THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME

by

JOHN FOX, JR. 

 To CURRIE DUKE DAUGHTER OF THE CHIEF AMONG MORGAN'S MEN

 KENTUCKY, APRIL, 1898

CONTENTS

 1. TWO RUNAWAYS FROM LONESOME 2. FIGHTING THEIR WAY 3. A "BLAB SCHOOL" ON KINGDOM COME 4. THE COMING OF THE TIDE 5. OUT OF THE WILDERNESS 6. LOST AT THE CAPITAL 7. A FRIEND ON THE ROAD 8. HOME WITH THE MAJOR 9. MARGARET 10. THE BLUEGRASS 11. A TOURNAMENT 12. BACK TO KINGDOM COME 13. ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE 14. THE MAJOR IN THE MOUNTAINS 15. TO COLLEGE IN THE BLUEGRASS 16. AGAIN THE BAR SINISTER 17. CHADWICK BUFORD, GENTLEMAN 18. THE SPIRIT OF '76 AND THE SHADOW OF '61 19. THE BLUE OR THE GRAY 20. OFF TO THE WAR 21. MELISSA 22. MORGAN'S MEN 23. CHAD CAPTURES AN OLD FRIEND 24. A RACE BETWEEN DIXIE AND DAWN 25. AFTER DAWS DILLON--GUERILLA 26. BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER AT LAST 27. AT THE HOSPITAL OF MORGAN'S MEN 28. PALL-BEARERS OF THE LOST CAUSE 29. MELISSA AND MARGARET 30. PEACE 31. THE WESTWARD WAY

THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME

CHAPTER 1

TWO RUNAWAYS FROM LONESOME

The days of that April had been days of mist and rain. Sometimes, forhours, there would come a miracle of blue sky, white cloud, and yellowlight, but always between dark and dark the rain would fall and themist creep up the mountains and steam from the tops--only to rolltogether from either range, drip back into the valleys, and lift, straightway, as mist again. So that, all the while Nature was trying togive lustier life to every living thing in the lowland Bluegrass, allthe while a gaunt skeleton was stalking down the Cumberland--tappingwith fleshless knuckles, now at some unlovely cottage of faded whiteand green, and now at a log cabin, stark and gray. Passing the mouth ofLonesome, he flashed his scythe into its unlifting shadows and wentstalking on. High up, at the source of the dismal little stream, thepoint of the shining blade darted thrice into the open door of a cabinset deep into a shaggy flank of Black Mountain, and three spirits, within, were quickly loosed from aching flesh for the long flight intothe unknown. 

It was the spirit of the plague that passed, taking with it the breathof the unlucky and the unfit: and in the hut on Lonesome three weredead--a gaunt mountaineer, a gaunt daughter, and a gaunt son. Later, the mother, too, "jes' kind o' got tired, " as little Chad said, andsoon to her worn hands and feet came the well-earned rest. Nobody wasleft then but Chad and Jack, and Jack was a dog with a belly to feedand went for less than nothing with everybody but his little master andthe chance mountaineer who had sheep to guard. So, for the fourth time, Chad, with Jack at his heels, trudged up to the point of a wooded spurabove the cabin, where, at the foot of a giant poplar and under awilderness of shaking June leaves, were three piles of rough boards, loosely covering three hillocks of rain-beaten earth; and, near them, an open grave. There was no service sung or spoken over the dead, forthe circuit-rider was then months away; so, unnoticed, Chad stoodbehind the big poplar, watching the neighbors gently let down into theshallow trench a home-made coffin, rudely hollowed from the half of abee-gum log, and, unnoticed, slipped away at the first muffled strokeof the dirt--doubling his fists into his eyes and stumbling against thegnarled bodies of laurel and rhododendron until, out in a clear sunnyspace, he dropped on a thick, velvet mat of moss and sobbed himself tosleep. When he awoke, Jack was licking his face and he sat up, dazedand yawning. The sun was dropping fast, the ravines were filling withblue shadows, luminous and misty, and a far drowsy tinkling from thevalley told him that cows were starting homeward. From habit, he sprangquickly to his feet, but, sharply conscious on a sudden, dropped slowlyback to the moss again, while Jack, who had started down the spur, circled back to see what the matter was, and stood with uplifted foot, much puzzled. 

There had been a consultation about Chad early that morning among theneighbors, and old Nathan Cherry, who lived over on Stone Creek, in thenext cove but one, said that he would take charge of the boy. Nathandid not wait for the burial, but went back home for his wagon, leavingword that Chad was to stay all night with a neighbor and meet him atthe death-stricken cabin an hour by sun. The old man meant to have Chadbound to him for seven years by law--the boy had been told that--andNathan hated dogs as much as Chad hated Nathan. So the lad did not lielong. He did not mean to be bound out, nor to have Jack mistreated, andhe rose quickly and Jack sprang before him down the rocky path andtoward the hut that had been a home to both. Under the poplar, Jacksniffed curiously at the new-made grave, and Chad called him away sosharply that Jack's tail drooped and he crept toward his master, asthough to ask pardon for a fault of which he was not conscious. For onemoment, Chad stood looking. Again the stroke of the falling earth smotehis ears and his eyes filled; a curious pain caught him by the throatand he passed on, whistling--down into the shadows below to the opendoor of the cabin. 

