Jackson is in the habit ofappearing where he's least expected----"

He paused, paced the floor a moment in silence and threw his long armssuddenly upward in a hopeless gesture:

"If God would only give me such a man to lead our armies!"

"Is General McClellan at Alexandria to-day?" Betty suddenly asked. 

"I'm wondering myself. He should be on that field with every soldierunder his command. "

"I've come to ask you for a pass to Alexandria----"

"Then my worst fears are confirmed!" he broke in excitedly. "Yoursweetheart's on McClellan's staff--his men will never reach the field intime!"

He dropped into a chair, hurriedly wrote the pass and handed it toBetty. 

"God bless you, child. See me when you get back and tell me all youlearn of McClellan and his men to-day. The very worst is suspected----"

"You mean?"

"That this delay and deliberate trifling with the most urgent andpositive orders is little short of treason. Unless his men reach Popeto-day and fight, the Capital may be threatened to-morrow. "

"Surely!" Betty protested. 

"It's just as I tell you, child, but I'll hope for the best. Be eyes andears for me to-day and you may help me. "

The agony of his face and the deep note of tragedy in his voice hadtaken the joy out of her heart. She threw the feeling off with aneffort. 

"What has it all to do with my love!" she cried with a toss of herpretty head as she sprang into the saddle for the gallop to Alexandria. 

The cool, bracing air of this first day of September, 1862, was likewine. The dew was yet heavy on the tall grass by the roadside and a songwas singing in her heart that made all other music dumb. 

John had dismounted and was standing beside the road, the horse's bridlehanging on his arm in the very position he had stood and looked into hersoul that day. 

She leaped to the ground without waiting for his help and sprang intohis arms. 

"I like you better with that bronzed look--you're handsomer than ever, "she sighed at last. 

His answer was another kiss, to which he added:

"No amount of sunburn could make you any prettier, dear--you've beenperfect from the first. "

"Your General is here?" Betty asked. 

"Yes. "

"And you can give me the whole day?"

"Every hour--the General is my friend. "

The moment was too sweet to allow any shadow to cloud it. The girlyielded to its spell without reserve. They mounted and rode side by sideover the hills. And the man poured into her ears the unspoken things hehad felt and longed to say in the lonely nights of camp and field. Thegirl confessed the pain and the longing of her waiting. 

They mounted the crest of a hill and the breeze from the southwestbrought the sullen boom of a cannon. 

Instinctively they drew rein. 

"The battle has begun again, " John said casually. 

"It stirs your blood, doesn't it?" she whispered. 

A frown darkened his brow:

"Not to-day. "

The girl looked with quick surprise. 

"You don't mean it?"

"Certainly. Why get excited when you know the end before it begins. "

"You know it?"

"Yes. "

"Victory?"

He laughed cynically:

"Victory for a pompous braggart who could write that address to an armyreflecting on the men who fought Lee and Jackson before Richmond withsuch desperate courage?"

"You are sure of defeat then?"

"Absolutely. "

Betty looked at him with a flush of angry excitement:

"General McClellan is counting on Pope's defeat to-day?"

"Yes. "

"Then it's true that he is not really trying to help him?"

"Why should he wish to sacrifice his brave men under the leadership of afool?"

"He is, in fact, defying the orders of the President, isn't he?"

"You might say that if you strain a point, " John admitted. 

Again the long roar of guns boomed on the Western horizon, louder, clearer. The dull echoes became continuous now, and the quickeningbreeze brought the faint din from the vast field of death whose blazingsmoke covered lines stretched over seven miles. 

"_Boom-boom-boom, boom!--boom! boom!_"

Again they drew rein and listened. 

John's brow wrinkled and his right ear was thrown slightly forward. 

"Those are our big guns, " he said with a smile. "The Confederateartillery can't compare with ours--their infantry is a terror--stark, dead game fighters----"

"_Boom--Boom!----Boom! Boom! Boom!_"

"How do you know those are our guns?" Betty asked with a shiver. 

"The rebels have none so large. They'll have some to-night. "

Again an angry flush mounted her cheeks:

"You wish them to be captured?"

"It will be a wholesome lesson. "

Betty leaned closer and grasped his hand with trembling eagerness. 

"O John--John, dear, this is madness! General McClellan has beenaccused of treason already--this surely is the basest betrayal of hiscountry----"

The man shook his head stubbornly:

"No--it's the highest patriotism. My Commander is brave enough to darethe authorities at Washington for the good of his country. The soonerthis farce under Pope ends the better--no man of second rate ability canwin against the great Generals of the South. "

The girl's keen brown eyes looked steadily into his and her lipstrembled. 

"I call it treachery--the betrayal of his country for his selfishambitions! I'm surprised that you sympathize with him. "

John frowned, was silent and then turned to her with a smile:

"Let's not talk about it, dear. The day's too beautiful. We're alonetogether. This is not your battle--nor mine--it's Pope's--let him fightit out. I love you--that's all I want to think about to-day. "

The golden brown curls were slowly shaken:

"It _is_ your battle and it's mine--O John dear, I'm heartsick over it!The President's anguish clouded the morning for me, but the thought ofyou made me forget. Now I'm scared. You've surprised and shocked me. "

"Nonsense, dear!" he pleaded. 

She looked at him with quick, eager yearning. 

"You love me?" she asked. 

"Can you doubt it?"

"With every beat of your heart?"

"Yes. "

"Will you do something for me?" she begged. 

"What is it?"

"Just for me, because I ask it, John, and you love me?"

"If I can. "

"I want you to resign immediately from McClellan's staff, report at theWar Department and let the President give you new duties----"

The man shot her a look of angry amazement:

"You can't mean this?"

Again the soft, warm hand that had slipped its glove grasped his. Hecould feel her slim, little fingers tremble. She had turned very pale:

"I'm in dead earnest. I love you, dear, with my whole heart, and it's mylove that asks this. I can't think of you betraying a solemn trust. Thevery thought of it cuts me to the quick. If this is true, GeneralMcClellan should be court-martialed. "

The man's square jaws closed with a snap:

"Let them try it if they dare----"

"The President will dare if he believes it his duty. "

"Then he'll hear something from the hundred and fifty thousand soldierswho have served under McClellan. "

The little hand pressed harder. 

"Won't you, for my sake, dear, --just because I'm your sweetheart and youlove me?"

The stalwart figure suddenly stiffened:

"And you could respect a man who would do a thing like that?"

"For my sake?--Yes. "

"No, you think you could. But you couldn't. No woman can really love apoltroon or a coward. "

"I'm not asking you to do a cowardly thing----"

"To desert my leader in a crisis?"

"To wash your hands of treachery and selfish ambitions. "

"But it's not true, " he retorted. "You mustn't say that. McClellan's aleader of genius--brave, true, manly, patriotic. "

"I've a nobler ideal of patriotism----"

"Your blundering backwoodsman in the White House?"

"Yes. He has but one thought--that the Union shall be saved. He has noother ambition. If McClellan succeeds, he rejoices. If he fails, he isheartbroken. I know that he has defended him against the assaults of hisenemies. He has refused to listen to men who assailed his loyalty andpatriotism. This generous faith your Chief is betraying to-day. That youdefend him is horrible--O John, dear, I can't--I won't let you stay! Youmust break your connection with this conspiracy of vain ambition. Thecountry is calling now for every true, unselfish man--please!"

He lifted his hand in firm protest:

"And for that very reason I stand firmly by the man I believe destinedto save my country. "

"You won't change Commanders because I ask it?"

He was silent a moment and a smile played about the corners of his lips:

"Would you change because I asked it?"

"Yes. "

"Then come over from Lincoln to McClellan, " he laughed. 

"And join your group of conspirators--never!"

"Not if I ask it, because I love you?"

[Illustration: "Betty glanced at the stolid, set face and firm lips. "]

Her brown eyes sparkled with anger:

"You'll not find this a joke!"

"That's why I treat it seriously, my dear, " was the firm reply. "If Icould throw up my position in this war on the sudden impulse of mysweetheart, I'd be ashamed to look a man in the face--and you woulddespise me!"

"If your Commander succeeds to-day in bringing disaster to our army I'lldespise you for aiding him----"

"Let's not discuss it--please, dear!" he begged with a frown. 

"As you please, " was the cold reply. 

They rode on in silence, broken only by the increasing roar of the greatguns at Manassas. Betty glanced at the stolid, set face and firm lips. Her anger steadily rose with every throb of Pope's cannon. Each lowthunder peal on the horizon now was a cry for help from dying mangledthousands and the man she loved refusing to hear. 

Suddenly the picture of his brother flashed before her vision, thehigh-strung, clean young spirit, chivalrous, daring, fighting for whathe knew to be right--right because right is right, and wrong is wrong. 

She looked at John Vaughan with a feeling of fierce anger. Between thetwo men she preferred the enemy who was fighting in the open to win ordie. Her soul went out to Ned in a wave of tender admiration. Her wrathagainst his brother steadily rose. 

Suddenly she drew her rein:

"You need come no further. I'll ride back home alone. "

He bit his lips without turning and was silent. She touched her horsewith her whip and galloped swiftly toward Washington. 

 * * * * *

The last day of Pope's brief campaign ended in the overwhelming disasterof the second battle of Bull Run. The sound of his cannon reachedMcClellan's ears, but the organizer of the Army of the Potomac, thoughordered to do so, never joined his rival. 

Once more the army of the Union was hurled back on Washington in panic, confusion and appalling disaster. Lee and Jackson had crushed Pope'shosts with a rapidity and case that struck terror to the heart of theNation. General Pope lost fifteen thousand men in a single battle. Leeand Jackson lost less than half as many. 

The storm broke over McClellan's head at Washington on his arrival. Stanton and Halleck and Pope accused him of treachery. The hot headsdemanded his arrest and trial by court-martial. 

The President shook his head, but sadly added:

"He has acted badly toward Pope. He really wanted him to fail. "

And then began the search to find the man once more to weld theshattered army into an efficient fighting force. 

Abraham Lincoln asked himself this question with a sense of the deepestand most solemn responsibility. He must answer at the bar of hisconscience before God and his country. Again he brushed aside everyadviser inside and outside his Cabinet and determined on his choiceabsolutely alone. 

Early on the morning of September 2nd John Vaughan looked from thewindow of General McClellan's house and saw the giant figure of thePresident approaching, accompanied by Halleck. 

When his aide announced this startling fact, the General coolly said:

"It means my arrest, no doubt. I'm ready. Let them come. "

The President was not kept waiting this time. His General was there toreceive him. 

The rugged face was pale and drawn. 

"General McClellan, " he began without ceremony, "I have come to ask youto take command of all the returning troops for the defense ofWashington. "

The short, stalwart figure of the General suddenly straightened, hisblue eyes flashed with amazement and then softened into a mistyexpression. He bowed with dignity and quietly said:

"I accept the position, sir. "

"I need not repeat, " the President went on, "that I disapprove somethings you have done. I have made this plain to you. I do this because Ibelieve it's best for our country. I assume its full responsibility andI expect great things of you. "

The President bowed and left the astonished General and his still moreastonished aide gazing after his long swinging legs returning to theWhite House. 

He had done the most unpopular act of his entire administration. Hisdecision had defied the fiercest popular hostility. He faced a storm ofdenunciation which would have appalled a less simple and masterful man. The Cabinet meeting which followed the startling news was practically ariot. He listened to all his excited Ministers had to say withpatience. When they had spoken their last word of bitter disapproval hequietly rose and ended the tumultuous session with two or threesentences which none could answer:

"There is no one in the army who can man these fortifications and lickthese troops of ours into shape half as well as he can. McClellan is agreat engineer--of the stationary type, perhaps. But we must use thetools we have! If he cannot fight himself, at least he excels in makingothers ready to fight. "

He waited for an answer and none came. He had not only averted a Cabinetcrisis but his remorseless common sense and his unswerving adherence towhat he saw was best had strengthened his authority over all hiscouncillors. 

When the rest had gone he turned to the young man who knew him best, hisSecretary, John Nicolay, and gripped his arm with a big hand which wastrembling:

"The most painful duty of my official life, Boy! There has been adesign, a purpose in breaking down Pope without regard to theconsequences to the country that is atrocious. It's shocking to see andknow this, but there is no remedy at present. McClellan has the armywith him and I must use him. "

CHAPTER XVI

THE CHALLENGE

"One war at a time, " the President said to his Secretary of State whenhe proposed a foreign fight. He must now strangle Northern publicopinion to enforce this principle. 

Captain Wilkes had overhauled the British Steamer _Trent_ on the highseas, searched her and taken the Confederate Commissioners Mason andSlidell by force from her decks. 

The people of the North were mad with joy over the daring act. Congress, swept off its feet by the wave of popular hysteria, proclaimed Wilkes ahero and voted their thanks. The President did not move with currentopinion. He had formed the habit in boyhood of thinking for himself, andhad never allowed himself to take his cues for action from second-handsuggestions. From the first he raised the question of Wilkes' right tostop the vessel of a friendly nation on the high seas, search her andtake her passengers prisoners by force of arms. 

The backwoods lawyer questioned, too, the right of a naval officer toturn his quarter-deck into a court and decide questions of internationallaw offhand. He raised the point at once whether these men thus capturedmight not be white elephants on the hands of the Government. Moreoverhe reminded his Cabinet that we had fought England once for daring to doprecisely this thing. 

Great Britain promptly drew her sword and made ready for war. 

Queen Victoria's Government not only demanded that the return of thesepassengers be made at once with an apology, but did it in a way sooffensive that a less balanced man in power would have lost his head andcommitted the fatal blunder. 

The tall, quiet Chief Magistrate was equal to the occasion. GreatBritain had ordered her navy on a war footing, dispatched eight thousandtroops to Canada to strike by land as well as sea, allowing us but sevendays in which to comply with all her demands or hand Lord Lyons hispassports. 

The President immediately dictated a reply which forced her PrimeMinister to accept it and achieved for the Nation the establishment of aprinciple for which we had fought in vain in 1812. 

He ordered the prisoners returned and an apology expressed. His apologywas a two-edged sword thrust which Great Britain was compelled to takewith a groan. 

"In 1812, " the President said, "the United States fought because youclaimed the right to stop our vessels on the high seas, search them andtake by force British subjects found thereon. Our country in making thissurrender, adheres to the ancient principle for which we contended andwe are glad to find that Her Majesty's Government in demanding thissurrender thereby renounces an error and accepts our position. "

Lord Palmerston made a wry face, but was compelled to accept thesurrender, and with it seal his own humiliation as a beaten diplomat. War with England at this moment would have meant unparalleled disaster. France had ambitions in Mexico and she was bound in friendship toEngland. The two great Nations of Europe would have been hurled againstour divided country with the immediate recognition of the Confederacy. 

The President forced this return of the prisoners and apparent surrenderto Great Britain in the face of the blindest and most furious outburstsof popular rage. 

Gilbert Winter rose in the Senate and in thunderous oratory voiced thewell-nigh unanimous feeling of the millions of the North of all partiesand factions:

"I warn the administration against this dastardly and cowardly surrenderto a foreign foe! The voice of the people demand that we stand firm onour dignity as a Sovereign Nation. If the President and his Cabinetrefuse to listen they will find themselves engulfed in a fire that willconsume them like stubble. They will find themselves helpless before apower that will hurl them from their places!"

The President was still under the cloud of public wrath over this affairwhen the crisis of the problem of emancipation became acute. The gradualgrowth of the number of his bitter foes in Washington he had seen withdeep distress. And yet it was inevitable. No man in his position couldadminister the great office whose power he was wielding without fear orfavor and not make enemies. And now both friend and foe were closing inon him with a well-nigh resistless demand for emancipation. 

Hour after hour he sat patiently in his office receiving theseimpassioned delegations. 

Old Edward was standing at the door again smiling and washing his hands:

"A delegation of editors, presenting Mr. Horace Greeley's 'Prayer ofTwenty Millions. '"

The patient eyes were lifted front his desk, and the strong mouth firmlypressed:

"Let them in. "

The President rose in his easy, careless manner:

"I'm glad to see you, gentlemen. You are the leaders of public opinion. The people rule this country and I am their servant. What is it?"

The Chairman of the Committee stepped forward and gravely handed him anengrossed copy of Greeley's famous editorial, "The Prayer of TwentyMillions, " demanding the immediate issue of a proclamation ofemancipation. 

The Chairman bowed and spoke in earnest tones:

"As the representatives of millions of readers we present this 'Prayer'with our endorsement and the request that you act. In particular we callyour attention to these paragraphs:

"'A great portion of those who brought about your election and all thosewho desire the unqualified suppression of the rebellion, are sorelydisappointed, pained and surprised by the policy you seem to be pursuingwith regard to the slaves of rebels. I write to set before yousuccinctly and unmistakably what we require, what we have a right toexpect and of what we complain. 

"'We think you are unduly influenced by the counsels, therepresentations and the menaces of certain fossil politicians from theBorder Slave States, knowing as you do, that the loyal citizens of theseStates do not expect that Slavery shall be upheld, to the prejudice ofthe Union. 

"'We complain that the Union cause has suffered and is now sufferingimmensely from the mistaken course which you are pursuing andpersistently cling to, in defense of slavery. We complain that theconfiscation act which you approved is being wantonly and whollydisregarded by your Generals, apparently with your knowledge andconsent. 

"'The seeming subserviency of your policy to the slave holding, slaveupholding interest is the perplexity and the despair of statesmen of allparties. Whether you will choose to listen to their admonishment or waitfor your verdict through future history, or at the bar of God, I do notknow. I can only hope. '"

The President's sombre eyes met his with a penetrating flash and restedon Senator Winter who remained in the background. He took the paper, laid it carefully on his desk, threw his right leg across the corner ofthe long table in easy, friendly attitude and began his replypersuasively:

"The editor of the _Tribune_, gentleman, if on my side, is equal to anarmy of a hundred thousand men in the field. I've known this from thefirst. Against me he throws this army in the rear and fires into myback. My grievance is that his Prayer which you have made yours is beingused for ammunition in this rear attack. It should have been presentedto me first, if it were a genuine prayer. I have read it carefully. Itis full of blunders of fact and reasoning, but it fairly expresses thediscontent in the minds of many. Its unfair assumptions will poisonmillions of readers against me----"

He paused, opened a drawer in his desk, took from it a sheet of paper onwhich he had written in firm, clear hand a brief message in reply, andturned to his petitioners:

"And therefore, gentlemen, I have written a few words in answer to thisattack. I ask you to give it the same wide hearing you have accorded theassault. I'll read it to you:

"'Dear Sir:--I have just read yours of the 19th instant addressed tomyself through the _New York Tribune_. 

"'If there be in it any statements or assumptions of fact, which I knowto be erroneous, I do not now and here controvert them. 

"'If there be any influences which I believe to be falsely drawn, I donot now and here argue against them. 

"'If there be perceptible in it an impatient and dictatorial tone, Iwaive it in deference to an old friend, whose heart I have alwayssupposed to be right. 

"'As to the policy I seem to be pursuing, as you say, I have not meantto leave anyone in doubt. I would save the Union. I would save it in theshortest way under the Constitution. 

"'The sooner the National authority can be restored, the nearer theUnion will be, --the Union as it was. 

"'If there be those who would not save the Union, unless they could atthe same time save Slavery, I do not agree with them. 

"'If there be those who would not save the Union, unless they could atthe same time destroy Slavery, I do not agree with them. 

"'_My paramount object is to save the Union, and not either to save ordestroy Slavery_. 

"'If I could save the Union without freeing any slave I would do it. Andif I could save it by freeing all the slaves I would do it. And if Icould save it by freeing some, and leaving others alone, I would also dothat. 

"'What I do about Slavery and the colored race I do because I believe ithelps to save the Union, and what I forbear, I forbear because I do notbelieve it would help to save the Union. 

"'I shall do less whenever I believe what I am doing hurts the cause, and I shall do more, whenever I believe doing more will help the cause. 

"'I shall try to correct errors, when shown to be errors, and I shalladopt new views so fast as they shall appear to be true views. 

"'I have stated my purpose, according to my view of official duty, and Iintend no modification of my oft expressed personal wish, that all meneverywhere could be free. '"

A moment of death-like stillness followed the reading. The members ofthe committee had unconsciously pressed nearer. Some of them stood withshining eyes gazing at the rugged, towering figure as if drawn by amagnet. The stark earnestness and simplicity of his defense had foundtheir hearts. The daring of it fairly took their breath. 

Senator Winter turned to his nearest neighbor and growled:

"Bah! The trouble is Lincoln's a Southerner--born in the poisoned slaveatmosphere of the South. He grew up in Southern Indiana and Illinois. His neighbors there were settlers from the South. He has never breathedanything but Southern air and ideals. It's in his blood. Only a man bornin the South could have written that document----"

The listener looked up suddenly:

"I believe you are right. Excuse me--I want to speak to the long-leggedSoutherner. I've never seen him before. "

To the astonishment of the Senator, the editor pushed his way into thegroup who were shaking hands with the President. 

He paused an instant, extended his hand and felt the rugged fingersclose on it with a hearty grip. Before he realized it he was sayingsomething astounding--something the farthest possible removed from histhoughts on entering the room. 

"I want to thank you, sir, for that document. The heart of an unselfishpatriot speaks through every word. I came here to criticise and findfault. I'm going home to stand by you through thick and thin. You'vegiven us a glimpse inside. "

Both big hands were now clasping his and a mist was clouding thehazel-grey eyes. 

"The Senator accuses you, " he went on, "of being a Southerner. He mustbe right. No Northern man could have seen through the clouds of passionto-day clearly enough to have written that letter. You can see thingsfor all the people, North, South, East and West. God bless you--I'mgoing home to fight for you and with you----"

In angry amazement Senator Winter saw most of the men he had led tothis carefully planned attack walk up and pledge their loyalty to hissmiling foe. He turned on his heel and left, his jaw set, his blue eyesdancing with fury. 

Old Edward was again rubbing his hands apologetically at the door:

"A body of clergymen from Chicago, sir----"

"Clergymen from Chicago?"

"Yes, sir. "

"I didn't know they ever used such things in Chicago!"

He caught his knee in his big hands, leaned back and laughed heartily. The doorman looked straight ahead and managed to keep his solemncountenance under control. 

"All right, let them in, Edward. "

The reverend gentlemen solemnly filed into the executive office. Theylooked around in evident amazement at its bare poverty-strickenappearance. They had been shocked at the threadbare appearance of theWhite House grounds as they entered. This room was a greater shock--thisthrobbing nerve centre of the Nation. In the middle stood the long, plain table around which the storm-racked Cabinet were wont to gather. There was not a single piece of ornamental or superfluous furniturevisible. It appeared almost bare. A second-hand upright desk stood bythe middle window. In the northwest corner of the room there were rackswith map rollers, and folios of maps on the floor and leaning againstthe wall. 

The well-dressed, prosperous-looking gentlemen gazed about in a criticalway. 

Their spokesman was a distinguished Bishop who knew that he wasdistinguished and conveyed the information in every movement of hisaugust body. 

"We have come, Mr. President, " he solemnly began, "as God's messengersto urge on you the immediate and universal emancipation of every slavein America. "

The faintest suggestion of a smile played about the corners of the big, firm mouth as he rose and began a reply which greatly astonished hisvisitors. They had come to lecture him and before they knew it the lambhad risen to slay the butchers. 

"I am approached, gentlemen, " he said softly, "with the most oppositeopinions and advice, and that by religious men, who are equally certainthat they represent the Divine Will. I am sure that either one or theother class is mistaken in that belief, and perhaps in some respects, both. I hope it will not be irreverent for me to say that if it isprobable that God would reveal His will to others on a point soconnected with my duty, it might be supposed He would reveal it directlyto me----"

He paused just an instant and his bushy eyebrows were raised a trifle asif in search of one friendly face in which the sense of humor was notdead. He met with frozen silence and calmly continued:

"Unless I am more deceived in myself than I often am, it is my earnestdesire to know the will of Providence in this matter. And if I can learnwhat it is I will do it! These are not, however, the days of miracles, and I suppose it will be granted that I am not to expect a directrevelation. I must study the plain physical facts of the case, ascertainwhat is possible, and learn what appears to be wise and right. Thesubject is difficult and good men do not agree----"

"We are all agreed to-day!" the leader interrupted. 

"Even so, Bishop, but we are not all here to-day. "

The gentle irony was lost on the great man, and the President went ongood-naturedly:

"What good would a proclamation of emancipation do as we are nowsituated? Shall I issue a document that the whole world will see must beof no more effect that the Pope's bull against the comet? Will my wordsfree the slaves when I cannot even enforce the Constitution in the rebelStates? Is there a single court or magistrate, or individual that willbe influenced by it there? I approved the law of Congress which offersprotection and freedom to the slaves of rebel masters who come withinour lines. Yet I can not learn that the law has caused a single slave tocome over to us. 

"Now then, tell me, if you please, what possible result of good wouldfollow the issuing of such a proclamation as you desire? The greatestevils might follow it--among them the revolt of the Border Slave Stateswhich we have held loyal with so much care, and the desertion from theranks of our armies of thousands of Democratic soldiers who tell usplainly that they are not fighting and they're not going to fight tofree negroes!

"Understand me, I raise no objection against it on legal grounds. AsCommander-in-Chief of the Army and Navy in time of war, I suppose I havea right to take any measure which may best subdue the enemy. Nor do Iurge objections of a moral nature in view of possible consequences ofservile insurrection and massacre in the South. I view this matter nowas a practical war measure. Has the moment arrived when I can beststrike with this weapon?

"Do not misunderstand me because I have mentioned objections. Theyindicate some of the difficulties that have thus far prevented my actionin some such way as you desire. I have not decided against aproclamation of liberty to the slaves. I hold the matter underadvisement. And I can assure you that the subject is on my mind, by dayand night more than any other. What shall appear to be God's will I willdo----"

He stopped suddenly and a smile illumined his dark face:

"But I cannot see, gentlemen, why God should be sending his message tome by so roundabout route as the sinful city of Chicago. I trust that inthe freedom with which I have canvassed your views and expressed my own, I have not in any respect injured your feelings. "

The ice was broken at last and the men of God began to smile, pressforward and shake his hand. They came his critics, and left his friends. 

And yet no hint was given to a single man present that his EmancipationProclamation had been written two months before and at this moment waslying in the drawer of the old desk before which he sat. Long before therevelation of God's will through these clergymen he had discussed itsprovisions before his Cabinet and enjoined absolute secrecy. Men fromall walks of life came to advise the backwoods lawyer on how to save thecountry. He listened to all and then did exactly what he believed to bebest. 

His plan had long been formed on the subject of the destruction ofSlavery. His purpose was to accomplish this great task in a way whichwould give his people a just and lasting peace. He held the firmconviction that the North was equally responsible with the South for theexistence of Slavery, and that the Constitution which he had sworn todefend and uphold guaranteed to the slave owner his rights. He wasdetermined to free the slaves if possible, but to do it fairly andhonestly and then settle the question for all time by colonizing thenegro race and removing them forever from physical contact with thewhite. 

At his request Congress had already passed a bill providing for thecolonization of emancipated slaves. He now sent for a number ofrepresentative negroes to hear his message and deliver it to theirpeople. 

Old Edward ushered them into his office with a look of unmistakablesuperiority. 

It was a strange meeting--this facing for the first time between thesupreme representative of the dominant race of the new era and the freedblack men whose very existence the President held to be an eternalmenace against the Nation's future. It is remarkable that the firstwords Abraham Lincoln ever addressed as President to an assemblage ofnegroes should have been the words which fell from his lips. 

The ebony faces, their cream-colored teeth showing with smiles and theirwide rolling eyes roaming the room made a striking and dramatic contrastto the rugged face and frame of the man who addressed them. 

"Your race is suffering, " he began with distinct, clean cut emphasis, "in my judgment the greatest wrong inflicted on any people. But evenwhen you cease to be slaves, you are yet far removed from being placedon an equality with the white race. On this broad continent not asingle man of your race is made the equal of a single man of ours. Gowhere you are treated best and the ban is still upon you. I cannot alterit if I would. 

"It is better for us both, therefore, to be separated. One of theprincipal difficulties in the way of colonization is that the freecolored man cannot see that his comfort would be advanced by it. For thesake of your race you should sacrifice something of your presentcomfort. In the American Revolution sacrifices were made by the menengaged in it. They were cheered by the future. 

"The Colony of Liberia is an old one, is in a sense a success and it isopen to you. I am arranging to open another in Central America. It isnearer than Liberia--within seven days by steamer. You are intelligentand know that success does not so much depend on external help as onself-reliance. Much depends on yourself. If you will engage in theenterprise, I will spend some of the money intrusted to me. This is thepractical part of my wish to see you. I ask you then to consider itseriously, not for yourselves merely, _nor for your race and ours forthe present time, but for the good of mankind_. "

He dismissed his negro hearers and sent again for the representatives ofthe Border Slave States. Here his plan must be set in motion. Heproposed to pay for the slaves set free and arrange for theircolonization. 

He spoke with deep emotion. His soul throbbed with passionate tendernessin every word. 

"You are patriots and statesmen, " he solemnly declared, "and as such Ipray you to consider this proposition, and at the least commend it tothe consideration of your States and people. Our common country is ingrave peril demanding the loftiest views and boldest action to bring itspeedy relief. You can make it possible to accomplish the justdestruction of this curse of our life. It will bring emancipation as avoluntary process, leaving the least resentment in the minds of ourslave-holders. It will not be a violent war measure, to be rememberedwith fierce rebellious anger. It will pave the way for good feeling atlast between all sections when reunited. It is reasonable. It is just. It will leave no cause for sectional enmity. This plan of gradualemancipation with pay for each slave to his owner will secure peace morespeedily and maintain it more permanently than can be done by forcealone. Its cost could be easier paid than the additional cost of war andwould sacrifice no blood at all. 

"In giving freedom to the _slave_, we _assure_ freedom to the_free_--honorable alike in what we give and what we preserve. We shallnobly save or meanly lose the last best hope of earth. Other means maysucceed. This could not fail. The way is plain, peaceful, generous, just--a way which if followed, the world will forever applaud, and Godmust forever bless. "

His tender, eloquent appeal fell on deaf ears. The men who representedthe Border Slave States refused to permit the question of tampering withSlavery to be submitted to their people--no matter by what process, withor without pay. 

They demanded with sullen persistence that the President defy all shadesof Northern opinion and stand squarely by his Inaugural address. In vainhe pointed out to them that the fact of a desperate and terrible war, costing two million dollars a day and threatening the existence of theGovernment itself, had changed the conditions under which he made thatpledge. 

When the President at last introduced into Congress through hisspokesman the bill appropriating fifteen million dollars with which topay for their slaves, the men from the Border States united with theDemocrats and defeated it!

With a sorrowful heart and deep forebodings of the future he turned tohis desk and drew forth the document he had written declaring as an actof war against the States in rebellion that their slaves should be free. 

He read its provisions again with the utmost care. He made no attack onSlavery, or the slave-holder. He was striking the blow against thewealth and power of the South for the sole purpose of crippling herresources and weakening her power to continue the struggle to divide theUnion. There was in it not one word concerning the rights of man or theequal rights of black and white men. His mind was absolutely clear onthat point. The negro when freed would be an alien race so low in thescale of being, so utterly different in temperament and character fromthe white man that their remaining in physical contact with each otherin our Republic was unthinkable. In the Emancipation Proclamationitself, therefore, he had written the principles of the colonization ofthe negro race. The two things were inseparable. He could conceive of nogreater calamity befalling the Nation than to leave the freed black manwithin its borders as an eternal menace to its future happiness andprogress. 

He called his Secretary and ordered a Cabinet meeting to fix the date onwhich to issue this momentous document to the world--a challenge tomortal combat to his foes in all sections. 

CHAPTER XVII

THE DAY'S WORK

Betty Winter held John Vaughan's note in her hand staring at its messagewith increasing amazement:

 "DEAR LITTLE SWEETHEART:

 "The President has just called General McClellan again to the chief command. His act vindicates my loyalty. Our quarrel is too absurd. Life is too short, dear, for this--it's only long enough for love. May I see you at once?

 "JOHN. "

Could it be true? For a moment she refused to believe it. The Presidenthad expressed to her his deep conviction of McClellan's guilt. How couldhe reverse his position on so vital and tremendous a matter over night?And yet John Vaughan was incapable of the cheap trick of lying to makean engagement. 

A newsboy passed yelling an extra. 

"Extra--Extra! General McClellan again in the saddle! Extra!"

It was true--he had made the appointment. What was its meaning? Had theyforced the President into this humiliating act? If the General werereally guilty of destroying Pope and overwhelming the army in defeat, his treachery had created the crisis which forced his return to power. The return under such conditions would not be a vindication. It would bea conviction of crime. 

She would see the President at once and know the truth. The question cutthe centre of John Vaughan's character. The orderly who brought the notewas waiting for an answer. 

She called from the head of the stairs:

"Tell Mr. Vaughan there is no answer to-day. "

"Yes, Miss. "

With quick salute he passed out and Betty stood irresolute as shelistened to the echo of his horse's hoof-beat growing fainter. It wasonly six o'clock, but the days were getting shorter and it was alreadydark. She could walk quickly down Pennsylvania Avenue and reach theWhite House before dinner. He would see her at any hour. 

In five minutes she was on the way her mind in a whirl of speculation onthe intrigue which might lie behind that sensational announcement. Shewas beginning to suspect her lover's patriotism. A man could love theSouth, fight and die for it and be a patriot--he was dying for what hebelieved to be right--God and his country. But no man could serve twomasters. Her blood boiled at the thought of a conspiracy within thelines of the Union whose purpose was to betray its Chief. If JohnVaughan were in it, she loved him with every beat of her heart, but shewould cut her heart out sooner than sink to his level!

She became conscious at last of the brazen stares of scores ofbrutal-looking men who thronged the sidewalks of the Avenue. 

Gambling dens had grown here like mushrooms during the past year ofwar's fevered life. The vice and crime of the whole North and West hadpoured into Washington, now swarming with a quarter of a million strangepeople. 

The Capital was no longer a city of sixty thousand inhabitants, but avast frontier post and pay station of the army. And such a pay station!Each day the expenditures of the Government were more than two millions. The air was electric with the mad lust for gain which the scent ofmillions excites in the nostrils of the wolves who prey on their fellowmen. The streets swarmed with these hungry beasts, male and female. Theypushed and crowded and jostled each other from the sidewalks. The roarof their whiskey-laden voices poured forth from every bar-room andgambling den on the Avenue. 

A fat contractor who had made his pile in pasteboard soles for armyshoes and sent more boys to the grave from disease than had been killedin battle, touched elbows with the hook-nosed vulture who was sporting adiamond pin bought with the profits of shoddy clothes that had proven ashroud for many a brave soldier sleeping in a premature grave. 

They were laughing, drinking, smoking, swearing, gambling and allshouting for the flag--the flag that was waving over millions they hopedyet to share. 

A feeling of sickening fear swept the girl's heart. For the first timein her life she was afraid to be alone on the brightly lighted streetsof Washington at dusk. The poison of death was in the air. Everydesperate passion that stirs the brute in man was written in thebloodshot eyes that sought hers. The Nation was at war. To cheat, deceive, entrap, maim, kill the enemy and lay his home in desolation wasthe daily business now of the millions who backed the Government. Whatever the lofty aims of either of the contending hosts, they soughtto win by war and this was war. It was not to be wondered at that thisspirit should begin to poison the springs of life in the minds of theweak and send them forth to prey on their fellows. It was not to bewondered at that men planned in secret to advance their own interests atthe expense of their fellows, to climb the ladder of wealth and fame inthis black hour no matter on whose dead bodies they had to walk. 

With a pang of positive terror Betty asked herself the question whetherthe man she loved had been touched by this deadly pestilence? A wave ofhorror swept her. A drunken brute brushed by and thrust his bloated faceinto hers. 

With a cry of rage and fear she turned and ran for two blocks, left theAvenue at the corner and hurried back to her home. 

She would wait until morning and see the President before the crowdarrived. 

He greeted her with a joyous shout:

"Come right in, Miss Betty!"

With long, quick stride he met her and grasped her hand, a kindlytwinkle in his eye:

"And how's our old grizzly bear, your father, this morning?"

"He's still alive and growling, " she laughed. 

The President joined heartily:

"I'll bet he is, " he said, "and hates me just as cordially as ever?"

Betty nodded. 

"But his beautiful daughter?"

"Was never more loyal to her Chief!"

"Good. Then my administration is on a sound basis. You want no office. You ask no favors. Such clear, pure, young eyes in the morning of lifedon't make mistakes. They know. "

"But I've come to ask you something this morning----"

The smile faded into a look of seriousness. 

"What's the matter?" he asked quickly. 

Betty hesitated and the red blood slowly mounted to her cheeks. He ledher to a seat, beside his chair, touched her hand gently and whispered:

"Tell me. "

"I hope you won't think me presumptuous, Mr. President, if I ask you totell me why you recalled General McClellan?"

The rugged face suddenly flashed with a smile. 

"Presumptuous?" he laughed. "My dear child, if you could have heard afew things my Cabinet had to say to me in this room on that subject! Thetender deference with which you put the question is the nearest thing toan endorsement I have so far received! Go as far as you like after thatopening. It will be a joy to discuss it with you. Presumptuous--Oh, mysoul!"

He caught his knee between his hands and rocked with laughter at thememory of his Cabinet scene. 

Reassured by his manner Betty leaned closer:

"You remember the morning you gave me the pass to Alexandria?"

"To see a certain young man?"

"Yes. "

"Perfectly. "

"You distinctly gave me the impression that morning that you were sureGeneral McClellan was betraying his trust in his failure to supportGeneral Pope and that your confidence in him was gone forever. "

"Did I?"

"Yes. "

"Then it wasn't far from the truth, " he gravely admitted. 

"And yet you recalled him to the command of the army?"

"I had to. "

"Had to?"

"It was the only thing to do. "

Betty spoke in a whisper:

"You mean that their conspiracy had become so dangerous there was noother way?"

He threw her a searching look, was silent a moment and slowly said:

"That's a pointed question, isn't it?"

"I'm a member of your Cabinet, you know----"

"Yes, I know--but why do _you_ happen to ask me such a dangerousquestion at this particularly trying moment? Come, my little brighteyes, out with it?"

"The certain young man and I are not very happy----"

"You've quarrelled?"

"Yes. "

"About what?"

"You. "

"You don't mean it, Miss Betty?" he said incredulously. 

Her eyes were dim and she nodded. 

"But why about me?"

"I saw things which confirmed your suspicions. He admitted his desirethat General Pope should fail and defended McClellan's indifference. Wequarrelled. I asked him to resign from the staff of his Chief----"

"You didn't!" he exclaimed softly, his deep eyes shining. 

"I did--and he refused. "

Again the big hands both closed on hers:

"God bless you, child! So long as I hold such faith from hearts likeyours, I know that I'm right. They can say what they please aboutme----"

"You see, " she broke in, "if he is in this conspiracy and they haveforced you to this surrender, he is equally guilty of treachery----"

"And you hold him responsible for his Commander's ambitions?"

"Yes. "

The President sprang to his feet and paced the floor a moment, stoppedand gazed at her with a look of curious tenderness:

"By jinks, Miss Betty, if I had a few more like you in my Cabinet Iwouldn't be so lonesome!"

"They did force you?" she demanded. 

"Not as you mean it, my child. I'm not going to pretend to you that Idon't understand the seriousness of the situation. The Army of thePotomac is behind McClellan to a man. It amounts to infatuation. Isounded his officers. I sounded his men. To-day they are against me andwith him. If the issue could be sprung--if the leaders dared to risktheir necks on such a revolution, they might win. They don't know thisas clearly as I do. Because they are not so well informed they areafraid to move. I have chosen to beat them at their own game----"

He paused and laughed:

"I hate to shatter your ideal, Miss Betty, but I'm afraid there'ssomething of the fox in my make-up after all. Will it shock you to learnthis?"

"I shall be greatly relieved to know it, " she responded firmly. 

"Think, then, for a moment. I suspend McClellan for his failure andreplace him with a man I believe to be his superior. The army sullenlyresent this change. They do not agree with me. They believe McClellanthe greatest General in sight. It's a marvellous thing this power overmen which he possesses. It can be used to create a Nation or destroyone. It's a dangerous force. I must handle it with the utmost care. Solong as their idol is a martyr the army is unfit for good service. Themoment I restore the old commander, in whom both officers and men haveunbounded faith, I show them that I am beyond the influence of thepolitical forces which demand his destruction--don't I?"

"Yes. "

"And the moment I dare to brave popular disapproval and restore theircommander don't you see that I win the confidence of the army in myfairness and my disinterested patriotism?"

"Of course. "

"See then what must happen. Now mind you, I would never have restoredMcClellan to command if I did not know that at this moment he can do thework of putting this disorganized and defeated army into fighting shapebetter than any other. McClellan thus returned to power must fight. Hemust win or lose. If he wins I am vindicated and his success is mine. Ifhe loses, he loses his power over the imagination of his men and at lastI am master of the situation. I shall back him with every dollar andevery man the Nation can send into his next campaign. No matter whetherhe wins or loses, I _must_ win because the supremacy of the civil powerwill be restored. "

"I see, " Betty breathed softly. 

She rose with a new look of reverence for a great mind. 

"And the civil power was not supreme when you restored McClellan to hiscommand?"

"Miss Betty, you'd make a good lawyer!" he laughed. 

"Was it?" she persisted. 

"No. "

"Thank you, " she said, rising and extending her hand. "I learned exactlywhat I wished to know. "

"And you'll stop quarreling?"

"If he's reasonable----"

He lifted his long finger in solemn warning. 

"Remember now! This administration is honestly and sincerely backingGeneral McClellan for all it's worth. It has always done this. We aregoing to try to make even a better record in the next campaign----"

"When will it open?"

"Sooner than any of us wish it, if our scouts report the truth. Flushedwith his great victory over Pope, General Lee is sure to invadeMaryland. The campaign will be a dangerous and crucial one. The momentLee crosses the Potomac, his communications with Richmond will beimperiled. If he dares to do it we can crush his army in a great battle, cut his communications with Richmond, drive his men into the Potomac andend the war. I have given McClellan the opportunity of his life. I prayGod to give success----"

Edward appeared at the door. 

"Well, what is it?"

"The crowd, sir--they are clamoring to get in. "

Betty hurried into the family apartments to speak to Mrs. Lincoln, hermind in a whirl of resentment against John Vaughan. 

The President turned to the crowd which had already poured into theroom. 

As usual, the cranks and inventors led the way. The inventors found thePresident an easy man to talk to. His mind was quick to see a good pointand always open to conviction. He had once patented a device for gettingflat boats over shoals himself. His immediate approval of the firstmodel of Ericsson's famous _Monitor_ had led to its adoption in time tomeet and destroy the _Merrimac_ in Hampton Roads on the very day theiron terror had sent his big ships to the bottom. He allowed no inventorto be turned from the door of the White House no matter how ridiculoushis hobby might appear. The inventions relating to the science of war hewould test himself on the big open field between the White House groundsand the river. 

The first inventor in line carried the model of a new rifle which wouldshoot sixteen times. The army officers believed in the idea of a singleshell breech loader on account of the simplicity of its mechanism. Ourmuskets were still muzzle loaders and the men were compelled to useramrods to load. 