It was deathly still. The homespun bedclothes and hand-made quilts ofbrilliant colors had been thrown in a heap on one of the two beds ofhickory withes; the kitchen utensils--a crane and a few pots andpans--had been piled on the hearth, along with strings of herbs andbeans and red pepper-pods--all ready for old Nathan when he should comeover for them, next morning, with his wagon. Not a living thing was tobe heard or seen that suggested human life, and Chad sat down in thedeepening loneliness, watching the shadows rise up the green walls thatbound him in, and wondering what he should do, and where he should go, if he was not to go to old Nathan; while Jack, who seemed to know thatsome crisis was come, settled on his haunches a little way off, towait, with perfect faith and patience, for the boy to make up his mind. 

It was the first time, perhaps, that Chad had ever thought veryseriously about himself, or wondered who he was, or whence he had come. Digging back into his memory as far as he could, it seemed to him thatwhat had just happened now had happened to him once before, and that hehad simply wandered away. He could not recollect where he had startedfrom first, but he could recall many of the places where he had lived, and why he had left them--usually because somebody, like old Nathan, had wanted to have him bound out, or had misused Jack, or would not letthe two stray off into the woods together, when there was nothing elseto be done. He had stayed longest where he was now, because the old manand his son and his girl had all taken a great fancy to Jack, and hadlet the two guard cattle in the mountains and drive sheep and, if theystayed out in the woods over night, struck neither a stroke of hand nortongue. The old mother had been his mother and, once more, Chad leanedhis head against the worn lintel and wept silently. So far, nobody hadseemed to care particularly who he was, or was not--nor had Chad. Mostpeople were very kind to him, looking upon him as one of the wanderingwaifs that one finds throughout the Cumberland, upon whom the goodfolks of the mountains do not visit the father's sin. He knew what hewas thought to be, and it mattered so little, since it made nodiscrimination against him, that he had accepted it without question. It did not matter now, except as it bore on the question as to where heshould start his feet. It was a long time for him to have stayed in oneplace, and the roving memories, stirred within him now, took root, doubtless, in the restless spirit that had led his unknown ancestorinto those mountain wilds after the Revolution. 

All this while he had been sitting on the low threshold, with hiselbows in the hollows of his thighs and his left hand across his mouth. Once more, he meant to be bound to no man's service and, at the finalthought of losing Jack, the liberty loving little tramp spat over hishand with sharp decision and rose. 

Just above him and across the buck antlers over the door, lay a longflint-lock rifle; a bullet-pouch, a powder-horn, and a smallraccoon-skin haversack hung from one of the prongs: and on them theboy's eyes rested longingly. Old Nathan, he knew, claimed that the deadman had owed him money; and he further knew that old Nathan meant totake all he could lay his hands on in payment: but he climbedresolutely upon a chair and took the things down, arguing the question, meanwhile:

"Uncle Jim said once he aimed to give this rifle gun to me. Mebbe hewas foolin', but I don't believe he owed ole Nathan so much, an', anyways, " he muttered grimly, "I reckon Uncle Jim ud kind o' like ferme to git the better of that ole devil--jes a LEETLE, anyways. "

The rifle, he knew, was always loaded, there was not much powder in thehorn and there were not more than a dozen bullets in the pouch, butthey would last him until he could get far away. No more would he take, however, than what he thought he could get along with--one blanket fromthe bed and, from the fireplace, a little bacon and a pone ofcorn-bread. 

"An' I KNOW Aunt Jane wouldn't 'a' keered about these leetle fixin's, fer I have to have 'em, an' I know I've earned 'em anyways. "

Then he closed the door softly on the spirits of the dead within, andcaught the short, deer skin latch-string to the wooden pin outside. With his Barlow knife, he swiftly stripped a bark string from a pawpawbush near by, folded and tied his blanket, and was swinging the littlepack to his shoulder, when the tinkle of a cow-bell came through thebushes, close at hand. Old Nance, lean and pied, was coming home; hehad forgotten her, it was getting late, and he was anxious to leave forfear some neighbor might come; but there was no one to milk and, whenshe drew near with a low moo, he saw that her udders were full anddripping. It would hurt her to go unmilked, so Chad put his things downand took up a cedar piggin from a shelf outside the cabin and did thetask thoroughly--putting the strippings in a cup and, so strong was thehabit in him, hurrying with both to the rude spring-house and settingthem in cool running water. A moment more and he had his pack and hisrifle on one shoulder and was climbing the fence at the wood-pile. There he stopped once more with a sudden thought, and wrenching loose ashort axe from the face of a hickory log, staggered under the weight ofhis weapons up the mountain. The sun was yet an hour high and, on thespur, he leaned his rifle against the big poplar and set to work withhis axe on a sapling close by--talking frankly now to the God who madehim:

"I reckon You know it, but I'm a-goin' to run away now. I hain't got nodaddy an' no mammy, an' I hain't never had none as I knows--but AuntJane hyeh--she's been jes' like a mother to me an' I'm a-doin' fer herjes' whut I wish You'd have somebody do fer my mother, ef You know wharshe's a-layin'. "

Eight round sticks he cut swiftly--four long and four short--and withthese he built a low pen, as is the custom of the mountaineers, closeabout the fresh mound, and, borrowing a board or two from each of theother mounds, covered the grave from the rain. Then he sunk the axeinto the trunk of the great poplar as high up as he could reach--sothat it could easily be seen--and brushing the sweat from his face, heknelt down:

"God!" he said, simply, "I hain't nothin' but a boy, but I got to acklike a man now. I'm a-goin' now. I don't believe You keer much andseems like I bring ever'body bad luck: an' I'm a-goin' to live up hyehon the mountain jes' as long as I can. I don't want you to think I'ma-complainin'--fer I ain't. Only hit does seem sort o' curious thatYou'd let me be down hyah--with me a-keerint fer nobody now, an' nobodya-keerin' fer me. But Thy ways is inscrutable--leastwise, that's whutthe circuit-rider says--an' I ain't got a word more to say--Amen. "

Chad rose then and Jack, who had sat perfectly still, with his headcocked to one side, and his ears straight forward in wonder over thisstrange proceeding, sprang into the air, when Chad picked up his gun, and, with a joyful bark, circled a clump of bushes and sped back, leaping as high as the little fellow's head and trying to lick hisface--for Jack was a rover, too. 

The sun was low when the two waifs turned their backs upon it, and theblue shadows in valley and ravine were darkening fast. Down the spurthey went swiftly--across the river and up the slope of Pine Mountain. As they climbed, Chad heard the last faint sound of a cow-bell farbelow him and he stopped short, with a lump in his throat that hurt. Soon darkness fell, and, on the very top, the boy made a fire with hisflint and steel, cooked a little bacon, warmed his corn-pone, munchedthem and, wrapping his blanket around him and letting Jack curl intothe hollow of his legs and stomach, turned his face to the kindly starsand went to sleep. 

CHAPTER 2

FIGHTING THEIR WAY

Twice, during the night, Jack roused him by trying to push himselffarther under the blanket and Chad rose to rebuild the fire. The thirdtime he was awakened by the subtle prescience of dawn and his eyesopened on a flaming radiance in the east. Again from habit he startedto spring hurriedly to his feet and, again sharply conscious, he laydown again. There was no wood to cut, no fire to rekindle, no water tocarry from the spring, no cow to milk, no corn to hoe; there wasnothing to do--nothing. Morning after morning, with a day's hard toilat a man's task before him, what would he not have given, when old Jimcalled him, to have stretched his aching little legs down the folds ofthe thick feather-bed and slipped back into the delicious rest of sleepand dreams? Now he was his own master and, with a happy sense offreedom, he brushed the dew from his face and, shifting the chunk underhis head, pulled his old cap down a little more on one side and closedhis eyes. But sleep would not come and Chad had his first wonder overthe perverse result of the full choice to do, or not to do. At once, the first keen savor of freedom grew less sweet to his nostrils and, straightway, he began to feel the first pressure of the chain of dutiesthat was to be forged for him out of his perfect liberty, link by link, and he lay vaguely wondering. 

Meanwhile, the lake of dull red behind the jagged lines of rose andcrimson that streaked the east began to glow and look angry. A sheen offiery vapor shot upward and spread swiftly over the miracle of mistthat had been wrought in the night. An ocean of it and, white and thickas snowdust, it filled valley, chasm, and ravine with mystery andsilence up to the dark jutting points and dark waving lines of rangeafter range that looked like breakers, surged up by some strange newlaw from an under-sea of foam; motionless, it swept down the valleys, poured swift torrents through high gaps in the hills and one longnoiseless cataract over a lesser range--all silent, all motionless, like a great white sea stilled in the fury of a storm. Morning aftermorning, the boy had looked upon just such glory, calmly watching themist part, like the waters, for the land, and the day break, with onephrase, "Let there be light, " ever in his mind--for Chad knew hisBible. And, most often, in soft splendor, trailing cloud-mist, andyellow light leaping from crest to crest, and in the singing of birdsand the shining of leaves and dew--there was light. 

But that morning there was a hush in the woods that Chad understood. Ona sudden, a light wind scurried through the trees and showered themistdrops down. The smoke from his fire shot through the lowundergrowth, without rising, and the starting mists seemed to clutchwith long, white fingers at the tree-tops, as though loath to leave thesafe, warm earth for the upper air. A little later, he felt some greatshadow behind him, and he turned his face to see black cloudsmarshalling on either flank of the heavens and fitting their blackwings together, as though the retreating forces of the night weregathering for a last sweep against the east. A sword flashed blindinglyfrom the dome high above them and, after it, came one shaking peal thatmight have been the command to charge, for Chad saw the black hostsstart fiercely. Afar off, the wind was coming; the trees began to swayabove him, and the level sea of mist below began to swell, and thewooded breakers seemed to pitch angrily. 

Challenging tongues ran quivering up the east, and the lake of redcoals under them began to heave fiercely in answer. On either side thelightning leaped upward and forward, striking straight and low, sometimes, as though it were ripping up the horizon to let into theconflict the host of dropping stars. Then the artillery of the thundercrashed in earnest through the shaking heavens, and the mists belowpitched like smoke belched from gigantic unseen cannon. The coming sunanswered with upleaping swords of fire and, as the black thunder hostsswept overhead, Chad saw, for one moment, the whole east in a writhingstorm of fire. A thick darkness rose from the first crash of battleand, with the rush of wind and rain, the mighty conflict went on unseen. 

Chad had seen other storms at sunrise, but something happened now andhe could never recall the others nor ever forget this. All it meant tohim, young as he was then, was unrolled slowly as the years cameon--more than the first great rebellion of the powers of darkness when, in the beginning, the Master gave the first command that the sevendays' work of His hand should float through space, smitten with thewelcoming rays of a million suns; more than the beginning thus oflight--of life; more even than the first birth of a spirit in a livingthing: for, long afterward, he knew that it meant the dawn of a newconsciousness to him--the birth of a new spirit within him, and theforeshadowed pain of its slow mastery over his passion-racked body andheart. Never was there a crisis, bodily or spiritual, on thebattle-field or alone under the stars, that this storm did not comeback to him. And, always, through all doubt, and, indeed, in the endwhen it came to him for the last time on his bed of death, the slow andsullen dispersion of wind and rain on the mountain that morning far, far back in his memory, and the quick coming of the Sun-king'svictorious light over the glad hills and trees held out to him thepromise of a final victory to the Sun-king's King over the darkness ofall death and the final coming to his own brave spirit of peace andrest. 