The President examined the new gun with keen interest, pulled his black, shaggy beard thoughtfully, looked at the breathless inventor, and slowlymused:

"Well, now as the fat girl said when she pulled on her stocking, itstrikes me there's something in it!"

The inventor laughed with nervous joy, and watched him write a card ofendorsement:

"Take that to the War Department, and tell them I like your idea--I wantthem to look into it. "

His face wreathed in smiles, the man pushed his way through the crowd, and hurried to the War Department. 

The next one was a little fellow who had a gun of marvellous model, double-barrelled, with the barrels crossed. The President adjusted hisspectacles and took a second look before he made any comment. He liftedhis bristling eyebrows:

"What's it for?"

"For cross-eyed men, sir!" he whispered. 

"You don't say?" he roared. 

"Yes, sir, " the little man continued eagerly. "The cross-eyed men ain'tnever had no chance in this war. They turn 'em all down. They won't take'em as soldiers. That gun'll fix 'em. Push a regiment o' good cross-eyedmen to the front with that gun a-pourin' hot lead from two barrels atthe same time an' every man er cross firin' at the enemy an' we'll jistnatchally make hash outen 'em, sir----"

"And we may need the cross-eyed men, too, before the war ends. " Thesombre eyes twinkled thoughtfully. "Thank you, my friend, when I draftthe cross-eyed men come in again and we'll talk it over. Your heart'sin the right place, anyhow. "

He glanced doubtfully at the little skillet-shaped head and reached overhis shoulder for the next one. It was a bullet proof shirt forsoldiers--a coat of mail which weighed fifty pounds. 

"How long do you think a man could march with that thing on and thethermometer at ninety-eight in the shade?"

He handed it back with a shake of his head and grasped the next one--amodel water-tight canoe to fit the foot like a snow shoe. 

"What's the idea?" he asked. 

"Shoe the army with _my_ canoes, sir, and they can all walk onwater----"

"And yet they say the age of miracles has passed! Take it over to oldNeptune's office. He's a sad man at times and I like him. This ought tocheer him. "

The next one was a man of unusually interesting face. A typical Yankeefarmer with whiskers spilling over his collar from his neck andbristling up against his clean shaven chin. He handed the President amodel of a new musket. He examined it with care and fixed the man withhis gaze:

"Well, sir?"

"Hit's the rekyle, sir, " he explained softly. "Hit's the way she's hungon the stock. "

"Oh----"

"Ye see, sir, " he went on earnestly, "a gun ought not to rekyle, and efhit rekyles at all, hit ought to rekyle a leetle forred----"

"Right you are!" the President roared with laughter. "Your logic's soundwhether your gun kicks or not. I say so, too. A gun ought _not_ torekyle at all, and if it does rekyle, by jinks, it ought to rekyle andhit the other fellow, not us!"

The tall figure dropped into the chair by his desk and laughed again. 

"Come in again, Brother 'Rekyle' and we'll talk it over when I've gotmore time. "

The stocky, heavy set figure of the Secretary of War suddenly pushedthrough the crowd and up to the desk. Stanton's manner had always beenrude to the point of brusqueness and insult. The tremendous power he wasnow wielding in the most important Department of the Government had notsoftened his temper or improved his manners. The President had learnedto appreciate his matchless industry and sterling honesty and overlookedhis faults as an indulgent father those of a passionate and willfulchild. 

Stanton's eyes were flashing through his gold rimmed glasses the wrathhe found difficult to express. 

The President looked up with a friendly smile:

"Well, Mars, what's the trouble now?"

Stanton shook his leonine locks and beard in fury at the use of thefacetious word. He loathed levity of any kind and the one kind he couldnot endure was the quip that came his way. 

He regarded himself seriously every day, every hour, every minute inevery hour. He was the incarnate soul of Mars on earth. He knew and feltit. He raged at the President's use of the term because he had asneaking idea that he was being laughed at--and that by a man who washis inferior and yet to whom he was rendering indispensable service. 

An angry retort rose to his lips, but he suppressed the impulse. It wasa waste of breath. The President was a fool--he would only laugh againas he had done before. And so he plunged straight to the purpose of hiscall:

"Before you get to your usual batch of passes and pardons this morning Iwant to protest again, Mr. President, against your persistentinterference with the discipline of the army and the affairs of myDepartment. Your pardons are hamstringing the whole service, sir. Itmust stop if you expect your generals to control their men!"

"Is that all, Mars?" the even voice asked. 

"It is, sir!"

"Thanks for the spirit that prompts your rage. I know you're right aboutmost of these things. I'll do my best to help and not hinder you----"

"There's a woman coming here this morning to present a petition over myhead. "

"Oh, I see----"

"I have refused it and I demand that you support, not make a fool ofme. "

He turned without waiting for an answer and strode from the room. 

The President whispered to Nicolay:

"We may have to put a few bricks in Stanton's pocket yet, John!"

He glanced toward the waiting crowd and whispered again:

"Any news to-day from the front before I go on?"

Nicolay drew a telegram from his file:

"Only this dispatch, sir, announcing the capture of fifty mules and twobrigadier generals by Stuart's cavalry----"

"Fifty mules?"

"And two brigadier generals. "

"Fifty mules--and they're worth two hundred dollars a piece. Tell 'em tosend a regiment after those mules. Jeffy D. Can have the generals. "

A slender little dark-haired girl about fifteen years old, with bigwistful blue eyes, had taken advantage of the pause to slip close. Whenthe President lifted his head she caught his eyes. He rose immediatelyand drew her to his side. 

"You're all alone, little girl?"

"Yes, sir, " she faltered. 

"And what can I do for you?"

"If you please, I want to pass through the lines to Virginia--mybrother's there--he was shot in the last battle. I want to see him. "

"Of course you do, " the kindly voice agreed, "and you shall. "

He wrote the pass and handed it to her. 

She murmured her thanks and he placed his big hand on her dark head andasked casually:

"Of course you're loyal?"

The young lips quivered, she hesitated, looked up into his face throughdimmed eyes, and the slender body suddenly stiffened, as she slowlysaid:

"Yes--to the heart's core--to Virginia!"

The trembling fingers handed the pass back and the tears rolled down hercheeks. 

The tall man dared not look down again. Something about this slimwistful girl brought back over the years the memory of the young motherwho had come from the hills of old Virginia. 

He was still for a moment, stooped, and took her hand in his. His voicewas low and tender and full of feeling:

"I know what it cost you to say that, child. You're a brave, gloriouslittle girl, if you are a rebel. I love you for this glimpse you'vegiven me of a great spirit. I'm sure I can trust you. If I let you go, will you promise me faithfully that no word shall pass your lips of whatyou've seen inside our lines?"

"I promise!" she cried, smiling through her tears. 

He handed her back the pass and slowly said:

"May God bless you--and speed the day when your people and mine shall beno longer enemies. "

He turned again to his desk, and beside it stood a quiet woman dressedin black. 

He bowed to her with easy grace:

"And how can I serve you, Madam?"

She smiled hopefully:

"You have children, Mr. President?"

A look of sorrow overspread the dark face. 

"Yes, " he said reverently, "I have two boys now. I had three, but Godhas just taken one of them. "

"I had two, " the mother responded. "Both of them went into the army tofight for their country and left me alone. One has been killed inbattle. I tried to be brave about it. I said over and over again, 'theLord gave and the Lord has taken away, blessed is the name of the Lord!'But I had to give up. I'm all alone in my little place in the mountainsof Pennsylvania and I can't endure it. I know they say I have no rightto ask, but I want my last boy to come home. All night I lie there aloneand cry. Can't you let me have my boy back? He's all I've got onearth--others have more. I have only this one. I'm just awoman--lonely, heartsick and afraid. They say I can't have him. But I'vecome to ask you. I've heard that you have a loving heart----"

She stopped suddenly. 

"You have seen Stanton?" the President asked. 

"Yes. He wouldn't listen. He swore I shouldn't have him. "

The hazel-grey eyes gazed thoughtfully out the window across the shiningriver for a moment. 

"I have two, " he murmured, "and you have only one. It isn't fair. Youshall have your boy. "

He turned to his desk and wrote the order for his discharge. The motherpressed close, gently touched with the tips of her fingers his thickblack hair and softly cried while he was writing. 

She took the precious paper, tried to speak and choked. 

"Go away now, " the President whispered, "or you'll have me crying in aminute. "

When the last man had gone he stood alone before his window in broodingsilence. A tender smile overspread his face and he drew a deep breath. In the hills of Pennsylvania he saw a picture--a mother in the door of ahumble home waiting for her boy. He is coming down the road with swift, strong step. She sees and rushes to meet him with a cry of joy, holdshim in her arms without words a long, long while and will not let himgo. And then she leads him into the house, falls on her knees and thanksGod. 

He smiles again and forgets the burden of the day. 

CHAPTER XVIII

DIPLOMACY

In the whirlwind of passion, intrigue, slander and hate which hadcircled the head of the new President since the day of his Inauguration, the mother of his children had not been spared. 

The First Lady of the Land had found her position as difficult in itsway as her husband had found his. She had met the cynical criticism atfirst with dignity, reserve, and contempt. But as it increased inviolence and virulence she had more than once lost her temper. She hadnever been blessed with the serenity of spirit that with Lincoln in histrying hours touched the heights of genius. 

She was just a human little woman who loved her husband devotedly andhated every man and woman who hated him. And when her patience wasexhausted she said things as she thought them, with a contempt forconsequences as sublime as it was dangerous. 

From the moment of the opening of the war she hated the South, not onlybecause the Southern people had flung the shadow of death over hersplendid social career and blighted the brightest dream of her life bywar, but she had a more intimate and personal reason for this hatred. Her own flesh and blood had gone into the struggle against her and thehusband she loved. Both her brothers born in the South, were in theConfederate army fighting to tear the house down over her head. One ofthese brothers had been made the Commandant of Libby Prison in Richmond. The woman in her could never forgive them. 

And yet men in the North who sought the destruction of her husband sawhow they might use the fact of her Southern kin to their own gain, anddid it with the most cruel and bitter malignity. 

One thing she was determined to do--maintain her position in a way toput it beyond the reach of petty spite and gossip. She had alwaysresented the imputation of boorishness and lack of culture his enemieshad made against the man she loved. She held it her first duty, therefore, to maintain her place as the First Lady of the Land in a waythat would still those slanderous tongues. For this reason her dresseshad been the most elaborate and expensive the wife of any ChiefMagistrate of the Republic had ever worn. Her big-hearted, carelesshusband had no more idea of the cost of such things than a new-bornbabe. 

Lizzie Garland, the negro dressmaker, to whom she had given herpatronage, practically spent her entire time with the President's wife, who finally became so contemptuous of unreasonable public criticism inWashington that she was often seen going to Lizzie Garland's house to befitted. 

As Lizzie bent over her work basting the new seams in fitting her lastdress, the Mistress of the White House suddenly stopped the nervousmovement of her rocking-chair. 

"He demands a thousand dollars to-night, Lizzie?"

"Swears he'll take the whole account to the President to-morrow unlesshe gets it, Madam. "

"You tried to make him reasonable?"

"Begged him for an hour. "

"That's what I get for trading with a little rat in Philadelphia. I'llstick to Stewart hereafter. "

She rose with a gesture of nervous rage:

"Well, there's no help for it then. I must ask him. I dread it. Mr. Lincoln calls me a child--a spoiled child. He's the child. He has noidea of what these things cost. Why can't a Nation that spends twomillions a day on contractors and soldiers give its President a salaryhe can live on?"

She threw herself on the lounge and gave way for a moment to despair. 

"He'll give it to you, of course, when you ask it, " Lizzie venturedcheerfully. 

"If I'm diplomatic, yes. But I hate to do it. He's harassed enough. Iwonder sometimes if he's human to stand all he does. If he knew thetruth--O my God----"

"Don't worry, Madam, " Lizzie pleaded. "It will come out all right. ThePresident is sure to be re-elected. "

"That's it, is he? I'm beginning to lose faith. He'll never win if thescoundrels in Washington can prevent it. There's just one man inCongress his real friend. I can't make him see that the hypocrites hekeeps in his Cabinet are waiting and watching to stab him in the back. But what's the use to talk, I've got to face it to-day--ask Phoebe tocome here. "

"Let me go, Madam, " Lizzie begged. "I hate the sight of that woman. Isuspect her of nosing into our affairs. "

"Nonsense!" was the contemptuous answer. "Phoebe's just a big, fat, black, good-natured fool. It rests me to look at her--she's so muchfatter than I am. "

With a shrug of her shoulders the dressmaker rose and rang for thecolored maid, who had just entered Mrs. Lincoln's service. 

Phoebe walked in with a glorious smile lighting her dusky face. Seeingher mistress lying down at the unusual hour of eleven o'clock in themorning, she rushed to her side:

"Laws of mussy, Ma'am, ain't you well!"

"Just a little spell of nerves, Phoebe, something that never worriesyour happy soul----"

"No, Ma'am, dat dey don't!" the black woman laughed. 

"Hand me a pencil and pad of paper. "

Phoebe executed her order with quick heavy tread, and stood lookingwhile her mistress scribbled a note to her husband. 

"Take that to the President, and see that he comes. "

Phoebe courtesied heavily:

"Yassam, I fetch him!"

The Hon. Salmon P. Chase, Secretary of the Treasury, was engaged withthe President when Phoebe presented herself at the door of the executiveoffice. 

John Hay tried in vain to persuade her to wait _a_ few minutes. Phoebebrushed the young diplomat aside with scant ceremony. 

"G'way fum here, Boy!" she laughed. "Miss Ma'y sent me ter fetch 'imright away. An' I gwine ter fetch 'im!"

She threw her ponderous form straight through the door and made for theChief Magistrate. 

Mr. Chase was delivering an important argument, but it had no weightwith her. 

She bowed and courtesied to the President. 

"Excuse me, Governor, " he said with a smile. "Good morning, Phoebe. "

"Good mornin', sah. "

She extended the note with a second dip of her ponderous form:

"Yassah, Miss Ma'y send dis here excommunication ter you, sah!"

"You don't say so?" the President cried, breaking into a laugh. 

"Yassah. "

"Then I'm excommunicated, Governor!" he nodded to Chase. "I must readthe edict. " He adjusted his glasses and glanced at the note:

"Your mistress is lying down?"

"Yassah, she's sufferin' fum a little spell er nervous prosperity, sah--dat's all--sah----"

"Oh, that's all?"

"Yassah. "

The President roared with laughter, in which Phoebe joined. 

"Thank you, Phoebe, tell her I'll be there in a minute----"

"Yassah. "

"And Phoebe----"

The maid turned as she neared the door:

"Yassah?"

"I hope you'll always bring my messages from your mistress----"

"Yassah. "

"I like you, Phoebe. You're cheerful!"

"I tries ter be, sah!" she laughed, swinging herself through the door. 

The President threw his big hands behind his head, leaned back, andlaughed until his giant frame shook. 

The dignified and solemn Secretary of the Treasury scowled, rose, andstalked from the room. 

"Sorry I couldn't talk longer, Chase. "

"It's all right, " the Secretary replied, with a wave of his hand. 

The President found his wife alone. 

"I hope nothing serious, Mother?" he said tenderly. 

"I've a miserable headache again. Why were you so long?"

"I was with Governor Chase. "

"And what did the old snake in the grass want this time?"

The President glanced toward the door uneasily, sat down by her side andtouched her hand:

"You should be more careful, Mother. Servants shouldn't hear you saythings like that----"

The full lips came together with bitter firmness:

"I'll say just what I think when I'm talking to you, Father--what did hewant?"

"He offered his resignation as my Secretary of the Treasury. "

His wife sprang up with flashing eyes:

"And you?"

"Refused to accept it. "

"O my Lord, you're too good and simple for this world! You're a babe--ababe in the woods with wolves prowling after you from every tree and youwon't see them! You know that he's a candidate against you for thePresidency, don't you?"

"Yes. "

"You know that he never loses an opportunity to sneer at you behind yourback?"

"I've heard so. "

"You know that he's hand in glove with the conspirators in Congress whoare trying to pull you down?"

"Perhaps. "

"You know that he's the greatest letter writer of the age? That hewrites as many letters to your generals in the field as old Winter--thathe writes to every editor he knows and every politician he caninfluence, and that the purpose of these letters is always the same--topull you down?"

"Possibly. "

"You have this chance to put your foot on this frozen snake's head andyet you bring him into your house again to warm him into life?"

"Chase is a great Secretary of the Treasury, my dear. The country needshim. I can't afford to take any chances just now of a change for theworse. "

"He has no idea of leaving. He's only playing a game with you tostrengthen himself--can't you see this?"

"Maybe. "

"And yet you submit to such infamy in your own Cabinet?"

"It's not a crime, Mother, to aspire to high office. The bee is in poorChase's bonnet. He can't help it. I've felt the thing tickle myself. Ifhe can beat me let the best man win----"

"Don't--don't--don't say such fool things, " his wife cried. "I'llscream! You need a guardian. You have three men in your Cabinet who areusing their positions to climb into the Presidency over you--old Seward, Chase and now Stanton, and you smile and smile and let them think youdon't know. You'll never have a united and powerful administration untilyou kick those scoundrels out----"

"Mother--Mother--you mustn't----"

"I will--I'll tell you the truth--nobody else does. I tell you to kickthese scoundrels out and put men in their places who will loyallysupport you and your policies!"

"I've no right in such an hour to think of my own ambitions, my dear, "was the even, quiet answer. "Seward is the best man for his place I knowin the country. Stanton is making the most efficient War Secretary wehave ever had. Chase is a great manager of our Treasury. I'm afraid torisk a new man. If these men can win over me by rendering their countrya greater service than I can, they ought to win----"

"But can't you see, you big baby, that it isn't the man who really givesthe greatest service that may win? It's the liar and hypocriteundermining his Chief who may win. Won't you have common sense and sendthose men about their business? Surely you won't lose this chance to getrid of Chase. Won't you accept his resignation?"

"No. "

There was a moment's tense silence. The wife looked up appealingly andthe rugged hand touched hers gently. 

"I think, Father, you're the most headstrong man that God ever made!"

The dark, wistful face brightened:

"And yet they say I'm a good-natured, easy-going fellow with noconvictions?"

"They don't know you----"

"I'm sorry, Mother, we don't see it the same way, but one of us has todecide these things, and I suppose I'm the one. "

"I suppose so, " she admitted wearily. 

"But tell me, " he cried cheerfully, "what can I do right now to make youhappy? You sent for me for something. You didn't know that Chase wasthere, did you?"

She hesitated and answered cautiously:

"It doesn't matter whether I did or not. You refuse to listen to myadvice. "

He bent nearer in evident distress:

"What can I do, Mother?"

"I need some money. Since Willie's death last winter I've thoughtnothing of my dresses for the next season. I must begin to attend tothem. I need a thousand dollars. "

"To-day?"

"Yes. "

He looked at her with a twinkle playing around the corner of his eyes ashe slowly rose:

"Send Phoebe in for the check. "

"Ring for her, please. "

He pulled the old-fashioned red cord vigorously, walked back to thelounge, put his hands in his pockets and looked at his wife in a comicalway. 

"Mother, " he said at last, "you're a very subtle woman. You'd make agreat diplomat if you didn't talk quite so much. "

CHAPTER XIX

THE REBEL

While Betty Winter was still brooding in angry resentment over theproblem of John Vaughan's guilt in sharing the treason of his Chief, thearmy was suddenly swung into the field to contest Lee's invasion ofMaryland. 

The daring venture of the Confederate leader had developed withstartling rapidity. The President was elated over the probableannihilation of his army. He knew that half of them were practicallybarefooted and in rags. He also knew that McClellan outnumbered Lee andJackson two to one and that the Southerners, no longer on the defensive, but aggressors, would be at an enormous disadvantage in Marylandterritory. 

That Lee was walking into a death trap he was morally sure. 

The Confederate leader was not blind to the dangers of his undertaking. Conditions in the South practically forced the step. It was of theutmost importance that he should have full and accurate informationbefore his move, and a group of the coolest and bravest young men in hisarmy were called on to go into Washington as scouts and spies and bringthis report. Men who knew the city were needed. 

Among the ten selected for the important mission was Ned Vaughan. He hadbeen promoted for gallantry on the field at Malvern Hill, and wore thestripes of a lieutenant. He begged for the privilege of risking his lifein this work and his Colonel could not deny him. He had proven on twooccasions his skill on secret work as a scout before the second battleof Bull Run. His wide circle of friends in Washington and the utterchange in his personal appearance by the growth of a beard made hischances of success the best of any man in the group. 

He was anxious to render his country the greatest possible service insuch a crisis, but there was another motive of resistless power. He wasmad to see Betty Winter. He knew her too well to believe that if he tookhis life in his hand to look into her eyes she could betray him. 

His disguise in the uniform of a Federal Captain was perfect, his forgedpass beyond suspicion. He passed the lines of the Union armyunchallenged and spent his first night in Washington in Joe Hall'sfamous gambling saloon on Pennsylvania Avenue. He arrived too late tomake any attempt to see Betty. He stood for half an hour on the cornerof the street, gazing with wistful eyes at the light in her window. Hedared not call and involve her in the possibility of suspicion. He mustwait with caution until she left the house and he could speak to herwithout being recognized. If he failed to get this chance he would writeher as a last resort. 

In Hall's place he found scores of Congressmen and men from everydepartment of the Government service. Old Thaddeus Stevens, the leaderof the war party in the House, was playing for heavy stakes, his sullenhard face set with grim determination. 

He watched a young clerk from the War Department stake his last dollar, lose, and stagger from the table with a haunted, desperate look. Nedfollowed him into two saloons and saw the bartenders refuse him credit. He walked through the door of the last saloon, his legs trembling andhis white lips twitching, stopped and leaned against the wall of thelittle bookstore on the corner, the flickering street lamp showing dimlyhis ghastly face and eyes. 

Ned glanced uneasily behind him to see that he had not been followed. Hehad left under the impression that a secret service man had seen themboth leave. He knew that Baker, the head of the Department, might knowthe name of every clerk who frequented a gambling den. No one was insight and he debated for a moment the problem of offering this boy thebribe to get from Stanton's office the information he wanted. 

It was a question of character and his judgment of it. Could he speakthe word to this boy that might send one or both to the gallows? He waswell born. His father was a man of sterling integrity and a firmsupporter of the Union. The boy was twenty-two years old and had been apet in the fast circle of society in which he had moved for the lastthree years. If his love for his country were the real thing, he wouldhand Ned over as a spy without a moment's hesitation. If the mania forgambling had done its work he would do anything for money. 

Ned's own life was in the decision. He took another look into thehaggard face and made up his mind. 

He started on as if to pass him, stopped suddenly and extended his hand:

"Hello, Dick, what's up?"

The boy glowered at him and answered with a snarl:

"I don't know you----"

Ned drew a sigh of relief. One danger was passed. He couldn't recognizehim. The rest should be easy. 

"You don't need to, my boy, " he whispered. "You're looking for afriend--money?"

"Yes. I'll sell my soul into hell for it right now, " he gasped. 

"You don't need to do that. " Ned drew two hundred dollars in gold fromhis pocket and clinked the coin. 

"You see that gold?"

"Yes, yes--what do you want for it?"

"I want you to get for me to-morrow morning the exact number of men inMcClellan's army. I want the figures from Stanton's office--youunderstand. I want the name of each command, its numbers and itsofficers. I know already half of them. So you can't lie to me. Give methis information here to-morrow night and the gold is yours. Will you doit?"

The boy glanced at Ned for a moment:

"I'll see you in hell first. I've a notion to arrest you--damned if Idon't----"

He wheeled and started toward the corner. 

Ned's left hand gripped his with the snap of a steel trap, his rightholding his revolver. 

"Don't you be a fool. I know that you're ruined. I saw you in JoeHall's----"

The boy's jaw dropped. 

"You saw me?" he stammered. 

"Yes. You're done for, and you know it. Bring me those figures and I'lldouble the pile--four hundred dollars. "

The weak eyes shifted uneasily. He hesitated and faltered:

"All right. Meet me here at seven o'clock. For God's sake, don't speakto me if there's anyone in sight. "

All next day Ned watched Betty's house in vain. At dark, in despair anddesperation, he wrote a note. 

 "DEAR MISS BETTY:

 "For one look into your dear eyes I am here. I've tried in vain to meet you. I can't leave without seeing you. I'll wait in the park at the foot of the avenue to-morrow night at dusk. Just one touch of your hand and five minutes near you is all I ask----"

There was no signature needed. She would know. He mailed it and hurriedto his appointment. 

The boy was prompt. There was no one in sight. Ned hurriedly examinedthe sheet of paper, verified the known commands and their numbers and, convinced of its genuineness, handed the money to the traitor. 

"For God's sake, never speak to me again or recognize me in any way, " hebegged through chattering teeth. "I got those things from Stanton's deskand copied them. "

Ned nodded, placed the precious document in his pocket, and watched thefool hurry with swift feet straight to Joe Hall's place and disappearwithin. 

Betty failed to come at the appointed time and he was heartsick. Hewould finish his work in six hours to-morrow and he should not lose amoment in passing the Federal lines. The precious figures he had boughtwere memorized and the paper destroyed. In six hours next day hecompleted the drawings of the fort on which information had been askedand was ready to leave. 

But he had not seen Betty. He tried to go and each effort only led himto the corner from which he watched her house. He lingered until nightand waited an hour again in the dark. And still she had not come. Andthen it slowly dawned on him that she must have realized from the momentshe read his message the peril of his position and the danger of hisbetrayal in their meeting. 

He turned with quick, firm tread to pass the Federal lines withoutdelay, and walked into the arms of two secret service men. 

Without a word he was manacled and led to prison. The boy he had bribedhad been under suspicion since his first visits to Joe Hall's. Stantonhad discovered that his desk had been rummaged. Five of his nineSouthern comrades had been arrested and he was the sixth. The rage ofthe Secretary of War had been boundless. He had thrown out a dragnet ofdetectives and every suspicious character in the city was passingthrough it or landing in prison. 

The men stripped him and searched with the touch of experts every stitchof his clothing, ripped the lining of his coat, opened the soles of hisshoes, split the heels and found nothing. He had been ordered to dressand given permission to go, when suddenly the officer conducting thesearch said:

"Wait!"

Ned stopped in the doorway. It was useless to protest. 

"Excuse my persistence, my friend, " he said apologetically. "You seemall right and my men have apparently made a mistake, all the same I'mgoing to examine your mouth----"

Ned's eyes suddenly flashed and his figure unconsciously stiffened. 

"I thought so!" the officer laughed. 

The door was closed and the guard stepped before it. 

And then, with quick sure touch as if he saw the object of his searchthrough the flesh, the detective lifted Ned Vaughan's upper lip and drewfrom between his lips and teeth the long, thin, delicately foldedtinfoil within which lay the tissue drawing of the fort. 

The drumhead court-martial which followed was brief and formal. Theprisoner refused to give his name or any clue to his identity. He wascondemned to be hanged as a spy at noon the next day and locked in acell in the Old Capitol Prison. 

On his way they passed Senator Winter's house. Six hours' delay just tolook into her face had cost him his life, but his one hopeless regretnow was that he had failed to see her. 

Betty Winter read the account of the sensational arrest and deathsentence. He had been arrested at the trysting place he had appointed. She dropped the paper with a cry and hurried to the White House. Shethanked God for the loving heart that dwelt there. 

Without a moment's hesitation the President ordered a suspension ofsentence and directed that the papers be sent to him for review. 

In vain Stanton raged. He shook his fist in the calm, rugged face atlast:

"Dare to interfere with the final execution of this sentence and I shallresign in five minutes after you issue that pardon! I'll stand for somethings--but not for this--I warn you!"

"I understand your position, Stanton, " was the quiet answer. "And I'lllet you know my decision when I've reached it. "

With a muttered oath, the Secretary of War left the room. 

Betty bent close to his desk and whispered:

"You'll give me three days to get his mother here?"

"Of course I will, child, six days if it's necessary. Get word to her. If I can't save him, she can say good-bye to her boy. That can't hurtanybody, can it?"

With a warm grasp of his hand Betty flew to the telegraph office andthree days later she saw for the first time the broken-hearted mother. The resemblance was so startling between the mother and both sons shecouldn't resist the impulse to throw her arms around her neck. 

"I came alone, dear, " the mother said brokenly, "because his father isso bitter. You see we're divided at home, too. I'm with John in his lovefor the Union--but his father is bitter against the war. It would do nogood for him to come. He hates the President and says he's responsiblefor all the blood and suffering--and so I'm alone--but you'll help me?"

"Yes, I'll help and we'll fight to win. "

The mother held her at arms' length a moment:

"How sweet and beautiful you are! How happy I am that you love my John!I'm proud of you. Is John here?"

Betty's face clouded:

"No. I telegraphed him to come. He answered that a great battle wasabout to be fought and that it was absolutely useless to ask forpardon----"

"But it isn't--is it, dear?"

"No, we'll fight. John doesn't know the President as I do. We'll nevergive up--you and I--Mother!"

Again they were in each other's arms in silence. The older woman heldher close. 

And then came the long, hard fight. 

The President heard the mother's plea with tender patience and shook hishead sorrowfully. 

"I'm sorry, dear Madam, " he said at last, "to find this case sodangerous and difficult. Our army is approaching a battle. Tremendousissues hang on the results. It looks now as if this battle may end thewar. The enemy have as good right to send their brave scouts and spiesamong us to learn our secrets as we have to send ours to learn theirs. They kill our boys without mercy when captured. I have just askedJefferson Davis to spare the life of one of the noblest and bravest menI have ever known. He was caught in Richmond on a daring errand for hiscountry. They refused and executed him. How can I face my Secretary ofWar with such a pardon in my hands?"

The mother's head drooped lower with each sorrowful word and when thevoice ceased she fell on her knees, with clasped hands and streamingeyes in a voiceless prayer whose dumb agony found the President's heartmore swiftly and terribly than words. 

"O my dear little mother, you mustn't do that!" he protested, seizingher hands and lifting her to her feet. "You mustn't kneel to me, I'm notGod--I'm just a distracted man praying from hour to hour and day to dayfor wisdom to do what's right! I can't stand this--you mustn't do suchthings--they kill me!"

He threw his big hands into the air with a gesture of despair, his facecorpse-like in its ashen agony. He took a step from her and leanedagainst the long table in the centre of the room for support. 

Betty whispered something in the mother's ear and led her near again. 

"If you'll just give my boy to me alive, " she went on in low anguish, "I'll take him home and keep him there and I'll pledge my life that hewill never again take up arms against the Union----"

"You can guarantee me that?" he interrupted, holding her gaze. 

"I'm sure of it. He's noble, high-spirited, the soul of honor. He wasalways good and never gave me an hour's sorrow in his life until thiswar came----"

The long arm suddenly swung toward his Secretary:

"Have the prisoner, Ned Vaughan, brought here immediately. When hecomes, Madam, I'll see what can be done. "

With a sob of joy the mother leaned against Betty, who took her out intothe air until the wagon from the jail should come. 

They had led Ned quickly into the President's office before his motherand Betty knew of his arrival. His wrists were circled with handcuffs. The President looked over his spectacles at the irons and spoke sharply:

"Take those things off him----"

The guard hesitated, and the high pitched voice rang with angryauthority:

"Take off those handcuffs, I tell you. His mother'll be here in aminute--take 'em off!"

The guard quickly removed the manacles and the President turned to himand his attendants:

"Clear out now. I'll call you when I want you. "

Ned bowed:

"Thank you, sir. "

"I hope I can do more than that for you, my boy. It all depends onyou----"

The mother's cry of joy stopped him short as she walked into the door. With a bound she reached Ned's side, clasped him in her arms and kissedhim again and again with the low caressing words that only a mother'slips can breathe. He loosened her hands tenderly:

"I'm glad you came, dear. It's all right. You mustn't worry. This iswar, you know. "

"But we're going to save you, my darling. The President's going topardon you. I feel it--I know it. That's why he sent for you. God hasheard my prayer. "

"I'm afraid you don't understand these things, dear, " Ned repliedtenderly. "The President can't pardon me--no one understands that betterthan I do----"

"But he will, darling! He will----"

Ned soothed her and turned to Betty. 

"Just a moment, Mother, I wish to speak to Miss Betty. "

He took her hand and looked into her face with wistful intensity. 

"One long look at the girl of my dreams and I'll wait for you on theother side! This is not the way I told you I would return, is it? Butit's war. We must take it as it comes--good-bye--dearest----"

"O Ned, Boy, the President will pardon you if you'll be reasonable. Youmust, for her sake, if not because I ask it. "

"It's sweet of you to try this, dearest, but of course, it's useless. The President must be just. "

The tall figure rose and Ned turned to face his desk. 

"Young man, " he began gently, "you're a soldier of exceptional trainingand intelligence. You knew the danger and the importance of yourmission. You have failed and your life is forfeited to the Nation, butfor your mother's sake, because of her love and her anguish and herloyalty, I have decided to trust you and send you home on parole in hercustody if you take the oath of allegiance----"

The mother gave a sob of joy. 

"I thank you, Mr. President, " was the firm reply, "for your generousoffer for my mother's sake, but I cannot take your oath. I have swornallegiance to another Government in the righteousness and justice ofwhose cause I live and am ready to die----"

"Ned--Ned!" the mother moaned. 

"I must, Mother, dear, " he firmly went on. "Life is sweet when it'sworth living. But man can not live by bread alone. They have only thepower to kill my body. You ask me to murder my soul. "

He paused and turned to the President, whose eyes were shining withadmiration. 

"I believe, sir, that I am right and you are wrong. This is war. We mustfight it out. I'm a soldier and a soldier's business is to die. "

The tall figure suddenly crossed the space that separated them andgrasped his hand:

"You're a brave man, Ned Vaughan, the kind of man that saves this worldfrom hell--the kind that makes this Nation great and worth saving whole!I wish I could keep you here--but I can't. You know that--good-bye----"

"Good-bye, sir, " was the firm answer. 

The mother began to sob piteously until Betty spoke something softly inher ear. 

Ned turned, pressed her to his heart, and held her in silence. He tookBetty's hand and bent to kiss it. 

"You shall not die, " she whispered tensely. "I'm going to save you. "

She felt the answering pressure and knew that he understood. 

Betty held the mother at the door a moment and spoke in low tones:

"I can get permission from the President to delay the execution untilhis sister may arrive and say good-bye to him in prison the night beforethe execution. Wait and I'll get it now. "

The mother stood and gazed in a stupor of dull despair while Bettypressed to his desk and begged the last favor. It was granted withouthesitation. 

[Illustration: "'You're a brave man, Ned Vaughan. '"]

The President wrote the order delaying the death for three days andhanded her his card on which was written:

 "Admit the bearer, the sister of the prisoner, Ned Vaughan, the night before his execution to see him for five minutes. 

 "A. LINCOLN. "

"I'm sorry, little girl, I couldn't do more for _your_ sake--but youunderstand?"

Betty nodded, returned the pressure of his hand and hurriedly left theroom. 

The hanging was fixed for the following Friday at noon. The pass wouldadmit his sister on Thursday night. Betty had three days in which towork. She drew every dollar of her money and went at her task swiftly, silently, surely, until she reached the guard inside the grim oldprison, who held the keys to the death watch. 

She couldn't trust the sister with her daring plan. She might lose hernerve. She must impersonate her. It was a dangerous piece of work, butit was not impossible. She had only to pass the inspectors. The guardsinside were her friends. 

On Thursday night at eight o'clock a carriage drew up at the little redbrick house, on whose door flashed the brass plate sign:

 ELIZABETH GARLAND, MODISTE

She had made an appointment with Mrs. Lincoln's dressmaker and arrangedfor it at this late hour. She must not be seen leaving her father'shouse to-night. 

She drove rapidly to the Capitol, stopped her carriage at the north end, entered the building through the Senate wing, quickly passed out again, and in a few minutes had presented her pass to the commandant of the OldCapitol Prison. 

The woman inspector made the most thorough search and finding nothingsuspicious, allowed her to enter the dimly lighted corridor of the deathwatch. 

The turnkey loudly announced:

"The sister of the prisoner, Ned Vaughan!"

She met him face to face in the large cell in which the condemned wereallowed to pass their last night on earth. The keen eyes of a guard fromthe Inspector's office watched her every act and every movement of herbody. 

Ned stared at her. His heart beat with mad joy. She was going to playhis sister's part! He would take her in his arms for the first time andfeel the beat of her heart against his and their lips would meet. Helaughed at death as he looked into her eyes with the hunger of eternitygleaming in his own. 

There could be no hesitation on her part. 

She threw both arms around his neck crying:

"Brave, foolish boy!"

He held her close, crushed her with one mad impulse, and slowly relaxedhis arms. She would forgive him for this moment of delirium on the brinkof the grave, but he must be reasonable. 

"I am ready to die, now, dearest, " he murmured. 

She slowly lifted her lips to his in a long kiss--a kiss that thrilledbody and soul--and pressed into his mouth a tiny piece of tissue paper. 

She stood holding both his hands for a moment and hesitated, glancing atthe guard from the corner of her eye. He was watching with steadystolid business-like stare. She must play her part to the end carefullyand boldly. 

"I've only this moment just to say good-bye, Boy, " she faltered. "Ipromised not to stay long. " Slowly her arms stole round his neck, andthe blood rushed to his face in scarlet waves. 

"Love has made death glorious, dearest, " he breathed tenderly. "Godbless you for coming, for all you have done for me, and for all thisholy hour means to my soul--you understand. "

The tears were streaming down her cheeks now. The plan might fail afterall--the gallows was there in the jail yard lifting its stark arms inthe lowering sky. She pressed his hands hysterically:

"Yes, yes, I understand. "

She turned and hurried to the guard:

"Take me out quickly. I'm going to faint. I can't endure it. "

The guard caught her arm, supporting her as she made her way to thestreet. 

In fifteen minutes she had returned to the dressmaker's and from therecalled another carriage and went home. 

The guard had no sooner turned his back than Ned Vaughan quickly openedand read the precious message which gave the plan of escape. 

When the sentinel on his corridor was changed at midnight the blond, blue-eyed boy would be his friend and explain. 

When he found the rope ladder concealed on the roof it was raining. Hefastened it carefully in the shadow of an offset in the outer wall andwaited for the appearance of the guard. As he passed the gas lamp postand the flickering light fell on his face he studied it with care. Hewas stupid and allowed the rain to dash straight into his fat face. Itshould be easy to reach the shadows by a quick leap when he turnedagainst the rain and reached the length of his beat. 

He calculated to a second the time required to make the descent, threwhimself swiftly to the end of his rope and dropped to the pavement. 

In his eagerness to strike the ground on the run, his foot slipped andhe fell. The guard heard and ran back, blinking his stupid eyes throughthe rain. He found a young sport who had lost his way in the storm. 

"I shay, partner, " the fallen drunk blubbered. "What'ell's the matterhere? Ain't this Joe Hall's place?"

"Not by a dam sight. "

"Ah, g'long with yer, f-foolishness--man--and open the door--I'm an oldcustomer--I ain't no secret service man--I'm all right--open her up----"

"Here, here, get up an' move on now, I can't fool with you, " the guardgrowled good-naturedly. He lifted Ned to his feet and helped him to theend of his beat, waved him a jolly good-night, and turned to his steadytramp. The rope was still dangling next morning ten feet above his head. 

The sensation that thrilled the War Department was one that made historyfor the Nation, as well as the individuals concerned, and for someunfortunately who were not concerned. 

CHAPTER XX

THE INSULT

The day General Lee's army turned toward the north for the Marylandshore, the President, with the eagerness of a boy, hurried toMcClellan's house to shake his hand, bid him God's speed and assure himof his earnest support and good wishes. 

The absurdity of the ruler of a mighty Nation hurrying on foot to thehouse of one of his generals never occurred to his mind. 

The autocratic power over the lives and future of millions to which hehad been called had thrown no shadow of vanity or self pride over hissimple life. Responsibility had only made clearer his judgment, strengthened his courage, broadened and deepened his love for his fellowman. 

He wished to see his Commanding General and bid him God's speed. TheGeneral was busy and he wished to take up but a few minutes of his time. And so without a moment's hesitation he walked to his house accompaniedonly by Hay, his Assistant Secretary. 

On the way he was jubilant with hope:

"We've got them now, Boy--we've got them, and this war must speedilyend! Lee will never get into Maryland with fifty thousand effective men. With the river hemming him in on the rear I'll have McClellan on himwith a hundred thousand well shod, well fed, well armed and with thefinest artillery that ever thundered into battle. We're bound to win. "

"If McClellan can whip him, sir?"

"Yes, of course, he's got to do that, " was the thoughtful answer. "Andyou know I believe he'll do it. McClellan's on his mettle now. His armywill fight like tigers to show their faith in him. He's vain andambitious, yes--many great men are. Ambition's a mighty human motive. "

"I'm afraid it's bad diplomacy, sir, to go to his house like this--he isvain, you know, " the younger man observed with a frown. 

"Tut, tut, Boy, it's no time for ceremony. Who cares a copper!"

The clock in the church tower struck ten as Hay sprang up the steps andrang the bell. 

"I hope he hasn't gone to bed, " the Secretary said. 

"At ten o'clock?" the President laughed, "a great general about to marchon the most important campaign of his life--hardly. "

The straight orderly saluted and ushered them into the elegant receptionroom--the room so often graced by the Prince de Joinville and the Comtede Paris, of the General's staff. 

The orderly sniffed the air in a superior butler style:

"The General has not come in yet, gentlemen. "

"We'll wait, " was the President's quick response. 

They sat in silence and the minutes dragged. 

The young Secretary, in rising wrath, looked again and again at theclock. 

"Don't be so impatient, John, " the quiet, even voice said. "Great bodiesmove slowly, they say--come here and sit down--I'll tell you a secret. The Cabinet knows it--and you can, too. "

He leaned his giant figure forward in his chair and touched an officialdocument which he had drawn from his pocket. 

"Great events hang on this battle. I've written out here a challenge tomortal combat for all our foes, North, South, East and West. I'm goingto free the slaves if we win this battle and we're sure to win it----"

Hay glanced at the door with a startled look. 

"McClellan and I don't agree on this subject and he mightn't fight aswell if he knew it. It's a thing of doubtful wisdom at its best to hurlthis challenge into the face of my foe. But the time has come and itmust be done. We have made no headway in this war, and we must crush theSouth to end it. If the Copperhead leaders should get control of theDemocratic party because of it--well, it means trouble at home. Douglasis dead and the jackal is trying to wear the lion's skin. He maysucceed, but then I must risk it. I'll lose some good soldiers from thearmy but I've got to do it. All I'm waiting for now is a victory onwhich to launch my thunderbolt----"

A key clicked in the front door and the quick, firm step of McClellanechoed through the hall. 

The orderly was reporting his distinguished visitor. They could hear hislow words, and the sharp answer. 

The General mounted the stairs and entered the front room overhead. Hewas there, of course, to arrange his toilet. He was a stickler forhandsome clothes, spotless linen and the last detail of ceremony. 

Again the minutes dragged. The tick of the clock on the mantel rangthrough the silent room and the face of the younger man grew red withrage. 

Unable to endure the insolence of a subordinate toward the greatChieftain, whom he loved with a boy's blind devotion, Hay sprang to hisfeet:

"Let's go, sir!"

The big hand was quietly raised in a gesture of command and he sank intohis seat. 

Five minutes more passed and the sound of approaching footsteps wereheard quickly, firmly pressed with military precision. 