So Chad, with Jack drawn close to him, lay back, awe-stricken and withhis face wet from mysterious tears. The comfort of the childishself-pity that came with every thought of himself, wandering, a lostspirit along the mountain-tops, was gone like a dream and ready in hisheart was the strong new purpose to strike into the world for himself. He even took it as a good omen, when he rose, to find his firequenched, the stopper of his powder-horn out, and the precious blackgrains scattered hopelessly on the wet earth. There were barely morethan three charges left, and something had to be done at once. First, he must get farther away from old Nathan: the neighbors might searchfor him and find him and take him back. 

So he started out, brisk and shivering, along the ridge path with Jackbouncing before him. An hour later, he came upon a hollow tree, filledwith doty wood which he could tear out with his hands and he built afire and broiled a little more bacon. 

Jack got only a bit this time and barked reproachfully for more; butChad shook his head and the dog started out, with both eyes open, tolook for his own food. The sun was high enough now to make the drenchedworld flash like an emerald and its warmth felt good, as Chad trampedthe topmost edge of Pine Mountain, where the brush was not thick andwhere, indeed, he often found a path running a short way and turninginto some ravine--the trail of cattle and sheep and the pathway betweenone little valley settlement and another. He must have made ten milesand more by noon--for he was a sturdy walker and as tireless almost asJack--and ten miles is a long way in the mountains, even now. So, already, Chad was far enough away to have no fear of pursuit, even ifold Nathan wanted him back, which was doubtful. On the top of the nextpoint, Jack treed a squirrel and Chad took a rest and brought him down, shot through the head and, then and there, skinned and cooked him anddivided with Jack squarely. 

"Jack, " he said, as he reloaded his gun, "we can't keep this up muchlonger. I hain't got more'n two more loads o' powder here. "

And, thereupon, Jack leaped suddenly in the air and, turning quitearound, lighted with his nose pointed, as it was before he sprang. Chadcocked the old gun and stepped forward. A low hissing whir rose a fewfeet to one side of the path and, very carefully, the boy climbed afallen trunk and edged his way, very carefully, toward the sound: andthere, by a dead limb and with his ugly head reared three inches abovehis coil of springs, was a rattlesnake. The sudden hate in the boy'sface was curious--it was instinctive, primitive, deadly. He must shootoff-hand now and he looked down the long barrel, shaded with tin, untilthe sight caught on one of the beady, unblinking eyes and pulled thetrigger. Jack leaped with the sound, in spite of Chad's yell ofwarning, which was useless, for the ball had gone true and the poisonwas set loose in the black, crushed head. 

"Jack, " said Chad, "we just GOT to go down now. "

So they went on swiftly through the heat of the early afternoon. It wasvery silent up there. Now and then, a brilliant blue-jay would liltfrom a stunted oak with the flute-like love-notes of spring; or alonely little brown fellow would hop with a low chirp from one bush toanother as though he had been lost up there for years and had grownquite hopeless about seeing his kind again. When there was a gap in themountains, he could hear the querulous, senseless love-quarrel offlickers going on below him; passing a deep ravine, the note of thewood-thrush--that shy lyrist of the hills--might rise to him from adense covert of maple and beech: or, with a startling call, ared-crested cock of the woods would beat his white-striped wings fromspur to spur, as though he were keeping close to the long swells of anunseen sea. Several times, a pert flicker squatting like a knot to adead limb or the crimson plume of a cock of the woods, as plain as asplash of blood on a wall of vivid green, tempted him to let loose hislast load, but he withstood them. A little later, he saw a freshbear-track near a spring below the head of a ravine; and, later still, he heard the far-away barking of a hound and a deer leaped lightly intoan open sunny spot and stood with uplifted hoof and pointed ears. Thiswas too much and the boy's gun followed his heart to his throat, butthe buck sprang lightly into the bush and vanished noiselessly. 

The sun had dropped midway between the zenith and the blue bulksrolling westward and, at the next gap, a broader path ran through itand down the mountain. This, Chad knew, led to a settlement and, with alast look of choking farewell to his own world, he turned down. Atonce, the sense of possible human companionship was curiously potent:at once, the boy's half-wild manner changed and, though alert and stillwatchful, he whistled cheerily to Jack, threw his gun over hisshoulder, and walked erect and confident. His pace slackened. Carelessly now his feet tramped beds of soft exquisite moss and lonelittle settlements of forget-me-nots, and his long riflebarrel brushedlaurel blossoms down in a shower behind him. Once even, he picked upone of the pretty bells and looked idly at it, turning it bottomupward. The waxen cup might have blossomed from a tiny waxen star. There was a little green star for a calyx; above this, a little whitestar with its prongs outstretched--tiny arms to hold up thepink-flecked chalice for the rain and dew. There came a time when hethought of it as a star-blossom; but now his greedy tongue swept thehoney from it and he dropped it without another thought to the ground. At the first spur down which the road turned, he could see smoke in thevalley. The laurel blooms and rhododendron bells hung in thickerclusters and of a deeper pink. Here and there was a blossoming wildcucumber and an umbrella-tree with huger flowers and leaves; and, sometimes, a giant magnolia with a thick creamy flower that the boycould not have spanned with both hands and big, thin oval leaves, aman's stride from tip to stem. Soon, he was below the sunlight and inthe cool shadows where the water ran noisily and the air hummed withthe wings of bees. On the last spur, he came upon a cow browsing onsassafras-bushes right in the path and the last shadow of hisloneliness straightway left him. She was old, mild, and unfearing, andshe started down the road in front of him as though she thought he hadcome to drive her home, or as though she knew he was homeless and wasleading him to shelter. A little farther on, the river flashed up awelcome to him through the trees and at the edge of the water, hermellow bell led him down stream and he followed. In the next hollow, hestooped to drink from a branch that ran across the road and, when herose to start again, his bare feet stopped as though riven suddenly tothe ground; for, half way up the next low slope, was another figure asmotionless as his--with a bare head, bare feet, a startled face andwide eyes--but motionless only until the eyes met his: then there was aflash of bright hair and scarlet homespun, and the little feet, thathad trod down the centuries to meet his, left the earth as though theyhad wings and Chad saw them, in swift flight, pass silently over thehill. The next moment, Jack came too near the old brindle and, with asweep of her horns at him and a toss of tail and heels in the air, she, too, swept over the slope and on, until the sound of her bell passedout of hearing. Even to-day, in lonely parts of the Cumberland, thesudden coming of a stranger may put women and children toflight--something like this had happened before to Chad--but the suddendesertion and the sudden silence drew him in a flash back to the lonelycabin he had left and the lonely graves under the big poplar and, witha quivering lip, he sat down. Jack, too, dropped to his haunches andsat hopeless, but not for long. The chill of night was coming on andJack was getting hungry. So he rose presently and trotted ahead andsquatted again, looking back and waiting. But still Chad sat irresoluteand in a moment, Jack heard something that disturbed him, for he threwhis ears toward the top of the hill and, with a growl, trotted back toChad and sat close to him, looking up the slope. Chad rose then withhis thumb on the lock of his gun and over the hill came a tall figureand a short one, about Chad's size and a dog, with white feet and whiteface, that was bigger than Jack: and behind them, three more figures, one of which was the tallest of the group. All stopped when they sawChad, who dropped the butt of his gun at once to the ground. At oncethe strange dog, with a low snarl, started down toward the two littlestrangers with his yellow ears pointed, the hair bristling along hisback, and his teeth in sight. Jack answered the challenge with an eagerwhimper, but dropped his tail, at Chad's sharp command--for Chad didnot care to meet the world as an enemy, when he was looking for afriend. The group stood dumb with astonishment for a moment and thesmall boy's mouth was wide-open with surprise, but the strange dog cameon with his tail rigid, and lifting his feet high. 

"Begone!" said Chad, sharply, but the dog would not begone; he stillcame on as though bent on a fight. 

"Call yo' dog off, " Chad called aloud. "My dog'll kill him. You bettercall him off, " he called again, in some concern, but the tall boy infront laughed scornfully. 

"Let's see him, " he said, and the small one laughed, too. 

Chad's eyes flashed--no boy can stand an insult to his dog--and thecurves of his open lips snapped together in a straight red line. "Allright, " he said, placidly, and, being tired, he dropped back on a stoneby the wayside to await results. The very tone of his voice struck allshackles of restraint from Jack, who, with a springy trot, went forwardslowly, as though he were making up a definite plan of action; for Jackhad a fighting way of his own, which Chad knew. 

"Sick him, Whizzer!" shouted the tall boy, and the group of fivehurried eagerly down the hill and halted in a half circle about Jackand Chad; so that it looked an uneven conflict, indeed, for the twowaifs from over Pine Mountain. 

The strange dog was game and wasted no time. With a bound he caughtJack by the throat, tossed him several feet away, and sprang for himagain. Jack seemed helpless against such strength and fury, but Chad'sface was as placid as though it had been Jack who was playing thewinning game. 

Jack himself seemed little disturbed; he took his punishment without anoutcry of rage or pain. You would have thought he had quietly come tothe conclusion that all he could hope to do was to stand the strainuntil his opponent had worn himself out. But that was not Jack's game, and Chad knew it. The tall boy was chuckling, and his brother of Chad'sage was bent almost double with delight. 

"Kill my dawg, will he?" he cried, shrilly. 

"Oh, Lawdy!" groaned the tall one. 

Jack was much bitten and chewed by this time, and, while his pluck andpurpose seemed unchanged, Chad had risen to his feet and was beginningto look anxious. The three silent spectators behind pressed forwardand, for the first time, one of these--the tallest of the group--spoke:

"Take yo' dawg off, Daws Dillon, " he said, with quiet authority; butDaws shook his head, and the little brother looked indignant. 

"He said he'd kill him, " said Daws, tauntingly. 

"Yo' dawg's bigger and hit ain't fair, " said the other again and, seeing Chad's worried look, he pressed suddenly forward; but Chad hadbegun to smile, and was sitting down on his stone again. Jack hadleaped this time, with his first growl during the fight, and Whizzergave a sharp cry of surprise and pain. Jack had caught him by thethroat, close behind the jaws, and the big dog shook and growled andshook again. Sometimes Jack was lifted quite from the ground, but heseemed clamped to his enemy to stay. Indeed he shut his eyes, finally, and seemed to go quite to sleep. The big dog threshed madly and swungand twisted, howling with increasing pain and terror and increasingweakness, while Jack's face was as peaceful as though he were a puppyonce more and hanging to his mother's neck instead of her breast, asleep. By and by, Whizzer ceased to shake and began to pant; and, thereupon, Jack took his turn at shaking, gently at first, but withmaddening regularity and without at all loosening his hold. The big dogwas too weak to resist soon and, when Jack began to jerk savagely, Whizzer began to gasp. 