The President nodded:

"You see, my son!"

But instead of the General the handsome figure of his aide, JohnVaughan, appeared in the doorway:

"The General begs me to say, Mr. President, that he is too much fatiguedto see any one this evening and has retired for the night. "

The orderly stepped pompously to the door to usher them out and JohnVaughan bowed and returned to his commander. 

Hay sprang to his feet livid with rage and spoke to his Chief withboyish indignation. 

"You are not going to take this insult from him?"

The tall figure slowly rose and stood in silence. 

"Remove him from his command, " the younger man pleaded. "For God's sakedo it now. Write the order for his removal this minute--give it to me!I'll kick his door open and hand it to him. "

The deep set dreamy eyes were turned within as he said in slow intensetones:

"No--I'll hold McClellan's horse for him if he'll give us one victory!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE BLOODIEST DAY

The struggle opened with disaster for the Union army. Though Lee's planof campaign fell by accident into McClellan's hands, it was too late tofrustrate the first master stroke. Relying on Jackson's swift, bewildering marches, Lee, in hostile territory and confronted by twicehis numbers, suddenly divided his army and hurled Jackson's corpsagainst Harper's Ferry. The garrison, after a futile struggle of twodays, surrendered twelve thousand five hundred and twenty men and theirvast stores of war material. 

The contrast between General White, the Federal officer in command whosurrendered, and Jackson, his conqueror, was strikingly dramatic. TheUnion General rode a magnificent black horse, was carefully dressed inshining immaculate uniform--gloves, boots and sword spotless. TheConfederate General sat carelessly on his little shaggy sorrel, dusty, travel-stained and carelessly dressed. 

The curiosity of the Union army which had surrendered was keen to seethe famous fighter. The entire twelve thousand prisoners of war linedthe road as Jackson silently rode by. 

A voice from the crowd expressed the universal feeling as they gazed:

"Boys, he ain't much for looks, but, by God, if we'd had him wewouldn't have been caught in this trap!"

The first shock of Lee's and McClellan's armies was at South Mountain, where the desperate effort was made to break through and save Harper'sFerry. The attempt failed, though the Union forces won the fight. Leelost twenty-seven hundred men, killed and wounded and prisoners, and theFederal general, twenty-one hundred. 

Lee withdrew to Sharpsburg on the banks of the Antietam to meetJackson's victorious division sweeping toward him from Harper's Ferry. 

On the first day the Confederate commander made a display of force only, awaiting the alignment of Jackson's troops. His men were so poorly shodand clothed they could not be brought into line of battle. When thefateful day of September 17th, 1862, dawned, still and clear andbeautiful over the hills of Maryland, more than twenty thousand of Lee'smen had fallen by the roadside barefooted and exhausted. When the firstroar of McClellan's artillery opened fire in the grey dawn, they hurledtheir shells against less than thirty-seven thousand men in theConfederate lines. The Union commander had massed eighty-seven thousandtried veterans behind his guns. 

The President received the first news of the battle with a thrill ofexultation. That Lee's ragged, footsore army hemmed in thus withAntietam Creek on one side and the broad, sweeping Potomac on the otherwould be crushed and destroyed he could not doubt for a moment. 

As the sun rose above the eastern hills a gleaming dull-red ball ofblood, the Federal infantry under Hooker swept into action and drovethe Confederates from the open field into a dense woods, where theyrallied, stood and mowed his men down with deadly aim. Hooker called foraid and General Mansfield rushed his corps into action, falling dead atthe head of his men as they deployed in line of battle. 

For two hours the sullen conflict raged, blue and grey lines surging indeath-locked embrace until the field was strewn with the dead, the dyingand the wounded. 

Hooker was wounded. Sedgwick's corps swept into the field under a sharpartillery fire and reached the shelter of the woods only to findthemselves caught in a trap between two Confederate brigades massed atthis point. In the slaughter which followed Sedgwick was wounded and hiscommand was saved from annihilation with the loss of two thousand men. 

While this desperate struggle raged in the Union right, the centre wasthe scene of a still bloodier one. French and Richardson charged theConfederate position with reckless valor. A sunken road lay across thefield over which they rushed. For four terrible hours the men in greyheld this sunken road until it was piled with their bodies, and when thelast charge of the resistless blue lines took it, they found but threehundred living men who had been holding it against the assaults of fivethousand--and "Bloody Lane" became immortal in American history. 

It was now one o'clock and the men had fought almost continuously sincethe sun rose. The infantry fire slowly slackened and ceased in the Unionright and centre. 

Burnside, who held the Union left, was ordered to advance by thecapture of the stone bridge over the Antietam. But a single brigadeunder General Toombs guarding this bridge held an army at bay and it wasone o'clock before the bridge was captured. 

Burnside now pushed his division up the heights against Sharpsburg tocut Lee's line of retreat. The Confederates held their ground withdesperate courage, though outnumbered here three to one. At last thegrey lines melted and the men in blue swept triumphantly through thevillage and on its edge suddenly ran into a line of men clad in theirown blue uniform. 

They paused in wonder. How had their own men gotten in such a position?They were not left long in doubt. The blue line suddenly blazed withlong red waves of flame squarely in their faces. It was Hill's divisionof Jackson's corps from Harper's Ferry. The ragged men had dressedthemselves in good blue suits from the captured Federal storehouse. Theshock threw the Union men into confusion and a desperate charge of thestrange blue Confederates drove them back through the village, and nightfell with its streets still held by Lee's army. 

For fourteen hours five hundred pieces of artillery and more than onehundred thousand muskets had thundered and hissed their cries of death. On the hills and valleys lay more than twenty thousand men killed andwounded. 

Lee's little army of thirty-seven thousand had been cut to pieces, having lost fourteen thousand. He had but twenty-three thousand left. McClellan had lost twelve thousand, but had seventy-five thousand left. And yet so desperate had been the deadly courage with which the greytattered army had fought that McClellan lay on his arms for three days. 

The day's work had been a drawn battle, but the President's heart wasbroken as he watched in anguish the withdrawal of Lee's army in safetyacross the river. It was the last straw. McClellan had been weighed andfound wanting. He registered a solemn promise with God that if the greatConfederate Commanders succeeded in making good their retreat from thisdesperate situation he would remove McClellan. 

The Confederates withdrew, rallied their shattered forces safely inVirginia, and Jeb Stuart once more rode around the Northern army!

The President issued his Emancipation Proclamation, challenging theSouth to war to the death, and flung down the gauntlet to his rival, thecoming leader of Northern Democracy, George Brinton McClellan, byremoving him from command. 

CHAPTER XXII

BENEATH THE SKIN

John Vaughan saw the blow fall on McClellan's magnificent headquartersin deep amazement. The idol of the army was ordered to turn over hiscommand to General Burnside and the impossible had happened. 

Instead of the brilliant _coup d'état_ which he and the entire staff hadpredicted, the fallen leader obeyed and took an affectionate leave ofhis men. 

McClellan knew, what his staff could not understand, that for the momentthe President was master of the situation. He still held the unboundedconfidence of his officers, but the rank and file of his soldiers hadbecome his wondering critics. They believed they had crushed Lee's armyat Antietam and yet they lay idle until the skillful Southern Commanderhad crossed the Potomac, made good his retreat, and once more insultedthem by riding around their entire lines. The volunteer American soldierwas a good fighter and a good critic of the men who led him. He had hisown ideas about how an army should be fought and maneuvered. As the idolof fighting men, McClellan had ceased to threaten the supremacy of thecivil law. There was no attempt at the long looked for _coup d'état_. Itwas too late. No one knew this more clearly than McClellan himself. 

But his fall was the bitterness of death to the staff who adored him andthe generals who believed in him. Burnside, knowing the condition ofpractical anarchy he must face, declined the command. The Presidentforced him to accept. He took it reluctantly with grim forebodings offailure. 

John received his long leave of absence from his Chief and left forWashington the night before the formal farewell. His rage against thebungler who ruled the Nation with autocratic power was fierce andimplacable. 

His resentment against the woman he loved was scarcely less bitter. Itwas her triumph, too. She believed in the divine inspiration of the manwho sat in the chair of Washington and Jefferson. Great God, couldmadness reach sublimer folly! She had written him a letter of goodwishes and all but asked for a reconciliation before the battle. Lovehad fought with pride through a night and pride had won. He hadn'tanswered the letter. 

He avoided his newspaper friends and plunged into a round ofdissipation. Beneath the grim tragedy of blood in Washington flowed theever widening and deepening torrent of sensual revelry--of wine andwomen, song and dance, gambling and intrigue. 

The flash of something cruel in his eye which Betty Winter had seen andfeared from the first burned now with a steady blaze. For six days andnights he played in Joe Hall's place a desperate game, drinking, drinking always, and winning. Hour after hour he sat at the roulettetable, his chin sunk on his breast, his reddened eyes gleaming beneathhis heavy black brows, silent, surly, unapproachable. 

A reporter from the _Republican_ recognized him and extended his hand:

"Hello, Vaughan!"

John stared at him coldly and resumed his play without a word. At theend of six days he had won more than two thousand dollars from thehouse, put it in his pocket, and, deaf to the blandishments of smooth, gentlemanly proprietor, pushed his way out into the Avenue. 

It was but four o'clock in the afternoon and he was only half drunk. Hewandered aimlessly down the street and crossed in the direction ofhell's half-acre below the Baltimore depot. His uniform was wrinkled, his boots had not been blacked for a week, his linen was dirty, his hairrumpled, his handsome black moustache stained with drink, but he washilariously conscious that he had two thousand dollars of Joe Hall'sill-gotten money in his pocket. There was a devil-may-care swing to hiswalk and a look in his eye that no decent woman would care to see twice. 

He ran squarely into Betty Winter in the crowd emerging from the depot. The little bag she was carrying fell from her hands, with a cry ofstartled anguish:

"John--my God!"

He made no effort to pick up the fallen bag or in any way return thegreeting. He merely paused and stared--deliberately stood and stared asif stupefied by the apparition. In fact, he was so startled by hersudden appearance that for a moment he felt the terror of a drunkard'sfirst hallucination. The thought was momentary. He knew better. He wasnot drunk. The girl was there all right--the real thing--living, beautiful flesh and blood. For one second's anguish the love of herstrangled him. The desire to take her in his arms was all but resistlessin its fierce madness. He bit his lips and scowled in her face. 

"John--John--dearest, " she gasped. 

The scowl darkened and he spoke with insulting deliberation: "You havemade a mistake. I haven't the honor of your acquaintance. "

Before Betty could recover from the horror of his answer he had brushedrudely past her and disappeared in the crowd. She picked up her bag in astupor of dumb rage and started home. She was too weak for the walk shehad hoped to take. She called a hack and scarcely had the strength toclimb into the high, old-fashioned seat. 

Never in all her life had blind anger so possessed her soul and body. Ina moment of tenderness she had offered to forgive and forget. It was allover now. The brute was not worth a tear of regret. She would show him!

Two weeks later John Vaughan stared into the ebony face of a negro whohad attached himself to his fortune somewhere in the revelry of thenight before. Washington was swarming with these foolish black childrenwho had come in thousands. They had no money and it had not occurred tothem that they would need any. Their food and clothes had always beenprovided and they took no thought for the morrow. 

John had forgotten the fact that he had taken the negro in his hack fortwo hours and finally adopted him as his own. 

He sat up, pressed his hand over his aching head and stared into thegrinning face:

"And what are you doing here, you imp of the devil?"

Julius laughed and rolled his eyes:

"I'se yo' man. Don't you min' takin' me up in de hack wid you las'night?"

"What's your name?"

"Julius Cæsar, sah. "

"Then it's all right! You're the man I'm looking for. You're the manthis country's looking for. You're a born fighter----"

"Na, sah, I'se er cook!"

"Sh! Say not so--we're going back to war!"

"All right, sah, I'se gwine wid you. "

"I warn you, Julius Cæsar, don't do it unless you're in for a fight! I'mgoing back to fight--to fight to kill. No more red tape and gold braidfor me. I'm going now into the jaws of hell. I'm going into the ranks asa private. "

"Don't make no difference ter me, sah, whar yer go. I'se gwine wid yer. I kin look atter yer shoes an' cook yer sumfin' good ter eat. "

"I warn you, Julius! When they find your torn and mangled body on thefield of Death, don't you sit up and blame me!"

"Don't yer worry, sah. Dey ain't gwine fin' me dar, an' ef dey do, deyain't gwine ter be nuttin' tore er mangled 'bout me, I see ter dat, sah!"

Three weeks later Burnside's army received a stalwart recruit. Fewquestions were asked. The ranks were melting. 

CHAPTER XXIII

THE USURPER

The answer which the country gave the President's Proclamation ofEmancipation was a startling one, even to the patient, carefulfar-seeing man of the people in the White House. For months he hadcarried the immortal document in his pocket without even allowing hisCabinet to know it had been written. He had patiently borne the abuse ofhis party leaders and the fierce assaults of Horace Greeley until hebelieved the time had come that he must strike this blow--a blow whichwould rouse the South to desperation and unite his enemies in the North. He had finally issued it with grave fears. 

The results were graver than he could foresee. More than once he wascompelled to face the issue of its repeal as the only way to forestall acounter revolution in the North. 

Desertions from the army became appalling--the number reached frequentlyas high as two hundred a day and the aggregate over eight thousand amonth. His Proclamation had provided for the enlistment of negroes assoldiers. Not only did thousands of men refuse to continue to fight whenthe issue of Slavery was injected, but other thousands felt that theuniform of the Republic had been dishonored by placing it on the backsof slaves. They refused to wear it longer, and deserted at the risk oftheir lives. 

The Proclamation had united the South and hopelessly divided the North. How serious this Northern division was destined to become was theproblem now of a concern as deep as the size and efficiency of GeneralLee's army. 

The election of the new Congress would put his administration to asupreme fight for existence. If the Democratic Party under its newleader, Clay Van Alen of Ohio, should win it meant a hostile majority inpower whose edict could end the war and divide the Union. They hadalready selected in secret George B. McClellan for their coming standardbearer. 

For the first time the question of Union or Disunion was squarely up tothe North in an election. And it came at an unlucky moment for thePresident. The army in the West had ceased to win victories. TheSouthern army under Lee was still defending Richmond as strongly asever. 

There was no evading the issue at the polls. The Proclamation hadcommitted the President to the bold, far-reaching radical and aggressivepolicy of the utter destruction of Slavery. The people were asked tochoose between Slavery on the one hand and nationality on the other. Thetwo together they could not again have. 

The President had staked his life on his faith that the people could betrusted on a square issue of right and wrong. 

This time he had underestimated the force of blind passions which thehell of war had raised. 

Maine voted first and cut down her majority for the administration fromnineteen thousand to a bare four thousand. The fact was ominous. 

Ohio spoke next and Van Alen's ticket against the administration sweptthe State, returning fourteen Democrats and only five Republicans toCongress. 

Indiana, the State in which the President's mother slept, spoke inthunder tones against him, sending eight Democrats and threeRepublicans. Even the rockribbed Republican stronghold of Pennsylvaniawas carried by the opposition by a majority of four thousand, reversingLincoln's former majority of sixty thousand. 

In New York the brilliant Democratic leader, Horatio Seymour, waselected Governor on a platform hostile to the administration by morethan ten thousand majority. New Jersey turned against him, Michiganreduced his majority from twenty to six thousand. Wisconsin evenlydivided its delegates to Congress. 

Illinois, the President's own State, gave the most crushing blow of all. His big majority there was completely reversed and the Democrats carriedthe State by over seventeen thousand and the Congressional delegatesstood eleven to three against him. 

And then his Border State Policy, against which the leaders of his partyhad raged in vain was vindicated in the most startling way. True to hissteadfast purpose to hold these States in the Union at all hazards, hehad not included them in his Emancipation Proclamation. 

One of the reasons for which they had refused his offer of United Statesbonds in payment for their slaves was they did not believe them worththe paper they were written on. A war costing two million dollars a daywas sure to bankrupt the Nation before the end could be seen. 

And yet because he had treated them with patience and fairness, withjustice and with generosity, the Border States and the new State of WestVirginia born of this policy, voted to sustain the President, saved hisadministration from ruin and gave him another chance to fight for thelife of the Union. 

It was a close shave. His working majority in Congress was reduced to anarrow margin, the opposition was large, united and fierce in itsaggression, but he had been saved from annihilation. 

The temper of the men elected to the Legislatures, both State andNational, in the great Northern States was astounding. 

So serious was the situation in Indiana that Governor Morton hastened toWashington to lay the crisis before the President. 

"I'm sorry to have to tell you, " the Governor began, "but we must faceit. The Democratic politicians of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois now calledto power assume that the rebellion will not be crushed----"

"And therefore?"

"That their interests are antagonistic to New England and in harmonywith the South. Another three months like the last six and we are lost, sir--hopelessly lost!"

"Is it as bad as that Governor?" the sad even voice asked. 

A smile flickered across the stern, fine face of the war Governor:

"If you think me a pessimist remember that Van Alen their leader, hasjust presided over a Democratic jubilee meeting in Ohio which was sweptagain and again by cheers for Jefferson Davis--curses and jeers for theAbolitionists. His speech has been put in the form of a leaflet which isbeing mailed in thousands to our soldiers at the front----"

"You know that to be a fact?" the President asked sharply. 

"The fact is notorious, sir. It will be disputed by no one. The outlookis black. Meeting after meeting is being held in Indiana demanding peaceat any price, with the recognition of the Southern Confederacy--and, mark you, what is still more significant the formation of a NorthwesternConfederacy with its possible Capital at your home town of Springfield, Illinois----"

"No, no!" the President groaned. 

"Your last call for three hundred thousand volunteers, " the Governorwent on, "as you well know was an utter failure. Only eighty-sixthousand men have been raised under it. I was compelled to use a draftto secure the number I did in Indiana. It is useless to call for morevolunteers anywhere----"

"Then we'll have to use the draft, " was the firm response. 

"If we can enforce it!" the Governor warned. "A meeting has just beenheld in my State in which resolutions were unanimously passed demandingthat the war cease, denouncing the attempt to use the power to draftmen, declaring that our volunteers had been induced to enter the armyunder the false declaration that war was waged solely to maintain theConstitution and to restore the Union----"

"And so it is!" the President interrupted. 

"Until you issued your Proclamation, freeing the slaves----"

"But only as a war measure to weaken the South, give us the victory andrestore the Constitution!"

"They refuse to hear your interpretation; they make their own. Van Alenboldly declares that ninety-nine men out of every hundred whom herepresents in Congress breathe no other prayer than to have an end ofthis hellish war. When news of victory comes, there is no rejoicing. When news of our defeat comes there is no sorrow----"

"Is that statement really true?" the sorrowful lips asked. 

"Of the majority who elected him, yes. In the Northwest, distrust anddespair are strangling the hearts of the people. More and more we hearthe traitorous talk of arraying ourselves against New England andforming a Confederacy of our own. More than two thousand six hundreddeserters have been arrested within a few weeks in Indiana. It generallyrequires an armed detail. Most of the deserters, true to the oath of theorder of the Knights of the Golden Circle, desert with their arms----"

"Is it possible?"

"And in one case seventeen of these fortified themselves in a log cabinwith outside paling and ditch for protection, and were maintained bytheir neighbors. Two hundred armed men in Rush County resisted thearrest of deserters. I was compelled to send infantry by special trainto take their ringleaders. Southern Indiana is ripe for Revolution. 

"I have positive information that the incoming Democratic Legislature ofmy State is in quick touch with the ones gathering in Illinois andOhio. In Illinois, your own State, they have already drafted theresolutions demanding an armistice and a convention of all the States toagree to an adjustment of the war. It is certain to pass the IllinoisHouse. 

"My own Legislature has put this resolution into a more daring anddangerous form. They propose boldly and at once to acknowledge theSouthern Confederacy and demand that the Northwest dissolve all furtherrelations with New England. When they have passed this measure inIndiana, they expect Ohio and Illinois to follow suit. 

"Their secret order which covers my State with a network of lodges, whose purpose is the withdrawal of the Northwestern States from theUnion, has obtained a foothold in the army camps inside the city ofWashington itself----"

The President rose with quick, nervous energy and paced the floor. Hestopped suddenly in front of Morton, his deep set eyes burning a steadyflame:

"And what do you propose?"

"I haven't decided yet. I have the best of reasons to believe that thefirst thing my Legislature will do when it convenes is to pass aresolution refusing to receive any message from me as Governor of theState!"

"Will they dare?"

"I'm sure of it. It will be composed of men sworn to oppose to thebitter end any prosecution of this war. They intend to recognize theSouthern Confederacy, and dissolve their own Federal relation with theUnited States. It may be necessary, sir----" he paused and fixed thePresident with compelling eyes, "---it may be necessary to suspend thecivil government in the North in order to save the Union!"

The President lifted his big hand in a gesture of despair:

"God save us from that!"

"I came here to tell you just this, " the Governor gravely concluded. "Ifthe crisis comes and I must use force I expect you to back me----"

Two big rugged hands grasped the one outstretched:

"God bless you, Governor Morton, --we've got to save the Union, and we'regoing to do it! Since the day I came into this office I have fought touphold the supremacy of the civil law. My enemies may force me to usedespotic powers to crush it for larger ends!----But I hope not. I hopenot. God knows I have no vain ambitions. I have no desire to use suchpower----"

The Governor left him gazing dreamily over the river toward Virginia agreat new sorrow clouding his soul. 

CHAPTER XXIV

THE CONSPIRACY

Lord Lyons, the British Minister, was using smooth words to theSecretary of State. Mr. Seward, our wily snuff dipper, was fully hisequal in expressions of polite friendship. What he meant to say, ofcourse, was that he could plunge a poisoned dagger into the British Lionwith the utmost pleasure. What he said was:

"I am pleased to hear from your lordship the expressions of good willfrom her Gracious Majesty's Government. "

"I am sorry to say, however, " the Minister hastened to add, "that theProclamation of Emancipation was not received by the best people ofEngland as favorably as we had hoped. "

"And why not?" Seward politely asked. 

"Seeing that it could have no effect in really freeing the slaves untilthe South is conquered it appeared to be merely an attempt to excite aservile insurrection. "

The Secretary lifted his eyebrows, took another dip of snuff, and softlyinquired:

"And may I ask of your lordship whether this would not have been evenmore true in the earlier days of the war than now?"

"Undoubtedly. "

"And yet I understand that her Gracious Majesty's Government was coldtoward us because we had failed to take such high moral grounds at oncein the beginning of the war?"

His lordship lifted his hands in polite admission of the facts. 

"The trouble you see is, " he went on softly, "Europe begins to feel thatthe division of sentiment in the North will prove a fatal weakness tothe administration in so grave a crisis. Unfortunately, from our pointof view, of course, your Government is a democracy, the sport of everywhim of the demagogue of the hour----"

Seward lifted his eyes with a quick look at his lordship and smiled:

"Allow me to reassure her Gracious Majesty's Government on that pointimmediately. The administration will find means of preserving thesovereign power the people have entrusted to it. For example, my lord, Ican touch the little bell on my right hand and order the arrest withoutwarrant of a citizen of Ohio. I can touch the little bell on my lefthand and order the imprisonment of a citizen of New York; and no poweron earth except that of the President, can release them. Can the Queenof Great Britain do as much?"

His lordship left apparently reassured. 

The tinkle of the little bell on the desk of the Secretary of Statewhich had begun to fill the jails of the North with her leadingDemocratic citizens did not have the same soothing effect on Americanlawmakers, however. These arrests were made without warrant and thevictim held without charges, the right to bail or trial. 

The President had dared to suspend the great _writ of habeas corpus_which guaranteed to every freeman the right to meet his accuser in opencourt and answer the charge against him. 

The attitude of the bold aggressive opposition was voiced on the floorof the House of Representatives in Washington in no uncertain languageby Daniel Voorhees of Indiana, in a speech whose passionate eloquencewas only equalled by its reckless daring. 

"The present Executive of the Government, " he declared, "has usurped thepowers of Law and Justice to an extent subversive of republicaninstitutions, and not to be borne by any free people. He has givenaccess to the vaults of prisons but not to the bar of justice. It is apart of the nature of frail men to sin against laws, both human anddivine; but God Himself guarantees him a fair trial before punishment. Tyrants alone repudiate the justice of the Almighty. To deny an accusedman the right to be heard in his own defense is an echo from the darkages of brutal despotism. We have in this the most atrocious tyrannythat ever feasted on the groans of a captive or banqueted on the tearsof the widow and the orphan. 

"And yet on this spectacle of shame and horror American citizens nowgaze. The great bulwark of human liberty which generations in bloodytoil have built against the wicked exercise of unlawful power has beentorn away by a parricidal hand. Every man to-day from the proudest inhis mansion to the humblest in his cabin--all stand at the mercy of oneman, and the fawning minions who crouch before him for pay. 

"We hear on every side the old cry of the courtier and the parasite. Atevery new aggression, at every additional outrage, new advocates riseto defend the source of patronage, wealth and fame--the department ofthe Executive! Such assistance has always waited on the malignantefforts of tyranny. Nero had his poet laureate, and Seneca wrote adefense even for the murder of his mother. And this dark hour affords usample evidence that human nature is the same to-day as two thousandyears ago. "

Such speeches could not be sent broadcast free of charge through themails without its effect on the minds of thousands. The great politicalparty in opposition to the administration was now arrayed in solidphalanx against the war itself on whose prosecution the existence of theNation depended. 

Again the Radical wing of his party demanded of the President theimpossible. 

The Abolitionists had given a tardy and lukewarm support in return forthe issue of the Proclamation of Emancipation. Their support lasted buta few days. Through their spokesman, Senator Winter, they demanded nowthe whole loaf. They had received but half of their real program. Theyasked for a policy of reconstruction in the parts of Louisiana andTennessee held by the Union army in accordance with their ideas. Theydemanded the ballot for every slave, the confiscation of the property ofthe white people of the South and its bestowment upon negroes andcamp-followers as fast as the Union army should penetrate into theStates in rebellion. 

Senator Winter's argument was based on sound reasoning theoreticallywhatever might be said of its wisdom as a National policy. 

"Your Emancipation Proclamation, " he declared to the President, "provides for the arming and drilling of negro soldiers to fight for theRepublic. If they are good enough to fight they are good enough to vote. The ballot is only another form of the bayonet which we use in time ofpeace----"

"Correct, Senator, " was the calm reply, "if we are to allow the negrorace to remain in America in physical contact with ours. But we are notgoing to do this. No greater calamity could befall our people. Colonization and separation must go hand in hand with the emancipationof these children of Africa. I incorporated this principle in my act ofemancipation. I have set my life on the issue of its success. As amatter of theory and abstract right we may grant the suffrage to a fewof the more intelligent negroes and the black soldiers we may enrolluntil they can be removed----"

"Again we deal with a Southerner, Mr. President!" the Senator sneered. 

"So be it, " was the quiet answer. "I have never held any other views. They were well known before the war. But two years before my election Isaid in my debate with Douglas:

"'I am not, nor ever have been, in favor of bringing about in any way, the social and political equality of the white and black races. I amnot, nor ever have been, in favor of making voters or jurors of negroes, nor of qualifying them to hold office, nor to inter-marry with whitepeople. I will say in addition to this that there is a physicaldifference between the white and black races which, I believe, willforever forbid the two living together on terms of social and politicalequality. "

"Yet, " the Senator sneered, "you can change your mind. You said in yourInaugural that you had no intention or right to interfere with theinstitution of Slavery. You did so just the same. "

"As an act of war to save the Union only. But mark you, I have alwayshated Slavery from principle for the white man's sake as well as thenegro's. I am equally determined _on principle_ that the negro raceafter it is free shall never be absorbed into our social or politicallife!"

"You'll change your principles or retire to private life!" the old mansnapped. 

"When I have saved the Union we shall see. Time will indicate the wisdomof my position. I have no longer any ambition except to give the bestthat's in me to my people. "

The breach between the President and the most powerful leaders of hisown party was now complete. It was a difference that was fundamental andirreconcilable. They asked him to extend the autocratic power he wieldedto preserve the Union in a time of war to a program of revenge andproscription against the South as it should fall before the advancingarmy. His answer was simple:

"Secession was void from the beginning. The South shall not be laidwaste as conquered territory when the Union is restored. They shallreturn as our brethren to live with us in peace and good will with thecurse of Slavery lifted from them and their children. Nor will I permitthe absorption of this black blood into our racial stock to degrade ourNational character. When free, the negro must return to his own. "

With fierce, sullen determination the Radical wing of his partyorganized a secret powerful conspiracy to drive Abraham Lincoln frompublic life. 

Behind this first line of attack stood the Democratic party with itsmillions of loyal voters now united under George B. McClellan. TheRadicals and the Democrats hated each other with a passion second onlyto their hatred of the President. They agreed to remove him first andthen settle their own differences. 

CHAPTER XXV

THE TUG OF WAR

Betty Winter, having made up her mind to put John Vaughan out of herlife for all time, volunteered for field service as a nurse and bypermission of the President joined Burnside's army beforeFredericksburg. 

The General had brought its effective fighting force to a hundred andthirteen thousand. Lee's army confronted him on the other side of theRappahannock with seventy-five thousand men. A great battle wasimpending. 

Burnside had reluctantly assumed command. He was a gallant, genial, cultured soldier, a gentleman of the highest type, a pure, unselfishpatriot with not a trace of vulgar ambition or self-seeking. He saw thePresident hounded and badgered by his own party, assaulted and denouncedin the bitterest terms by the opposition, and he knew that the remedycould be found only in a fighting, victorious army. A single decisivevictory would turn the tide of public opinion, unite the faction-riddenarmy and thrill the Nation with enthusiasm. 

He determined to fight at once and risk his fate as a commander on theissue of victory or defeat. His council of war had voted against anattack on Lee's army in Fredericksburg. Burnside brushed their decisionaside as part of the quarrel McClellan has left. Even the men in theranks were fighting each other daily in these miserable bickerings andintrigues. A victory was the remedy for their troubles, and he made uphis mind to fight for it. 

The General received Betty with the greatest courtesy:

"You're more than welcome at this moment, Miss Winter. The surgeonswon't let you in some of their field hospitals. But there's work to bedone preparing our corps for the battle we're going to fight. You'llhave plenty to do. "

"Thank you, General, " she gravely answered. 

Burnside read for the second time the gracious letter from the Presidentwhich Betty presented. 

"You're evidently pretty strong with this administration, Miss Betty, "he remarked. 

"Yes. The patience and wisdom of the President is a hobby of mine. "

"Then I'll ask you to review the army with me. You can report to him. "

Within an hour they were passing in serried lines before the Commander. Betty watched them march with a thrill of patriotic pride, a hundred andthirteen thousand men, their dark blue uniforms pouring past like thewaters of a mighty river, the December sun gleaming on their polishedbayonets as on so many icicles flashing on its surface. 

Her heart suddenly stood still. There before her marched John Vaughan inthe outer line of a regiment, his eyes straight in front, lookingneither to the right nor the left. He was a private in the ranks, cleanand sober, his face rugged, strong and sun-tanned. 

For a moment there was a battle inside that tested her strength. He hadnot seen her and was oblivious of her existence apparently. But she hadnoted the regiment under whose flag he marched. It would be easy to findhim if she wished. 

When the first moment of love-sickness and utter longing passed, she hadno desire to see him. The dead could bury its dead. Her love was a thingof the past. The cruel thing in this man's nature she had seen the firstday was there still. She saw it with a shudder in his red, half-drunkeneyes the day they met in Washington, saw it so plainly, so glaringly, the memory of it could never fade. He was sober and in his right mindnow, his cheeks bronzed with the new life of sunshine and open air thearmy had given. The thing was still there. It spoke in the brutestrength of his powerful body as his marching feet struck the ground, inthe iron look about his broad shoulders, the careless strength withwhich he carried his musket as if it were a feather, and above all inthe hard cold glint from his shining eyes set straight in front. 

She lay awake for hours on the little white cot at the headquarters ofthe ambulance corps reviewing her life and dropped to sleep at last witha deep sense of gratitude to God that she was free, and could giveherself in unselfish devotion to her country. Her last waking thoughtswere of Ned Vaughan and the sweet, foolish worship he had laid at herfeet. She wondered vaguely if he were in those grey lines beyond theriver. Ned Vaughan was there this time--back with his regiment. 

Lee, Jackson and Longstreet had known for days that a battle wasimminent. Their scouts from over the river had brought positiveinformation. The Confederate leaders had already planned the conflict. Their battle lines circled the hills beyond Fredericksburg, spread outin a crescent, five miles long. Nature had piled these five miles ofhills around Fredericksburg as if to build an impregnable fortress. Onevery crest, concealed behind trees and bushes, the Confederateartillery was in place--its guns trained to sweep the wide plain with adouble cross fire, besides sending a storm of shot and shell straightfrom the centre. Sixty thousand matchless grey infantry crouched amongthose bushes and lay beside stone walls, in sunken roadways or newlyturned trenches. 

The great fan-shaped death-trap had been carefully planned and set by amaster mind. Only a handful of sharpshooters and a few pieces ofartillery had been left in Fredericksburg to dispute the passage of theriver and deceive Burnside with a pretense of defending the town. 

The Confederate soldier was ragged and his shoes were tied together withstrings. His uniform consisted of an old hat or cap usually without abrim, a shirt of striped bed-ticking so brown it seemed woven of thegrass. The buttons were of discolored cow's horn. His coat was the colorof Virginia dust and mud, and it was out at the elbow. His socks werehome-made, knit by loving hands swift and tender in their endless workof love. The socks were the best things he had. 

The one spotless thing about him was his musket and the bayonet hecarried at his side. His spirits were high. 

A barefooted soldier had managed to get home and secure a pair of boots. He started back to his regiment hurrying to be on time for the fight. The new boots hurt him so terribly he couldn't wear them. He passedNed's regiment with his precious footgear hanging on his arm. 

"Hello, Sonny, what command?" Ned cried. 

"Company E, 12th Virginia, Mahone's brigade!" he proudly answered. 

"Yes, damn you, " a soldier drawled from the grass, "and you've pulledyour boots off, holdin' 'em in yer hand, ready to run now!"

The laugh ran along the line and the boy hurried on to escape the chaff. 

A well-known chaplain rode along a narrow path on the hillside. He wasmounted on an old horse whose hip bones protruded like two deadly fangs. A footsore Confederate was hobbling as fast as he could in front of him, glancing back over his shoulder now and then uneasily. 

"You needn't be afraid, my friend, " the parson called, "I'm not going torun over you. "

"I know you ain't, " the soldier laughed, "but ef I wuz ter let you passme, and that thing wuz ter wobble I'll be doggoned ef I wouldn't begored ter death!"

The preacher reined his steed in with dignity and spoke with woundedpride:

"My friend, this is a better horse than our Lord rode into Jerusalemon!"

The soldier stepped up quickly, opened the animal's mouth and grinned:

"Parson, that's the very same horse!"

A shout rose from the hill in which the preacher joined. 

"Dod bam it, did ye ever hear the beat o' that!" shouted a pious fellowwho was inventing cuss words that would pass the charge of profanity. 

A distinguished citizen of Fredericksburg passed along the lines wearinga tall new silk hat. He didn't get very far before he changed his lineof march. A regular fusillade poured on him from the ranks. 

"Say, man, is dat a hat er a bee gum?"

"Come down now!"

"Come down outen that hat an' help us with these Yanks!"

"Come down I say--I know you're up there for I can see your legs!"

When the silk hat vanished, a solemn country boy with slight knowledgeof books began to discuss the great mysteries of eternity. 

Ned had won his unbounded faith and admiration by spelling at thefirst trial the name of his native village in the Valley ofVirginia--McGaheysville. Tom held this fact to be a marvellousintellectual achievement. 

"What I want to know, Ned, is this, " he drawled, "who started sin inthis world, anyhow? What makes a good thing good and what makes a badthing bad, and who said so first?"

"That's what I'd like to know myself, Tom, " Ned gravely answered. 

"An' ye don't know?"

"I certainly do not. "

"I don't see why any man that can spell like you don't know everything. "

He paused, picked up a pebble and threw it at a comrade's foot andlaughed to see him jump as from a Minie ball. 

"You know, Ned, " he went on slowly, "what I think is the prettiest pieceof poetry?"

"No--what?"

"Hit's this:

 "'The men of high condition That rule affairs of State; Their purpose is ambition, Their practice only hate. '"

"Pretty good, Tom, " was the quick reply, "but I think I can beat it withsomething more hopeful. I got it in Sunday School out in Missouri:

 "'The sword and spear, of needless worth, Shall prune the tree and plough the earth; And Peace shall smile from shore to shore And Nations learn to war no more. '"

The country boy's eyes gleamed with eager approval. He had fought fornearly two years and the glory of war was beginning to lose its glamour. 

"Say that again, Ned, " he pleaded. "Say it again! That's the prettiestthing I ever heard in my life!"

He was silent a moment:

"Yes, I used to think it would be glorious to hear the thunder of gunsand the shriek of shells. I've changed my mind. When I hear one of 'emcomin' now, I begin to sing to myself the old-fashioned tune I used tohear in the revivals:

 "'Hark from the tomb a doleful sound! 'My thoughts in dreadful subjects roll damnation and the dead----'

"I've an idea we're going to sing some o' them old songs on this fieldpretty soon. "

Again Ned thought of John and offered a silent prayer that he might notbe in those blue lines that were going to charge into the jaws whichDeath had opened for them in the valley below. 

John Vaughan in his tent beyond the Rappahannock was wasting no energyworrying about the coming battle. Death had ceased to be a matter ofpersonal concern. He had seen so many dead and wounded men as he hadridden over battlefields he had come to take them as a matter of course. He was going into action now for the first time in the ranks as aprivate soldier and he would see things happen at closer range--that wasall. He wished to see them that way. He had reached the point of utterindifference to personal danger and it brought a new consciousness ofstrength that was inspiring. He had stopped dreaming of the happiness oflove after the exhibition he had made of himself before Betty Winter andthe brutal insult with which he met her advances. Some girls mightforgive it, but not this proud, sensitive, high strung daughter of thesnows of New England and the sunlight of France. And so he hadresolutely put the thought out of his heart. 

Julius had proven himself a valuable servant. He was the best cook inthe regiment, and what was still more important, he was the mostskillful thief and the most plausible liar in the army. He could defendhimself so nobly from the insinuations of the suspicious that they wouldapologize for the wrong unwittingly done his character. John had notlived so well since he could remember. 

"Julius, you're a handy man in war!" he exclaimed after a hearty supperon fried chicken. 

"Yassah--I manage ter git 'long, sah. "

Julius took up his banjo and began to tune it for an accompaniment tohis songs. He had a mellow rhythmical voice that always brought thecrowd. He began with his favorite that never failed to please hismaster. The way he rolled his eyes and sang with his hands and feet andevery muscle of his body was the source of unending interest to hisNorthern audience. 

He ran his fingers lightly over the strings and the men threw down theirdirty packs of cards and crowded around John's tent. Julius only sangone line at a time and picked his banjo between them to a low wailingsound of his own invention:

 "O! far' you well, my Mary Ann; Far' you well, my dear! I've no one left to love me now And little do I care----"

He paused between the stanzas and picked his banjo to a few proseinterpolations of his own. 

"Dat's what I'm a tellin' ye now, folks--little do I care!"

He knew his master had been crossed in love and he rolled his eyes andnodded his woolly head in triumphant approval. John smiled wanly as hedrifted slowly into his next stanza. 

 "An' ef I had a scoldin' wife I'd whip her sho's yer born, I'd take her down to New Orleans An' trade her off fer corn----"

Julius stopped with a sudden snap and whispered to John:

"Lordy, sah, I clean fergit 'bout dat meetin' at de cullud folks'church, sah, dat dey start up. I promise de preacher ter fetch you, sah--An' ef we gwine ter march ter-morrow, dis here's de las' nightsho----"

The concert was adjourned to the log house which an old colored preacherhad converted into a church. It was filled to its capacity and Johnstood in the doorway and heard the most remarkable sermon to which hehad ever listened. 

The grey-haired old negro was tremendously in earnest. He could neitherread nor write but he opened the Bible to comply with the formalities ofthe occasion and pretended to read his text. He had taken it from hismaster who was a clergyman. Ephraim invariably chose the same texts butgave his people his own interpretation. It never failed in some elementof originality. 

The text his master had evidently chosen last were the words:

 "And he healeth them of divers diseases. "

Old Ephraim's version was a free one. From the open Bible he solemnlyread:

"An' he healed 'em of all sorts o' diseases an' even er dat wust o'complaints called de Divers!"

He plunged straight into a fervent exhortation to sinners to flee fromthe Divers. 

"I'm gwine ter tell ye now, chillun, " he exclaimed with uplifted arms, "ye don't know nuttin' 'bout no terrible diseases till dat wust er allcalled de Divers git ye! An' hit's a comin' I tell ye. Hit's gwine tergit ye, too. Ye can flee ter the mountain top, an' hit'll dive right upfroo de air an' git ye dar. Ye kin go down inter de bowels er de yearthan' hit'll dive right down dar atter ye. Ye kin take de wings er demornin' an' fly ter de ends er de yearth--an' de Divers is dar. Dey kindive anywhar!

"An' what ye gwine ter do when dey git ye? I axe ye dat now? What yegwine ter do when hit's forever an' eternally too late? Dese doctorsroun' here kin cure ye o' de whoopin'-cough--mebbe--I hain't nebber seed'em eben do dat--but I say, mebbe. Dey kin cure ye o' de measles, mebbe. Er de plumbago or de typhoid er de yaller fever sometimes. But I warnsye now ter flee de wrath dat's ter come when dem Divers git ye! Deyain't no doctor no good fer dat nowhar--exceptin' ye come ter de Lord. For He heal 'em er all sorts er diseases an' de wust er all decomplaints called de Divers!

 "Come, humble sinners, in whose breast er thousand thoughts revolve!"

John Vaughan turned away with a smile and a tear. 

"In God's name, " he murmured thoughtfully, "what's to become of thesefour million black children of the tropic jungles if we win now and setthem free! Their fathers and mothers were but yesterday eating humanflesh in naked savagery. "

He walked slowly back to his tent through the solemn starlit night. Thenew moon, a silver thread, hung over the tree tops. He thought of thatdusky grey-haired child of four thousand years of ignorance andhelplessness and the tragic role he had played in the history of ourpeople. And for the first time faced the question of the still moretragic role he might play in the future. 

"I'm fighting to free him and the millions like him, " he mused. "What amI going to do with him?"

The longer he thought the blacker and more insoluble became thisquestion, and yet he was going into battle to-morrow to fight his ownbrother to the death on this issue. True the problem of nationalexistence was at stake, but this black problem of the possibledegradation of our racial stock and our national character still layback of it unsolved and possibly insoluble. 

The red flash of a picket's gun on the shore of the river and the quickanswer from the other side brought his dreaming to a sudden stop beforethe sterner fact of the swiftly approaching battle. 

He snatched but a few hours sleep before his regiment was up and on themarch to the water's edge. A dense grey fog hung over the river andobscured the town. The bridge builders swung their pontoons into thewater and soon the sound of timbers falling into place could be heardwith the splash of the anchors and the low quick commands of theofficers. 

The grey sharpshooters, concealed on the other shore, began to fireacross the water through the fog. The sound was strangely magnified. Thesingle crack of a musket seemed as loud as a cannon. 