"You take YO' dawg off, " called Daws, sharply. 

Chad never moved. 

"Will you say 'nough for him?" he asked, quietly; and the tall one ofthe silent three laughed. 

"Call him off, I tell ye, " repeated Daws, savagely; but again Chadnever moved, and Daws started for a club. Chad's new friend cameforward. 

"Hol'on, now, hol'on, " he said, easily. "None o' that, I reckon. "

Daws stopped with an oath. "Whut you got to do with this, Tom Turner?"

"You started this fight, " said Tom. 

"I don't keer ef I did--take him off, " Daws answered, savagely. 

"Will you say 'nough fer him?" said Chad again, and again Tall Tomchuckled. The little brother clinched his fists and turned white withfear for Whizzer and fury for Chad, while Daws looked at the tallTurner, shook his head from side to side, like a balking steer, anddropped his eyes. 

"Y-e-s, " he said, sullenly. 

"Say it, then, " said Chad, and this time Tall Tom roared aloud, andeven his two silent brothers laughed. Again Daws, with a furious oath, started for the dogs with his club, but Chad's ally stepped between. 

"You say 'nough, Daws Dillon, " he said, and Daws looked into the quiethalf-smiling face and at the stalwart two grinning behind. 

"Takin' up agin yo' neighbors fer a wood-colt, air ye?"

"I'm a-takin' up fer what's right and fair. How do you know he's awood-colt--an' suppose he is? You say 'nough now, or--"

Again Daws looked at the dogs. Jack had taken a fresh grip and wasshaking savagely and steadily. Whizzer's tongue was out--once histhroat rattled. 

"Nough!" growled Daws, angrily, and the word was hardly jerked from hislips before Chad was on his feet and prying Jack's jaws apart. "Heain't much hurt, " he said, looking at the bloody hold which Jack hadclamped on his enemy's throat, "but he'd a-killed him though, he al'aysdoes. Thar ain't no chance fer NO dog, when Jack gits THAT hold. "

Then he raised his eyes and looked into the quivering face of the ownerof the dog--the little fellow--who, with the bellow of a yearling bull, sprang at him. Again Chad's lips took a straight red line and being onone knee was an advantage, for, as he sprang up, he got both underholdsand there was a mighty tussle, the spectators yelling with franticdelight. 

"Trip him, Tad, " shouted Daws, fiercely. 

"Stick to him, little un, " shouted Tom, and his brothers, stoical Dolphand Rube, danced about madly. Even with underholds, Chad, being muchthe shorter of the two, had no advantage that he did not need, and, with a sharp thud, the two fierce little bodies struck the road side byside, spurting up a cloud of dust. 

"Dawg--fall!" cried Rube, and Dolph rushed forward to pull thecombatants apart. 

"He don't fight fair, " said Chad, panting, and rubbing his right eyewhich his enemy had tried to "gouge"; "but lemme at him--I can fightthataway, too. " Tall Tom held them apart. 

"You're too little, and he don't fight fair. I reckon you better go onhome--you two--an' yo' mean dawg, " he said to Daws; and the twoDillons--the one sullen and the other crying with rage--moved away withWhizzer slinking close to the ground after them. But at the top of thehill both turned with bantering yells, derisive wriggling of theirfingers at their noses, and with other rude gestures. And, thereupon, Dolph and Rube wanted to go after them, but the tall brother stoppedthem with a word. 

"That's about all they're fit fer, " he said, contemptuously, and heturned to Chad. 

"Whar you from, little man, an' whar you goin', an' what mought yo'name be?"

Chad told his name, and where he was from, and stopped. 

"Whar you goin'?" said Tom again, without a word or look of comment. 

Chad knew the disgrace and the suspicion that his answer was likely togenerate, but he looked his questioner in the face fearlessly. 

"I don't know whar I'm goin'. "

The big fellow looked at him keenly, but kindly. 

"You ain't lyin' an' I reckon you better come with us. " He turned forthe first time to his brothers and the two nodded. 

"You an' yo' dawg, though Mammy don't like dawgs much; but you air astranger an' you ain't afeerd, an' you can fight--you an' yo' dawg--an'I know Dad'll take ye both in. "

So Chad and Jack followed the long strides of the three Turners overthe hill and to the bend of the river, where were three long canefishing-poles with their butts stuck in the mud--the brothers had beenfishing, when the flying figure of the little girl told them of thecoming of a stranger into those lonely wilds. Taking these up, theystrode on--Chad after them and Jack trotting, in cheerful confidence, behind. It is probable that Jack noticed, as soon as Chad, the swirl ofsmoke rising from a broad ravine that spread into broad fields, skirtedby the great sweep of the river, for he sniffed the air sharply, andtrotted suddenly ahead. It was a cheering sight for Chad. Two negroslaves were coming from work in a corn-field close by, and Jack's hairrose when he saw them, and, with a growl, he slunk behind his master. Dazed, Chad looked at them. 

"Whut've them fellers got on their faces?" he asked. Tom laughed. 

"Hain't you nuver seed a nigger afore?" he asked. 

Chad shook his head. 

"Lots o' folks from yo' side o' the mountains nuver have seed anigger, " said Tom. "Sometimes hit skeers 'em. "

"Hit don't skeer me, " said Chad. 

At the gate of the barn-yard, in which was a long stable with a deeplysloping roof, stood the old brindle cow, who turned to look at Jack, and, as Chad followed the three brothers through the yard gate, he sawa slim scarlet figure vanish swiftly from the porch into the house. 