The work went quickly. The bullets flew wide of the mark. The fogsuddenly lifted and a steady fusillade from the men hidden in the hillsof Fredericksburg began to pick off the bridge builders with cruelaccuracy. At times every man was down. New men were rushed to take theirplaces and they fell. 

The signal was given to the artillery and a hundred and forty-sevengreat guns suddenly began to sweep the doomed town. Houses crumpled likeegg-shells and fires began to blaze. 

The sharpshooters fell back. The bridges were laid and the grand army ofa hundred and thirteen thousand began to pour across. The caissons, withtheir huge black, rifled-barrel guns rumbling along the resoundingboards in a continuous roar like distant thunder. 

On the southern shore the deep mud cut hills put every team to the testof its strength and the utmost skill of their drivers. Hundreds of menwere in the mud at the wheels and still they would stick. 

And then the patient heavens above heard the voices of army teamsters inplain and ornamental swearing! Such profanity was probably never heardon this earth before and it may well be hoped will not be heard again. 

The driver whose wheels had stuck, cracked his whip first and yelled. Heyelled again and cracked his whip. And then he began to swear, loudly, and angrily at first and then in lower, steadier, more polite terms--butalways in an unending nerve-racking torrent. 

He cursed his mules individually by name and the whole teamcollectively, and consigned it to the lowest depth of the deepest helland then the devil for not providing a deeper one. Each trait of eachmule, good and bad, he named without fear or favor and damned each alikewith equal emphasis. He named each part of each mule's anatomy anddamned it individually and as a whole, with full bill of particulars. 

He swore in every key in the whole gamut of sound and last of all hedamned himself for his utter inability to express anything he reallyfelt. 

The last big gun up the hill and the infantry poured into the town ofFredericksburg, halting in regiments and brigades in its streets. Only afew shots had been exchanged with the men in grey. They had withdrawn tothe heights a mile beyond. The assault had been a mere parade. Many ofthe inhabitants had fled in terror at the approach of the men in blue. Some of the lower types of soldiers in the Northern army broke intothese deserted houses and began to rob and pillage. 

Julius "found" many delicacies lying about on lawns and in variousunheard-of places. His master never pressed him with rude questions whenhis zeal bore such good results for their table. 

Ned Vaughan had been very much amused at an old woman who had beendriven from her home by marauders. She had piled such goods and chattelsas she could handle into an ox cart and drove past the grey battlelines, hurrying as fast as she could Southward. Her wrinkled old facebeamed with joy at the sight of their burnished muskets and her eyesflashed with the gleam of an Amazon as she shouted:

"Give it to the damned rascals, boys! Give 'em one fer me--one fer meand don't you forget it!"

Far down the line she could be heard delivering her fierce exhortation. The men smiled and answered her good-naturedly. The day of wrath anddeath had dawned. It was too solemn an hour for boastful words. 

For two days the grand army in blue poured across the river and spreadout through the town of Fredericksburg. The fateful morning of the 13thof December, 1862, dawned in another heavy fog. Its grey mantle ofmystery shrouded the town, clung wet and heavy to the ground in thesilent valley before the crescent-shaped hills and veiled the face oftheir heights. 

Under the cover of this fog the long waves of blue spread out in theedge of the valley and took their places in battle line. The grey men inthe brown grass on the hills crouched behind their ditches and stonewalls, gripped their guns and waited for the foe to walk into the traptheir commanders had set. 

An unseen hand slowly lifted the misty curtain and the sun burst on thescene. The valley lay like the smooth ground of some vast arena preparedfor a pageant and back of it rose the silent hills, tier on tier likethe seats of a mighty amphitheatre. But the men crouching on those seatswere not spectators--they were the grimmest actors in the tragedy. 

For a moment it was a spectacle merely--the grandest display of thepageantry of war ever made on a field of death. 

Franklin's division suddenly wheeled into position for its unitedassault on the right. 

Ned Vaughan, from his lair on the hill, could see the officers in theirmagnificent new uniforms, their swords flashing as they led their men. Ahundred thousand bayonets were gleaming in the sparkling December sun. Magnificent horses in rich tasselled trappings were plunging andprancing with the excitement of marching hosts, some of them keepingtime to the throb of regimental bands. 

The bands were playing now, all of them, a band for every thousand men, the shrill scream of their bugles and the roar of their drums sending amighty chorus into the heavens that echoed ominously against the silenthills. 

And flags, flags, flags, were streaming in billowy waves of red, whiteand blue, as far as the eye could reach!

"Isn't that pretty, boys!" Ned sighed admiringly. 

Tom lifted his solemn eyes from the grass. 

"Lord, Lord, look at them new warm clothes, an' my elbows a-freezin' inthis cold wind!"

"Ain't it a picture?"

"What a pity to spile it!"

A ripple of admiration ran along the crouching lines as fingers softlyfelt for the triggers of their guns. 

A quick order from John Vaughan's Colonel sent their battery ofartillery rattling and bounding into position. The cannoneers sprang totheir mounts. A handsome young fellow missed his foothold and fellbeneath the wheels. The big iron tire crushed his neck and the bloodfrom his mouth splashed into John's face. The men on the guns didn'tturn their heads to look back. Their eyes were searching the brown hillsbefore them. 

The long roll beat from a thousand drums, the call of the buglers rangover the valley--and then the strange, solemn silence that comes beforethe shock--the moment when cowards collapse and the brave falter. 

John Vaughan's soul rose in a fierce challenge to fate. If he died itwas well; if he lived it was the same. He had ceased to care. 

At exactly eight-thirty, General Meade hurled his division, supported byDoubleday and Gibbon, against Jackson's weakest point, the right of theConfederate lines. Their aim was to seize an opposing hill. The curvinglines of grey were silent until the charging hosts were well advanced indeadly range and then the brown hills flamed and roared in front and ontheir flanks. 

The blue lines were mowed down in swaths as though the giant figure ofDeath had suddenly swung his scythe from the fog banks in the sky. 

Again and again came those awful volleys of musketry and artillerycross-firing on the rushing lines. The men staggered and recovered, reformed and charged again over the dead bodies of their comradescarrying the crest for a moment. They captured a flag and a handful ofprisoners only to be driven back down the hill with losses morefrightful in retreat than when they breasted the storm. 

In the centre the tragedy was repeated with results even more terrible. As the charging lines fell back, staggering, bleeding and cut to pieces, fresh brigades threw down their knapsacks, fixed their bayonets andcharged through their own melting ranks into the jaws of Death to fallback in their turn. 

With a mighty shout the blue line swept across the railroad, took theditches at the point of the bayonet and captured two hundred greyprisoners. But only for a moment. From the supporting line rang therebel yell and they were hurled back, shattered and cut to pieces. These retreats were veritable shambles of slaughter. The curved lines onthe hills raking them with their deadly accurate cross-fire. 

John Vaughan's regiment leaped to the support of the falling blue waves. 

A wounded soldier had propped himself against a stone and smiled as thecheering men swept by. He could rest a while now. 

A battery of artillery suddenly blazed from the hill-crest and hisColonel threw his command flat on their stomachs until the storm shouldslacken. John heard the shrill deadly swish of the big shots passing twofeet above. 

He lifted his eyes to the hill and a frightened pigeon suddenly swoopedstraight down toward his head. He ducked quickly, sure he had escaped acannon ball until the laugh of the man at his side told of his mistake. 

They rose to charge. The knapsack of the man who had laughed was struckby a ball and a deck of cards sent flying ten feet in the air. 

"Deal me a winning hand!" John shouted. 

A shot cut the sword belt of the first lieutenant, left him uninjured, glanced and killed the captain. The lieutenant picked up his sword, tookhis captain's place and led the charge. 

Men were falling on the right and left and John Vaughan loaded and firedwith steady, dogged nerve without a scratch. 

Four times the blue billows had dashed against the hills only to fallback in red confusion. The din and roar were indescribable. Thecolor-bearer of the regiment confused by conflicting orders paused andasked for instructions. The Colonel, mistaking his act for retreat, tore the colors from his hand and gave them to another man. The boyburst into tears. The new color-bearer had scarcely lifted the flagabove his head when he fell. The disgraced soldier snatched thetottering flagstaff and, lifting it on high, dashed up the hill ahead ofhis line of battle. 

The men were ducking their heads low beneath the fierce hail of lead andstaggering blindly. 

John saw this boy waving his flag and shaking his fist back at thehalting line. He was not a hundred feet from the Confederate trenches. 

"Come on there!" he shouted. "Damn it, what's the matter with you?"

Ned Vaughan and his grey men behind the little mound of red dirt werewatching this drama with flashing eyes. Beside him crouched a boy whoseearly piety had marked him for the ministry. But he had wandered fromthe fold in the stress of army life. Ned heard his voice now in low, eager prayer:

"O Lord, drive 'em back! Drive 'em back, O Lord!"

He fired his musket down the hill and prayed harder:

"Lord, drive 'em back! I've sinned and come short, but drive 'em, OLord!"

He paused and whispered to Ned as he reached for another cartridge:

"Are they comin' or goin'?"

"Coming!"

Again he prayed with fervor:

"Drive 'em back, Lord Goddermighty, we're weak and you're strong--helpus now! Drive 'em--just this time, O Lord, and you can have me--I'll begood!"

He paused for breath and turned to Ned:

"Now look!--Comin' or goin'?"

"That follow with the flag cussin' the men has dropped----"

"Thank God!"

"Another's lifted it----"

"Lord, save us!"

"Why don't you lie down, ye damn fool, " Tom shouted. "I'm huggin' theground so close now I don't want a piece of paper under me, and ifthere's got to be a piece I don't want no writin' on it!"

"Now look, are they comin'?" the pious boy gasped. 

Ned made no answer. His wide set eyes were staring at the man who hadcaught that color-bearer in his arms and was carrying him to the rear. 

It was John Vaughan!

His lips were moving now in silent prayer and his sword hung limp in hishands. 

Through chattering teeth he cried:

"Don't shoot that fellow carrying his friend down the hill, boys!"

"They're runnin' now?" the pious one asked. 

"It isn't war--it's a massacre!" Ned sighed. 

The man of prayer leaped on the ditch bank suddenly and shook his fistdefiantly. 

"Come back here, you damned cowards!" he yelled. "Come back and we'llwhip hell out o' you!"

Slowly the shattered regiment fell back down the bloody slope, stumblingover their dead and wounded. The dim smoke-bound valley was a slaughterpen. Where magnificent lines of blue had marched with flashing bayonetsand streaming banners at eight o'clock, the dead lay in mangled heaps, and the wounded huddled among them slowly freezing to death. 

John saw a magnificent gun a heap of junk with four dead horses andevery cannoneer on the ground dead or freezing where they fell. A singleshell had done the work. Riderless horses galloped wildly over thefield, shying at the grim piles of dark blue bodies, sniffing the bloodand neighing pitifully. 

Twelve hundred men in his regiment had charged up that hill. But twohundred and fifty came down. 

From the steeple of the Court House in Fredericksburg General Couch, incommand of the Second Corps, stood with his glasses on this frightfulscene. He whispered to Howard by his side:

"The whole plain is covered with our men fallen and falling--I've neverseen anything like it!"

He paused, his lips quivering as he gasped:

"O my God! see them falling--poor fellows, falling--falling!"

He signalled Burnside for reinforcements. 

General Sumner's division on the Union right had charged into thedeadliest trap of all. 

Down the road toward the foot of Marye's Heights his magnificent armyswept at double quick. The Confederate batteries had been speciallytrained to rake this road from three directions, right, and left flankand centre. 

Steadily, stoically the men in blue pressed into this narrow way insilence and met the flaming torrent from three directions. Rushing onover the bodies of their fallen comrades the thinning ranks reached theold stone wall at the foot of the hill. General Cobb lay concealedbehind it with three thousand infantry. The low quick order ran alonghis line:

"Fire!"

Straight into the faces of the heroic Union soldiers flashed a levelblinding flame from three thousand muskets, slaying, crushing, tearingto pieces the proud army of an hour ago. A thousand men in blue fell infive minutes. The ground was piled with their bodies until it wasimpossible to charge over them effectively. 

For a moment a cloud of smoke pitifully drew a soft grey veil over theawful scene while the men who were left fell back in straggling brokengroups. 

Five times the Union hosts had charged those terrible brown hills andfive times they had been rolled back in red waves of blood. 

Late in the day a fierce bitter wind was blowing from the north. Therewas yet time to turn defeat into victory. The desperate Union Commanderordered the sixth charge. 

The men in blue pulled their hats down low as if to shut out the peltinghail of lead and iron and without a murmur charged once more into themouth of hell. The winds had frozen stiff the bodies of their dead. Theadvancing blue lines snatched these dead men from the ground, carriedthem in front, stacked them in long piles for bulwarks, and foughtbehind them with the desperation of madmen. There was no escape. Thekeen eyes of the Confederate Commanders had planted their right and leftflanking lines to pour death into these ranks no matter how high theircorpses were piled. The crescent hill blazed and roared with unceasingfury. Only the darkness was kind at last. 

And then the men in blue planted the frozen bodies of their comradesalong the outer battle line as dummy sentinels, and under cover of thenight began to slip back through Fredericksburg and across the silvermirror of the Rappahannock to their old camp, shattered, broken, crushed. 

It was four o'clock in the morning before John Vaughan's regiment wouldgive up the search for their desperately wounded. Only the strongestcould endure that bitter cold. Through the long, desolate hours thepitiful cries of the wounded men rang through the black, freezing night, and few hands stirred to save them. A great army was fighting to saveits flags and guns and reach the shelter beyond the river. 

Amid the few flickering lanterns could be heard the greetings of friendsin subdued tones as they clasped hands:

"Is that you, old boy?"

"God bless you--yes--I'm glad to see you!"

A dying man in blue was pitifully calling for water somewhere, in thedarkness in front of Ned Vaughan's ditch. He took his canteen, got alantern and went to find him. It might be John. If not, no matter, hewas some other fellow's brother. 

As the light fell on his drawn face Ned murmured:

"Thank God!"

He pressed the canteen to his lips and held his head in his lap. It wasonly too plain from the steel look out of the eyes that his minutes werenumbered. He moved and turned his dying face up to Ned:

"Why is it you always whip us, Johnny?"

He paused for breath:

"I wonder--every battle I've been in we've been defeated--why--why--why, O God, why----"

His head drooped and he was still. 

Ned wondered if some waiting loved one on the shores of eternity hadgiven him the answer. He wrapped him tenderly in his blanket and lefthim at rest at last. 

As he turned toward his lines the unmistakable wail of a baby camefaintly through the darkness--a wee voice, the half smothered crysounding as if it were nestling in a mother's arms. He followed thesound until his lantern flashed in the wild eyes of a young woman whohad fled from her home in terror during the battle and was hugging herbaby frantically in her arms. 

Ned led her gently to an officer's quarters and made her comfortable. 

The glory of war was fast fading from his imagination. A grim spectrewas slowly taking its place. 

John's shattered regiment lay down on the field with the rear guard atfour o'clock to snatch an hour's sleep, their heads pillowed on thebodies of the dead. The cold moderated and a light mantle of snow fellsoftly just before day and covered the field, the living and the dead. When the reveille sounded at dawn, the bugler looked with awe at thethousands of white shrouded figures and wondered which would stir at hisnote. The living slowly rose as from the dead and shook their whiteshrouds. Thousands lay still, cold and immovable to await thearchangel's mightier call at the last. 

Beyond the river, through the long night, Burnside, wild with anguish, had paced the floor of his tent. Again and again he threw his arms in agesture of despair toward the freezing blood-stained field:

"Oh, those men--those men over there! I'm thinking of them all thetime----"

As the rear guard turned from the field at sunrise, John Vaughan lookedback across the valley of Death and saw the ragged brown and greyfigures shivering in the cold, as they swarmed down from the hills andbegan to shake the frost from the new, warm clothes they were strippingfrom the dead. 

CHAPTER XXVI

THE REST HOUR

For two terrible days and nights Betty Winter saw the endless line ofambulances creep from the field of Fredericksburg. Some of these men layon the frozen ground for forty-eight hours before relief came. Many ofthe wounded might have lived but for the frightful exposure to coldwhich followed the battle. They died in hundreds. 

Thousands were placed on the train for Washington and so great was thepitiful suffering among them Betty left with the first load. There wouldbe more work in the hospitals there than in Burnside's camp. It would bemany a day before his shattered army could be ready again to givebattle. 

The worst trouble with it was not the bleeding gap torn through itsranks by Lee's shot and shell. Not only was its body wounded, its soulwas crushed. Its commanding generals were divided into warring factions, the rank and file of its stern fighting men discouraged. 

Again an epidemic of desertions broke out and ten thousand men were lostin a single month. 

Burnside assumed the full responsibility for the disaster and asked tobe relieved of his command. The third Union General had gone down beforeLee--McClellan, Pope and Burnside. 

The President, heartsick but undismayed, called to the head of the armythe most promising general in sight, Joseph Hooker, popularly known as"Fighting Joe Hooker. " There was inspiration to the thoughtless in thename, yet the Chief had misgivings. 

On sending him the appointment he wrote his new general a remarkableletter:

 "GENERAL:

 "I have placed you at the head of the Army of the Potomac. Of course, I have done this upon what appears to me to be sufficient reasons; and yet I think it best for you to know that there are some things in regard to which I am not quite satisfied with you. 

 "I believe you to be a brave and skillful soldier--which of course I like. I also believe you do not mix politics with your profession--in which you are right. You have confidence in yourself--which is a valuable if not indispensable quality. You are ambitious--which within reasonable bounds does good rather than harm; but I think that during General Burnside's command of the army you have taken counsel of your ambition and thwarted him as much as you could, in which you did a great wrong to the country, and to a most meritorious and honorable brother officer. 

 "I have heard in such a way as to believe of you recently saying that both the army and the Government needed a dictator. Of course it was not for this, but in spite of it, that I gave you the command. Only those generals who gain successes can set up as dictators. 

 "What I now ask of you is military success, and I will risk the dictatorship. 

 "The Government will support you to the utmost of its ability--which is neither more nor less than it has done and will do for all commanders. I much fear that the spirit which you have aided to infuse into the army of criticising their commander and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you. I shall assist you as far as I can to put it down. Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army while such a spirit prevails in it. 

 "And now beware of rashness--but with energy and sleepless vigilance go forward and give us victories. "

While Hooker lay in winter quarters reorganizing his army his picketlines in speaking distance with those of his opponent across the river, the President bent his strong shoulders to the task of cheering thefainting spirits of the people. On his shaggy head was heaped the blameof all the sorrows, the failures and the agony of the ever deepeningtragedy of war. Deeper and deeper into his rugged kindly face were cutthe lines of life and death, and darker grew the shadows through whichhis sensitive lonely soul was called to walk. 

And yet, through it all, there glowed with stronger radiance the charmof his quaint genius and his magnetic personality--tragic, homely, gentle, humorous, honest, merciful, wise, laughable and lovable. 

He found time to run down to Hampton Roads with Gideon Welles, his loyalSecretary of the Navy, to inspect the ships assembled there. He saw anarrow door bound with iron. 

"What is that?" he asked sharply. 

"Oh, that is the sweat box, " the Secretary replied, "used forinsubordinate seamen----"

"Oh, " the rugged giant exclaimed, "how do you work it?"

"The man to be punished is put inside and steam heat is turned on. Itbrings him to terms quickly. "

The tall figure bent curiously examining the contrivance:

"And we apply this to thousands of brave American seamen every year?"

"Undoubtedly. "

"Let me try it and see what it's like. "

It was useless to protest. He had already taken off his tall silk hatand there was a look of quiet determination in his hazel-grey eyes. 

He stepped quickly into the enclosure, which he found to be about threefeet in length and about the same in width. His tall figure of six feetfour was practically telescoped. 

"Close your door now and turn on the steam, " he ordered. "I'll give youthe signal when I've had enough. "

The door was closed and the steam turned on. 

He stood it three minutes and gave the signal of release. 

He stepped out, stretched his long legs, and breathed deeply. He moppedhis brow and there was fire in his sombre eyes as he turned to Welles:

"Mr. Secretary, I want every one of those things dumped into the sea. Never again allow it to be found on a vessel flying the American flag!"

In an hour every sailor in the harbor had heard the news. The old saltswho had felt its shame and agony lifted their caps and stood with baredheads, cheering and crying as he passed. 

One by one, every country of Europe heard the news and the sweat boxceased to be an instrument of discipline on every sea of the civilizedworld. 

Seated at his desk in the White House, he received daily the great andthe humble, and no man or woman came and left without a patient hearing. There were over thirty thousand cases of trial and condemnations bycourt-martial every year now--only a small portion with the deathpenalty attached--but all had the right to appeal. They were not slow infinding the road to the loving heart. 

Stanton, worn out by vain protests against his pardons, sent AttorneyGeneral Bates at last. 

The great lawyer was very stern as he faced his Chief:

"I regret to say it, Mr. President, but you are not fit to be trustedwith the pardoning power, sir!"

A smile played about the corner of the big kindly mouth as he glancedover his spectacles at his Attorney General:

"It's my private opinion, Bates, that you're just as pigeon-hearted as Iam!"

Judge Advocate General Holt was sent to labor with him and insist thathe enforce the law imposing the death penalty. 

"Your reasons are good, Holt, " he answered kindly, "but I can't promiseto do it. You see, so many of my boys have to be shot anyhow. I don'twant to add another one to that lot if I can help it----"

He paused and went on whimsically:

"I don't see how it's going to make a man better to shoot him, anyhow--give them another trial. "

In spite of all Holt's protests he steadfastly refused to sanction anydeath warrant against a man for cowardice under fire. "Many a man, " hecalmly argued, "who honestly tries to do his duty is overcome by feargreater than his will--I'm not at all sure how I'd act if Minie ballswere whistling and those big shells shrieking in my ears. How can a poorman help it if his legs just carry him away?"

All these he marked "leg cases, " put them in a separate pigeon hole andalways suspended their sentence. 

He would smile gently as he filed each death warrant away:

"It would frighten that poor devil too terribly to shoot him. Theyshan't do it. "

On one he wrote:

"Let him fight again--maybe the enemy will shoot him--I won't. "

Betty Winter came with two cases. The first was a mother to plead forher boy sentenced to die for sleeping at his post on guard. 

"You see, sir, " the mother pleaded, "he'd been on watch once that nightand had done his duty faithfully. He volunteered to take a sickcomrade's place. He was so tired he fell asleep. He was always abig-hearted, generous boy--you won't let them shoot him?"

"No, I won't, " was the quick response. 

The mother laughed aloud through her tears and threw her arms aroundBetty's neck. 

The President bent over the paper and wrote across its back:

"Pardoned. This life is too precious to be lost. "

Betty waited until the crowd had passed out and he was alone withColonel Nicolay. She hurried to his desk with her second case which shehad kept outside in the corridor until the time to enter. 

A young mother walked timidly in, smiling apologetically. She carried athree-months-old baby in her arms. She was evidently not in mourning, though her eyes were red from weeping. 

"What's the matter now?" the President laughed, nodding to Betty. 

"Tell him, " she whispered. 

"If you please, sir, " the woman began timidly, "we ain't been marriedbut a little over a year. My husband has never seen the baby. He's inthe army. I couldn't stand it any longer, so I come down to Washingtonto get a pass to take the baby to him. But they wouldn't let me have it. I've been wandering 'round the streets all day crying till I met thissweet young lady and she brought me to you, sir----"

The President turned to his secretary:

"Let's send her down!"

The Colonel smiled and shook his head:

"The strictest orders have been given to allow no more women to go tothe front----"

The big gentle hand stroked the shaggy beard. 

"Well, I'll tell you what we can do, " he cried joyfully, "give herhusband a leave of absence and let him come to see them here!"

The secretary left at once for the Adjutant General's office and thePresident turned to the laughing young mother, who was trying to thankBetty through her tears:

"And where are you stopping, Madam?"

"Nowhere yet, sir. I went straight from the depot to the War Departmentand then walked about blind with crying eyes until I came here. "

"All right then, we'll fix that. I'll give Miss Betty an order to takeyou and your baby to her hospital and care for you until your husbandcomes and he can stay there a week with you----"

The mother's voice wouldn't work. She tried to speak her thanks andcould only laugh. 

The big hand pressed Betty's as she left:

"Thank you for bringing her, little girl, things like that rest me. "

The hour was swiftly coming when he was going to need all the strengththat rest could bring body and soul. His enemies were sleepless. Thepress inspired by Senator Winter had begun to strike below the belt. 

CHAPTER XXVII

DEEPENING SHADOWS

Again the eyes of the Nation were fixed on the Army of the Potomac andits new General. The President went down to his headquarters at FalmouthHeights opposite Fredericksburg to review his army of a hundred andthirty thousand men. 

Riding up to Hooker's headquarters through the beautiful spring morninghis weary figure was lifted with new hope as he breathed the perfume ofthe flowers and blooming hedgerows. 

The driver only worried him for the moment. He was swearing eloquentlyat his team in the pride of his heart at the honor of hauling the ChiefMagistrate of the Nation. He swore both plain and ornamental oaths withequal unction. 

The President endured it a while in amused silence. He was deeplyannoyed, but too much of a gentleman to hurt his patriotic driver'sfeelings. 

At last he observed:

"I see you are an Episcopalian, driver. "

The man turned in surprise:

"Oh, no, sir, I'm Methodist. "

"Is it possible?"

"Yes, sir, Methodist--why, sir?"

A whimsical smile played about the big kindly mouth:

"I thought you must be an Episcopalian because you swear exactly likeMr. Seward, and he's a churchwarden!"

A deep silence fell on the sweet spring air. The driver glanced over hisshoulder with a sheepish grin, and cracked his whip without an oath:

"G'long there, boys!"

As the serried lines of blue, with bayonets flashing in the warming sunof April, marched past the tall giant on horseback, they were in finespirits. They cheered the President with rousing enthusiasm. 

John Vaughan did not join. He marched past with eyes straight in front. 

The President hurried back to Washington to keep his vigil from hiswindow overlooking the Potomac, and Hooker began the execution of hisskillful plan of attack. On the day his advance began he had one hundredand thirty thousand men and four hundred and forty-eight great guns inseven grand divisions. Lee, still lying on the crescent hills behindFredericksburg, had sixty-two thousand men and one hundred and seventyguns. He had detached Longstreet's corps for service in Tennessee. 

The Federal Commander was absolutely sure that he could throw the flowerof this magnificent army across the river seven miles aboveFredericksburg, get into Lee's rear, hurl the remainder of his forcesacross the river as Burnside had done, and crush the grey army like anegg shell. It was well planned, but in war the unexpected often happens. 

Again the unexpected thing turned up in the shape of the strange, dustyfigure on his little sorrel horse. 

The night before Hooker moved, Julius met with an accident whichdelayed John's supper. He was just approaching the camp after asuccessful stroll over the surrounding territory, carrying on his back asheep he meant to cook for the coming march. A rude and unsympatheticguard arrested him. Julius was greatly grieved at his unkind remarks. 

"Lordy, man, you ought not ter say things lak dat ter me! I nebber stealnutting in my life. I wasn't even foragin' dis time----"

"The hell you weren't!"

"Na, sah. I wasn't even foragin'. I know dat de General done issue demorders agin hit, an' I quit long ergo----"

"This sheep looks like it----"

"Dat sheep?"

"That's what I said, you black thief!"

"Say, man, don't talk lak dat ter me--you sho hurts my feelin's. Inebber stole dat sheep. I nebber go atter de sheep, an' I weren'tstudyin' 'bout no animals. I was des walkin' long de road past a man'shouse whar dis here big, devilish-lookin' old sheep come er runnin'right at me wid his head down--an' I lammed him wid er stick ter save mylife, sah. An' den when he fell, I knowed hit wuz er pity ter leave himdar ter spile, an' so I des nachelly had ter fetch him inter de camp tersave him. Man, you sho is rude ter talk dat way. "

The guard was obdurate until Julius began to describe how he cookedroast mutton. He finally agreed to accept his version of the battle withthe sheep as authentic if he would bring him a ten pound roast to testthe truth of his conversation. 

Julius was still harping on the rudeness of this guard as he fanned theflies off John's table with a sassafras brush at supper. 

"I don't know what dey ebber let sech poor white trash ez dat man git iner army for, anyhow!" he exclaimed indignantly. 

"We have to take 'em as they come now, Julius. There's going to be adraft this summer. No more volunteers now. Wait till you see theconscripts. "

"Dey can't be no wus dan dat man. He warn't no gemman 'tall, sah. "

John rose from his hearty supper and strolled along the line of hisregiment, recruited again to its full strength of twelve hundred men. 

Two fellows who were messmates were scrapping about a question of gravy. One wanted lots of gravy and his meat done brown. The other insisted onhaving his meat decently cooked, but not swimming in grease. The man infavor of gravy was on duty as cook at this meal and stuck to his ownideas. They suddenly clinched, fell to the ground, rolled over, knockedthe pan in the fire and lost both meat and gravy. 

John smiled and passed on. 

A lieutenant was sitting on a stump holding a letter from his sweetheartto the flickering camp fire. He bent and kissed the signature--the fool!For a moment the old longing surged back through his soul. He wonderedif she ever thought of him now. She had loved him once. 

He started back to his tent to write her a letter before they broke campto-morrow morning. Nature was calling in the balmy spring night windthat floated over the waters of the river. 

Nature knew naught of war. She was pouring out her heart in budding leafand blossom in the joy of living. 

And then the bitterness of shame and stubborn pride welled up to killthe tender impulse. There were slumbering forces beneath the skin thescenes through which he was passing had called into new life. They werebringing new powers both of mind and body. They added nothing to thegentler, sweeter sources of character. He began to understand how mencould feed their ambitions on the bodies of fallen hosts and stillsmile. 

He had felt the brutalizing touch of war. With a cynical laugh he threwoff his impulse to write and turned into his blanket dreaming of the redcarnival toward which they would march at dawn. 

As the sun rose over the new sparkling fields of the South on themorning of the 27th of April, 1863, the great movement began. 

The Federal commander ordered Sedgwick's division to cross theRappahannock below Fredericksburg and deploy in line of battle todeceive Lee as to his real purpose while he secretly marched his mainarmy through the woods seven miles above to throw them on his rear. 

As the men stood, thousands banked on thousands, awaiting the order tomarch, John Vaughan saw, for the first time, the grim procession passalong the lines carrying a condemned deserter, to be shot to deathbefore his former comrades. His hands were tied across his breast withrough knotted rope and he was seated on his coffin. 

The War Department had gotten around the tender heart in the WhiteHouse at last. The desertions had become so terrible in their frequencyit was absolutely necessary to make examples of some of these men. Thepoor devil who sat forlornly on his grim throne riding through the sweetspring morning had no mother or sister or sweetheart to plead his cause. 

The men stared in silence as the death cart rumbled along the lines. Ithalted and the man took his place before the firing squad but a few feetaway. 

A white cloth was bound over his eyes. The sergeant dealt out thespecially prepared round of cartridges--all blank save one, that nosoldier might know who did the murder. 

In low tones they were ordered to fire straight at the heart of theblindfolded figure. The muskets flashed and the man crumpled in a heapon the soft young grass, the blood pouring from his breast in a brightred pool beside the quivering form. 

And then the army moved. 

The stratagem of the Commander was executed with skill. But there was aneagle eye back of those hills of Fredericksburg. Lee was not only agreat stark fighter, he was a past master in the arts of war. He haddivined his opponent's plan from the moment of his first movement. 

By April the 30th, Hooker had effected his crossing and slipped into therear of Lee's left wing. The Southerner had paid little attention toSedgwick's menace on his front. He left but nine thousand men on Marye'sHeights to hold in check this forty thousand, and by a rapid night marchsuddenly confronted Hooker in the Wilderness before Chancellorsville. 

So strong was the Union General's position he issued an exultant orderto his army in which he declared:

"The enemy must now flee shamefully or come out of his defences toaccept battle on our own ground, to his certain destruction. "

The enemy had already slipped out of his defenses before Fredericksburgand at that moment was feeling his way through the tangled vines andundergrowth with sure ominous tread. 

The soul of the Confederate leader rose with elation at the prospectbefore him. In this tangle called the Wilderness, broken only here andthere by small, scattered farm houses and fields, the Grand Army of theRepublic had more than twice his numbers, and nearly three times as manybig guns, but his artillery would be practically useless. It was utterlyimpossible to use four hundred great guns in such woods. Lee's onehundred and seventy were more than he could handle. It would be a fightbetween infantry at close range. The Southerner knew that no army of menever walked the earth who would be the equal, man for man, with thesegrey veteran dead shots, who were now silently creeping through theundergrowth of their native woods. 

On May the 1st, their two lines came into touch and Lee felt of hisopponent by driving in his skirmishers in a desultory fire of artillery. 

On the morning of May the 2nd, the two armies faced each other at closerange. 

With Sedgwick's division of forty thousand men now threatening Lee'srear from Fredericksburg, his army thus caught between two mighty linesof blue, Hooker was absolutely sure of victory. The one thing of whichhe never dreamed was that Lee would dare, in the face of such a deathtrap, to divide his own small army. And yet this is exactly what theSoutherner decided to do contrary to all the rules of military scienceor the advice of the strange, silent figure on the little sorrel horse. 

When Lee, Jackson and Stuart rode along the lines of Hooker's front thatfatal May morning, Jackson suddenly reined in his little sorrel andturned his keen blue eyes on his grey-haired Chief:

"There's just one way, General Lee. The front and left are too strong. Ican swing my corps in a quick movement to the rear while you attack thefront. They will think it a retreat. Out of sight, I'll turn, march forten miles around their right wing, and smash it from the rear beforesundown. "

Lee quickly approved the amazing plan of his lieutenant, though itinvolved the necessity of his holding Hooker's centre and left in checkand that his nine thousand men behind the stone wall on Marye's Heightsshould hold Sedgwick's forty thousand. He believed it could be doneuntil Jackson had completed his march. 

He immediately ordered his attack on the centre and left of his enemy. The artillery horses were cropping the tender dew-laden grass witheagerness. They had had no breakfast. The riders sprang to their backsat seven o'clock and they dashed into position. 

Lee's guns opened the fateful day. For hours his lines blazed with thesteady sullen boom of artillery and rattle of musketry. Hooker's hostsreplied in kind. 

At noon a shout swept the Federal lines that Lee's army was in retreat. Sickles' division could see the long grey waves hurrying to the rear. They were close enough to note the ragged, dirty, nondescript clothesJackson's men wore. No man in all the Union hosts doubted for a momentthat Lee had seen the hopelessness of his position and was hurrying tosave his little army of sixty-two thousand men from being crushed intopulp by the jaws of a hundred and thirty thousand in two grand divisionsclosing in on him. It was a reasonable supposition--always barring theutterly unexpected--another name for Stonewall Jackson, whom they seemedto have forgotten for the moment. 

Sickles, seeing the "retreat, " sent a courier flying to Hooker, askingfor permission to follow the fugitives with his twenty thousand men. Hooker consented, and Sickles leaped from his entrenchments and set outin mad haste to overtake the flying columns. He got nearly ten miles inthe woods away from the battle lines before he realized that the ghostlymen in grey had made good their escape. Certainly they had disappearedfrom view. 

It was five o'clock in the afternoon when Jackson's swift, silentmarchers began to draw near to the unsuspecting right wing of Hooker'sarmy under the command of General Howard. 

Ned Vaughan was in Jackson's skirmish line feeling the way through thetender green foliage of the spring. The days were warm and the leavesfar advanced--the woods so dense it was impossible for picket orskirmisher to see more than a hundred yards ahead--at some points not ahundred feet. 

The thin, silent line suddenly swept into the little opening of a negrocabin with garden and patch of corn. A kindly old colored woman wasstanding in the doorway. 

She looked into the faces of these eager, slender Southern boys and theywere her "children. " The meaning of war was real to her only when itmeant danger to those she loved. 

She ran quickly up to Ned, her eyes dancing with excitement:

"For de Lawd's sake, honey, don't you boys go up dat road no fudder!"

"Why, Mammy?" he asked with a smile. 

"Lordy, chile, dey's thousan's, an' thousan's er Yankees des over datlittle hill dar--dey'll kill every one er you all!"

"I reckon not, Mammy, " Ned called, hurrying on. 

She ran after him, still crying:

"For Gawd's sake, come back here, honey--dey kill ye sho!"

She was calling still as Ned disappeared beyond the cabin into the woodsredolent now with the blossoms of chinquepin bushes and the rich odorsof sweet shrub. 

They climbed the little ridge on whose further slope lay an open field, and caught their first view of Howard's unsuspecting division. Theyhalted and sent their couriers flying with the news to Jackson. 

Ned looked on the scene with a thrill of exultation and then a sense ofdeepening pity. The boys in blue had begun to bivouac for the night, their camp fires curling through the young green leaves. The men wereseated in groups laughing, talking, joking and playing cards. The horseswere busy cropping the young grass. 

"God have mercy on them!" Ned exclaimed. 

It was nearly six o'clock before Jackson's men had all slipped silentlyinto position behind the dense woods on this little slope--in two longgrim battle lines, one behind the other, with columns in support, hishorse artillery with their big guns shotted and ready. 

Ned saw a slight stir in the doomed camp of blue. The men were standingup now and looking curiously toward those dense woods. A startled flockof quail had swept over their heads flying straight down from the lullcrest. A rabbit came scurrying from the same direction--and thenanother. And then another flock of quail swirled past and pitched amongthe camp fires, running and darting in terror on the ground. 

An officer drew his revolver and potted one for his supper. 

The men glanced uneasily toward the woods but could see nothing. 

"What'ell ye reckon that means?"

"What ails the poor birds?"

"And the rabbits?"

They were not long in doubt. The sudden shrill note of a bugle rang fromthe woods and Jackson's yelling grey lines of death swept down on theirunprotected rear. 

The first regiments in sight were blown into atoms and driven as chaffbefore a whirlwind. Behind them lay twenty regiments in their trenchespointed the wrong way. The men leaped to their guns and foughtdesperately to stay the rushing torrent. Beyond them was a ragged gap ofa whole mile without a man, left bare by the chase of Sickles' divisionnow ten miles away. Without support the shattered lines were crushedand crumpled and rolled back in confusion. Every regiment was cut topieces and pushed on top of one another, men, horses, mules, cattle, guns, in a tangled mass of blood and death. 

Ned was sent to bring the supporting column to drive them on and on. Hemounted a horse and dashed back to the reserve line yelling his call:

"Hurry! Hurry up, men!"

"What's the hurry?" growled a grey coat. 

"Hurry! Hurry!" Ned shouted. "We've captured fifty pieces of artilleryand ten thousand prisoners!"

"Then what'ell's the use er hurryin' us on er empty stomach--but we'rea-comin', honey--we're a-comin'!"

The colonel of a regiment snatched his hat off and was getting his menready for the charge. He waved his hand toward Ned:

"Make that damn-fool get out of the way. I'm going to charge. Now youmen listen--listen to me, I say! not to that fellow--listen to me!"

Ned could hear him still talking excitedly to his eager men as he dashedback to the battle line. 

General Hooker sat on the porch of the Chancellor House, hisheadquarters. On the east there was heavy firing where his men wereattempting to carry out his orders to flank Lee's retreating army. Sickles' and Pleasanton's cavalry were already in pursuit. By somecurious trick of the breeze or atmospheric conditions not a sound hadreached him from the direction of his right wing. A staff officersuddenly turned his glasses to the west. 

"My God, here they come!"

Before the astounded Commander could leap from the porch to his horsethe flying stragglers of his shattered right were pouring intoview--men, wagons, ambulances, in utter confusion. Hooker swung his olddivision under General Berry into line and shouted to his veterans:

"Forward with the bayonet!"

The sturdy division plowed its way through the receding blue waves ofpanic-stricken men and dashed into the face of the overwhelming hosts. 

Major Keenan, in command of the 8th Pennsylvania Cavalry, charged withhis gallant five hundred into the face of almost certain death and heldthe grey lines in check until the artillery of the Third Corps was savedand turned on the advancing Confederates. He fell at the head of hismen. 

The fighting now became a battle. It was no longer a rout. 

Ned saw a lone deaf man in blue standing bareheaded, fighting a wholearmy so intent on his work he hadn't noticed that his regiment hadretreated and left him. 

Two men in grey raised their muskets and fired point blank at this manat the same instant. The unconscious hero fell. 

"I hit him!" cried one. 

"No, I hit him!" said the other. 

And they both rushed up and tenderly offered him help. 

A grey soldier came hurrying by taking two prisoners to the rear. Acannon ball from the rescued battery cut off his leg and he droppedbeside Ned shouting hysterically:

"Pick me up! Pick me up! Why don't you pick me up?"

The blue prisoner looked back in terror at the battery and started torun. A grey soldier stopped them:

"Here! Here! What'ell's the matter with you? Them's your own guns. Whatare ye tryin' to get away from 'em for?"

Men were falling now at every step. 

Ned had advanced a hundred yards further when the boy on his rightsuddenly threw his hands over his head and his leg full to the ground, cut off by a cannon ball, Ned leaped to his side and caught him in hisarms. A look of anguish swept his strong young face as he gasped:

"My poor old mother! O my God, what'll she do now?"

Ned tied his handkerchief around the mangled leg, twisted the knot, andstayed the blood gushing from the severed arteries, and rushed back tohis desperate work. 

Four horses dashed by his side dragging through the woods a big gun totrain on the battery that was plowing through their lines. A solid shotcrashed straight through a horse's head, blinding Ned with blood andbrains. 

He threw his hand to his face and buried it in the hot quivering mass, exclaiming:

"My God, boys, my brains are out!"

"You've got the biggest set I ever saw then!" the Captain said, helpinghim to clear his eyes. 

A shell exploded squarely against the gun carriage, hurling it into junkand piling all four horses on the ground. Their dying cries rangpitifully through the smoke-wreathed woods. One horse lifted his head, placed both fore feet on the ground and tried to rise. His hind legswere only shreds of torn flesh. He neighed a long, quivering, soul-piercing shriek of agony and a merciful officer drew his revolverand killed him. 

A cannoneer lay by this horse's side with both his legs hopelesslycrushed so high in the thick flesh of the thighs there was no hope. Hewas moaning horribly. He turned his eyes in agony to the officer who hadshot the horse:

"Please, Captain--for the love of God--shoot me, too, I can't live----"

The Captain shook his head. 

"Have mercy on me--for Jesus' sake--kill me--you were kind to myhorse--can't you do as much for me?"

The Captain turned away in anguish. He couldn't even send for morphine. The South had no more morphine. The blockade's iron hand was on herhospitals now. 

Ned fought for half an hour behind a tree. Twice the bullets strikingthe hark knocked pieces into his eyes. He was sure at least fifty Minieballs struck it. 

A bald-headed Colonel rushed by at double quick leading a fresh regimentinto action to support them. The hell of battle was not so hot theSouthern soldier had lost his sense of humor. They were glad to see thisdashing old fighter and they told him so in no uncertain way. 

"Hurrah for Baldy!"

"Sick 'em, Baldy--sick 'em----"

"I'll bet on old man Baldy every time----"

"Hurrah for the bald-headed man!"

The Colonel paid no attention to their shouts. The flash of his musketsin the deepening twilight turned the tide in their favor. The big gunshad been unlimbered and pulled back deeper into the blue lines. 