In a few minutes, Chad was inside the big log cabin and before a biglog-fire, with Jack between his knees and turning his soft human eyeskeenly from one to another of the group about his little master, telling how the mountain cholera had carried off the man and the womanwho had been father and mother to him, and their children; at which theold mother nodded her head in growing sympathy, for there were twofresh mounds in her own graveyard on the point of a low hill not faraway; how old Nathan Cherry, whom he hated, had wanted to bind him out, and how, rather than have Jack mistreated and himself be ill-used, hehad run away along the mountain-top; how he had slept one night under alog with Jack to keep him warm; how he had eaten sassafras and birchback and had gotten drink from the green water-bulbs of the wildhoneysuckle; and how, on the second day, being hungry, and withoutpowder for his gun, he had started, when the sun sank, for the shadowsof the valley at the mouth of Kingdom Come. Before he was done, the oldmother knocked the ashes from her clay pipe and quietly went into thekitchen, and Jack, for all his good manners, could not restrain a whineof eagerness when he heard the crackle of bacon in a frying-pan and thedelicious smell of it struck his quivering nostrils. After dark, oldJoel, the father of the house, came in--a giant in size and a mightyhunter--and he slapped his big thighs and roared until the raftersseemed to shake when Tall Tom told him about the dog-fight and theboy-fight with the family in the next cove: for already the clanshipwas forming that was to add the last horror to the coming great war andprolong that horror for nearly half a century after its close. 

By and by, the scarlet figure of little Melissa came shyly out of thedark shadows behind and drew shyly closer and closer, until she wascrouched in the chimney corner with her face shaded from the fire byone hand and a tangle of yellow hair, listening and watching him withher big, solemn eyes, quite fearlessly. Already the house was full ofchildren and dependents, but no word passed between old Joel and theold mother, for no word was necessary. Two waifs who had so sufferedand who could so fight could have a home under that roof if theypleased, forever. And Chad's sturdy little body lay deep in afeather-bed, and the friendly shadows from a big fireplace flickeredhardly thrice over him before he was asleep. And Jack, for that nightat least, was allowed to curl up by the covered coals, or stretch outhis tired feet, if he pleased, to a warmth that in all the nights ofhis life, perhaps, he had never known before. 

CHAPTER 3. 

A "BLAB SCHOOL" ON KINGDOM COME

Chad was awakened by the touch of a cold nose at his ear, the rasp of awarm tongue across his face, and the tug of two paws at his cover. "Gitdown, Jack!" he said, and Jack, with a whimper of satisfaction, wentback to the fire that was roaring up the chimney, and a deep voicelaughed and called:

"I reckon you better git UP, little man!"

Old Joel was seated at the fire with his huge legs crossed and a pipein his mouth. It was before busily astir. There was the sound oftramping in the frosty air outside and the noise of getting breakfastready in the kitchen. As Chad sprang up, he saw Melissa's yellow hairdrop out of sight behind the foot of the bed in the next corner, and heturned his face quickly, and, slipping behind the foot of his own bedand into his coat and trousers, was soon at the fire himself, with oldJoel looking him over with shrewd kindliness. 

"Yo' dawg's got a heap o' sense, " said the old hunter, and Chad toldhim how old Jack was, and how a cattle-buyer from the "settlements" ofthe Bluegrass had given him to Chad when Jack was badly hurt and hisowner thought he was going to die. And how Chad had nursed him and howthe two had always been together ever since. Through the door of thekitchen, Chad could see the old mother with her crane and pots andcooking-pans; outside, he could hear the moo of the old brindle, thebleat of her calf, the nicker of a horse, one lusty sheep-call, and thehungry bellow of young cattle at the barn, where Tall Tom was feedingthe stock. Presently Rube stamped in with a back log and Dolph camethrough with a milk-pail. 

"I can milk, " said Chad, eagerly, and Dolph laughed. 

"All right, I'll give ye a chance, " he said, and old Joel lookedpleased, for it was plain that the little stranger was not going to bea drone in the household, and, taking his pipe from his mouth butwithout turning his head, he called out:

"Git up thar, Melissy. "

Getting no answer, he looked around to find Melissa standing at thefoot of the bed. 

"Come here to the fire, little gal, nobody's agoin to eat ye. "

Melissa came forward, twisting her hands in front of her, and stood, rubbing one bare foot over the other on the hearth-stones. She turnedher face with a blush when Chad suddenly looked at her, and, thereafter, the little man gazed steadily into the fire in order toembarrass her no more. 

With the breaking of light over the mountain, breakfast was over andthe work of the day began. Tom was off to help a neighbor "snake" logsdown the mountain and into Kingdom Come, where they would be "rafted"and floated on down the river to the capital--if a summer tide shouldcome--to be turned into fine houses for the people of the Bluegrass. Dolph and Rube disappeared at old Joel's order to "go meet them sheep. "Melissa helped her mother clear away the table and wash the dishes; andChad, out of the tail of his eye, saw her surreptitiously feedinggreedy Jack, while old Joel still sat by the fire, smoking silently. Chad stepped outside. The air was chill, but the mists were rising anda long band of rich, warm light lay over a sloping spur up the river, and where this met the blue morning shadows, the dew was beginning todrip and to sparkle. Chad could nor stand inaction long, and his eyelighted up when he heard a great bleating at the foot of the spur andthe shouts of men and boys. Just then the old mother called from therear of the cabin. 

"Joel, them sheep air comin'!"