John Vaughan's line was swung to support the charge of Hooker's olddivision which first halted the rush of Jackson's men. In the fieldbeyond the Chancellor House stood a huge straw stack. As the regimentrushed by at double quick the Colonel spied a panic-stricken officercrouching in terror behind the pile. 

The Colonel slapped him across the shoulders with his sword:

"What sort of a place is this for you, sir?"

Through chattering teeth came the trembling response:

"W-w-hy, m-my God, do you think the bullets can come through?"

The Colonel threw up his hands in rage and pressed on with his men. 

A wagon loaded with entrenching tools, on which sat half a dozen negroesrattled by on its way to the rear. A solid shot plumped squarely intothe load. 

John saw picks, spades, shovels and negroes suddenly fill the air. Everynegro lit on his feet and his legs were running when he struck theground. They reached the tall timber before the last pick fell. 

The regiments were going into battle double quick, but they were notgoing so fast they couldn't laugh. 

"Hurry up men!" the Colonel called. "Hurry up, let's get in there andhelp 'em!"

A moment more and they were in it. 

The man beside John threw up both hands and dropped with the dull, unmistakable thud of death--the soldier who has been in battle knows thesickening sound. 

They were thrown around the Third Corps battery to protect their gunswhich had been dragged to a place more securely within the lines. Stilltheir gunners kept falling one by one--falling ominously at the crack ofa single gun in the woods. A Confederate sharpshooter had climbed a treeand was picking them off. 

A tall Westerner spoke to the Colonel:

"Let me go huntin' for him!"

The Commander nodded and John went with him--why? He asked himself thequestion before he had taken ten steps through the shadowy underbrush. The answer was plain. He knew the truth at once. The elemental brutalinstinct of the hunter had kindled at the flash in that Westerner's eye. It would be a hunt worth while--the game was human. 

For five minutes they crept through the bushes hiding from tree to treein the open spaces. They searched the tops in vain, when suddenly apiece of white oak bark fluttered down from the sky and struck theground at their feet. 

The Westerner smiled at John and stood motionless:

"Well, I'm damned!"

They waited breathlessly, afraid to look up into the boughs of thetowering oak beneath which they were standing. 

"Don't move now!" the man from the West cried, "and I'll pot him. "

Slowly he stepped backward, softly, noiselessly, his eye fixed in thetreetop, his gun raised and finger on the trigger. 

He stopped, aimed, and fired. 

John looked up and saw the grey figure fall back from the tree trunk andplunge downward, bounding from limb to limb and striking the groundwithin ten feet of where he stood with heavy thud. The blood was gushingin red streams from his nose and mouth. 

They turned and hurried back to their lines--another fierce attack wasbeing made on those guns. The men in grey charged and drove them ahundred feet before they rallied and pushed them back with frightfulloss on both sides. 

John's Captain fell, dangerously wounded, and lay fifty feet beyondtheir battle line. The dry leaves in the woods had taken fire from ashell and the blaze was nearing the wounded men. The Westerner coollyleaped from his position behind a tree, walked out in a hail of lead, picked up his wounded Commander, and carried him safely to the rear. Hehad just stepped back to take his stand in line by John's side when aflying piece of shrapnel tore a hole in his side. He dropped to hisknees, sank lower to his elbow, turned his blue eyes to the darkeningsky and slowly muttered as if to himself:

"Poor--little--wife--and--babies!"

The night was drawing her merciful veil over the scene at last. Jacksonhaving crushed and mangled Hooker's right wing and rolled it back in reddefeat over five miles in two hours, was slowly feeling his way on hislast reconnaissance for the day to make his plans for the next. Througha fatal misunderstanding he was fired on by his own men and borne fromthe field fatally wounded. 

A shiver of horror thrilled the Southerners when the news of Jackson'sfall was whispered through the darkness. 

At midnight Sickles led his division back into the dense woods and forthree terrible hours the men on both sides fought as demons in theshadows. The long lines of blazing muskets in the darkness looked likethe onward rush of a forest fire. At times two solid walls of flameseemed to leap through the tree tops into the starlit heavens. A smallportion of the captured ground was recovered at a frightful loss--and noman knows to this day how many gallant men in blue were shot down bytheir own comrades in the darkness and confusion of that mad assault. 

Hooker sent a desperate call to Sedgwick to hurry to his relief bycarrying out his plan of sweeping Marye's Heights and falling on Lee'srear. 

At dawn Stuart in command of Jackson's corps led the new charge onHooker's lines, his grey veterans shouting:

"Remember Jackson!"

Through the long hours of the terrible third day of May the fiercecombat of giants raged. During the morning Hooker's headquarters werereached by the Confederate artillery and the old Chancellor House, filled with the wounded, was knocked to pieces and set on fire. Thewomen and children and slaves of the Chancellor family were shivering inits cellar while the shells were hurling its bricks and timbers inmurderous fury on the helpless wounded who lay in hundreds in the yard. The men from both armies rushed into this hell and carried the woundedto a place of safety. 

General Hooker was wounded and the report flew over the Federal armythat he had been killed. To allay their fears the General had himselflifted into the saddle and rode down his lines and out of sight, when hewas taken unconscious from his horse. 

Sedgwick was fighting his way with desperation now to force Marye'sHeights and strike Lee's rear. 

Once more the stone wall blazed with death for the gallant men in blue. They dashed themselves against it wave on wave, only to fall back inconfusion. They tried to flank it and failed. Hour after hour the madcharges rolled against this hill and broke in deep red pools at itsbase. There were but nine thousand men holding it against fortythousand, but it was afternoon before the grey lines slowly gave way andSedgwick's victorious troops poured over the hill toward Lee's lines. Hooker had asked him to appear at daylight. The long rows and mangledheaps of the dead left on Marye's bloody slopes was sufficient answer toall inquiries as to his delay. 

But the way was still blocked. The receding line of grey was suddenlysupported by Early's division detached from Lee's reserves. AgainSedgwick was stopped and fought until dark. 

[Illustration: "Waving his plumed hat . . . He put himself at the head ofhis troops and charged. "]

As the sun was sinking over the smoke-wreathed spring-clothed trees ofthe wilderness, Stuart gathered Jackson's corps for a desperate assaulton Hooker's last line of defense. Waving his plumed hat high above hishandsome bearded face, he put himself at the head of his troops andcharged, chanting with boyish enthusiasm his improvised battle song:

 "Old--Joe--Hooker, Won't you come out o' the Wilderness! Come out o' the Wilderness! Come out o' the Wilderness!

 Old--Joe--Hooker-- Come out o' the Wilderness-- Come--come--I say!"

The cheering grey waves swept all before them and left Lee in fullpossession of Chancellorsville and the whole position the Federal armyhad originally held. 

As the Confederates rolled on, driving the fiercely fighting men in bluebefore them, Lee himself rode forward to encourage his men and then ithappened--the thing for which the great have fought, and longed, anddreamed since time dawned--the spontaneous tribute of the brave to atrusted leader. 

His victorious troops went wild at the sight of him. Above the crash androar of battle rose the shouts of the Southerners:

"Hurrah for Lee!"

"Lee!"

"Lee!"

From lip to lip the thrilling name leaped until the wounded and thedying turned their eyes to see and raised their feeble voices:

"Lee!--Lee!--Lee!"

It was at this moment that he received the note from Jackson announcingthat he was badly wounded. With the shouts of his men ringing in hisears, he drew his pencil and wrote across the pommel of his saddle:

 "GENERAL: I have just received your note informing me that you are wounded. I cannot express my regret at the occurrence. Could I have directed events, I should have chosen, for the good of the country, to be disabled in your stead. 

 "I congratulate you upon the victory which is due to your skill and energy. 

 "Very respectfully, your obedient servant, "R. E. LEE, "GENERAL. "

It was quick, bloody work next day for the Southerner to turn and springon Sedgwick with the ferocity of a tiger, crush and hurl his batteredand bleeding corps back on the river. 

Under cover of a storm General Couch, in command of Hooker's army, retreated across the Rappahannock. The blue and grey picket lines thatnight were so close to each other the men could talk freely. TheSouthern boys were chaffing the Northerners over their oft repeateddefeats. Through the darkness a Yankee voice drawled:

"Ah, Johnnie, shut up--you make us tired! You're not so much as youthink you are. Swap Generals with us and we'll come over and lick hellout of you!"

A silence fell over the boasting ones and then the listening Yankeeheard a low voice chuckle to his comrade:

"I'm damned if they wouldn't, too!"

When the grey dawn broke through the storm they began to bury the deadand care for the wounded. The awful struggle had ended at last. 

The Northern army had lost seventeen thousand men, the Southernersthirteen thousand. 

It was a great victory for the South, but a few more such victories andthere would be none of her brave boys left to tell the story. 

John Vaughan's company had been detailed to help in cleaning the field. The day before, on Sunday morning, they had eaten their breakfast seatedon the ground among hundreds of dead bodies whose odor poisoned the air. It is needless to say, Julius was not present. He had kept the riverbetween him and the roar of contending hosts. 

The suffering of the wounded had been terrible. Some of them had fallenon Friday, thousands on Saturday, and it was now Monday. All through theblood-soaked tangled woods they lay groaning and dying. And everywherethe flap of black wings. The keen-eyed vultures had seen from the skywhere they fell. 

John found a brave old farmer from Northern New York lying beside hisson. He had met them in the fight at Fredericksburg in December. 

"Well, here we are, Vaughan, " the father cried feebly. "My boy's dead, and I'll be with him soon--but it's all right--it's all right--mycountry's worth it!"

They were lying in a bright open space, where the warm sun of May hadpushed the wood violets into blossom in rich profusion. The dead boy'shead lay in a bed of blue flowers. 

Some of the bodies further on were black and charred by the flames thathad swept the woods again and again during the battles. Some of them hadbeen wounded men and they had been burned to death. Their twisted bodiesand the agony on their cold faces told the hideous story more plainlythan words. The odor of burning flesh still filled the air in theseblack spots. 

With a start John suddenly came on the crouching figure of a Confederatesoldier kneeling behind a stump, the paper end of the cartridge was inhis teeth and his fingers still grasped the ball. He was just in the actof tearing the paper as a bullet crashed straight through his forehead. A dark streak of blood marked his face and clothes. His gun was in hisother hand, the muzzle in place to receive the cartridge, the body coldand rigid in exactly the position death had called him. 

A broad-shouldered, bearded man in blue had just fallen asleep nearby. The body was still warm, the blue eyes wide open, staring into theleaden sky. On his breast lay an open Bible with a bloody finger mark onthe lines:

 "The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want He maketh me to lie down in green pastures-- He restoreth my soul. "

A hundred yards further lay a dead boy from his own company. The stiffhands were still holding a picture of his sweetheart before the staringeyes. Near him lay a boy in grey with a sweetheart's letter clasped inhis hand. They had talked and tried to cheer one another, these dyingboys--talked of those they loved in far off villages as the mists ofeternity had gathered about them. 

It was late that night before the wounded had all been moved. Throughevery hour of its black watches the surgeons, with their sleeves rolledhigh, their arms red, bent over their tasks, until legs and arms werepiled in ghastly heaps ten feet high. 

As John Vaughan turned from the scene where he had laid a wounded man towait his turn, his eye caught the look of terror on the face of awounded Southern boy. He was a slender little dark-haired fellow, undersixteen, a miniature of Ned. The surgeon had just taken up his knife tocut into the deep flesh wound for the Minie ball embedded there. Johnsaw the slender face go white and the terror-stricken young eyes searchthe room for help. His breath came in quick gasps and he was about tofaint. 

John slipped his arm around him:

"Just a minute, Doctor----"

He pressed his hand and whispered:

"Come now, little man, you're among your enemies. You've got to bebrave. Show your grit for the South. I've got a brother in your army wholooks like you. No white feather now when these Yankees can see you. "

The slender figure stiffened and his eyes flashed:

"All right!" the sturdy lips cried. "Let him go ahead--I'm ready now!"

John held his hand, while the knife cut through the soft young flesh andfound the lead. The grip of the slim fingers tightened, but he gave nocry. John handed him the bullet to put in his pocket and left himsmiling his thanks. 

He began to wonder vaguely if he had lost his cook forever. Juliusshould have found the regiment before this. It was just before day thathe came on him working with might and main at a job that was the lastone on earth he would have selected. 

He had been seized by a burying squad and put to work dragging corpsesto the trenches from the great piles where the wagons had dumped them. 

The black man rolled his eyes in piteous appeal to his master:

"For Gawd's sake, Marse John, save me--dese here men won't lemme go. Ibeen er throwin' corpses inter dem trenches since dark. I'se most deadfrum work, let 'lone bein' scared ter death. "

"Sorry, Julius, " was the quick answer, "we've all got to work at a timelike this. There's no help for it. "

Julius bent again to his horrible task. The thing that appalled him wasthe way the dead men kept looking at him out of their eyes wide andstaring in the flickering light of the lanterns. 

John stood watching him thoughtfully. He had finished one pile ofbodies, dragging them by the heels one by one, and throwing them intothe trenches. He was just about to begin on the last stack when he sawthat he had left one lying a little further back in the shadows. 

Julius looked at it dubiously and scratched his head. He didn't like theidea of going so far back in the dark, away from the light, but therewas no help for it. The guard stood with his musket scowling:

"Get a move on you--damn you, don't stand there!" he growled. 

Julius walled his eyes at his tormentor and ran for the body. Ithappened to be the sleeping form of a tired guard who had been up threenights. The negro grabbed his legs and rushed toward the lights and thetrenches. 

He had almost reached the grave when the corpse gave a vicious kick andyelled:

"Here--what'ell!"

Julius didn't stop to look or to answer. What he felt in his hands wasenough. With a yell of terror he dropped the thing and plunged straightahead. 

"Gawd, save me!" he gasped. 

His foot slipped on the edge of the trench and he rolled in the darkhole. With the leap of a frightened panther he reached the solid earthand flew, each leap a muttered prayer:

"Save me! Lawd, save me!"

Standing there beside the grim piles of his dead comrades John Vaughanjoined the guard in uncontrollable laughter. It was many a day before hesaw his cook again. 

The laughter suddenly stopped, and he turned from the scene with ashudder. 

"I wonder, " he muttered, "if I live through this war, whether I'll comeout of it with a soul!"

The report from Chancellorsville drifted slowly, ominously, appallingly, over Washington with the clouds and mists of the storm which swept upthe Potomac and shrouded the city in a grey mantle of mourning. TheWhite House was still. The dead were walking through its great rooms ofstate. The anguished heart who watched by the window toward the hills ofVirginia saw and heard each muffled footfall. 

He walked to the table with stumbling, uncertain step at last, his faceghastly and rigid, its color grey ashes, his deep set eyes streamingwith tears, sank helplessly into a chair, and for the first time gaveway to despair:

"O my God! My God! what will the country say!"

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE MOONLIT RIVER

Betty Winter was quick to answer the hurry call for more nurses in thefield hospital at Chancellorsville. The results at the end of threedays' carnage had paralyzed the service. 

She left the Carver Hospital on receipt of the first cry for help andhurried to her home to complete her preparations to leave for the front. 

Her father was at breakfast alone. 

She called her greeting from the hall, rushed to her room, packed a bag, and quickly came down. 

She slipped her arm around his neck, bent and kissed him good-bye. Heheld her a moment:

"You must leave so early, dear?"

"I must catch the first bout for Aquia. The news from the front ishideous. The force there is utterly inadequate. They've asked for everynurse that can be spared for a week. The wounded lay on the ground forthree days and nights, and hundreds of them can't be moved toWashington. The woods took fire dozens of times and many of the poorboys were terribly burned. The suffering, they say, is indescribable. "

The old man suddenly rose, with a fierce light flashing in his eyes:

"Oh, the miserable blunderer in the White House--this war has been onegrim and awful succession of his mistakes!"

Betty placed her hand on his arm in tender protest:

"Father, dear, how can you be so unreasonable--so insanely unjust? Yourhatred of the President is a positive mania----"

"I'm not alone in my affliction, child; Arnold is his only friend inCongress to-day----"

"Then it's a shame--a disgrace to the Nation. Every disaster is laid athis door. In his big heart he is carrying the burden of millions--theirsuffering, their sorrows, their despair. You blamed him at first fortrifling with the war. Now you blame him for the bloody results when thearmy really fights. You ask for an effective campaign and when you getthese tragic battles you heap on his head greater curses. It isn'tright. It isn't fair. I can't understand how a man with your deep senseof justice can be so cruelly inconsistent----"

The Senator shook his grey head in protest:

"There! there! dear--we won't discuss it. You're a woman and you can'tunderstand my point of view. We'll just agree to disagree. You like theman in the White House. God knows he's lonely--I shouldn't begrudge himthat little consolation. His whole attitude in this war is loathsome tome. To him the Southerners are erring brethren to be brought back asprodigal sons in the end. To me they are criminal outlaws to be hangedand quartered--their property confiscated, the foundations of theirsociety destroyed, and every trace of their States blotted from themap----"

"Father!"

"Until we understand that such is the purpose of the war we can getnowhere--accomplish nothing. But there, dear--I didn't mean to say somuch. There is always one thing about which there can be no dispute--Ilove my little girl----"

He slipped his arm about her tenderly again. 

"I'm proud of the work you're doing for our soldiers. They tell me inthe big hospital that you're an angel. I've always known it, but I'mglad other people are beginning to find it out. In all the horrors ofthis tragedy there's one ray of sunshine for me--the light that shinesfrom your eyes!"

He bent and kissed her again:

"Run now, and don't miss your boat. "

In the five swift days of tender service which followed, Betty Winterforgot her own heartache and loneliness in the pity, pathos, and horrorof the scenes she witnessed--the drawn white faces--the charred flesh, the scream of pain from the young, the sigh of brave men, the lastmessages of love--the gasp and the solemn silences of eternity. 

When the strain of the first rush had ended and the time to follow thelines of ambulance wagons back to Washington drew near, the old anguishreturned to torture her soul. She told herself it was all over, and yetshe knew that somewhere in that vast city of tents, stretching for milesover the hills and valleys about Falmouth Heights, was John Vaughan. Shehad put him resolutely out of her life. She said this a hundredtimes--yet she was quietly rejoicing that his name was not on that blackroll of seventeen thousand. All doubt had been removed by theannouncement in the _Republican_ of his promotion to the rank ofCaptain for gallantry on the field of Chancellorsville. 

She hoped that he had freed himself at last from evil associates. Shecouldn't be sure--there were ugly rumors flying about the hospital ofthe use of whiskey in the army. These rumors were particularly busy withHooker's name. 

Seated alone in the quiet moonlight before the field hospital, the balmyair of the South which she drew in deep breaths was bringing back thememory of another now. The pickets had been at their usual friendlytricks of trading tobacco and coffee and exchanging newspapers. From aRichmond paper she had just learned that Ned Vaughan had fought in Lee'sarmy at Chancellorsville. Somewhere beyond the silver mirror of theRappahannock he was with the men in grey to-night. Her heart in itsloneliness went out to him in a wave of tender sympathy. Again she livedover the tragic hours when she had fought the battle for his life andwon at last at the risk of her own. 

A soldier saluted and handed her a piece of brown wrapping paper, neatlyfolded. Its corner was turned down in the old-fashioned way of aschoolboy's note to his sweetheart. 

She went to the light and saw with a start it was in Ned Vaughan'shandwriting. She read, with eager, sparkling eyes. 

 "DEAREST: I've just seen in a Washington paper which our boys traded for that you are here. I must see you, and to-night. I can't wait. There will be no danger to either of us. Our pickets are on friendly terms. I've arranged everything with some good tobacco for your fellows. Follow the man who hands you this note to the river. A boat will be ready for you there with one of my men to row you across. I will be waiting for you at the old mill beside the burned pier of the railroad bridge. 

 "NED. "

Betty's heart gave a bound of joy, and in half an hour she was standingon the shining shore of the river before the old mill. Its great wheelwas slowly turning, the water falling in broken crystals sparkling inthe moonlight. Through the windows of the brick walls peered theblack-mouthed guns trained across the water. 

She looked about timidly for a moment while the man in grey who hadrowed her over made fast his boat. 

He tipped his old slouch hat:

"This way, Miss. "

He led her down close, to the big wheel, crossed the stream of waterwhich poured from its moss-covered buckets, and there, beneath an appletree in bloom, stood a straight, soldierly figure in the full blueuniform of a Federal Captain, exactly as she had seen Ned Vaughan thatnight in the Old Capitol Prison. 

The soldier saluted and Ned said:

"Wait, Sergeant, at the water's edge with your boat. "

He was gone and Ned grasped both Betty's hands and kissed them tenderly:

"My glorious little heroine! I just had to tell you again that the lifeyou saved is all, all yours. You are glad to see me--aren't you?"

"I can't tell you how glad, Boy! How brown and well you look!"

"Yes, the hard life somehow agrees with me. It's a queer thing, thisarmy business. It makes some men strong and clean, and others intobeasts. "

"And why did you wear that dangerous uniform, sir?" she asked, with asmile. 

"In honor of a beautiful Yankee girl, my guest. I've not worn it sincethat night, Betty, until now----"

His voice dropped to a whisper:

"It has been a holy thing to me, this blue uniform that cost me the lifewhich you gave back at the risk of your own----"

"I was in no danger. I had powerful friends. "

"They might not have been powerful enough--but it's sacred for anotherreason--as precious to me as the seamless robe for which the Romansoldiers cast lots on Calvary--I wore it in the one glorious moment inwhich I held you in my arms, dearest. "

"O Ned, Boy, you shouldn't be so foolish!"

"I'm not. I'm sensible. I've done no more scout work since. I said thatmy life was yours and I had no right to place it again in such maddanger----"

"And so you face death on the field!"

"Yes, come sit here, dearest, I've made a seat for you of the brokentimbers from the bridge. We can see the moonlit river and the lazy turnof the old wheel while we talk. "

He led her to the seat in the edge of the moonlight and Betty drew adeep breath of joy as she drank in the beauty of the entrancing scene. The shadows of night had hidden the scars of war. Only the tall stonepiers standing, lone sentinels in the river, marked its ravages wherethe bridge had fallen. The moon had flung her sparkling silver veil overthe blood-stained world. 

"You know, " Ned went on eagerly, "those big pillars won't stand therenaked long. We'll put the timbers back on them soon and run our trainsthrough to Washington----"

"Sh, Ned, " Betty whispered, touching his arm lightly, "be still amoment, I want to feel this wonderful scene!"

The air was sweet with the perfume of apple blossoms, the water from theold wheel fell with silvery echo and ran rippling over the stones intothe river. Somewhere above the cliff a negro was playing a banjo and fardown the river, beside a little cottage torn with shot and shell, butstill standing, a mocking-bird was singing in the lilac bushes. 

The girl looked at Ned with curious tenderness, and wondered if she hadknown her own heart after all--wondered if the fierce blinding passionshe had once felt for his brother had been the divine thing that linksthe soul to the eternal? A strange spiritual beauty enveloped thisyounger man and drew her to-night with new power. There was somethingrestful in its mystery. She wondered vaguely if it were possible to lovetwo men at the same moment. She could almost swear it were. If she hadnever really loved John Vaughan at all! Why had his powerful, brutalpersonality drawn her with such terrible power? Was such a force love?It was something different from the tender charm which enveloped theslender straight young figure by her side now. She felt this withincreasing certainty. 

Ned took her hand and kissed the tips of her fingers. 

The touch of his lips sent a thrill through her heart. It was sweet tobe worshipped in this old-fashioned, foolish way. Whatever her ownfeeling's might be, this was love--in its divinest flowering. It drewher to-night with all but resistless tug. 

"May I break the silence now, dearest, to ask you something?" he saidsoftly. 

"Yes. "

"Haven't you realized yet that you are going to be mine?"

"Not in the way you mean----"

"But you are, dearest, you are!" he whispered rapturously. "You love me. You just haven't really faced the thing yet and put it to the test inyour heart. War has separated us, that's all. But there's never been amoment's doubt in my soul since I looked into your eyes that night inthe old prison. Their light made the cell shine with the glory ofheaven! And when you kissed me, dearest----"

"You know why I did that, Ned, " she murmured. 

"You're fooling yourself, darling! You couldn't have done what you did, if you hadn't loved me. It came to me in a flash as I held you in myarms and pressed you to my heart. There can be no other woman on earthfor me after that moment. I lived a life time with it. Say you'll bemine, dearest?"

"But I don't love you, Ned, as you love me----"

"I don't ask it now. I can wait. The revelation will come to you at lastin the fullness of time--promise me, dearest--promise me!"

For an hour he poured into her ears his passionate tender plea, untilthe rapture of his love, the perfumed air of the spring night, and theshimmer of moonlit waters stole into her lonely heart with resistlesscharm. 

She lifted her lips to his at last and whispered:

"Yes. "

CHAPTER XXIX

THE PANIC

The morning after Betty returned to Carver Hospital from the front, amother was pouring out her heart in a burst of patriotic joy over awounded boy. 

She thought of the lonely figure in the White House treading the winepress of a Nation's sorrow alone and asked the mother to go with her tothe President, meet him and repeat what she had said. She consented atonce. 

For the first time Betty failed to gain admission promptly. Mr. Stoddard, his third Secretary, was at the door. 

"We must let him eat something, Miss Winter, " he whispered. "All nightthe muffled sound of his footfall came from his room. I heard it atnine, at ten, at eleven. At midnight Stanton left his door ajar and hissteady tramp, tramp, tramp, came with heavier sound. The last thing Iheard as I left at three was the muffled beat upstairs. The guard toldme it never stopped for a moment all night. "

Betty was surprised to see his face illumined by a cheerful smile as sheentered. She gazed with awe into the deep eyes of the man whose singleword could stop the war and divide the Union. She wondered if he hadfought the Nation's battle alone with God through the night until hisprophetic vision had seen through cloud and darkness the dawn of a newand more wonderful life. 

She spoke softly:

"I've brought you a good mother who lost a son at Fredericksburg. Shehas a message for you. "

The tall form bent reverently and pressed her hand. A wonderful smiletransfigured his rugged face as he listened:

"God help you in your trials, Mr. President, as he has helped me inmine----"

"And you lost your son at Fredericksburg?"

"Yes. It was long before I could feel reconciled. But I've been prayingfor you day and night since----"

"For me?"

"You must be strong and courageous, and God will bring the Nationthrough!"

"You say that to me, standing beside the grave of your son?"

"Yes, and beside the cot of my other boy who is here wounded fromChancellorsville. I'm proud that God gave me such sons to lay on thealtar of my country. Remember, I am praying for you day and night!"

Both big hands closed over hers and he was silent a moment. 

"It's all right then. I'll get new strength when I remember that suchmothers are praying for me. "

He pressed Betty's hand at the door:

"Thank you, child. You bring medicine that reaches soul and body!"

The hour of despair had passed and the President returned to his taskpatient, watchful, strong. 

Daily the shadows deepened over the Nation's life. Blacker and denserrose the clouds. Four Northern Generals had now gone down before Lee'sapparently invincible genius--McClellan, Pope, Burnside, and Hooker, andwith each fall the corpses of young men were piled higher. 

Again the clamor rose for the return of McClellan to command. This crywas not only heard in the crushed Army of the Potomac, it was backed bythe voice of two million Democrats who had chosen the man on horsebackas their leader. 

It was for precisely this reason that McClellan could not be consideredagain for command. His party had fallen under the complete control ofits Copperhead leaders who demanded the ending of the war at once and atany sacrifice of principle or of the Union. 

The only way the President could stop desertions and prevent the actualsecession of the great Northern States of the Middle West, now under thecontrol of these men, was to use his arbitrary power to suspend thecivil law and put them in prison. Through the State and War Departmentshe did this sorrowfully, but promptly. 

His answer to his critics was the soundest reasoning and it justifiedhim in the judgment of thinking men. 

"I make such arrests, " he declared, "because these men are laboring toprevent the raising of troops and encouraging desertion. Armies cannotbe maintained unless desertion shall be punished by the penalty ofdeath. 

"I will not shoot a simple-minded soldier boy who deserts, and refuse totouch a wily agitator who induces him to commit the crime. To silencethe agitator and save the boy is not only Constitutional, but withal agreat mercy. "

Volunteers were no longer to be had and a draft of five hundred thousandmen had been ordered for the summer. The Democratic leaders in solidarray were threatening to resist this draft by every means in theirpower, even to riot and revolution. 

The masses of the North were profoundly discouraged at the unhappyresults of the war. In thousands of patriotic loyal homes, men and womenhad begun to ask themselves whether it were not cruel folly to sendtheir brave boys to be slaughtered. 

The prestige of the Southern army was at its highest point and itsterrible power was nowhere more gravely realized than in the North, whose thousands of mourning homes attested its valor. 

Europe at last seemed ready to spring on the throat of America. Distinctreports were in circulation in the Old World that the Emperor of France, Napoleon III, intended to interfere in our affairs. On the 9th ofJanuary, the French Government denied this. The Emperor himself, however, sent to the President an offer of mediation so blunt andsurprising it could not be doubted that it was a veiled hint of hispurpose to intervene. Beyond a doubt he expected the Union to bedismembered and he proposed to form an alliance between the Latin Empirewhich he was founding in Mexico and the triumphant Confederate States. 

Great Britain was behind this Napoleonic adventure. Outwitted by thePresident in the affair of the _Trent_, the British Government was eagerfor the chance to strike the Republic. 

To cap the climax of disasters Lee was preparing to invade the Northwith his victorious army. The announcement struck terror to the Northerncities and produced a condition among them little short of panic. 

The move would be the height of audacity and yet Lee had good reasonsfor believing its success possible and probable. His grey veterans werestill ragged and poorly shod. With Southern ports blockaded and nomanufacturing this was inevitable, but they had proven in two years'test of fire Lee's proud boast:

"There never were such men in an army before. They will go anywhere anddo anything if properly led. "

This opinion was confirmed to the President by Charles Francis Adams, aveteran of his own Army of the Potomac, whom he summoned to the WhiteHouse for a conference. 

"I do not believe, " said Adams gravely, "that any more formidable orbetter organized and animated force was ever set in motion than thatwhich Lee is now leading toward the North. It is essentially an army offighters--men who individually, or in the mass, can be depended on forany feat of arms in the power of mere mortals to accomplish. They willblanch at no danger. Lee knows this from experience and they have fullconfidence in him. "

He could not hope to enter Pennsylvania with more than sixty-fivethousand men, but his plan was reasonable. With such an army he hadhurled McClellan's hundred and ten thousand soldiers back from the gatesof Richmond and scattered them to the winds. With a less number he hadall but annihilated Pope's men and flung them back into Washington adisorganized rabble. With thirty-seven thousand grey soldiers he hadrepelled in a welter of blood McClellan's eighty-six thousand atAntietam and retired at his leisure. With seventy thousand men he hadcrushed Burnside's host of one hundred and thirteen thousand atFredericksburg. With sixty thousand he had just struck Hooker's grandarmy of a hundred and thirty thousand men and four hundred andthirty-eight guns, rolled it up as a scroll and thrown it across theRappahannock in blinding, bewildering defeat. 

From every prisoner taken at Fredericksburg and Chancellorsville he knewthe Northern army was discouraged and heartsick. That he could march hisragged men, the flower of Southern manhood, into Pennsylvania and clotheand feed them on her boundless resources he couldn't doubt. Virginia wasswept bare, and the demoralization of Hooker's army with the profounddepression of the North left his way open. 

To say that Lee's invasion, as it rapidly developed under suchconditions, struck terror to the Capital of the Republic is to mildlyexpress it. The movement of his army from Culpepper in June indicatedclearly that his objective point was Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. If theCapital of the State fell, nothing could withstand the onward triumphantrush of his army into Philadelphia, Baltimore and Washington. 

To meet the extraordinary danger the President called for one hundredthousand militia for six months' emergency service from the five Statesclustering around Pennsylvania. And yet as the two armies drew near toeach other, General George Meade, the new Union Commander who hadsucceeded Hooker, had but one hundred and five thousand against Lee'ssixty-two thousand. So terrible had been the depression followingChancellorsville, so rapid the desertions, so numerous the leaves ofabsence, that the combined forces of the Army of the Potomac with theState troops under the new call reached only this pitiful total. 

Lee's swift column penetrated almost to the gates of Harrisburg beforeMeade's advance division of twenty-five thousand men had caught up withhis rear at Gettysburg on July 1st. 

Seeing that a battle was inevitable, Lee drew in his advance lines andmade ready for the clash. The Northern army was going into this fightwith the smallest number of men relatively which he had ever met--thoughoutnumbering him nearly two to one. The difference was that here theNorth was defending her own soil. 

It was not surprising that on the eve of such a battle in the light ofthe frightful experiences of the past two years that Washington shouldbe in a condition of panic. A single defeat now with Lee's victoriousarmy north of the Capital meant its fall, the inevitable dismembermentof the Union, and the bankruptcy and ruin of the remaining NorthernStates. 

Brave men in Congress who had fought heroically with their mouthsinveighing with bitter invective against the weak and vacillating policyof the President in temporizing with the South were busy packing theirgoods and chattels to fly at a moment's notice. 

The President realized, as no other man could, the deep tragedy of thecrisis. He sat by his window for hours, his face a grey mask, hissorrowful eyes turned within, the deep-cut lines furrowed into hischeeks as though burned with red hot irons. 

He was struggling desperately now to forestall the possible panic whichwould follow defeat. 

He had sent once more for McClellan and in painful silence, all othersexcluded from the Executive Chamber, awaited his coming. 

"You are doubtless aware, General, " the President began, "that a defeatat Gettysburg might involve the fall of the Capital and thedismemberment of the Union?"

"I am, sir. "

"First, I wish to speak to you with perfect frankness about some uglymatters which have come to my ears--may I?"

The compelling blue eyes flashed and the General spoke with an accent ofimpatience:

"Certainly. "

"A number of Secret Societies have overspread the North and Northwest, whose purpose is to end the war at once and on any terms. I have thebest of reasons for believing that the men back of these Orders are nowin touch with the Davis Government in Richmond. I am informed that acoterie of these conspirators, a sort of governing board, have gottencontrol or may get control of the organization of your Party. I haveheard the ugly rumor that they are counting on you----"

"Stop!" McClellan shouted. 

The General sprang to his feet, the President rose and the two menconfronted each other in a moment of tense silence. 

The compact figure of McClellan was trembling with rage--the tall man'ssombre eyes holding his with steady purpose. 

"No man can couple the word treason with my name, sir!" the Generalhissed. 

"Have I done so?"

"You are insinuating it--and I demand a retraction!"

The President smiled genially:

"Then I apologize for my carelessness of expression. I have neverbelieved you a traitor to the Union. "

"Thank you!"

"I don't believe it now, General. That's why I've sent for you. "

"Then I suggest that you employ more caution in the use of words if thisconversation is to continue. "

"Again I apologize, General, with admiration for your manner of meetingthe ugly subject. I'm glad you feel that way--and now if you will beseated we can talk business. "

McClellan resumed his seat with a frown and the President went on:

"I have sent for you to ask an amazing thing----"

"Hence the secrecy with which I am summoned?"

"Exactly. I'm going to ask you to take my place and save the Union. "

McClellan's handsome face went white:

"What do you mean?"

"Exactly what I've said. "

"And your conditions?" the General asked, with a quiver in his voice. 

"They are very simple: Preside to-morrow night at a great DemocraticUnion Mass Meeting in New York and boldly put yourself at the head ofthe Union Democracy----"

"And you?"

"I will withdraw from the race. "

"What race?"

"For the next term of the Presidency. "

"Oh----"

"My convention is but ten months off. Yours can meet a day earlier. Iwill withdraw in your favor and force my Party to endorse you. Yourelection will be a certainty. "

The General lifted his hand with a curious smile:

"You're in earnest?"

"I was never more so. It is needless for me to say that I came into thisoffice with high ambitions to serve my country. My dream of glory hasgone--I have left only agony and tears----" He paused and drew a deepbreath. 

"I did want the chance, " he went on wistfully, "to stay here anotherterm to see the sun shine again, to heal my country's wounds, and showall my people, North, South, East, and West, that I love them! But Ican't risk this new battle, if you will agree to take my place and savethe Union. Will you preside over such a meeting?"

"No, " was the sharp, clear answer. 

"I am sorry--why?"

"Perhaps I am already certain of that election without your assistance?"

"Oh--I see. "

"Besides, what right have you to ask anything of me?"

"Only the right of one who sinks all thought of himself in what hebelieves to be the greater good. "

"You who, with victory in my grasp before Richmond, snatched it away!You, who nailed me to the cross on the bloody field of Antietam withyour accursed Proclamation of Emancipation and removed me from mycommand before I could win my campaign!"

The big hand rose in kindly protest:

"Can't you believe me, General, when I tell you, with God as my witness, that I have never allowed a personal motive or feeling to enter into asingle appointment or removal I have made? What I've done has alwaysbeen exactly what I believed was for the best interests of the country. Can't you believe this?"

"No. "

"In spite of the fact that I risked the dissolution of my Cabinet andthe united opposition of my party when I restored you to command?"

"No--you had to do it. "

"Grant then, " the persuasive voice went on, "that I have treated youunfairly, that I had personal feelings. Surely you should in this hourof my reckoning, this hour of my Golgotha, when I climb the hill aloneand ask the man I have wronged to take my place--surely you should becontent with my humiliation? I shall not hesitate to proclaim it fromthe housetop when I ask for your election. If I have wronged you, myanguish could not be more pitifully complete! Will you do as I ask, andassure the safety of our country?"

"I'll do my best to save my country, " was the slow, firm answer, "but inmy own way. "

The General rose, bowed stiffly and left the President standing insorrowful silence, his deep eyes staring into space and seeing nothing. 

On the morning of July 1st the two armies were rapidly approaching eachother, marching in parallel lines stretched over a vast distance--theextreme wings more than forty miles apart. 

Buford, commanding the advance guard of the Union army, struck Hill'sdivision of the Confederates before the town of Gettysburg and the firstgun of the great battle echoed over the green hills and valleys ofPennsylvania. 

The President caught the flash of the shock from the telegraph wireswith a sense of sickening dread. The rear guard of his army was yetforty miles away. What might happen before they were in line God alonecould tell. He could not know, of course, that but twenty-two thousandConfederates had reached the field and stood confronting twenty-fourthousand under John F. Reynolds, one of the ablest and bravest generalsof the Union army. 

Through every hour of this awful day he sat in the telegraph office ofthe War Department and read with bated breath the news. 

The brief reports were not reassuring. The battle was raging withunparalleled fury. At ten o'clock General Reynolds fell dead from hishorse in front of his men, and when the news was flashed to Meade hesent Hancock forward riding at full speed to take command. 

The President read the message announcing Reynolds' death with quiveringlip. He put his big hand blindly over his heart as if about to faint. 

At three o'clock the smoke which had enveloped the battle line waslifted by a breeze as Hancock dashed on the field. He had not arrived amoment too soon. His superb bearing on his magnificent horse, hisshouts of confidence, his promise of heavy reinforcements, stayed thetide of retreat and brought order out of chaos. 

The day had been won again by Lee's apparently invincible men. They haddriven the Union army from their line a mile in front of Gettysburg backthrough the town and beyond it, captured the town, taken five thousandmen in blue prisoners with two generals, besides inflicting a loss ofthree thousand killed and wounded, including among the dead the gallantand popular commander, John F. Reynolds. 

When this message reached the President late at night he had eatennothing since breakfast. He rose from his seat in the telegraph officeand walked from the building alone in silence. His step was slow, trance-like, and uncertain as if he were only half awake or had risenwalking in his sleep. 

He went to his bedroom, locked the door and fell on his knees in prayer. Hour after hour he wrestled alone with God in the darkness, while histired army rushed through the night to plant themselves on the Heightsbeyond Gettysburg, before Lee's men could be concentrated to forestallthem. 

Over and over again, through sombre eyes that streamed with tears, thepassionate cry was wrung from his heart:

"Lord God of our fathers, have mercy on us! I have tried to make thiswar yours--our cause yours--if I have sinned and come short, forgive! Wecannot endure another Fredericksburg or Chancellorsville. Into thyhands, O Lord, I give our men and our country this night--save them!"

CHAPTER XXX

SUNSHINE AND STORM

When the sun rose over Gettysburg on the second day of July, the Unionarmy, rushing breathlessly through the night to the rescue of itsdefeated advance corps, had reached the heights beyond the town. BeforeLongstreet had attempted to obey Lee's command to take these hills, General Meade's blue host had reached them and were entrenchingthemselves. 

The Confederate Commander discovered that in the death of Jackson, hehad lost his right arm. 

It was one o'clock before Longstreet moved to the attack, hurling hiscolumns in reckless daring against these bristling heights. Whendarkness drew its kindly veil over the scene, Lee's army had drivenGeneral Sickles from his chosen position to his second line of defenseon the hill behind, gained a foothold in the famous Devil's Den at thebase of the Round Tops, broken the lines of the Union right and heldtheir fortifications on Culp's Hill. 

The day had been one of frightful slaughter. 

The Union losses in the two days had reached the appalling total of morethan twenty thousand men. Lee had lost fifteen thousand. 

The brilliant July moon rose and flooded this field of blood and deathwith silent glory. From every nook and corner, from every shadow andacross every open space, through the hot breath of the night, came themoans of thousands, and louder than all the long agonizing cries forwater. Many a man in grey crawled over the ragged rocks to press hiscanteen to the lips of his dying enemy in blue, and many a boy in bluedid as much for the man in grey. 

Fifteen thousand wounded men lay there through the long black hours. 

At ten o'clock a wounded Christian soldier began to sing one of the old, sweet hymns of faith, whose words have come ringing down the ages wetwith tears and winged with human hopes. In five minutes ten thousandvoices of blue and grey, some of them quivering with the agony of death, had joined. For two hours the woods and hills rang with the songs ofthese wounded men. 

All through this pitiful music the Confederates were massing theirartillery on Seminary Ridge, replacing their wounded horses andrefilling their ammunition chests. 

The Union army were burrowing like moles and planting their terriblebatteries on the brows of the hills beyond the town. 

At Lee's council of war that night Longstreet advised his withdrawalfrom Gettysburg into a more favorable position in the mountains. But theConfederate Commander, reinforced now by the arrival of Pickett'sdivision of fifteen thousand men and Stuart's cavalry, determined torenew the battle. 

At the first grey streak of dawn on the 3rd the Federal guns roaredtheir challenge to the Confederate forces which had captured theirentrenchments on Culp's Hill. Seven terrible hours of bombardment, charge and counter charge followed until every foot of space had claimedits toll of dead, before the Confederates yielded the Hill. 

At noon there was an ominous lull in the battle. At one o'clock a puffof smoke from Seminary Ridge was followed by a dull roar. The signal gunhad pealed its call of death to thousands. For two miles along the crestof this Ridge the Confederates had planted one hundred and fifty guns. Two miles of smoke-wreathed flame suddenly leaped from those hills in asingle fiery breath. 

The longer line of big Federal guns on Seminary Ridge were silent for afew minutes and then answered gun for gun until the heavens weretransformed into a roaring hell of bursting, screaming, flaming shells. For two hours the earth trembled beneath the shock of these volcanoes, and then the two storms died slowly away and the smoke began to lift. 

An ominous sign. The grey infantry were deploying in line under Pickettto charge the heights of Cemetery Ridge. Fifteen thousand gallant menagainst an impregnable hill held by seventy thousand intrenchedsoldiers, backed by the deadliest and most powerful artillery. 

They swept now into the field before the Heights, their bands playing asif on parade--their grey ranks dressed on their colors. Down the slopeacross the plain and up the hill the waves rolled, their thinning ranksclosing the wide gaps torn each moment by the fiery sleet of iron andlead. 

A handful of them lived to reach the Union lines on those heights. Armistead, with a hundred men, broke through and lifted his battle flagfor a moment over a Federal battery, and fell mortally wounded. 

And then the shattered grey wave broke into a spray of blood and slowlyebbed down the hill. The battle of Gettysburg had ended. 

For the first time the blue Army of the Potomac had won a genuinevictory. It had been gained at a frightful cost, but no price was toohigh to pay for such a victory. It had saved the Capital of the Nation. The Union army had lost twenty-three thousand men, the Confederatetwenty thousand. Meade had lost seventeen of his generals, and Lee, fourteen. 

When the thrilling news from the front reached Washington on July 4th, the President lifted his big hands above his head and cried to the crowdof excited men who thronged the Executive office:

"Unto God we give all the praise!"

None of those present knew the soul significance of that sentence as itfell from his trembling lips. He seated himself at his desk and quicklywrote a brief proclamation of thanks to Almighty God, which hetelegraphed to the Governor of each Union State, requesting them torepeat it to their people. 

While the North was still quivering with joy over the turn of the tideat Gettysburg, Gideon Welles, the Secretary of the Navy, hurried intothe President's office and handed him a dispatch from the gunboat underAdmiral Porter coöperating with General Grant announcing the fall ofVicksburg, the surrender of thirty-five thousand Confederate soldiers ofits garrison, and the opening of the Mississippi River to the Gulf ofMexico. 

The President seized his hat, his dark face shining with joy:

"I will telegraph the news to General Meade myself!"

He stopped suddenly and threw his long arms around Welles:

"What can we do for the Secretary of the Navy for this gloriousintelligence? He is always giving us good news. I cannot tell you my joyover this result. It is great, Mr. Welles, it is great!"

With the eagerness of a boy he rushed to the telegraph office and sentthe message to Meade over his own signature. 

For the first time in dreary months the sun had burst for a momentthrough the clouds that had hung in endless gloom over the White House. The sorrowful eyes were shining with new hope. The President felt surethat General Lee could never succeed in leading his shattered army backinto Virginia. He had lost twenty thousand men out of his sixty-twothousand--while Meade was still in command of a grand army of eighty-twothousand soldiers flushed with victory. The Potomac River was in floodand the Confederate army was on its banks unable to recross. 

It was a moral certainty that the heroic Commander who had saved theCapital at Gettysburg could, with his eighty-two thousand men, captureor crush Lee's remaining force, caught in this trap by the swollenriver, and end the war. 

The men who crowded into the Executive office the day after the news ofVicksburg, found the Chief Magistrate in high spirits. Among the casesof deserters, court-martialed and ordered to be shot, he was surprisedto find a negro soldier bearing the remarkable name of Julius CæsarThornton. John Vaughan had telegraphed the President asking hisinterference with the execution of this cruel edict. 

The President was deeply interested. It was the beginning of the use ofnegro troops. He had consented to their employment with reluctance, butthey were proving their worth to the army, both in battle and in thework of garrisons. 

Julius was brought from prison for an interview with the ChiefMagistrate. 

Stanton had sternly demanded the enforcement of the strictest militarydiscipline as the only way to make these black troops of any realservice to the Government. He asked that an example be made of Julius bysending him back to the army to be publicly shot before the assembledmen of his race. He was convicted of two capital offenses. He had beencaught in Washington shamelessly flaunting the uniform he had disgraced. 

Julius faced the President with an humble salute and a broad grin. Theblack man liked the looks of his judge and he threw off allembarrassment his situation had produced with the first glance at thekindly eyes gazing at him over the rims of those spectacles. 

"Well, Julius Cæsar Thornton, this is a serious charge they have lodgedagainst you?"

"Yassah, dat's what dey say. "

"You went forth like a man to fight for your country, didn't you?"

"Na, sah!"

"How'd you get there?"

"Dey volunteered me, sah. "

"Volunteered you, did they?" the President laughed. 

"Yassah--dat dey did. Dey sho' volunteered me whether er no----"

"And how did it happen?"

"Dey done hit so quick, sah, I scacely know how dey did do hit. I was inde war down in Virginia wid Marse John Vaughan--an' er low-lifedIrishman on guard dar put me ter wuk er buryin' corpses. I hain't nebberhad no taste for corpses nohow, an' I didn't like de job--mo' specially, sah, when one ob 'em come to ez I was pullin' him froo de dark ter degrave----"

"Come to, did he?" the President smiled. 

"Yassah--he come to all of er sudden an' kicked me! An' hit scared menear 'bout ter death. I lit out fum dar purty quick, sah, an' go West. An' I ain't mor'n got out dar 'fore two fellers drawed dere muskets onme an' persuaded me ter volunteer, sah. Dey put dese here cloze on mean' tell me dat I wuz er hero. I tell 'em dey must be some mistake 'boutdat, but dey say no--dey know what dey wuz er doin'. Dey keep on tellin'me dat I wuz er hero an', by golly, I 'gin ter b'lieve hit myself tilldey git me into trouble, sah. "

"You were in a battle?"

Julius scratched his head and walled his eyes:

"I had er little taste ob it, sah, ----"

"Well, you tried to fight, didn't you?"

"No, sah, --I run. "

"Ran at the first fire?"

"Yas, _sah_! An' I'd a ran sooner ef I'd er known hit wuz comin'----"

Julius paused and broke into a jolly laugh:

"Dey git one pop at me, sah, 'fore I seed what dey wuz doin'!"

The President suppressed a laugh and gazed at Julius with severity:

"That wasn't very creditable to your courage. "

"Dat ain't in my line, sah, --I'se er cook. "

"Have you no regard for your reputation?"

"Dat ain't nuttin' ter me, sah, 'side er life!"

"And your life is worth more than other people's?"

"Worth er lot mo' ter me, sah. "

"I'm afraid they wouldn't have missed you, Julius, if you'd beenkilled. "

"Na, sah, but I'd a sho missed myself an' dat's de pint wid me. "

The President fixed him with a comical frown:

"It's sweet and honorable to die for one's country, Julius!"

"Yassah--dat's what I hear--but I ain't fond er sweet things--I ain'tnebber hab no taste fer 'em, sah!"

"Well, it looks like I'll have to let 'em have you, Julius, for anexample. I've tried to save you--but there doesn't seem to be any thingto take hold of. Every time I grab you, you slip right through myfingers. I reckon they'll have to shoot you----"

The negro broke into a hearty laugh:

"G'way fum here, Mr. President! You can't fool me, sah. I sees yerlaughin' right now way back dar in yo' eyes. You ain't gwine let 'emshoot me. I'se too vallable a nigger fer dat. I wuz worth er thousan'dollars 'fore de war. I sho' oughter be wuth two thousan' now. What's deuse er 'stroyin' er good piece er property lak dat? I won't be no goodter nobody ef dey shoots me!"

The President broke down at last, leaned back in his chair and laughedwith every muscle of his long body. Julius joined him with unction. 

When the laughter died away the tall figure bent over his desk and wrotean order for the negro's release, and discharge from the army. 

One of the things which had brought the President his deepest joy in thevictory of Vicksburg was not the importance of the capture of the cityand the opening of the Mississippi so much as the saving of U. S. Grantas a commanding General. 

From the capture of Fort Donelson, the eyes of the Chief Magistrate hadbeen fixed on this quiet fighter. And then came the disaster to his armyat Shiloh--the first day's fight a bloody and overwhelming defeat--thesecond the recovery of the ground lost and the death of Albert SydneyJohnston, his brilliant Confederate opponent. 

As a matter of fact, in its results, the battle had been a crushingdisaster to the South. But Grant had lost fourteen thousand men in thetwo days' carnage and it was the first great field of death the war hadproduced. McClellan had not yet met Lee before Richmond. The cry againstGrant was furious and practically universal. 

Senator Winter, representing the demands of Congress, literally stormedthe White House for weeks with the persistent and fierce demand forGrant's removal. 

The President shook his head doggedly:

"I can't spare this man--he fights!"

The Senator submitted the proofs that Grant was addicted to the use ofstrong drink and that he was under the influence of whiskey on thefirst day of the battle of Shiloh. 

In vain Winter stormed and threatened for an hour. The President wasadamant. 

He didn't know Grant personally. But he had felt the grip of his bigpersonality on the men under his command and he refused to let him go. 

He turned to his tormentor at last with a quizzical look in his eye:

"You know, Winter, that reminds me of a little story----"

The Senator threw up both hands with a gesture of rage. He knew what thewily diplomat was up to. 

"I won't hear it, sir, " he growled. "I won't hear it. You and yourstories are sending this country to hell--it's not more than a mile fromthere now!"

The sombre eyes smiled as he slowly said:

"I believe it _is_ just a mile from here to the Senate Chamber!"

The Senator faced him a moment and the two men looked at each othertense, erect, unyielding. 

"There may or may not be a grain of truth in your statements, Winter, "the quiet voice continued, "but your personal animus against Grant isdeeper. He is a Democrat married to a Southern woman, and is aslave-holder. You can't be fair to him. I can, I must and I will. I amthe President of all the people. The Nation needs this man. I will notallow him to be crushed. You have my last word. "

The Senator strode to the door in silence and paused:

"But you haven't mine, sir!"

The tall figure bowed and smiled. 

The President found the task a greater one than he had dreamed. Sofurious was the popular outcry against Grant, so dogged and persistentwas the demand for his removal he was compelled to place General Halleckin nominal command of the district in which his army was operating untilthe popular furor should subside. In this way he had kept Grant asSecond in Command at the head of his army, and Vicksburg withthirty-five thousand prisoners was the answer the silent man in the Westhad sent to his champion and protector in the White House. 

The thrilling message had come at an opportune moment. The new commanderof the army of the Potomac had defeated General Lee at Gettysburg andfor an hour his name was on every lip. The President and the Nation hadtaken it for granted that he would hurl his eighty-two thousand men onLee's army hemmed in by the impassable Potomac. 

So sure of this was Stanton that he declared to the President:

"If a single regiment of Lee's army ever gets back into Virginia in anorganized condition it will prove that I am totally unfit to beSecretary of War. "

Once more the impossible happened. Lee did get back into Virginia, hisarmy marching with quick step and undaunted spirit, ready to fight atany moment his rear guard came in touch with Meade's advancing hosts. Henot only crossed the Potomac with his army in perfect fighting form withevery gun he carried, but with thousands of fat cattle and four thousandprisoners of war captured on the field of Gettysburg. 

The President's day of rejoicing was brief. As Lee withdrew to his oldbattle ground with his still unconquered lines of grey, the man in theWhite House saw with aching heart his dream of peace fade into themists of even a darker night than the one through which his soul hadjust passed. 

Slowly but surely the desperate South began to recover from the shock ofGettysburg and Vicksburg and filled once more her thinning battle lines. General Lee, sorely dissatisfied with himself for his failure to win inPennsylvania, tendered his resignation to the Richmond Government, asking to be relieved by a younger and abler man. As no such man lived, Jefferson Davis declined his resignation, and he continued hisleadership with renewed faith in his genius by every man, woman andchild in the South. 

General Meade, stung to desperation by the bitter disappointment of thePresident and the people of the North, also tendered his resignation. 

For the moment the President refused to consider it, though his eyeswere fixed with growing faith on the silent figure of Grant. One morevictory from this stolid fighter and he had found the great commanderfor which he had sought in vain through blood and tears for more thantwo years. 

The first task to which he must turn his immediate attention was thefilling of the depleted ranks of the Northern armies. Volunteering hadceased, the terms of the enlisted men would soon expire, and it wasabsolutely necessary to enforce a draft for five hundred thousandsoldiers. 

The President had been warned by the Democratic Party, at present apowerful and aggressive minority in Congress, that such an act ofdespotism would not be tolerated by a free people. 

The President's answer was simple and to the point:

"The South has long since adopted force to fill her ranks. If we are tocontinue this war and save the Union it is absolutely necessary, andtherefore it shall be done. "

The great city of New York was the danger point. The Government had beenwarned of the possibility of a revolution in the metropolis, whoserepresentatives in Congress had demanded the right to secede in thebeginning of the war. And yet the warning had not been taken seriouslyby the War Department. No effort had been made to garrison the cityagainst the possibility of an armed uprising to resist the draft. Demagogues had been haranguing the people for months, inflaming theirminds to the point of madness on the subject of this draft. 

On the night before the drawing was ordered in New York the leadingspeaker had swept the crowd off their feet by the daring words withwhich he closed his appeal:

"We will resist this attempt of Black Republicans and Abolitionists toforce the children of the poor into the ranks they dare not enter. Willyou give any more of your sons to be food for vultures on the hills ofVirginia? Will you allow them to be torn from your firesides and drivenas dumb cattle into the mouths of Southern cannon? If you are slaves, yes, ----if you are freemen, no!"

When the lottery wheel began to turn off its fatal names at theGovernment Draft Office at the corner of Forty-sixth Street and ThirdAvenue on the morning of July 14th, a sullen, determined mob packed thestreets in front of the building. Among them stood hundreds of womenwhose husbands, sons and brothers were listed on the spinning wheel ofblack fortune. 

Their voices were higher and angrier than the men's:

"This is a rich man's war--but a poor man's fight----"

"Yes, if you've got three hundred dollars you can hire a substitute fromthe slums----"

"But if you happen to be a working man, you can stand up and be shot forthese cowards and sneaks!"

"Down with the draft!"

"To hell with the hirelings and their wheel!"

"Smash it----"

"Burn the building!"

A tough from the East Side waved his hand to the crowd of frenzied menand women:

"Come on, boys, ----"

With a single mighty impulse the mob surged toward the doors, andthrough them. A sound of smashing glass, blows, curses. A man rushedinto the street holding the enrollment books above his head:

"Here are your names, men--the list of white slaves!"

The mob tore the sheets from his grasp and fell on them like hungrywolves. In ten minutes the books were only scraps of paper trampled intothe filth of Third Avenue. Wherever a piece could be seen men and womenstamped and spit on it. 

They smashed the wheel and furniture into kindling wood, piled it in themiddle of the room and set fire to it. No policemen or firemen wereallowed to approach. Every officer of the law, both civil and military, had been chased and beaten and disappeared. 

Half the block was in flames before the firemen could break through andreach the burning buildings. 

Down the Avenue, the maddened mob swept with resistless impulse, jelling, cursing, shouting its defiance. 

"Down with the Abolitionists!"

"Hang Horace Greeley on a sour apple tree!"

"To the _Tribune_ Office!"

Howard, a reporter of the _Tribune_, was recognized:

"Kill him!"

"Hang him!"

The mob seized the reporter, dragged him to a lamp post and were aboutto put the rope around his neck when a blow from a cobblestone felledhim to the sidewalk, the blood trickling down his neck. 

A man bending over his body, shouted to the crowd:

"He's dead--we'll take the body away!"

A friend helped and they carried him into a store and saved his life. 

For three days and nights this mob burned and killed at will and foughtevery officer of the law until the streets ran red with blood. Theyburned the Negro Orphan Asylum, beat, killed or hanged every negro whoshowed his face, sacked the home of Mayor Opdyke, at 79 Fifth Avenue, and attempted to burn it. They smashed in the _Tribune_ building, guttedpart of it and would have reduced it to ashes but for the brave defenseput up by some of its men. 

On the third day the announcement was made that the draft was suspended. Five thousand troops reached the city and partly succeeded in restoringorder. 

More than a thousand men had been killed and three thousandwounded--among them many women. 

The Democratic papers now boldly demanded that the draft should beofficially suspended until its constitutionality could be tested by thecourts. The State and Municipal authorities of New York appealed to thePresident to suspend the draft. 

He answered:

"If I suspend the draft there can be no army to continue the war and thedays of the Republic are numbered. The life of the Nation is at stake. "

They begged for time, and he hesitated for a day. The victories ofGettysburg and Vicksburg were forgotten in the grim shadow of a possiblerepetition of the French Revolution on a vast scale throughout theNorth. The mob had already sacked the office of the _Times_ in Troy, broken out in Boston, and threatened Cincinnati. 

The President gave the Governor of New York his final answer by sendingan army of ten thousand veterans into the city. He planted his artilleryto sweep the streets with grape and cannister, and ordered the draft tobe immediately enforced. 

The new wheel was set up, and turned with bayonets. The mobs wereoverawed and the ranks of the army were refilled. 

CHAPTER XXXI

BETWEEN THE LINES

Betty Winter found to her sorrow that the memory of a dead love could bea troublesome thing. Ned Vaughan's tender and compelling passion hadbeen resistless in the moonlight beneath a fragrant apple tree with theold mill wheel splashing its music at their feet. She had returned toher cot in the hospital that night in a glow of quiet, peaceful joy. Life's problem had been solved at last in the sweet peace of a tenderand beautiful spiritual love--the only love that could be real. 

All this was plain, while the glow of Ned's words were in her heart andthe memory of his nearness alive in the fingers and lips he had kissed. And then to her terror came stealing back the torturing vision of hisbrother. Why, why, why could she never shut out the memory of this man!

Over and over again she repeated the angry final word:

"He isn't worth a moment's thought!"

And yet she kept on thinking, thinking, always in the same blind circle. At last came the new resolution, "Worthy or unworthy, I've given my word to a better man and that settlesit. "

The fight had become in her inflamed imagination the struggle betweengood and evil. The younger man with his chivalrous boyish ideals wasGod, Love, Light. The older with his iron will, his fierce ungovernablepassion, was the Devil, Lust and Darkness. She trembled with new terrorat the discovery that there was something elemental deep within her ownlife that answered the challenge of this older voice with a strangejoyous daring. 

She had just risen from her knees where she had prayed for strength tofight and win this battle when the maid knocked on her door. She hadleft the hospital and returned home for a week's rest, tottering on theverge of a nervous collapse since her return from the meeting with Ned. 

"A letter, Miss Betty, " the maid said with a smile. 

She tore the envelope with nervous dread. It bore no postmark and wasaddressed in a strange hand. 

Inside was another envelope in Ned's handwriting, and around it a sheetof paper on which was scrawled, "DEAR MISS WINTER: The bearer of this letter is a trusted spy of both Governments. I have friends in Washington and in Richmond. In Richmond I am supposed to betray the Washington Government. In Washington it is known that I am at heart loyal to the Union, and all my correspondence from Richmond to the Confederate agents in Canada and the North I deliver to the President and Stanton. This one is an exception. I happened to have met Mr. Ned. Vaughan and like him. I deliver this letter to you unopened by any hand. I've a sweetheart myself. "

With a cry of joy, Betty broke the seal and read Ned's message. It waswritten just after the battle of Gettysburg. 

 "DEAREST: I am writing to you to-night because I must--though this may never reach you. The whole look of war has changed for me since that wonderful hour we spent in the moonlight beside the river and you promised me your life. It's all a pitiful tragedy now, and love, love, love seems the only thing in all God's universe worth while! I don't wish to kill any more. It hurts the big something inside that's divine. I'm surprised at myself that I can't see the issues of National life as I saw them at first. Somehow they have become dwarfed beside the new wonder and glory that fills my heart. And now like a poor traitor, I am praying for peace, peace at any price. Oh, dearest, you have brought me to this. I love you so utterly with every breath I breathe, every thought of mind and every impulse of soul and body, how can I see aught else in the world?

 "In every scene of these three days of horror through which we've just passed, my thought was of you. The signal gun that called the men to die boomed your name for me. I heard it in the din and roar and crash of armies. The louder came the call of death, the sweeter life seemed because life meant you. Life has taken on a new and wonderful meaning. I love it as I never loved it before and I've grown to hate death and I whisper it to you, my love, my own--to hate war! I want to live now, and I'm praying, praying, praying for peace. My mind is yet clear in its conviction of right or I could not stay here a moment longer. But I'm longing and hoping and wondering whether God will not show us the way out of your tragic dilemma. 

 "During the battle I found a handsome young Federal officer who had fallen inside out lines. With his last strength he was trying to write a message to his bride who was waiting for him behind the Union lines. I couldn't pass by. I stopped and got his name, gave him water and made him as comfortable as possible. I got permission from my General while the battle raged and sent his message with a flag of truce to his wife. She came flying to his side at the risk of her life, got to the rear and saved him. Perhaps I wasn't an ideal soldier in that pause in my fight. But I had to do it, dearest. It was your sweet spirit that stopped me and sent the white flag of love and mercy. 

 "And the strangest of all the things of the war happened that night. I spent six hours among the wounded, helping the poor boys all I could--both blue and grey--and I suddenly ran into John at the same pitiful work. It's curious how all the bitterness is gone out of my heart. 

 "I grabbed him and hugged him, and we both cried like two fools. We sat down between the lines in the brilliant moonlight and talked for an hour. I told him of you, dearest, and he wished me all the happiness life could give, but with a queer hitch in his voice, and after a long silence, which made me wonder if he, too, had not been loving you in secret. I shouldn't wonder if every man who sees you loves you. The wonder to me is they don't. 

 "Our band is playing an old-fashioned Southern song that sets my heart to beating with joyous madness again. I'm dreaming through that song of the home I'm going to build for you somewhere in the land of sunshine. Don't worry about me. I'm not going to die. I know I'm immortal now. I had faith once. Now I know--because I love you and time is too short to tell and all too short to live my love. 

 "NED. "

She read it over twice through eyes that grew dim with each foolish, sweet extravagance. And then she went back and read for the third timethe line about John, threw herself across her bed and burst into tears. 

CHAPTER XXXII

THE WHIRLWIND

The draft of half a million men was scarcely completed when Rosecrans'Western army, advancing into Georgia, met with crushing defeat atChickamauga, "The River of Death. " His shattered hosts were driven backinto Chattanooga with the loss of eighteen thousand men in a rout socomplete and stunning that Charles A. Dana, the Assistant Secretary ofWar, telegraphed the President from the front that it was another "BullRun. "

Rosecrans himself wired that he had met with a terrible disaster. TheWhite House sent him words of cheer. The Confederate Commander, GeneralBragg, rapidly closed in and began to lay siege to Chattanooga, and thedefeated Federal army were put on short rations. 

The President turned his eyes now from Meade and his army of the Potomacwhich Lee's strategy had completely baffled and gave his first thoughtto the armies of the West. He sent Sherman hurrying from the Mississippito Rosecrans' relief and Hooker from the East. In the place of Rosecranshe promoted George H. Thomas, whose gallant stand had saved the armyfrom annihilation and won the title, "The Rock of Chickamauga. " And mostimportant of all he placed in supreme command of the forces in Tennesseethe silent man whom his patience and faith had saved to the Nation, theconqueror of Vicksburg--Ulysses S. Grant. 

On November the 24th and 25th, the new Commander raised the siege ofChattanooga, and drove Bragg's army from Missionary Ridge and LookoutMountain back into Georgia. 

At last the President had found the man of genius for whom he had longsearched. Grant was summoned to Washington and given command of all thearmies of the United States East and West. 

The new General at once placed William Tecumseh Sherman at the head ofan army of a hundred thousand men at Chattanooga for the purpose ofreinvading Georgia, sent General Butler with forty thousand up thePeninsula against Richmond along the line of McClellan's old march, raised the Army of the Potomac to one hundred and forty thousandeffective fighters, took command in person and faced General Lee on thebanks of the Rapidan but a few miles from the old ground in theWilderness around Chancellorsville where Hooker's men had baptized theearth in heroic blood the year before. 

Grant's army was the flower of Northern manhood and with its threehundred and eighteen great field guns the best equipped body of fightingmen ever brought together on our continent. His baggage train was oversixty miles long and would have stretched the entire distance toRichmond. 

By the spring of 1864 when he reached the Rapidan Lee's army had beenrecruited again to its normal strength of sixty-two thousand. 

A great religious revival swept the Southern camps during the winterand its meetings lasted into the spring almost to the hour of theopening guns of the Wilderness campaign. Had whispers from the Infinitereached the souls of the ragged men in grey and told them of comingGethsemane and Calvary?

Certain it is that though Lee's army were ragged and poorly fed theircourage was never higher, their faith in their Commander never moresublime than in those beautiful spring mornings in April when theyburnished their bayonets to receive Grant's overwhelming host. 

The Chaplain of Ned Vaughan's regiment was leading a prayer meeting inthe moonlight. An earnest brother was praying fervently for moremanhood, and more courage. 

A ragged Confederate kneeling nearby didn't like the drift of hispetition and his patience gave out. He raised his head and called. 

"Say, hold on there, brother! You're getting that prayer all wrong. Wedon't need no more courage--got so much now we're skeered of ourselvessometimes. What we need is provisions. Ask the Lord to send us somethingto eat. That's what we want now----"

The leader took the interruption in good spirit and added an eloquentrequest for at least one good meal a day if the Lord in his goodness andmercy could spare it. 

No persimmon tree was ever stripped without the repetition of their oldjoke. They all knew the words by heart, "Don't eat those persimmons--they're not good for you!"

"I know it, man, I'm just doin' it to pucker my stomach to fit myrations!"

Ned was passing the door of a cabin in which a prayer meeting ofofficers was being held. He was walking with his Colonel who was fond ofa sip of corn whiskey at times. He was slightly deaf. 

The leader of the meeting called from the door:

"Won't you join us in prayer, Colonel?"

"Thank you, no, I've just had a little!" he answered innocently. 

Ned roared and the brethren inside the cabin joined the laugh. 

No body of men of any race ever marched to death with calmer faith thanthose ragged lines of grey now girding their loins for the fiercest, bloodiest struggle in the annals of the world. 

Lee allowed Grant to cross the Rapidan unopposed and penetrate thetangled wilds of the Wilderness. The Southerner knew that in these densewoods the effectiveness of his opponent's superior numbers would bevastly reduced. Longstreet's corps had not yet arrived from Gordonsvillewhere he had been sent to obtain food, and he must concentrate hisforces. 

The days were oppressively hot, as the men in blue tramped through theforest aisles of the vast Virginia jungle--a maze of trees, underbrushand dense foliage. A pall of ominous silence hung over this labyrinth ofdesolation, broken only by the chirp of bluebird or the distant call ofthe yellowhammer. 

Not waiting for the arrival of Longstreet on his forced march fromGordonsville, Lee suddenly threw the half of his army on Grant'sadvancing men with savage energy. Their march was halted and throughevery hour of the day and far into the night the fierce conflict raged. As darkness fell the Confederates had pushed the blue lines back, captured four guns and a number of prisoners. 

But Longstreet had not come and Lee's army of barely forty thousand menwere in a dangerous position before Grant's legions. 

Both Generals renewed the fight at daylight. The Federals attacked Lee'sentire line with terrific force. Just as the Confederate right wing wasbeing crushed and rolled back in disorder, Longstreet reached the fieldand threw his men into the breach. Lee himself rode to the front to leadthe charge and reëstablish his yielding lines. 

From a thousand throats rose the cry:

"Lee to the rear!"

"Go back, General Lee!"

"This is no place for you!"

"We'll settle this!"

The men refused to move until their Commander had withdrawn. And thenwith their fierce yell they charged and swept the field. 

Lee repeated the brilliant achievement of Jackson at Chancellorsville. Longstreet was sent around Hancock's left to turn and assail his flank. The movement was a complete success. Hancock's line was smashed anddriven back a mile to his second defenses. 

General Wadsworth at the head of his division was mortally wounded andfell into the hands of the on-sweeping Confederates. Just as themovement had reached the moments of its triumph which would havecrumpled Grant's army in confusion back on the banks of the river, Longstreet fell dangerously wounded, struck down by a volley from hisown men in exactly the same way and almost in the same spot whereJackson had fallen. General Jenkins, who was with him, was instantlykilled. 

The charging hosts were halted by the change of Commanders and themovement failed of its big purpose, though at sunset General John B. Gordon broke through Sedgwick's Union lines, rolled back his rightflank, drove him a mile from his entrenchments and captured six hundredprisoners with two brigadier generals. 

The mysterious fate which had pursued the South had once more strickendown a great commander in the moment of victory, and snatched it fromhis grasp--at Shiloh, Albert Sydney Johnston; at Seven Pines, Joseph E. Johnston; at Chancellorsville, Jackson, and now Longstreet. 

Grant in two days lost seventeen thousand six hundred and sixty-six men, a larger number than fell under Hooker when he had retreated in despair. Any other General than Grant, the stolid bulldog fighter, would haveretreated across the Rapidan to reorganize his bleeding lines. 

As one of his Generals rode up the following morning out of theconfusion and horror of the night, Grant, chewing on his cigar, wavedhis right arm with a quick movement:

"It's all right, Wilson; we'll fight again!"

Next day the two armies lay in their trenches facing each other in grimsilence. Grant determined again to turn Lee's right flank and getbetween him and Richmond. 

Lee divined his purpose before a single regiment had begun to march. Spottsylvania Court House lay on his right. The Confederate Commanderhurried his advance guard to the spot and lay in wait for his opponent. 

The day of the 19th was spent by both armies in adjusting lines andconstructing breastworks. These fortifications were made by digging hugeditches and on the top of their banks fastening heavy logs. In front ofthese, abatis were made by filling the trees and cutting their limbs insuch a way that the sharp spikes projected toward the breasts of theadvancing foe. 

While placing his guns in position General Sedgwick was killed by asharpshooter's bullet--a commander of high character and fearlesscourage and loved by every man in his army. 

On the morning of the 10th Hancock attempted to turn Lee's rear bycrossing the Po. The movement failed and he was recalled with heavylosses under Early's assault as he recrossed the river. 

Warren led his division in a determined charge on the Confederate frontand they were mowed down in hundreds by Longstreet's men behind theirentrenchments. They reached the abatis and one man leaped on thebreastworks before they fell back in bloody confusion. General Rice wasmortally wounded in this charge. 

On the left of Warren, Colonel Emory Upton charged and broke through theConfederate lines capturing twelve hundred prisoners, but was drivenback at last with the loss of a thousand of his men. Grant made him aBrigadier General on the field. 

The first day at Spottsylvania ended with a loss of four thousand Unionmen. Lee's losses were less than half that number. 

The 11th they paused for breath, and Grant sent his famous dispatch toWashington:

"I propose to fight it out on this line if it takes all summer. "

On the morning of the 12th Hancock was ordered to charge at daylight. Lee's lines were spread out in the shape of an enormous letter V. Hancock's task was to capture the angle which formed the key to thisposition. 

In pitch darkness under pouring rain his four divisions under Birney, Mott, Barlow and Gibbon slipped through the mud and crept into positionwithin a few hundred yards of the Confederate breastworks. 

As the first streaks of dawn pierced the murky clouds, without a shot, the solid, silent lines of blue rushed this angle and leaped into theentrenchments before the astounded men in grey knew what had happened. 

So swift was the blow, so surprising, so overwhelming in numbers, theangle was captured practically without a struggle and the three thousandmen within it were forced to surrender with every cannon, their muskets, colors and two Generals. It was the most brilliant single achievement of"Hancock the Superb. "

Pressing on, Hancock's men advanced against the second series oftrenches a half mile beyond. Here the fight really began. 

Into their faces poured a terrific volley of musketry and General JohnB. Gordon led his men in a desperate charge to drive the invaders back. 

Lee, seeing the dangerous situation, rode to the front with the evidentintention of joining in this charge. 

Again the cry rang from the hearts of the men who loved him:

"Lee to the rear!"

They refused to move until he was led out of range of the fire. Gordon'smen charged and drove the Federal hosts back until at last they stoodagainst the entrenchments they had captured. Reinforcements now pouredin from both sides and the fighting became indescribable in its maddesperation. Thousands of men in blue and men in grey fought face toface and hand to hand. Muskets blazed in one another's eyes and blewheads off. The dead were piled in rows four and five deep, blue and greylocked in each other's arms. The trenches were filled with the dead andcleared of bodies again and again to make room for the living until theyin turn were thrown out. 

Ned Vaughan saw a grey color-bearer's arm shot away at the shoulder, thequivering flesh smeared with mud, stained with powder and filled withthe shreds of his grey sleeve--and yet, without blenching, he graspedhis colors with the other hand and swept on into the jaws of thisflaming hell at the head of his men. The rain of musketry fire againstthe trees came to Ned's ears in low undertone like the rattle of myriadsof hail stones on the roof of a house. 

A grey soldier was fighting a duel to the death with a magnificentlydressed officer in blue, bare bayonet against bare sword. The soldier, with a sudden plunge, ran his opponent through. With a shudder, Nedlooked to see if it were John. 

A company of men in blue were caught and cut off by a grey wave andwere trying to surrender. Their officers with drawn revolvers refused tolet them. 

"Shoot your officers!" a grey man shouted. In a moment every Commanderdropped and the men were marched to the rear. 

Hour after hour the flames of hell swirled in an endless whirlwindaround this "Bloody Angle. " Battle line after battle line rushed innever to return. Ned saw an oak tree two feet in diameter gnawed down bymusket balls. It fell with a crash, killing and wounding a number ofmen. 

Color-bearers waved their flags in each other's faces, clinched andfought like demons. Two soldiers, their ammunition spent, choked eachother to death on top of the entrenchment and rolled down its banksamong the torn and mangled bodies that filled the ditch. 

In the edge of this red whirlwind Ned Vaughan saw a grim man in greystanding beside a tree using two guns. His wounded comrade loaded onewhile he took deliberate aim and fired the other. With each crack of hismusket a man in blue was falling. 

In the centre of this mass of struggling maniacs the men were fightingwith gun swabs, handspikes, clubbed muskets, stones and fists. 

The night brought no rest, no pause to succor the wounded or bury thedead. Through the black murk of the darkness they fought on and on untilat last the men who were living sank in their tracks at three o'clockbefore day and neither line had given from this "Bloody Angle. "

The rain ceased to fall, the clouds lifted and the waning moon came out. 

Ned Vaughan passing over the outer field saw a long line of men lyingin regular ranks in an odd position. He turned to the Commander. 

"Why don't you move that line of battle now to make it conform to yourown?"

"They're all dead men, " was the quiet answer. "They are Georgiasoldiers. "

John Vaughan, on the other side, crossing an open space, came on a bluebattle line asleep rank on rank, skirmishers in front and battle linebehind, all asleep on their arms. There was no one near to answer aquestion. They were all dead. 

The blue and grey men were talking to one another now. 

"Well, Johnnie, " a Yankee called through the shadows, "I can't admitthat you're inspired of God, but after to-day I must say that you arepossessed of the devil. "

"Same to you, Yank! Your papers say we're all demoralized anyhow--soto-morrow you oughtn't have no trouble finishin' us!"

"Ah, shut up now, Johnnie, and go to sleep!"

"All right, good-night, Yank, hope ye'll rest well. We'll give ye hellat daylight!"

For five days Grant swung his blue lines in circles of blood trying invain to break Lee's ranks and gave it up. He had lost at Spottsylvaniaeighteen thousand more men. The stolid, silent man of iron nerves wasterribly moved by the frightful losses his gallant army had sustained. He watched with anguish the endless lines of wagons bearing his strickenmen from the field. Lee's forces had been handled with such consummateand terrible skill, his crushing numbers had made little impression. 

Grant was facing a new force in the world. The ordinary methods of warwhich he had used with success in the West went here for nothing. Thedevotion of Lee's men was a mania. Small as his army was the bulldogfighter saw with amazement that it was practically unconquerable in asquare, hand-to-hand struggle. 

Once more he was forced to maneuver for advantage in position. Heordered a new flank movement by the North Anna River. 

He had opened his fight with Lee on the 5th, and in two weeks he hadlost thirty-six thousand men, without gaining an inch in the executionof his original plan of thrusting himself between the Confederate leaderand his Capital. Lee's army was apparently as terrible a fightingmachine as on the day they had met. 

A truce now followed to bury the dead and care for the wounded. So surehad Grant been of crushing his opponent he had refused to agree to thisduring the struggle. 

They found them piled six layers deep in the trenches, blue and grey, blue and grey. Black wings were spread over the top with red beakstearing at eyes and lips while deep down below, yet groaned and movedthe living wounded. 

God of Love and Pity, draw the veil over the scene! No pen can tell itsstory--no heart endure to hear it. 

The stop was brief. Already the cavalry were skirmishing for the nextposition. 

Again the keen eye of Lee had divined his enemy's purpose. By a shorterroad his men had reached the North Anna before Grant. When the Unionleader arrived on the scene he found the position of his advancedivision dangerous and quickly withdrew with the loss of two thousandmen. 

Once more he determined to turn Lee's flank and hurled his army towardCold Harbor. This time he reached his chosen ground before his opponentand on the 31st, Sheridan's cavalry took possession of the place. Thetwo armies had rushed for this point in waving parallel lines, flashingat each other death-dealing volleys as they touched. 

Both armies immediately began to entrench in their chosen positions. Lee, familiar with his ground, had chosen his position with consummateskill. On June the 1st, the preliminary attack was made at six o'clockin the afternoon. It was short and bloody. The Northern division underSmith and Wright charged and lost two thousand two hundred men in anhour. 

Again Lee had placed his guns and infantry in a fiery crescent on thehills arranged to catch both flanks and front of an advancing army. 

Grant's soldiers knew that grim work had been cut out for them on thatfatal morning the third day of June. As John Vaughan walked along thelines the night before he saw thousands of silent men busy with theirneedle and thread sewing their names on their underclothing. 

The hot, close weather of the preceding days had ended in a gratefulrain at five o'clock, which continued through the night and brought thetired, suffering men gracious relief. 

Grant decided to assault the whole Confederate front and gave his ordersfor the attack at the first streak of dawn at four-thirty. 

The charging blue hosts literally walked into the crater of a volcanoflaming in their faces and pouring tons of steel and lead into theirstricken flanks. Nothing like it had ever before been seen in thehistory of war. 

_Ten thousand men in blue fell in twenty minutes!_

The battle was practically over at half past seven o'clock. 

General Smith received an order from Meade to renew the assault andflatly refused. 

The scene which followed has no parallel in the records of humansuffering. Its horror is inconceivable and unthinkable. Through thesummer nights the shrieks and groans of the wounded and dying rose inpitiful endless waves. And no hand was lifted to save. For three daysthey lay begging for water, groaning and dying where they had fallen. Itwas certain death to venture in that storm-swept space. Only a few bravemen fought their way through to rescue a fallen comrade. 

It was not until the 7th that a truce was arranged to clear this shambleand then every man in blue was dead save two. Everywhere blood, blood, blood in dark slippery pools--dead horses--dead men--smashed guns, legs, arms, torn and mangled pieces of bodies--the earth plowed with shot andshell. 

Thirty days had passed since Grant met Lee in the tangled Wilderness andthe Northern army had lost sixty thousand men, two thousand a day. 

It is small wonder that he decided not to try longer "to fight it out onthat line. "

Lee had put out of combat as many men for his opponent as he had underhis command at any time and his army with the reinforcements he hadreceived was now as strong as the day he met Grant. 

For twelve days the two armies lay in their entrenchments on this fieldof death while the Federal Commander arranged a new plan of campaign. The sharpshooting was incessant. No man in all the line of blue couldstand erect and live an instant. Soldiers whose time of service hadexpired and were ordered home, had to crawl on their hands and kneesthrough the trenches to the rear. 

The new Commander, on whose genius the President and the people hadplanted their brightest hopes, had just reached the spot where McClellanstood in June, 1862. And he might have gotten there by the James undercover of his gunboats without the loss of a single life. 

Again John Vaughan's memory turned to McClellan with desperatebitterness. The longer he brooded over the hideous scenes of the pastmonth, the higher rose his blind rage against the President. 

CHAPTER XXXIII

THE BROTHERS MEET

When Julius, who had returned to John Vaughan's service, saw those pilesof dead men on the field of Cold Harbor he lost faith in the UnionCause. He made up his mind that the past month's work had more than paidfor that letter to the President and he took to the woods on his ownhook. 

He lay down to sleep the night he deserted in a clump of trees near theConfederate outposts and rested his head on a pillow of pine straw. Whenhe waked in the morning at dawn he felt something tickle his nose. Hecautiously reached one hand up to see what it was and felt a lock ofhair. He rose slowly, fearing to look till he had gained his feet. Heturned his eyes at last and saw that he had been sleeping on a deadman's head protruding through the shallow dirt and pine straw that hadbeen hastily thrown over it the first day of the battle. 

With a yell of terror he started on a run for his life. 

He never stopped until he had flanked Lee's army by a wide swing, madehis way to the rear and joined the Confederacy. 

Grant had now changed his plan of campaign. He determined to capturePetersburg by a _coup_ and cut the communication of Lee and Richmondwith the South. The _coup_ failed. The ragged remnants of Lee's armywhich had been left there to defend it, held the trenches untilreinforcements arrived. 

He determined to take it by a resistless concerted assault. On the 16thhe threw three of his army corps on Beauregard's thin lines beforePetersburg, capturing four redoubts. At daylight, on the 17th, he againhurled his men on Beauregard and drove his men out of his first line ofdefense. All day the defenders held their second line, though Grant'scrack divisions poured out their blood like water. As night fell thedead were once more piled high on the Federal front and the Confederatedead filled the trenches. 

As the third day dawned the fierce, assault was renewed, but Lee hadbrought up Anderson's Corps with Kershaw and Field's division and theblue waves broke against the impregnable grey ranks and rolled back, leaving the dead in dark heaps. 

As the shadows of night fell, Grant withdrew his shattered lines totheir trenches. 

_He had lost ten thousand five hundred more men and had failed. _

He began to burrow his fortifications into the earth around Petersburgand try by siege what had been found impossible by assault. Further andfurther crept his blue lines with pick and axe and spade and shovel, digging, burrowing, piling their dirt and timbers. Before each bluerampart silently grew one in grey until the two siege lines stretchedfor thirty-seven miles in bristling, flaming semicircle covering bothRichmond and Petersburg. 

Again Grant planned a _coup_. He chose the role of the fox this timeinstead of the lion. He selected the key of Lee's long lines of defenseand set a regiment of Pennsylvania miners to work digging a tunnel underthe Confederate fort known as "Elliot's Salient, " which stood but twohundred yards in front of Burnside's corps. 

The tunnel was finished, the mine ready, the fuses set, and eightthousand pounds of powder planted in the earth beneath the unsuspectingConfederates. 

Hancock's division with Sheridan's cavalry were sent to make ademonstration against Richmond and draw Lee's main army to its defense. The ruse was partly successful. There were but eighteen thousand behindthe defenses of Petersburg on the dark night when Grant massed fiftythousand picked men before the doomed fort. The pioneers with their axescleared the abatis and opened the way for the charging hosts. Heavy gunsand mortars were planted to sweep the open space beyond the Salient andbeat back any attempted counter charge. 

The time set for the explosion was just before dawn. The fuse was litand fifty thousand men stood gripping their guns, waiting for the shock. A quarter of an hour passed and nothing happened. An ominous silencebrooded over the dawning sky. The only sounds heard were the twitter ofwaking birds in the trees and hedgerows. The fuse had failed. Two heroicmen crawled into the tunnel and found it had spluttered out in a dampspot but fifty feet from the powder. It required an hour to secure andplant a new fuse. Day had dawned. Just in front of John Vaughan'sregiment a Confederate spy was caught. He could hear every word of thepitiful tragedy. 

He was a handsome, brown-eyed youngster of eighteen. 

He glanced pathetically toward the doomed fort, and shook his head:

"Fifteen minutes more and I'd have saved you, boys!"

He turned then to the executioners:

"May I have just a minute to pray?"

"Yes. "

He knelt and lifted his head, the fine young lips moving in silence asthe first rays of the rising sun flooded the scene with splendor. 

"May I write just a word to my mother and to my sweetheart?" he askedwith a smile. "They're just over there in Petersburg. "

"Yes. "

They gave him a piece of paper and he wrote his last words of love, andin a moment was swinging from the limb of a tree. Only a few of the morethoughtful men paid any attention. It was nothing. Such things happenedevery day. God only kept the records. 

The new fuse was set and lighted. The minutes seemed hours as the menwaited breathlessly. With a dull muffled roar from the centre of theearth beneath their very feet the fort rose two hundred feet straightinto the sky, driven by a tower of flame that stood stark and red in theheavens. And then with blinding crash the mighty column of earth, guns, timbers and three hundred grey bodies sank into the yawning crater. Thepit was sixty-five feet wide and three hundred feet long. 

The explosion had been a complete success. The undermined fort had beenwiped from the landscape. A great gap opened in Lee's lines marked bythe grave of three hundred of his men. 

Burnside's division rushed into the crater and climbed through thebreach. His men were met promptly by Ransom's brigade of NorthCarolinians and held. The Union support became entangled in the hole, stumbled and fell in confusion. 

General Mahone's brigades hastily called, rushed into position, and ageneral Confederate charge was ordered. In silence, their arms trailingby their sides, they quickly crossed the open space and fell like demonson the confused blue lines which were driven back into the crater andslaughtered like sheep. The Confederate guns were trained on thisyawning pit whose edges now bristled with flaming muskets. Regimentafter regiment of blue were hurled into this hell hole to be torn andcut to pieces. 

A division of negro troops were hurried in and the sight of them drovethe Southerners to desperation. It took but a moment's grim charge tohurl these black regiments back into the pit on the bodies of theirfallen white comrades. The crater became a butcher's shambles. 

When the smoke cleared four thousand more of Grant's men lay dead andwounded in the grave in which had been buried three hundred greydefenders. 

Lee's losses were less than one third as many. Grant asked for a truceto bury his dead and from five until nine next morning there was nofiring along the grim lines of siege for the first time since the dayPetersburg had been invested. 

So confident now was Lee that he could hold his position against anyassault his powerful opponent could make, he detached Jubal Early withtwenty thousand men and sent him through the Shenandoah Valley to strikeWashington. 

Grant was compelled to send Sheridan after him. In the meantime hedetermined to take advantage of Lee's reduced strength and cut theWeldon railroad over which were coming all supplies from the South. 

Warren's corps was sent on this important mission. His attack failed andhe was driven back with a loss of three thousand men. He entrenchedhimself and called for reinforcements. Hancock's famous corps washurried to the assistance of Warren. 

John Vaughan's regiment was now attached to Hancock's army. As they werestrapping on their knapsacks for this march, to his amazement Juliussuddenly appeared, grinning and bustling about as if he had neverstrayed from the fold. His clothes were in shreds and tatters. 

"Where have you been all this time, nigger?" John asked. 

"Who, me?"

"And where'd you get that new suit of clothes?"

"Well, I'm gwine tell ye Gawd's truf, Marse John. Atter dat Cold Harborbusiness I lit out fur de odder side. I wuz gittin' 'long very well darwid General Elliot in de Confederacy when all of er sudden somfin'busted an' blowed me clean back inter de Union. An' here I is--yassah. An' I'se gwine ter stick by you now. 'Pears lak de ain't no res' fur deweary no whar. "

John was glad to have his enterprising cook once more and received thetraitor philosophically. 

Lee threw A. P. Hill's corps between Warren and Hancock's advancingdivision. Hancock entrenched himself along-the railroad which he wasdestroying. 

Hill trained his artillery on these trenches and charged them with swiftdesperation late in the afternoon. The Union lines were broken andcrushed and the men fled in panic. In vain "Hancock the Superb, " who hadseen his soldiers fall but never fail, tried to rally them. In agony hewitnessed their utter rout. His trenches were taken, his guns capturedand turned in a storm of death on his fleeing men. He lost twelve standsof colors, nine big guns and twenty-five hundred men. 

As the darkness fell General Nelson A. Miles succeeded in rallying a newline and stayed the panic by a desperate countercharge. 

Once more the grapple was hand to hand, man to man, in the darkness. John Vaughan had fired the last load, save one, from his revolver, andsword in hand, was cheering his men in a mad effort to regain their lostentrenchments. Blue and grey were mixed in black confusion. Only by thelight of flashing guns could friend be distinguished from foe. A musketflamed near his face and through the deep darkness which followed asword thrust pierced his side. He sprang back with an oath and clinchedwith his antagonist, feeling for his throat in silence. For a minutethey wheeled struggled and fought in desperation, stumbling overunderbrush, slipping to their knees and rising. Every instinct of thefighting brute in man was up now and the battle was to the death forone--perhaps both. 

John succeeded at last in releasing his right hand and drawing hisrevolver. His enemy sprang back at the same moment and through thedarkness again came the sword into his breast. He felt the bloodfollowing the blade as it was snatched away, raised his revolver andfired his last shot squarely at his foe. The muzzle was less than twofeet from his face and in the flash he saw Ned's look of horror, bothbrothers recognizing each other in the same instant. 

"John--my God, it's you!"

"Yes--yes--and it's you--God have mercy if I've killed you!"

In a moment the older brother had caught Ned's sinking body and loweredit gently on the leaves. 

"It's all right, John, old man, " he gasped. "If I had to die it's justas well by your hand. It's war--it's hell--all hell--anyhow--what's thedifference----"

"But you mustn't die, Boy!" John whispered fiercely. "You mustn't, Itell you!"

"I didn't want to die, " Ned sighed. "Lifewas--just--becoming--real--beautiful--wonderful----"

He stopped and drew a deep breath. 

John bent lower and Ned's arm slipped toward his neck and his fingerstouched the warm blood soaking his clothes. 

"I'm--afraid--I--got--you, --too, --John----"

"No, I'm all right--brace up, Boy. Pull that devil will of yourstogether--we've both got it--and live!"

The younger man's head had sunk on his brother's blood-stained breast. 

"Now, look here, Ned, old man--this'll never do--don't--don't--give up!"

The answer came faint and low:

"Tell--Betty--when--you--see--her--that--with--my--last--breath--I--spoke--her--name--her--face--lights--the--dark--way----"

"You're going, Ned?"

"Yes----"

"Say you forgive me!"

"There's--nothing--to--forgive--it's--all--right--John--good-bye----"

The voice stopped. The battle had ceased. The woods were still. Theolder brother could feel the slow rising and falling of the strong youngchest as if the muscles in the glory of their perfect life refused tohear the call of Death. 

He bent in the darkness and kissed the trembling lips and they, too, were still. He drew himself against the trunk of a tree and through thebeautiful summer night held the body of his dead brother in his arms. 

His fevered eyes were opened at last and he saw war as it is for thefirst time. It had meant nothing before this reckoning of the dead andwounded after battle--sixty thousand men from the Rapidan to Cold Harborin thirty days--ten thousand five hundred in the futile dash againstPetersburg--four thousand in the crater--five thousand five hundred morenow on this torn, twisted railroad, and all a failure--not an inch ofground gained. 

These torn and mangled bundles of red rags he had watched the men dumpinto trenches and cover with dirt had meant nothing real. They were onlyloathsome things to be hidden from sight before the bugles called thearmy to move. 

Now he saw a vision. Over every dark bundle on those blood-soaked fieldsbent a brother, a father, a mother, a sister or sweetheart. He heardtheir cries of anguish until all other sounds were dumb. 

The heaps of amputated legs and arms he had seen so often without a sighwere bathed now in tears. The surgeons with their hands and arms andclothes soaked with red--he saw them with the eyes of love--scene onscene in hideous review--the young officer at Cold Harbor whose leg theywere cutting off without the use of chloroform, his face convulsed, hisjaws locked as the knife crashed through nerve and sinew, muscle andartery. And those saws gnawing through bones--God in heaven, he couldhear them all now--they were cutting and tearing those he loved. 

He heard their terrible orders with new ears. For the first time herealized what they meant. 

"Give them the bayonet now----"

The low, savage, subdued tones of the officer had once thrilled hissoul. The memory sickened him. 

He could hear the impassioned speech of the Colonel as the men lay flaton their faces in the grass--the click of bayonets in their places--thelook on the faces of the men eager, fierce, intense, as they sprang totheir feet at the call:

"Charge!"

And the fight. A big, broad-shouldered brute is trying to bayonet a boyof fifteen. The boy's slim hand grips the steel with an expression ofmingled rage and terror. He holds on with grim fury. A comrade rushes tohis rescue. His bayonet misses the upper body of the strong man andcrashes hard against his hip bone. The man with his strength seizes thegun, snatches it from his bleeding thigh and swings it over his head tobrain his new antagonist, when the first boy, with a savage laugh, plunges his bayonet through the strong man's heart and he falls with adull crash, breaking the steel from the musket's muzzle and liesquivering, with the blood-spouting point protruding from his side. Heunderstood now--these were not soldiers obeying orders--they werefathers and brothers and playmates, killing and maiming and tearing eachother to pieces. 

Lord God of Love and Mercy, the pity and horror of it all!

It was one o'clock before Julius, searching the field with a lantern, came on him huddled against the tree with Ned's body still in his arms, staring into the dead face. 

CHAPTER XXXIV

LOVE'S PLEDGE

Again Betty Winter found in her work relief from despair. She had hopedfor peace in the beauty and tenderness of Ned's chivalrous devotion. Yethis one letter reporting the meeting had revealed her mistake. Themoment she had read his confession the impulse to scream her protest toJohn was all but resistless. She had tried in vain to find a way ofwriting to Ned to tell him that she had deceived him and herself, andask his forgiveness. 

It was impossible to write to John under such conditions and she hadsuffered in silence. And then the wounded began to pour into Washingtonfrom Grant's front. The like of that procession of ambulances from thelanding on Sixth Street to the hospitals on the hills back of the cityhad never been seen. The wounded men were brought on swift steamers fromAquia Creek. Floors and decks were covered with mattresses on which theylay as thickly as they could be placed. As the wounded died on the waythey were moved to the bow and their faces covered. 

At the landing tender hands were lifting them into the ambulances whichslowly moved out in one line to the hospitals and back in a circle byanother. These ambulances stretched in tragic, unbroken procession forthree miles and never ceased to move on and on in an endless circle forthree days and nights. 

In an agony of anxiety Betty asked to be transferred to the landing thatshe might watch them fill the wagons. Her soul was oppressed with thecertainty that John Vaughan would be found in one of them. 

On the morning of the third day they were still coming in never-endingstreams from the steamer decks. She wrung her hands in a moment ofdespair:

"Merciful God! Are they bringing back Grant's whole army?"

The patience of these suffering men was sublime. Only a sigh from onewho would rise no more. Only a groan here and there from parched lipsthat asked for water. 

At last came the ominous news for which she had watched and waited withsickening forebodings. The _Republican_ printed the name of Captain JohnVaughan among the wounded in the fight of Warren and Hancock's corpsover the Weldon Railroad. There were only two thousand wounded men sentin on the steamers from the front after this battle, and they arrived atnight. 

Betty hurried to the landing and found that the ambulances had begun tomove. She searched every face in vain, and when the last stretcher hadpassed out walked with trembling steps and scanned each silent coveredface in the bow. 

"Thank God, " she murmured, "he's not there!"

She must begin now the patient search among the eighty thousand sick andwounded men in the city of sorrows on the hills. 

She secured a hack and tried to reach the head of the procession andfind the destination of the first wagons that had left before herarrival. 

It was after midnight. A thunder storm suddenly rolled its dense cloudsover the city and smothered the street lamps in a pall of darkness. Therain burst with a flash of lightning and poured in torrents. Theelectric display was awe-inspiring. The horses in one of the ambulancesin the long line stampeded and smashed the vehicle in front. Theprocession was stopped in the height of the storm. The vivid flame wasnow continuous and Betty could see the wagons standing in a mud-splashedrow for a mile, the lightning play bringing out in startling outlineeach horse and vehicle. 

From every ambulance was hanging a fringe of curious objects shiningwhite against the shadows when suddenly illumined. Betty looked in pityand awe. They were the burning fevered arms and legs and heads of thesuffering wounded men eager to feel the splash of the cooling rain. 

A full week passed before her search ended and she located him in one ofthe big new buildings hastily constructed of boards. 

With trembling step she started to go straight to his cot. The memory ofhis brutal stare that day stopped her and she scribbled a line and sentit to him:

 "John, dear, may I see you a moment?

 "BETTY. "

The doctor assured her that he was rapidly recovering, though restlessand depressed. She caught her breath in a little gasp of surprise at thesight of his white face, pale and spiritual looking now from the loss ofblood. 

Her eyes were shining with intense excitement as she swiftly crossed theroom, dropped on her knees beside his cot and seized his hands:

"O John, John, can you ever forgive me!"

He slipped his arm around her neck and held her a long time in silence. 

The men in the room paid no attention to the little drama. It washappening every day around them. 

"Oh, dearest, " she went on eagerly, "I tried to put you out of my heart, but I couldn't. I am yours, all yours, body and soul. Love asks but onequestion--do you love me?"

"Forever!" he whispered. 

"In my loneliness and despair I tried to give myself to Ned, but Icouldn't, dear. I would have told him so had I been able to reachhim--though I dreaded to hurt him. "

John drew her hands down and looked at her with a strange expression. 

"He's beyond the reach of pain and disappointment now, dear----"

"Dead?" she gasped. 

The man only nodded, and clung desperately to her hands while her headsank in a flood of tears. 

"We'll cherish his memory, " he said in a curiously quiet voice, "as oneof the sweetest bonds between us, my love----"

"Yes--always!" was the low answer. 

For the life of him John Vaughan couldn't tell the terrible fact thathis hand had struck him down. God alone should know that. 

When she had recovered from the shock of the announcement Betty caressedhis hand gently:

"We just love whom we love, dearest, and we can't help it. I am yoursand you are mine. It's not a question of good or bad, right or wrong. Welove--that's all. "

"Yes, we love--that's all and it's everything. There's no more doubt, dear?"

"Not one, " she cried. "I'm going to bring back the red blood to yourcheeks now and take that fevered look out of your eyes----"

The weeks of convalescence were swift and beautiful to Betty--herministry to his slightest whim a continuous joy. The only cloud in hersky was the strange, feverish, unquiet look in his eyes. On the day ofhis discharge he received a letter from his mother which deepened thisexpression to the verge of mania. 

"What is it, dear?" Betty asked in alarm. 

"One of those unfortunate things that have been happening somewhereevery day for the past year--an arrest and imprisonment for treasonableutterances----"

"Who has been arrested?"

"This time my father in Missouri. "

"Your father?" she gasped. 

"Yes. He has been a bitter critic of the war. He seems to have gone toofar. There was a riot of some sort in the village and he took the wrongside. "

There was an ominous quiet in the way he talked. 

"I'll take you to see the President, dearest, " she said soothingly. "We'll ask for his release. It's sure to be granted. "

John's eyes suddenly flashed. 

"You think so?"

"Absolutely sure of it. "

"We'll try it then, " he said, with a cold ring in his voice that chilledBetty's heart, and sent her home wondering at its meaning. 

CHAPTER XXXV

THE DARKEST HOUR

In the summer of 1864 the President saw the darkest hours of his life. The change in his appearance was startling and pitiful. His sombre eyesseemed to have sunk into their caverns beneath the bushy brows and allbut disappeared. Their gaze was more and more detached from earth andset on some dim, invisible shore. Deeper and deeper sank the furrows inhis ashen face. The shoulders drooped beneath a weight too great for anyhuman soul to bear. 

To Betty Winter's expression of loyalty and sympathy he answered sadly:

"It's success I need, child, --not sympathy. My own burdens of cares areas nothing to my soul. It's our cause--our cause--the Union must live orI shall die!"

He sat sometimes by his window for hours immovable as a marble statue, his deep, hungry eyes gazing, gazing forever over the shining rivertoward the Southern hills. His Secretaries stepped softly about the roomin silent sympathy with the Chief they loved with passionate devotion. 

Grant had crossed the Rapidan on that glorious spring morning in Maywith his magnificent army accompanied by the highest hopes of millions. And there had followed those awful sickening battles, one afteranother, until he had fallen back in failure before the impassabletrenches around Petersburg. 

The star of Grant, the conquering hero of the West, had apparently setin a sea of blood. 

Lee, with inferior numbers, alert, resourceful, vigilant, had checkedand baffled him at every turn, and Richmond's fall was no nearer tohuman eye than in 1862. 

The miles and miles of hospital barracks in Washington, crowded to theirdoors with wounded, dying men, were the living witnesses of the Nation'smortal agony. Every city, town, village, hamlet and county in the Northwas in mourning. Death had literally flung its pall over the world. 

From these thousands of stricken homes there had slowly risen a storm ofprotest against the new leader of the Army. The word "Butcher" was onevery lip. General Grant, they said, possessed merely the qualities ofthe bulldog fighter--tenacity and persistence. He held what he had wonso long as men were poured into his ranks by tens of thousands to takethe place of the dead. They declared that he possessed no genius, nostrategic skill, no power to originate plans and devise means toovercome his skillful and brilliant antagonist. The demand was pressedon the President for his removal. 

His refusal had brought on him the blame for all the blood and all thesuffering and all the failures of the past bitter year. 

His answer to his critics was remorseless in its common sense, but addednothing to his hold on the people. 

"We must fight to win, " he firmly declared. "Grant is the ablest generalwe have yet developed. His losses have been appalling--but the struggleis now to the bitter end. Our resources are exhaustless. The South cannot replace her fallen soldiers--her losses are fatal, ours are not. "

In the face of a political campaign he prepared a call by draft for fivehundred thousand more men and issued a proclamation appointing a day ofHumiliation, Fasting and Prayer. 

The spirits of the people touched the lowest tide ebb of despair. 

The war debt had reached the appalling total of two thousand millions ofdollars and its daily cost was four millions. The paper of the Treasurywas rapidly depreciating and the premium on gold rising until the valueof a one dollar green-back note was less than fifty cents in real money. The bankers, fearing the total bankruptcy of the Nation, had begun torefuse further loans on bonds at any rate of interest. 

The bounty offered to men for reënlistment in the army when their termsexpired amounted to the unheard of sum of one thousand five hundreddollars cash on signing for the new term. Bounty jumping had become thefavorite sport of adventurous scoundrels. Millions of dollars were beingstolen by these men without the addition of a musket to the fightingforce. Grant was hanging them daily, but the traitor's work continued. The enlisted man deserted in three weeks and reappeared at the next postand reënlisted again, collecting his bounty with each enrollment. 

The enemies of the President in his own party, led by Senator Winter, tomake sure of his defeat before the convention, which was about to meetin Baltimore, held a National convention of Radical Republicans inCleveland and nominated John C. Fremont for the Presidency. Theirpurpose was by this party division to make Lincoln's nomination animpossibility. Fremont's withdrawal was the weapon with which they wouldfight the President before the regular Republican convention and after. Senator Winter voiced the feeling of this convention in a speech ofbitter and vindictive eloquence. 

"I denounce the administration of Abraham Lincoln, " he declared, "asimbecile and vacillating. We demand not only the crushing of Lee's army, but a program of vengeance against the rebels, which will mean theirannihilation when conquered. We demand the confiscation of theirproperty, the overthrow of every trace of local government and thereduction of their States to conquered provinces under the control ofCongress. The milk and water policy of Lincoln is both a civil and amilitary failure, and his renomination would be the greatest calamitywhich could befall our Nation!"

A week later the regular party convention met at Baltimore. On the nightbefore this meeting the President's renomination was not certain. 

On every hand his enemies were assailing him with unabated fury. Everycheck to the National arms was laid at his door--every mistake of civilor military management. The ravages of the Confederate cruisers whichwere built in England and had swept the seas of our commerce were blamedon him. He should have called Great Britain to account for theseoutrages and had two wars instead of one!

The cost of the great struggle mounting and mounting into billions washis fault. The draft might have been avoided with the Government inabler hands. The emancipation policy had not freed a single negro anddriven the whole Democratic Party into opposition to the war. His BorderState policy had held four Slave States in the Union, but crippled themoral power of his position as anti-Slavery man. Every lie, everyslander of four years were now repeated and magnified. 

A competent man must be put into the White House. The Rail-splitter mustgo!

The real test of strength would come in the secret meeting of the GrandCouncil of the Union League--the Secret Society which had been organizedto defeat the schemes of the Knights of the Golden Circle. In thismeeting men will say exactly what they think. In the big conventionto-morrow all will be harmony and peace. The convention will do whatthese powerful leaders from every State in the North tell them to do. 

The assembly is dignified and orderly. The men who compose it are theeyes and ears and brains of the party they represent. They are the realrulers of the Nation. The party will obey their orders. These are themen who do the executive thinking for millions. The millions can onlyreject or ratify their wills. We are a democracy in theory, but inreality here is assembled the aristocracy of brains which constitutesour government. 

The Grand President Edmunds raps for order and faces a crowd of keen, intelligent leaders of men his equal in culture and will. 

The meeting is called for but one purpose. With swift, direct action thebattle begins. A friend of the President offers a resolution endorsinghis administration, preceded by a preamble which declares it to beunwise to swap horses while crossing a stream. 

The big guns open on this battle line without a moment's hesitation. Senator Winter has not thought it wise to make this opening speech. Theprominent part he took in organizing and launching the Fremontconvention has put him in the position of an avowed bolter. He hasalready put forward a colleague from the Senate who is supposed to befriendly to the administration. 

The Senator is a man of blunt speech and dominating personality. Hespeaks with earnestness, conviction and eloquence. He does not mincewords. All the petty grievances and mistakes and disappointments of hisfour years under the tall, quiet man's strong hand are firing his soulnow with burning passion. 

He boldly accuses the President of tyranny, usurpation, illegal acts, ofabused power, of misused advantages, of favoritism, stupidity, frauds inadministration, timidity, sluggish inaction, oppression, the willfulneglect of suffering and the willful refusal to hear the cry of thedown-trodden slave. 

He turns the battery of his scorn now on his personal peculiarities, hisdrawn and haggard and sorrow marked face, his heartlessness in readingand telling funny stories, and last of all his selfish ambition whichasks a second term at the sacrifice of his party and his country. 

A Congressman of unusual brilliance and power follows this assault withone of even greater eloquence and bitterness. 

Two more in quick succession and all demand with one accord the samething:

"Down with Lincoln!"

Not a voice has been lifted in his favor. If he has a friend he isapparently afraid to open his mouth. 

And then the giant form of Jim Lane slowly rises. He looks quietly overthe crowd as if passing in review the tragic events of four years. Is hegoing to add his voice to this chorus of rage? A year ago in the sameGrand Council he had a bitter grievance against the President andassailed him furiously. Yesterday he was at the White House and cameaway with a shadow on his strong face. 

He stood for a long time in silence and seemed to be scanning eachindividual in the crowd of tense listeners. 

And then his deep voice broke the stillness. His words rang like theboom of cannon and their penetrating power seemed to pierce the brickwalls of the room. 

"Mr. President and Gentlemen of the Grand Council:

"To stir up sore and wounded hearts to bitterness requires no skill orpower of oratory. To address the minds of men sickened by disaster, wearied by long trial, heated by passion, bewildered by uncertainty, heavy with grief, and cunningly to turn them into one vindictivechannel, into one blind rush of senseless fury requires no great powerof oratory and no great mastery of the truth. It may be the trick of acharlatan!"

He paused and gazed with deliberate and offensive insolence into thefaces of the men who had spoken. Their eyes blazed with wrath, and afierce thrill of excitement swept the crowd. 

"For a man to address himself to an assembly like this, however, goadedto madness by suffering, sorrow, humiliation, perplexity--and now rousedby venomous arts to an almost unanimous condemnation of the innocent--Isay to address you, turn you in your tracks and force you to go theother way--that would indeed be a feat of transcendent oratorical power. I am no orator--but I am going to tell you the truth and the truth willmake you do that thing!"

Men began to lean forward in their seats now as with impassioned faithhe told the story of the matchless work the great lonely spirit hadwrought for his people in the White House during the past passion-tornyears. His last sentence rang like the clarion peal of a trumpet:

"Desert him now and the election of _George B. McClellan_ on a'Peace-at-any-Price' platform is a certainty--the Union is dissevered, the Confederacy established, the slaves reshackled, the dead dishonoredand the living disgraced!"

His last sentence was an angry shout whose passion swept the crowd toits feet. The resolution was passed and Lincoln's nomination became amere formality. 

But Senator Winter had only begun to fight. His whole life as anAbolitionist had been spent in opposition to majorities. He had noconstructive power and no constructive imagination. His genius waspurely destructive, but it was genius. Without a moment's delay he beganhis plans to force the President to withdraw from his own ticket in themidst of his campaign. 

The one ominous sign which the man in the White House saw with dread wasthe rapid growth through these dark days of a "Peace-at-any-Price"sentiment within his own party lines in the heart of the loyal North. Again Horace Greeley and his great paper voiced this cry of despair. 

The mischief he was doing was incalculable because he persisted inteaching the millions who read his paper that peace was at any timepossible if Abraham Lincoln would only agree to accept it. As aSouthern-born man, the President knew the workings of the mind ofJefferson Davis as clearly as he understood his own. Both these men wereborn in Kentucky within a few miles of each other on almost the sameday. The President knew that Jefferson Davis would never consider anysettlement of the war except on the basis of the division of the Unionand the recognition of the Confederacy. When Greeley declared that theConfederate Commissioners were in Canada with offers of peace, thePresident sent Greeley himself immediately to meet them and confer onthe basis of a restored Union with compensation for the slaves. TheConference failed and Greeley returned from Canada angrier with thePresident than ever for making a fool of him. 

In utter disregard for the facts he continued to demand that theGovernment bring the war to an end. The thing which made his attackdeadly was that he was rousing the bitterness of hopeless sorrow inthousands of homes whose loved ones had fallen. 

Thoughtful men and women had begun to ask themselves new questions:

"Is not the price we are paying too great?"

"Can any cause be worth this ocean of tears, this endless deluge ofblood?"

The President must answer this bitter cry with the positive assurancethat he would make peace at any moment on terms consistent with theNation's preservation or both he and his party must perish. 

He determined to draw from Mr. Davis a positive declaration of the termson which the South would accept peace. He dared not do this openly, asit would be a confession to Europe of defeat and would lead to therecognition of the Confederacy. 

He accordingly sent Colonel Jaquess, a distinguished Methodist clergymanin the army, and J. R. Gilmore, of the _Tribune_, on a secret mission toRichmond for this purpose. They must go without credentials orauthority, as private individuals and risk life and liberty in theundertaking. 

Both men promptly accepted the mission and left for Grant's headquartersto ask General Lee for a pass through his lines. 

The Democratic Party was now a militant united force inspired by theCopperhead leaders, who had determined to defeat the President squarelyon a peace platform and put General McClellan into the White House. Behind them in serried lines stood the powerful Secret Orders clusteredaround the Knights of the Golden Circle. 

Positive proofs were finally laid before the President that theseSocieties had planned an uprising on the night of the election and theestablishment of a Western Confederacy. 

Edmunds, the President of the Union League, handed him the names of theleaders. 

"Now, sir, you can strike!" he urged. 

The tall, sorrowful man slowly shook his head. 

"You doubt the truth of these statements?" Edmunds asked. 

"No. They are too true. Let sleeping dogs lie. One revolution at a time. We have all we can manage at present. If we win the election they won'tdare rise. If we lose, it's all over anyhow--and it makes no differencewhat they do. "

With patient wisdom he refused to stir the dangerous hornet's nest. 

And to cap the climax of darkness, Jubal Early's army suddenly withdrewfrom Lee's lines, swept through the Shenandoah Valley and invadedMaryland and Pennsylvania. 

With three-quarters of a million blue soldiers under arms, the daringmen in grey were once more threatening the Capital. They seized and cutthe Northern railroads, burning their bridges and capturing trains; theythreatened Baltimore, captured Chambersburg, Pennsylvania, burned it, spread terror throughout the State and surrounding territory, andbrushing past Lew Wallace's six thousand men at Monocacy, were bearingdown on Washington with swift ominous tread. 

It was incredible! It was unthinkable, and yet the reveille of Early'sdrums could be heard from the White House window. 

John Bigelow, our _Chargé d'Affaires_ at Paris, had sent warning of aconversation with the Emperor of France, at which the President had onlysmiled. 

"Lee will take Washington, " the Emperor had declared, "and then I shallrecognize the Confederacy. I have just received news that Lee iscertain to take the Capital. "

The message was flashed to Grant for help. The city was practically atEarly's mercy if he should strike. He couldn't hold the Capital, ofcourse, but if he took it even for twenty-four hours the Governmentwould lose all prestige and standing in the Courts of Europe. 

For twenty-four hours the panic in Washington was complete. TheGovernment clerks were rushed into the trenches and hastily armed. 

Early threw one shell into the city, which crashed through a house, hiscavalry dashed into the corporate limits and took a prisoner and laterburned the house of Blair, a member of the Cabinet. 

The Sixth Corps arrived from Petersburg; a thousand men were killed andwounded in the skirmishing of two days, but the Capital escaped by theskin of its teeth. 

Grant laconically remarked:

"If Early had been one day earlier he would have entered the Capital. "

While he had not actually taken Washington, Lee's strategy was amasterly stroke. He had cleared the Shenandoah Valley, which was hisgranary, and enabled the farmers to reap their crops. He had showed theworld that his army was still so terrible a weapon that with it he couldhold Grant at bay, drive his enemy from the Valley, invade two NorthernStates, burn their cities and destroy their railroads, and throw hisshells into Washington. 

A wave of incredulous sickening despair swept the North. If this couldbe done after three and a half years of blood and tears and twobillions of dollars spent, where could the end be?

Early had done in Washington what neither McDowell, McClellan, Pope, Burnside, Hooker, Meade nor Grant had yet succeeded in doing forRichmond--thrown shells into the city and taken a prisoner from its verystreets. Had he arrived a day earlier--in other words, had not LewWallace's gallant little army of six thousand delayed him twenty-fourhours--he could have entered the city, raided the Treasury and burnedthe Capitol. 

Senator Winter was not slow to strike the blow for which he had beeneagerly waiting a favorable moment. He succeeded in detaching from thePresident in this moment of panic a group of men who had stood squarelyfor his nomination at Baltimore. He agreed to withdraw Fremont's name ifthey would induce the President to withdraw and a new convention becalled. 

So deep was the depression, so black the outlook, so certain wasMcClellan's election, that the members of the National RepublicanExecutive Committee met and conferred with this Committee of traitors totheir Chief. 

No more cowardly and contemptible proposition was ever submitted to thechosen leader of a great party. It was not to be wondered at that Winterand his Radical associates could stoop to it. They were theorists. Tothem success was secondary. They would have gladly and joyfully damnednot only the Union--they would have damned the world to save theirtheories. But that his own party leaders should come to him in such anhour and ask him to withdraw cut the great patient heart to the quick. 

He agreed to consider their humiliating proposition and give them ananswer in two weeks. Nicolay, his first Secretary, wrote to John Hay, who was in Illinois:

 "DEAR MAJOR: Hell is to pay. The politicians have a stampede on that is about to swamp everything. The National Committee are here to-day. Raymond thinks a commission to Richmond is the only salt to save us. The President sees and says it would be utter ruin. The matter is now undergoing consultation. Weak-kneed damned fools are on the move for a new candidate to supplant the President. Everything is darkness and doubt and discouragement. Our men see giants in the airy and unsubstantial shadows of the opposition, and are about to surrender without a blow. Come to Washington on the first train. Every man who loves the Chief must lay off his coat now and fight to the last ditch. He's too big and generous to be trusted alone with these wolves. He is the only man who can save this Nation, and we must make them see it. "

Worn and angry after the long discussion with his cowardly advisers, thePresident retired to his bedroom, locked the door, laid down, and triedto rest. Opposite the lounge on which he lay was a bureau with aswinging mirror. He gazed for a moment at his long figure, which showedfull length, his eye resting at last on the deep cut lines of thehaggard face. Gradually two separate and distinct images grew--onebehind the other, pale and death-like but distinct. He looked in wonder, and the longer he looked the clearer stood this pale second reflection. 

"That's funny!" he exclaimed. 

He rose, rubbed his eyes, and walked to the mirror, examining itcuriously. He had always been a man of visions--this child of the woodsand open fields. 

"I wonder if it's an illusion?" he muttered. "I'll try again. "

He returned to the couch and lay down. Again it grew a second timeplainer than before, if possible. He watched for a long time with afeeling of awe. 

"I wonder if I'm looking into the face of my own soul?" he mused. 

He studied this second image with keen interest. It was five shadespaler than the first. The thing had happened to him once before and hiswife had declared it a sign that he would be elected to a second term, but the paleness of the second image meant that he would not livethrough it. It was uncanny. He rose and paced the floor, laid downagain, and the image vanished. What did it mean?

Only that day a secret service man had come to warn him of a new plot ofassassination and beg him to double the guard. 

"What is the use, my dear boy, in setting up the gap when the fence isdown all around?"

"Remember, sir, they shot a hole through your hat one night last week onyour way to the Soldiers' Home. "

"Well, what of it? If a man really makes up his mind to kill me he cando it----"

"You can take precautions. "

"But I can't shut myself up in an iron box--now, can I? If I am killed Ican die but once. To live in constant dread of it is to die over andover again. I decline to die until the time comes--away with your extraguards! I've got too many now. They bother me. "

He threw off his depression and took up a volume of Artemus Ward's funnysayings to refresh his soul with their quaint humor. He must laugh ordie. He had promised to see Betty Winter with a friend who had apetition to present at ten o'clock. He would rest until she came. 

John Vaughan had insisted on her coming at this unusual hour. Sheprotested, but he declared the chances of success in asking for hisfather's release would be infinitely better if she took advantage of thePresident's good nature and saw him alone at night when they would notbe interrupted. 

As they neared the White House grounds, crossing the little park on thenorth side, Betty's nervousness became unbearable. She stopped and puther hand on John's arm. 

"Let's wait until to-morrow?" she pleaded. 

"The President is expecting us----"

"I'll send him word we couldn't come. "

"But, why?"

She hesitated and glanced at him uneasily:

"I don't know. I'm just nervous. I don't feel equal to the strain ofsuch an interview to-night. It means so much to you. It means so much tome now that love rules my life----"

He took her hands in his and drew her into the friendly shadows besidethe walk. 

"Love does rule life, doesn't it?"

"Absolutely. I'm frightened when I realize it, " she sighed. 

"You are all mine now? In life, in death, through evil report and goodreport?"

"In life, in death, through evil report and good report----yoursforever, dearest!"

He took her in his arms and held her in silence. She could feel himtrembling with deep emotion. 

"There's nothing to be nervous about then, " he said, reassuringly, ashis arms relaxed. "Come, we'll hurry. I want to send a message to myfather to-night announcing his release. "

At the entrance to the White House grounds they passed a man who shot aquick glance at John, and Betty thought his head moved in a nod ofapproval or recognition. 

"You know him?" she asked nervously. 

"One of Baker's men, I think--attempt on the President's life last week. They've doubled the guard, no doubt. "

They passed another, strolling carelessly from the shadows of the whitepillars of the portico. 

"They seem to be everywhere to-night, " John laughed carelessly. 

The White House door was open and they passed into the hall and ascendedthe stairs to the Executive Chamber without challenge. Little Tad, thePresident's son, who ran the House to suit himself at times, was in hisfull dress suit of a lieutenant of the army and had ordered the guard toattend a minstrel show he was giving in the attic. 

The President had agreed to meet Betty in his office at ten o'clock andtold her to bring her friend right upstairs and wait if he were not ontime. 

They sat down and waited five minutes in awkward silence. Betty waswatching the strange glittering expression in John Vaughan's eyes withincreasing alarm. 

She heard a muffled footfall in the hall, stepped quickly to the door, and saw the man they had passed at the entrance to the grounds. 

She returned trembling. 

"The man we passed at the gate is in that hall, " she whispered. 

"What of it?" was the careless answer. "Baker's secret service men comeand go when they please here----"

He paused and glanced at the door. 

"He has his eye on us maybe, " he added, with a little laugh. 

He studied Betty's flushed face for a moment, curiously hesitated as ifabout to speak, changed his mind, and was silent. He drew his watch fromhis pocket and looked at it. 

"I've ordered a carriage to wait for you at the gate at a quarter pastten, " he said quickly. "I forgot to tell you. "

"Why--it may take us longer than half an hour?"

"That's just it. We may be talking two hours. Such things can't bethreshed out in a minute. You can introduce me, say a good word, andleave us to fight it out----"

"I want to stay, " she interrupted. 

"Nonsense, dear, it may take hours. Besides, I may have some things tosay to the President, and he some things to say to me that it werebetter a sweet girl's ears should not hear----"

"That's exactly what I wish to prevent, John, dear, " she pleaded. "Youmust be careful and say nothing to offend the President. It means toomuch. We must win. "

"I'll be wise in the choice of words. But you mustn't stay, dear. I'mnot a child. I don't need a chaperone. "

"But you may need a friend----"

"He does wield the power of kings--doesn't he?"

"With the tenderness and love of a father, yes. "

"And yet I've wondered, " he went on in a curious cold tone, "why hehasn't been killed--when the death of one man would end this carnival ofmurder----"

"John, how can you say such things?" Betty gasped. 

"It's true, dear, " he answered calmly. "This man's will alone hasprevented peace and prevents it now. The soldiers on both sides jokewith one another across the picket lines. They get together and playcards at night. Before the battle begins, our boys call out:

"'Get into your holes, now, Johnnie, we've got to shoot. '

"Left to themselves, the soldiers would end this war in thirty minutes. It's the one man at the top who won't let them. It's hellish--it'shellish----"

"And you would justify an assassin?" Betty asked breathlessly. 

"Who is an assassin, dear?" he demanded tensely. "The man who wields aknife or the tyrant who calls the fanatic into being? Brutus or Cæsar, William Tell or Gessler? Resistance to tyrants is obedience to God----"

"John, John--how can you say such things--you don't believe inmurder----"

"No!" he breathed fiercely. "I don't now. I used to until I had arevelation----"

He stopped short as if strangled. 

"Revelation--what do you mean?" Betty whispered, watching his everymovement, with growing terror. 

He looked at her with eyes glittering. 

"I didn't want to tell you this, " he began slowly. "I meant to keep theblack thing hidden in my own soul. But you'll understand better if Ispeak. I killed Ned Vaughan with my own hands----"

"You're mad----" Betty shivered. 

"I wish I were--no--I was never sane before that flash of red from hellshowed me the truth--showed me what I was doing. We fought in thedarkness of a night attack, hand to hand, like two maddened beasts. Heran me through with his sword and I sent the last ball left in myrevolver crashing through his breast. In the glare of that shot I sawhis face--the face of my brother! I caught him in my arms as he fell andheld him while the life blood ebbed away through the hole I had tornnear his heart. And then I saw what I'd been doing, saw it all as itis--war--brother murdering his brother--the shout and the tumult, thedrums and bugles, the daring and heroism of it all, just that andnothing more--brother cutting his brother's throat----"

His head sank into his hands in a sob that strangled speech. 

Betty slipped her arm tenderly around his shoulder and stroked the heavyblack hair. 

"But you didn't know, dear--you wouldn't have fired that shot if youhad----"

He lifted himself suddenly and recovered his self-control. 

"No. That's just it, " he answered bitterly. "I wouldn't have done it hadI known--nor would he, had he known. But I should have seen before thatevery torn and mangled body I had counted in the reckoning of the gloryof battle was some other man's brother, some other mother's boy----"

He paused and drew himself suddenly erect:

"Well I'm awake now--I know and see things as they are!"

His hand unconsciously felt for his revolver, and Betty threw her armsaround his neck with a smothered cry of horror:

"Merciful God--John--my darling--you are mad--what are you going to do?"

"Why nothing, dear, " he protested, "nothing! I'm simply going to ask thePresident whose power is supreme to give my father a fair trial orrelease him--that's all--you needn't stay longer--the carriage iswaiting. I can introduce myself and plead my own cause. If he's thefair, great-hearted man you believe, he'll see that justice is done----"

"You are going to kill the President!" Betty gasped. 

"Nonsense--but if I were--what is the death of one man if thousandslive? I saw sixty thousand men in blue fall in thirty days--two thousanda day--besides those who wore the grey. At Cold Harbor I saw tenthousand of my brethren fall in twenty minutes. Why should you gasp overthe idea that one man may die whose death would stop this slaughter?"

"John, you're mad!" she cried, clinging to him desperately. "You're mad, I tell you. You've lost your reason. Come with me, dear--come atonce----"

"No. I was never more sane than now, " he answered firmly. 

"Then I'll warn the President----"

He held her with cruel force:

"You understand that if it's true, my arrest, court-martial and deathfollow?"

"No. I'll warn him not to come. I alone know----"

She broke his grip on her arm and started toward the door. He lifted hishand in quick commanding gesture:

"Wait! my men are in that hall--it's his life or mine now. You can takeyour choice----"

The girl's figure suddenly straightened:

"Take your men out and go with them at once!"

"No. If he does justice, I may spare his life. If he does not----"

"You shall not see him----"

"It's my life or his--I warn you----"

"Then it's yours--I choose my country!"

She walked with quick, firm step to the door leading into the familyapartments of the President. On the threshold her feet faltered. Shegrasped the door facing, turned, and saw him standing with folded armswatching her--with the eyes of a madman. Her face went white. She liftedher hand to her heart and slowly stumbled back into his arms. 

"God have mercy!" she sobbed. "I'm just a woman--my love--mydarling--I--I--can't--kill you----"

Her arms relaxed and she would have fallen to the floor had he notcaught the fainting form and carried her into the hall. 

Two men were at his side instantly. 

"Take Miss Winter downstairs, " he whispered. "There's a carriage at thegate. Bring it quietly to the door--one of you take her to the Senator'shome. The other must return here immediately and wait my orders. There'sno guard in this outer hall at night. The one inside is with the boy. Keep out of sight if any one passes. "

The men obeyed without a word and John Vaughan stepped quickly back intothe Executive office, drew the short curtains across the window, turnedthe lights on full, examined his revolver, and sat down in carelessattitude beside the President's desk. He could hear his heavy stepalready approaching the door. 

CHAPTER XXXVI

THE ASSASSIN

John Vaughan's face paled with the sudden realization of the tremendousdeed he was about to do. It had seemed the only solution of the Nation'slife and his own, an hour ago. The air of Washington reeked with deadlyhatred of the President. Every politician who could not control his big, straightforward, honest mind was his enemy. The gloom which shrouded thecountry over Grant's losses and the failure of his campaign had setevery hound yelping at his heels in full cry. He spent much of his timein the hospitals visiting and cheering the wounded soldiers. These menwere his friends. They believed in his honesty, his gentleness and hishumanity, and yet so deadly had grown the passions of war and so bitterthe madness of political prejudice that the majority of the wounded menwere going to vote against him in the approaching election. 

An informal vote taken in Carver Hospital had shown the amazing resultof three to one in favor of McClellan!

John Vaughan, in his fevered imagination, had felt that he was renderinga heroic service to the people in removing the one obstacle to peace. The President was the only man who could possibly defeat McClellan andcontinue the war. He was denounced by the opposition as usurper, tyrant, and dictator. He was denounced by thousands of men in his own party asutterly unfit to wield the power he possessed. 

And yet, as he heard the slow, heavy footfall approaching the door, amoment of agonizing doubt gripped his will and weakened his arm. His eyerested on a worn thumbed copy of the Bible which lay open on the desk. This man, who was not a church member, in the loneliness of his awfulresponsibilities, had been searching there for guidance and inspiration. There was a pathos in the thought that found his inner consciencethrough the mania that possessed him. 

Well, he'd test him. He would try this tyrant here alone before thejudgment bar of his soul--condemn him to death or permit him to live, ashe should prove true or false to his mighty trust. 

His hand touched his revolver again and he set his square jaws firmly. 

The tall figure entered and closed the door. 

A flash of blind rage came from the depths of John Vaughan's dark eyesat the first sight of him. He moved forward a step and his hand trembledin a desperate instinctive desire to kill. He was a soldier. His enemywas before him advancing. To kill had become a habit. It seemed the onenatural thing to do. 

He stopped with a shock of surprise as the President turned his haggardeyes in a dazed way and looked about the room. 

The light fell full on his face increasing its ghost-like patheticexpression. The story of anxiety and suffering was burnt in letters offire that left his features a wrinkled mask of grey ashes. The droopingeyelids were swollen, and dark bags hung beneath them. The muscles ofhis massive jaws were flaccid, the lines about his large expressivemouth terrible in their eloquence. His sombre eyes seemed to gaze on theworld with the anguish of millions in their depths. 

For a moment John Vaughan was held in a spell by the unexpectedapparition. 

"You are alone, sir?" the quiet voice slowly asked. 

"Yes. "

"I had expected Miss Winter----"

"She came with me and was compelled to leave. "

"Oh--will you pull up a chair. "

The tall form dropped wearily at his desk. His voice had a far-awayexpression in its tones. 

"And what can I do for you, sir?" he asked. 

"My name is Vaughan--John Vaughan----"

The dark head was lifted with interest:

"The brother of Ned Vaughan, who escaped from prison?"

John nodded:

"The son of Dr. Richard Vaughan, of Palmyra, Missouri. "

"Then you're our boy, fighting with Grant's army--yes, I heard of youwhen your brother was in trouble. You've been ill, I see--wounded, ofcourse?"

"Yes. "

The President rose and took his visitor's hand, clasping it with bothhis own:

"There's nothing I won't do for one of our wounded boys if I can--whatis it?"

"My mother writes me that my father has been arrested without warrant, is held in prison without bail and denied the right to trial----"

He paused and leaned on the desk, trembling with excitement which hadincreased as he spoke. 

"I have come to ask you for justice--that he shall be confronted by hisaccusers in open court and given a fair trial----"

A frown deepened the shadows in the dark, kindly face:

"And for what was he arrested?"

"For exercising the right of free speech. In a public address hedenounced the war----"

The President shook his head sorrowfully:

"You see, my boy, your house is divided against itself--the symbol inthe family group of our unhappy country. Of course, I didn't know ofthis arrest. Such things hurt me, so I refuse to know of them unless Imust. They tell me that Seward and Stanton have arrested without warrantthirty-five thousand men. I hope this is an exaggeration. Still it maybe true----"

He stopped, sighed, and shook his head again:

"But come, now, my son, and put yourself in my place. What can I do?I've armed two million men and spend four millions a day to fight theSouth because they try to secede and disrupt the Union. My opponents inthe North, taking advantage of our sorrows, harangue the people andelect a hostile legislature in Indiana, Ohio, and Illinois. They areabout to pass an ordinance of secession and strike the Union in theback. If secession is wrong in the South it is surely wrong in theNorth. Shall I fight secession in the South and merely argue politelywith it here? Instead of shooting these men, I've consented to a moremerciful thing, I just let Seward and Stanton lock them up until thewar is over and then I'll turn them all loose. 

"Understand, my boy, I don't shirk responsibility. No Cabinet orCongress could conduct a successful war. There must be a one man power. I have been made that power by the people. I am using it reverently butfirmly. And I am backed by the prayers, the good will and the confidenceof the people--the silent millions whom I don't see, but love and trust. 

"This war was not of my choosing. Once begun, it must be fought to theend and the Nation saved. It will then be proved that among free menthere can be no successful appeal from the ballot to the bullet, andthat they who take such appeal are sure to lose their case and pay thecost. To preserve the life of the Constitution I must strain some of itsprovisions in time of war----"

"And you will not interfere to give these accused men a trial?" JohnVaughan interrupted in hard tones. 

"I cannot, my boy, I dare not interfere. The civil law must be suspendedtemporarily in such cases. I cannot shoot a soldier for desertion andallow the man to go free who, by denouncing the war, causes him todesert. It cuts to the very heart of the Nation--its life isinvolved----"

He rose again and paced the floor, turning his back on his visitor inutter unconsciousness of the dangerous glitter in his eyes. 

He paused and placed his big hand gently on John's arm:

"I know in doing this I am wielding a dangerous power--the power ofkings--not because I love it, but because I must save my country. AndI'm the humblest man who walks God's earth to-night!"

In spite of his bitterness, the simplicity and honesty of the Presidentfound John Vaughan's heart. No vain or cruel or selfish man could talkor feel like that. In the glow of his eager thought the ashen look ofhis face disappeared and it became radiant with warmth and tenderness. In dreamy, passionate tones he went on as if talking to convince himselfhe must not despair. The younger man for the moment was sweptresistlessly on by the spell of his eloquence. 

"They are always asking of me impossible things. Now that I shall removeGrant from command. I know that his battles have been bloody. Yet howelse can we win? The gallant, desperate South has only a handful of men, ragged and half starved, yet they are standing against a million and Ihave exhaustless millions behind these. With Lee they seem invincibleand every move of his ragged men sends a shiver of horror and ofadmiration through the North. Yet, if Grant fights on he must win. Hewill wear Lee out--and that is the only way he can beat him. 

"Besides, his plan is bigger than the single campaign against Richmond. There's a grim figure at the head of a hundred thousand men fighting hisway inch by inch toward Atlanta. If Sherman should win and take Atlanta, Lee's army will starve and the end is sure. I can't listen to thisclamor. I will not remove Grant--though I've reasons for believing atthis moment that he may vote for McClellan for President. 

"Don't think, my son, that all this blood and suffering is not mine. Itis. Every shell that screams from those big guns crashes through myheart. The groans of the wounded, the sighs of the dying, the tears ofwidows and orphans, of sisters and mothers--all--blue and grey--they aremine. I see and hear it all, feel all, suffer all. 

"No man who lives to-day is responsible for this war. I could not haveprevented it, nor could Jefferson Davis. We are in the grip of mightyforces sweeping on from the centuries. We are fighting the battle of theages. 

"But our country's worth it if we can only save it. Out of this agonyand tears will be born a united people. We have always been cursed withthe impossible contradiction of negro slavery. 

"There has never been a real Democracy in the world because there hasnever been one without the shadow of slavery. We must build here a realgovernment of the people, by the people, for the people. It's not aquestion merely of the fate of four millions of black slaves. It's aquestion of the destiny of millions of freemen. I hear the tread ofcoming generations of their children on this continent. Their destiny isin your hand and mine--a free Nation without a slave--the hope, refugeand inspiration of the world. 

"This Union that we must save will be a beacon light on the shores oftime for mankind. It will be worth all the blood and all the tears weshall give for it. The grandeur of our sacrifice will be the birthrightof our children's children. It will be the end of sectionalism. We cannever again curse and revile one another, as we have in the past. We'vewritten our character in blood for all time. We've met in battle. TheNorthern man knows the Southerner is not a braggart. The Southernerknows the Yankee is not a coward. 

"There can be but one tragedy, my boy, that can have no ray oflight--and that is that all this blood should have flowed in vain, allthese brave men died for nought, that the old curse shall remain, theUnion be dismembered into broken sections and on future bloody fieldstheir battles be fought over again----"

He paused and drew a deep breath:

"This is the fear that's strangling me! For as surely as George B. McClellan is elected President, surrounded by the men who at presentcontrol his party, just so surely will the war end in compromise, failure and hopeless tragedy----"

"Why do you say that?" John asked sharply. 

"Because standing here on this very spot, before the battle ofGettysburg I offered him the Presidency if he would preside at a greatmass meeting of his party and guarantee to save the Union. I offered toefface myself and give up the dearest ambition of my soul to heal thewounds of my people--and he refused----"

"Refused?" John gasped. 

"Yes. "

The younger man gazed at the haggard face for a moment through dimmedeyes, sank slowly to a seat and covered his face in his hands in a cryof despair!

The reaction was complete and his collapse utter. 

The President gazed at the bent figure with sorrowful amazement, andtouched his head gently with the big friendly hand:

"Why, what's the matter, my boy? I'm the only man to despair. You'rejust a captain in the army. If to be the head of hell is as hard aswhat I've had to undergo here I could find it in my heart to pity Satanhimself. And if there's a man out of hell who suffers more than I do, Ipity him. But it's my burden and I try to bear it. I wish I had onlyyours!"

John Vaughan sprang to his feet and threw his hands above his head in agesture of anguish:

"O my God, you don't understand!"

He quickly crossed the space that separated them and faced the Presidentwith grim determination:

"But I'm going to tell you the truth now and you can do what you think'sright. In the last fight before Petersburg I killed my brother in anight attack and held his dying body in my arms. I think I must havegone mad that night. Anyhow, when I lay in the hospital recovering frommy wounds, I got the letter about my father and made up my mind to killyou----"

He paused, but the sombre eyes gave no sign--they seemed to be gazing onthe shores of eternity. 

"And I came here to-night for that purpose--my men are in that hallnow!"

He stopped and folded his hands deliberately, waiting for his judge tospeak. 

A long silence fell between them. The tall, sorrowful man was looking athim with a curious expression of wonder and self pity. 

"So you came here to-night to kill me?"

"Yes. "

Again a long silence--the deep eyes looking, looking with their strangequestioning gaze. 

"Well, " the younger man burst out at last, "what is my fate? I deserveit. Even generosity and gentleness have their limit. I've passed it. And I've no desire to escape. "

The kindly hand was lifted to John Vaughan's shoulder:

"Why didn't you do it?"

"Because for the first time you made me see things as you see them--Igot a glimpse of the inside----"

"Then I won you--didn't I?" the President cried with elation. "I've beentalking to you just to keep my courage up--just to save my own soul fromthe hell of despair. But you've lifted me up. If I can win you I can winthe others if I could only get their ear. All I need is a little time. And I'm going to fight for it. Every act of my life in this great officewill stand the test of time because I've put my immortal soul into thestruggle without one thought of saving myself. 

"I've told you the truth, and the truth has turned a murderer into myfriend. If only the people can know--can have time to think, I'll win. You thought me an ambitious tyrant--now, didn't you?"

"Yes. "

"Great God!--I had my ambitions, yes--as every American boy worth hissalt has. And I dared to dream this vision of the White House--I, thehumblest of the humble, born in a lowly pioneer's cabin in the woods ofKentucky. My dream came true, and where is its glory? Ashes and blood. And I, to whom the sight of blood is an agony unendurable, have livedwith aching heart through it all and envied the dead their rest on yourbattlefields----"

He stopped suddenly and fixed John with a keen look:

"You'll stand by me, now, boy, through thick and thin?"

"I'd count it an honor to die for you----"

"All right. I give you the chance. I'm going to send you on a dangerousmission. I need but two things to sweep the country in this election andpreserve the Union--a single big victory in the field to lift the peopleout of the dumps and make them see things as they are, and a declarationfrom Mr. Davis that there can be no peace save in division. I know thathe holds that position, but the people in the North doubt it. I've sentJaquess and Gilmore there to obtain his declaration. Technically theyare spies. They may be executed or imprisoned and held to the end of thewar. They go as private citizens of the North who desire peace. 

"I want another man in Richmond whose identity will be unknown to reportthe results of that meeting in case they are imprisoned. You must go asa spy at the double risk of your life----"

"I'm ready, sir, " was the quick response. 

The big hand fumbled the black beard a moment:

"You doubtless said bitter things in Washington when you returned?"

"Many of them. "

"Then you were approached by the leaders of Knights of the GoldenCircle?"

"Yes. "

"Good! You're the man I want without a doubt. You can use their signsand pass words in Richmond. Besides, you have a Southern accent. Yourchances of success are great. I want you to leave here in an hour. Gostraight through as a scout and spy in Confederate uniform. If Jaquessand Gilmore are allowed to return and tell their story--all right, yourwork with them is done. If they are imprisoned, get through the lines toGrant's headquarters, report this fact and Mr. Davis' answer, and itwill be doubly effective--you understand?"

"Perfectly, sir. "

"That's your first job. But I want you to go to Richmond for a doublepurpose--to take the train for Atlanta, get through the lines and give amessage to a man down South I've been thinking about for the past month. The world has forgotten Sherman in the roar of the great battles Granthas fought. I haven't. Slowly but surely his grim figure has beengrowing taller on the horizon as the smoke lifts from each of hisfights. Grant says he is our biggest general. Only a great man could saythat about a subordinate commander. That's another reason I won't listento people who demand Grant's removal. 

"Sherman is now a hundred and fifty miles in Georgia before Atlanta. Hisroad is being cut behind him every other day. You might be weeks tryingto get to him by Chattanooga. The trains run through from Richmond. Iwant you to reach him quick, and give him a message from me. I can'tsend a written order. It wouldn't be fair to Grant. I'll give youcredentials that he'll accept that will cost you your life in Richmondif their meaning is discovered. 

"Tell General Sherman that if he can take Atlanta the blow will thrillthe Nation, carry the election, and save the Union. Grant is deadlockedat Petersburg and may be there all winter. If he can fight at once andgive us a victory, it's all that's needed. I'll send him an order tostrike. Tell him to destroy it if he wins. If he loses--I'll publish itand take the blame on myself. Can you do this?"

"I will or die in the effort, " was the quick reply. 

"All right. Take this card at once to Stanton's office. Ask him to sendyou by boat to Aquia--by horse from there. Return here for your papers. "

In ten minutes John had dispatched a note to Betty:

 "DEAREST: God saved me from an act of madness. He sent His message through your sweet spirit. I am leaving for the South on a dangerous mission for the President. If I live to return I am all yours--if I die, I shall still live through eternity if only to love you. 

 "JOHN. "

Within an hour he had communicated with the commander of the Knights, his arrangements were complete, and he was steaming down the river onhis perilous journey. 

CHAPTER XXXVII

MR. DAVIS SPEAKS

John Vaughan arrived in Richmond a day before Jaquess and Gilmore. Hisgenial Southern manner, his perfect accent and his possession of thesigns and pass words of the Knights of the Golden Circle made hismission a comparatively easy one. 

He had brought a message from the Washington Knights to Judah P. Benjamin, which won the confidence of Mr. Davis' Secretary of State andgained his ready consent to his presence on the occasion of theinterview. 

The Commissioners left Butler's headquarters with some misgivings. Gilmore took the doughty General by the hand and said: "Good-bye, if youdon't see us in ten days you may know we have 'gone up. '"

"If I don't see you in less time, " he replied, "I'll demand you, and ifthey don't produce you, I'll take two for one. My hand on that. "

Under a flag of truce they found Judge Ould, the Exchange Commissioner, who conducted them into Richmond under cover of darkness. 

They stopped at the Spottswood House and the next morning saw Mr. Benjamin, who agreed to arrange an interview with Jefferson Davis. 

Mr. Benjamin was polite, but inquisitive. 

"Do you bring any overtures from your Government, gentlemen?"

"No, sir, " answered Colonel Jaquess. "We bring no overtures and have noauthority from our Government. As private citizens we simply wish toknow what terms will be acceptable to Mr. Davis. "

"Are you acquainted with Mr. Lincoln's views?"

"One of us is fully, " said Colonel Jaquess. 

"Did Mr. Lincoln in any way authorize you to come here?"

"No, sir, " said Gilmore. "We came with his pass, but not by his request. We came as men and Christians, not as diplomats, hoping, in a frank talkwith Mr. Davis, to discover some way by which this war may be stopped. "

"Well, gentlemen, " said Benjamin, "I will repeat what you say to thePresident, and if he follows my advice, he will meet you. "

At nine o'clock the two men had entered the State Department and foundJefferson Davis seated at the long table on the right of his Secretaryof State. 

John Vaughan was given a seat at the other end of the table to reportthe interview for Mr. Benjamin. 

He studied the distinguished President of the Confederate States withinterest. He had never seen him before. His figure was extremely thin, his features typically Southern in their angular cheeks and high cheekbones. His iron-grey hair was long and thick and inclined to curl at theends. His whiskers were small and trimmed farmer fashion--on the lowerend of his strong chin. The clear grey eyes were full of vitality. Hisbroad forehead, strong mouth and chin denoted an iron will. He wore asuit of greyish brown, of foreign manufacture, and as he rose, seemedabout five feet ten inches. His shoulders slightly stooped. 

His manner was easy and graceful, his voice cultured and charming. 

"I am glad to see you, gentlemen, " he said. "You are very welcome toRichmond. "

"We thank you, Mr. Davis, " Gilmore replied. 

"Mr. Benjamin tells me that you have asked to see me to----"

He paused that the visitors might finish the sentence. 

"Yes, sir, " Jaquess answered. "Our people want peace, your people do. Wehave come to ask how it may be brought about?"

"Withdraw your armies, let us alone and peace will come at once. "

"But we cannot let you alone so long as you repudiate the Union----"

"I know. You would deny us what you exact for yourselves--the right ofself-government. "

"Even so, " said Colonel Jaquess, "we can not fight forever. The war mustend sometime. We must finally agree on something. Can we not agree nowand stop this frightful carnage?"

"I wish peace as much as you do, " replied Mr. Davis. "I deplorebloodshed. But I feel that not one drop of this blood is on my hands. Ican look up to God and say this. I tried all in my power to avert thiswar. I saw it coming and for twelve years I worked day and night toprevent it. The North was mad and blind, and would not let us governourselves and now it must go on until the last man of this generationfalls in his tracks and his children seize his musket and fight ourbattle, _unless you acknowledge our right to self-government_. We arenot fighting for slavery. We are fighting for independence, and that orextermination we _will_ have. "

"We have no wish to exterminate you, " protested the Colonel. "But wemust crush your armies. Is it not already nearly done? Grant has shutyou up in Richmond. Sherman is before Atlanta. "

"You don't seem to understand the situation, " Mr. Davis laughed. "We'renot exactly shut up in Richmond yet. If your papers tell the truth it isyour Capital that is in danger, not ours. Lee, whose front has neverbeen broken, holds Grant in check and has men enough to spare to invadeMaryland and Pennsylvania and threaten Washington. Sherman, to be sure, is before Atlanta. But suppose he is, the further he goes from his baseof supplies, the more disastrous defeat must be. And defeat may come. "

"But you cannot expect, " Gilmore said, "with only four and one halfmillions to hold out forever against twenty?"

Mr. Davis smiled:

"Do you think there are twenty millions at the North determined to crushus? I do not so read the returns of your elections or the temper of yourpeople. "

"If I understand you, then, " Jaquess continued, "the dispute with yourgovernment is narrowed to this, union or disunion?"

"Or, in other words, independence or subjugation. We will be free. Wewill govern ourselves. We will do it if we have to see every Southernplantation sacked and every Southern city in flames. "

The visitors rose, and after a few pleasant remarks, took their leave. Mr. Davis was particularly cordial to Colonel Jaquess, whom he knew tohave been a clergyman. 

John was surprised to see him repeat the habit of Abraham Lincoln, oftaking the hand of his visitor in both his in exactly the same cordialway. 

He had forgotten for the moment that both Lincoln and Davis wereSoutherners, born in the same State and reared in precisely the sameschool of thought and social usage. 

"Colonel, " the thin Southerner said in his musical voice, "I respectyour character and your motives and I wish you well--every good wishpossible consistent with the interests of the Confederacy. "

As they were passing through the door, he added:

"Say to Mr. Lincoln that I shall at any time be pleased to receiveproposals for peace on the basis of our independence. It will be uselessto approach me with any other. "

Next morning the visitors waited in vain for the appearance of JudgeOuld to convey them once more into the Union lines. Visions of a longterm in prison, to say nothing of a possible hang-man's noose, began tofloat before their excited fancy. They had expected the Judge at eighto'clock. It was three in the afternoon when he entered with the laconicremark:

"Well, gentlemen, if you are ready, we'll walk around to Libby Prison. "

Certain of their doom, the two men rose and spoke in concert:

"We are ready. "

They followed the Judge downstairs and found the same coal black driverwith the rickety team that had brought them into Richmond. 

Gilmore smiled into the Judge's face:

"Why were you so long coming?"

Ould hesitated and laughed:

"I'll tell you when the war's over. Now I'll take you through the Libbyand the hospitals, if you'd like to go. "

When they had visited the prison and hospitals, Gilmore again turned tothe Judge:

"Now, explain to us, please, your delay this morning--we're curious. "

Ould smiled:

"I suppose I'd as well tell you. When I called on Mr. Davis for yourpermit, Mr. Benjamin was there impressing on the President of theConfederate States the absolute necessity of placing you two gentlemenin Castle Thunder until the Northern elections are over. Mr. Benjamin isa very eloquent advocate, and Mr. Davis hesitated. I took issue with theSecretary of State and we had a very exciting argument. The Presidentfinally reserved decision until two o'clock and asked me to call and getit. He handed me your pass with this remark:

"It's probably a bad business for us, but it would alienate many of ourNorthern friends if we should hold on to these gentlemen. "

In two hours the visitors had reached the Union lines, John Vaughan hadobtained his passes and was on his way to Atlanta. 

CHAPTER XXXVIII

THE STOLEN MARCH

John Vaughan's entrance into Atlanta was simple. His credentials fromRichmond were perfect. His exit proved to be a supreme test of hisnerve. 

The two lines of siege and battle stretched in wide semicircle for milesover the ragged wood tangled hills about the little Gate City of theSouth. 

Sherman had fought his way from Chattanooga one hundred and fifty milessince May with consummate skill. His march had been practically acontinuous series of battles, and yet his losses had been small comparedto General Grant's. In killed, wounded and prisoners he had only lostthirty-two thousand men in four months. The Confederate losses had beengreater--at least thirty-five thousand. 

Hood, the new Southern Commander, had given him battle a month beforeand suffered an overwhelming defeat, losing eight thousand men, Shermanbut thirty-seven hundred. The Confederate forces had retired behind theimpregnable fortifications of Atlanta and Sherman lay behind histrenches watching in grim silence. 

The pickets at many places were so close together they could talk. JohnVaughan attempted to slip through at night while they were chaffing oneanother. 

He lay for an hour in the woods near the Southern picket line watchinghis chance. The men were talking continuously. 

"Why the devil don't you all fight?" a grey man called. 

"Uncle Billy says it's cheaper to flank you and make you Johnnies run tocatch up with us. "

"Yes--damn you, and we've got ye now where ye can't do no more flankin'. Ye got ter fight!"

"Trust Uncle Billy for that when the time comes----"

"Yes, and we've got Billy Sherman whar we want him now. We're goin' toblow up every bridge behind ye and ye'll never see home no more----"

"Uncle Billy's got duplicates of all your bridges fast as ye blow 'emup. "

"All right, we're goin' ter blow up the tunnels through themountains----"

"That's nothin'--we got duplicates to all the tunnels, too!"

John Vaughan began to creep toward the Federal lines and muskets blazedfrom both sides. He dropped flat on the ground and it took two hours tocrawl to a place of safety. 

He felt these lines next morning where they were wider apart and foundthem too dangerous to attempt. The pickets, at the point he approached, were in an ugly mood and a desultory fire was kept up all day. The menhad bunched up two together and entrenched themselves, keeping a deadlywatch for the men in blue. He stood for half an hour close enough to seeevery movement of two young pickets who evidently had some score to payand were hunting for their foe with quiet, deadly purpose. 

"There's a Yank behind that clump, " said one. 

"Na--nothin' but a huckleberry bush, " the other replied. 

"Yes there is, too. We'll decoy and pot him. I'll get ready now and youraise your cap on a ramrod above the hole. He'll lift his head to fireand I'll get him. "

The speaker cautiously slipped his musket in place and drew a bead onthe spot. His partner placed his hat on his ramrod and slowly lifted ita foot above their hiding place. 

The hat had scarcely cleared the pile of dirt before the musket flashed. 

"I got him! I told you he was there!"

John turned from the scene with a sense of sickening horror. He woulddie for his country, but he hoped he would not be called on to killagain. 

He made a wide detour and attempted to cross the lines five milesfurther from the city and walked suddenly into a squad of grey soldiersin command of a lieutenant. 

The officer eyed him with suspicion. 

"What's your business here, sir?" he asked sharply. 

"Looking over the lines, " John replied casually. 

"So I see. That's why I asked you. Show your pass. "

"Why, I haven't one. "

"I thought not. You're a damned spy and you'd just as well say yourprayers. I'm going to hang you. "

The men pressed near. Among them was a second lieutenant, a big, strapping, quiet-looking fellow. 

"You've made a mistake, gentlemen, " John protested. 

"I'm a newspaper man from Atlanta. The chief sent me out to look overthe lines and report. "

"It's a lie. We've forbidden every paper in town to dare such athing----"

John smiled:

"That's just why my office sent me, I reckon. "

"Well, he sent you once too often----"

He turned to his orderly:

"Get me a bridle rein off my horse. "

In vain John protested. The Commander shook his head:

"It's no use talking. You've passed the deadline here to-day. This is afavorite spot for scouts to cross. I'm not going to take any chances;I'm going to hang you. "

"Why don't you search me first?"

He was sure that his dangerous message was so skillfully sewed in thesoles of his shoes they would not be discovered. 

"I can search you afterwards, " was the laconic reply. 

He quickly tied the leather strap around his neck and threw the end ofit over a limb. The touch of his hand and the rough way in which he hadtied the leather stirred John Vaughan's rage to boiling point. All senseof danger was lost for the moment in blind anger. He turned suddenly andfaced his executioner:

"This is a damned outrage, sir! Even a spy is entitled to a trial bydrumhead court-martial!"

"Yes, that's what I say, " the big, quiet fellow broke in. 

"I'm in command of this squad!" thundered the lieutenant. 

"I know you are, " was the cool answer, "that's why this outrage is goingto be committed. "

The executioner dropped the rein and faced his subordinate:

"You're going to question my authority?"

"I've already done it, haven't I?"

A quick blow followed. The quiet man, in response, knocked his commanderdown and the men sprang on them as they drew their revolvers. 

John Vaughan, with a sudden leap, reached the dense woods and in fiveminutes was inside Sherman's lines. 

The bridle rein was still around his neck and the blue picket helped himuntie the ugly knot. 

"I've had a close call, " he panted, with a glance toward the woods. 

"You look it, partner. You'll be wantin' to see General Sherman, Iguess?"

"Yes--to headquarters quick--you can't get there too quick to suit me. "

He had recovered his composure before reaching the farm house whereGeneral Sherman and his staff were quartered. 

The day was one of terrific heat--the first of September. ThePresident's description of the famous fighter and the tremendousresponsibility which was now being placed on his shoulders had rousedJohn's curiosity to the highest pitch. 

The General was seated in an arm chair in the yard under a great oak. His coat was unbuttoned and he had tilted back against the tree in acomfortable position reading a newspaper. His black slouch hat waspulled far down over his face. 

John saluted:

"This is General Sherman?"

"Yes, " was the quick, pleasant answer as the tall, gaunt form slowlyrose. 

John noted his striking and powerful personality--the large frame, restless hazel eyes, fine aquiline nose, bronzed features and croppedbeard. His every movement was instinct with the power of perfectphysical manhood, forty-four years old, the incarnation of health andwiry strength. 

"I come from Washington, General, " John continued, "and bear a specialmessage from the President. "

"From the President! Oh, come inside then. "

The tall figure moved with quick, nervous energy. In ten minutescouriers were dashing from his headquarters in every direction. 

At one o'clock that night the big movement of his withdrawal from thesiege lines began. He had no intention of hurling his men against thosedeadly trenches. He believed that with a sure, swift start undiscoveredby the Confederates he could by a single battle turn their lines atJonesboro, destroy the railroad and force General Hood to evacuateAtlanta. 

His sleeping men were carefully waked. Not a single note from bugle ordrum sounded. The wheels of the artillery and wagons were wrapped withcloth and every sound muffled. 

Through pitch darkness in dead silence the men were swung into marchinglines. The moving columns could be felt but not seen. Each soldierfollowed blindly the man before. Somewhere in the black night there mustbe a leader--God knew--they didn't. They walked by faith. The wetgrounds, soaked by recent rains, made their exit easier. The sound ofhorses' hoofs and tramping thousands could scarcely be heard. 

The ranks were strung out in long, ragged lines, each man going as hepleased. Something blocked the way ahead and the columns butted into oneanother and pinched the heels of the men in front. 

In their anger the fellows smarting with pain forgot the orders forsilence. A storm of low muttering and growling rumbled through thedarkness. 

"What 'ell here!"

"What's the matter with you----"

"Keep off my heels!"

"What 'ell are ye runnin' over me for?"

"Hold up your damned gun----"

"Keep it out of my eye, won't you?"

"Damn your eye!"

They start again and run into a bog of mud knee deep cut into mush bythe artillery and wagons which have passed on. 

The first men in line were in to their knees and stuck fast before theycould stop the lines surging on in the dark. They collide with thebogged ones and fall over them. The ranks behind stumble in on top ofthe fallen before word can be passed to halt. 

The night reeks with oaths. The patient heavens reverberate with them. The mud-soaked soldiers damned with equal unction all things visible andinvisible on the earth, under it and above it. They cursed the UnitedStates of America and they damned the Confederate States with equalemphasis and wished them both at the bottom of the lowest depths of thedeepest pit of perdition. 

As one fellow blew the mud from his mouth and nose he bawled:

"I wish Sherman and Hood were both in hell this minute!"

"Yes, and fightin' it out to suit themselves!" his comrade answered. 

On through the black night the long blue lines crept under loweringskies toward their foe, the stern face of William Tecumseh Shermangrimly set on his desperate purpose. 

CHAPTER XXXIX

VICTORY

Betty had found the President at the War Telegraph office in the oldArmy and Navy building. He was seated at the desk by the window where in1862 he had written his first draft of his Emancipation Proclamation onpieces of pasteboard. 

"You have heard nothing yet from General Sherman?" she askedpathetically. 

"Nothing, child. "

"And no message of any kind from John Vaughan since he left!" sheexclaimed hopelessly. 

"But I'm sure, remember, sure to a moral certainty--that he reachedRichmond safely and left there safely. "

"How do you know?"

"Gilmore has just arrived with his reply from Jefferson Davis. It willbe worth a half million votes for us. From his description of the'reporter' with Benjamin I am sure it was our messenger. "

"But you don't know--you don't know!" Betty sighed. 

The President bent and touched her shoulder gently:

"Come, dear, it's not like you to despair----"

The girl smiled wanly. 

"How long since any message arrived from General Sherman?"

"Three days, my child. I know the hole he went in at, but I can't tellwhere he's going to come out----"

"If he ever comes out, " Betty broke in bitterly. 

"Oh, he'll come out somewhere!" the President laughed. "It's a habit ofhis. I've watched him for months--sometimes I can't hear from him for aweek--but he always bobs up again and comes out with a whoop, too----"

"But we've no news!" she interrupted. 

"No news has always been good news from Sherman----"

He paused and looked at his watch:

"Wait here. I'll be back in a few moments. We're bound to hear somethingto-day. I've an engagement with my Committee of Undertakers. They arewaiting for me to deliver my corpse to them--and they are very restlessabout it because I haven't given up sooner, I'm full of foolish hopes. I'm going to adjourn them until we can get a message of some kind----"

He returned in half an hour and sat in silence for a long time listeningto the steady, sharp click of the telegraph keys. 

Betty was too blue to talk--too heartsick to move. 

At last the tall figure rose and walked back among the operators. Theyknew that he was waiting for the magic call, "Atlanta, Georgia. " It hadbeen three years and more since that heading for a message had flashedover their wires. Every ear was keen to catch it. 

The President bent over the table of Southern wires and silentlywatched:

"You can't strain a little message through for me, can you, my boy?"

The operator smiled:

"I wish I could, sir. "

The President returned to the front room and shook his head to Betty:

"Nothing. "

"He entered Atlanta a spy, didn't he?" she said despairingly. 

"Yes--of course. "

"They couldn't execute him without our knowing it, could they?"

"If they trap him--yes--but he's a very intelligent young man. He'll betoo smart for them. I feel it. I know it----"

He stopped and looked at her quizzically:

"I've a sort of second sight that tells me such things. I saw GeneralSickles in the hospital after Gettysburg. They said he couldn't live. Itold him he would get well and he did. "

Again the President returned restlessly to the operator's room and Bettyfollowed him to the door. He waited a long time in silence, shook hishead and turned away. He had almost reached the door when suddenly theoperator sprang to his feet livid with excitement:

"Wait--Mr. President!--It's come--my God, it's here!"

Every operator was on his feet listening in breathless excitement to theclick of that Southern wire. 

The President had rushed back to the table. 

"It's for you, sir!"

"Read it then--out with it as you take it!" he cried. 

"Atlanta, Georgia, September 3rd, 1864. "

"Glory to God!" the President shouted. 

"Atlanta is ours and fairly won. W. T. Sherman. "

"O my soul, lift up thy head!" the sorrowful lips shouted. "Unto thee, OGod, we give all the praise now and forever more!"

He seated himself and quickly wrote his thanks and congratulations:

 "EXECUTIVE MANSION, "WASHINGTON, D. C. "September 3, 1864. 

 "The National thanks are rendered by the President to Major General W. T. Sherman and the gallant officers and soldiers of his command before Atlanta, for the distinguished ability and perseverance displayed in the campaign in Georgia, which under Divine favor has resulted in the capture of Atlanta. The marches, battles and sieges that have signalized this campaign must render it famous in the annals of war, and have entitled you to the applause and thanks of the Nation. 

 "ABRAHAM LINCOLN, "_President of the United States_. "

His sombre eyes flamed with a new light. He took the copy of his messagefrom Sherman and started to the White House with long, swift strides. 

Betty greeted him outside with tearful joy still mixed with deepanxiety. 

"You have no word from him, of course?"

"Not yet, child, but it will come--cheer up--it's sure to come. You seethat he reached Atlanta and delivered my message!"

"We are not sure. The city may have fallen, anyhow----"

"Yes, yes, but it didn't just fall, anyhow. Sherman took it. He got mymessage. I know it. I felt it flash through the air from his soul tomine!"

His faith and enthusiasm were contagious and Betty returned home withnew hope. 

In half an hour the Committee who were waiting for his resignation fromthe National Republican ticket filed into his office to receive as theysupposed his final surrender. 

The Chairman rose with doleful countenance:

"Since leaving you, Mr. President, we have just heard a most painful andstartling announcement from the War Department. We begged you towithhold the new draft for five hundred thousand men until after theelection. Halleck informs us of the discovery of a great combination toresist it by armed force and General Grant must detach a part of hisarmy from Lee's front in order to put down this counter revolution. Thisis the blackest news yet. We trust that you realize the impossibility ofyour administration asking for indorsement at the polls----"

With a sign of final resignation he sat down and the tall, dark figurerose with quick, nervous energy. 

"I, too, have received important news since I saw you an hour ago. "

He held the telegram above his head:

"I'll read it to you without my glasses. I know it by heart. I have justlearned that my administration will be indorsed by an overwhelmingmajority, that the defeat of George B. McClellan and his platform offailure is a certainty. The war to preserve the Union is a success. Thesword has been driven into the heart of the Confederacy. Sherman hascaptured Atlanta--the Union is saved!"

The Committee leaped to their feet with a shout of applause and crowdedaround him to congratulate and praise the man they came to bury. Therewas no longer a question of his resignation. The fall of Atlanta wouldthrill the North. A wave of wild enthusiasm would sweep into the sea thelast trace of gloom and despair. They were practical men--else, as rats, they would never have tried to desert their own ship. They knew that thetide was going to turn, but it was a swift tide that could turn beforethey could!

They wrung the President's hands, they shouted his praise, they hadalways gloried in his administration, but foolish grumblers hadn't beenable to see things as they saw them--hence this hue and cry! Theycongratulated him on his certain triumph and the President watched themgo with a quiet smile. He was too big to cherish resentments. He onlypitied small men, he never hated them. 

CHAPTER XL

WITH MALICE TOWARD NONE

General Grant fired a salute in honor of the Atlanta victory withshotted guns from every battery on his siege lines of thirty-seven milesbefore Richmond and Petersburg. To Sherman he sent a remarkablemessage--the kind which great men know how to pen:

"You have accomplished the most gigantic undertaking given to anyGeneral in this war, with a skill and ability which will be acknowledgedin history as unsurpassed if not unequaled. "

From the depths of despair the North swung to the wildest enthusiasm andin the election which followed Abraham Lincoln was swept into poweragain on a tidal wave. He received in round numbers two million fivehundred thousand votes, McClellan two millions. His majority by Statesin the electoral college was overwhelming--two hundred and twelve to hisopponent's twenty-one. 

The closing words of his second Inaugural rang clear and quivering withemotion over the vast crowd:

"With malice toward none; with charity for all; with firmness in theright, as God gives us to see the right, let us strive on to finish thework we are in; to bind up the nation's wounds; to care for him whoshall have borne the battle, and for his widow and his orphan--to do allwhich may achieve and cherish a just and lasting peace among ourselvesand with all nations. "

As the last echo died away among the marble pillars above, the sun burstthrough the clouds and flooded the scene. A mighty cheer swept thethrong and the guns boomed their second salute. The war was closing inlasting peace and the sun shining on the finished dome of the Capitol ofa new nation. 

Betty Winter, leaning on John Vaughan's arm, was among the first tograsp his big, outstretched hand:

"A glorious day for us, sir, " she cried, "a proud one for you!"

With a far-away look the President slowly answered:

"And all that I am in this world, Miss Betty, I owe to a woman--my angelmother--blessings on her memory!"

"I trust her spirit heard that beautiful speech, " the girl respondedtenderly. 

She paused, looked up at John, blushed and added:

"We are to be married next week, Mr. President----"

"Is it so?" he said joyfully. "I wish I could be there, my children--butI'm afraid 'Old Grizzly' might bite me. So I'll say it now--God blessyou!"

He took their hands in his and pressed them heartily. His eyes suddenlyrested on a shining black face grinning behind John Vaughan. 

"My, my, can this be Julius Cæsar Thornton?" he laughed. 

"Yassah, " the black man grinned. "Hit's me--ole reliable, sah, righthere--I'se gwine ter cook fur 'em!"

 * * * * *

From the moment of Abraham Lincoln's election the end of the war with arestored Union was a foregone conclusion. 

In the fall of Atlanta the heart of the Confederacy was pierced, and itceased to beat. Lee's army, cut off from their supplies, slowly butsurely began to starve behind their impregnable breastworks. Sherman'smarch to the sea and through the Carolinas was merely a torchlightparade. The fighting was done. 

When Lee's emaciated men, living on a handful of parched corn a day, staggered out of their trenches in the spring and tried to joinJohnston's army they marched a few miles to Appomattox, dropping fromexhaustion, and surrendered. 

When the news of this tremendous event reached Washington, the Cabinetwas in session. Led by the President, in silence and tears, they fell ontheir knees in a prayer of solemn thanks to Almighty God. 

General Grant won the gratitude of the South by his generous treatmentof Lee and his ragged men. He had received instructions from the lovingheart in the White House. 

Long before the surrender in April, 1865, the end was sure. ThePresident knowing this, proposed to his Cabinet to give the South fourhundred millions of dollars, the cost of the war for a hundred days, inpayment for their slaves, if they would lay down their arms at once. Hisministers unanimously voted against his offer and he sadly withdrew it. Among all his councillors there was not one whose soul was big enough tounderstand the far-seeing wisdom of his generous plan. He would heal atonce one of the Nation's ugliest wounds by soothing the bitterness ofdefeat. He knew that despair would send the older men of the South totheir graves. 

Edmund Ruffin, who had fired the first shot against Sumter and returnedto his Virginia farm when his State seceded, was a type of these ruined, desperate men. On the day that Lee surrendered he placed the muzzle ofhis gun in his mouth, pulled the trigger with his foot, and blew his ownhead into fragments. 

When Senator Winter demanded proscription and vengeance against theleaders of the Confederacy, the President shook his head:

"No--let down the bars--let them all go--scare them off!"

He threw up his big hands in a vivid gesture as if he were shooing aflock of troublesome sheep out of his garden. 

"Triumphant now, you will receive our enemies with open arms?" theSenator sneered. 

"Enemies? There are no such things. The Southern States have neverreally been out of the Union. Their Acts of Secession were null andvoid. They know now that the issue is forever settled. The restoredUnion will be a real one. The Southern people at heart are law-abiding. It was their reverence for the letter of the old law which led them toignore progress and claim the right to secede under the Constitution. They will be true to Lee's pledge of surrender. I'm going to trust themas my brethren. Let us fold up our banners now and smelt the guns--Loverules--let her mightier purpose run!"

So big and generous, so broad and statesmanlike was his spirit that inthis hour of victory his personality became in a day the soul of the NewRepublic. The South had already unconsciously grown to respect the manwho had loved yet fought her for what he believed to be her highestgood. 

He was entering now a new phase of power. His influence over the peoplewas supreme. No man or set of men in Congress, or outside of it, coulddefeat his policies. Even through the years of stunning defeats andmeasureless despair his enemies had never successfully opposed a measureon which he had set his heart. 

His first great work accomplished in destroying slavery and restoringthe Union, there remained but two tasks on which his soul was set--toheal the bitterness of the war and remove the negro race from physicalcontact with the white. 

He at once addressed himself to this work with enthusiasm. That he coulddo it he never doubted for a moment. 

His first care was to remove the negro soldiers from the country asquickly as possible. He summoned General Butler and set him to work onhis scheme to use these one hundred and eighty thousand black troops todig the Panama Canal. He summoned Bradley, the Vermont contractor, andput him to work on estimates for moving the negroes by ship to Africa orby train to an undeveloped Western Territory. 

His prophetic soul had pierced the future and seen with remorselesslogic that two such races as the Negro and Caucasian could not live sideby side in a free democracy. The Radical theorists of Congress weredemanding that these black men, emerging from four thousand years ofslavery and savagery should receive the ballot and the right to claimthe white man's daughter in marriage. They could only pass thesemeasures over the dead body of Abraham Lincoln. 

The assassin came at last--a vain, foolish dreamer who had long breathedthe poisoned air of hatred. It needed but the flash of this madman'spistol on the night of the 14th of April to reveal the grandeur ofLincoln's character, the marvel of his patience and his wisdom. 

The curtains of the box in Ford's theatre were softly drawn apart by anunseen hand. The Angel of Death entered, paused at the sight of thesmile on his rugged, kindly face, touched the drooping shoulders, calledhim to take the place he had won among earth's immortals and left to us"the gentlest memory of our world. "

THE END