The big form of the old hunter filled the doorway and Jack bounded outbetween his legs, while little Melissa appeared with two books, readyfor school. Down the road came the flock of lean mountain-sheep, Dolphand Rube driving them. Behind, slouched the Dillon tribe--Daws andWhizzer and little Tad; Daws's father, old Tad, long, lean, stooping, crafty: and two new ones cousins to Daws--Jake and Jerry, the gianttwins. "Joel Turner, " said old Tad, sourly, "here's yo' sheep!"

Joel had bought the Dillons' sheep and meant to drive them to thecounty-seat ten miles down the river. There had evidently been adisagreement between the two when the trade was made, for Joel pulledout a gray pouch of coonskin, took from it a roll of bills, and, without counting them, held them out. 

"Tad Dillon, " he said, shortly, "here's yo' money!"

The Dillon father gave possession with a gesture and the Dillonfaction, including Whizzer and the giant twins, drew asidetogether--the father morose; Daws watching Dolph and Rube with a lookof much meanness; little Tad behind him, watching Chad, his facescrewed up with hate; and Whizzer, pretending not to see Jack, butdarting a surreptitious glance at him now and then, for then and therewas starting a feud that was to run fiercely on, long after the war wasdone. 

"Git my hoss, Rube, " said old Joel, and Rube turned to the stable, while Dolph kept an eye on the sheep, which were lying on the road orstraggling down the river. As Rube opened the stable-door, a dirtywhite object bounded out, and Rube, with a loud curse, tumbled overbackward into the mud, while a fierce old ram dashed with a triumphantbleat for the open gate. Beelzebub, as the Turner mother had christenedthe mischievous brute, had been placed in the wrong stall and Beelzebubwas making for freedom. He gave another triumphant baa as he sweptbetween Dolph's legs and through the gate, and, with an answeringchorus, the silly sheep sprang to their feet and followed. A sheephates water, but not more than he loves a leader, and Beelzebub fearednothing. Straight for the water of the low ford the old conqueror madeand, in the wake of his masterful summons, the flock swept, like aMormon household, after him. Then was there a commotion indeed. OldJoel shouted and swore; Dolph shouted and swore and Rube shouted andswore. Old Dillon smiled grimly, Daws and little Tad shouted withderisive laughter, and the big twins grinned. The mother came to thedoor, broom in hand, and, with a frowning face, watched the sheepsplash through the water and into the woods across the river. LittleMelissa looked frightened. Whizzer, losing his head, had run down afterthe sheep, barking and hastening their flight, until called back with amighty curse from old Joel, while Jack sat on his haunches looking atChad and waiting for orders. 

"Goddlemighty!" said Joel, "how air we goin' to git them sheep back?"Up and up rose the bleating and baaing, for Beelzebub, like the princeof devils that he was, seemed bent on making all the mischief possible. 

"How AIR we goin' to git 'em back?"

Chad nodded then, and Jack with an eager yelp made for theriver--Whizzer at his heels. Again old Joel yelled furiously, as didDolph and Rube, and Whizzer stopped and turned back with a droopingtail, but Jack plunged in. He knew but one voice behind him and Chad'swas not in the chorus. 

"Call yo' dawg back, boy, " said Joel, sternly, and Chad opened his lipswith anything but a call for Jack to come back--it was instead a finehigh yell of encouragement and old Joel was speechless. 

"That dawg'll kill them sheep, " said Daws Dillon aloud. 

Joel's face was red and his eyes rolled. 

"Call that damned feist back, I tell ye, " he shouted at last. "Hyeh, Rube, git my gun, git my gun!"

Rube started for the house, but Chad laughed. Jack had reached theother bank now, and was flashing like a ball of gray light through theweeds and up into the woods; and Chad slipped down the bank and intothe river, hieing him on excitedly. 

Joel was beside himself and he, too, lumbered down to the river, followed by Dolph, while the Dillons roared from the road. 

"Boy!" he roared. "Eh, boy, eh! what's his name, Dolph? Call him back, Dolph, call the little devil back. If I don't wear him out with ahickory; holler fer 'em, damn 'em! Heh-o-oo-ee!" The old hunter'sbellow rang through the woods like a dinner-horn. Dolph was shouting, too, but Jack and Chad seemed to have gone stone-deaf; and Rube, whohad run down with the gun, started with an oath into the river himself, but Joel halted him. 

"Hol'on, hol'on!" he said, listening. "By the eternal, he's a-roundin''em up!" The sheep were evidently much scattered, to judge from thebleating, but here, there, and everywhere, they could hear Jack's bark, while Chad seemed to have stopped in the woods and, from one place, wasshouting orders to his dog. Plainly, Jack was no sheep-killer and byand by Dolph and Rube left off shouting, and old Joel's face becameplacid and all of them from swearing helplessly fell to waitingquietly. Soon the bleating became less and less, and began toconcentrate on the mountain-side. Not far below, they could hear Chad:

"Coo-oo-sheep! Coo-oo-sh'p-cooshy-cooshy-coo-oo-sheep!"

The sheep were answering. They were coming down a ravine, and Chad'svoice rang out above:

"Somebody come across, an' stand on each side o' the holler. "

Dolph and Rube waded across then, and soon the sheep came crowding downthe narrow ravine with Jack barking behind them and Chad shooing themdown. But for Dolph and Rube, Beelzebub would have led them up or downthe river, and it was hard work to get him into the water until Jack, who seemed to know what the matter was, sharply nipped several sheepnear him. These sprang violently forward, the whole flock in frontpushed forward, too, and Beelzebub was thrust from the bank. Nothingelse being possible, the old ram settled himself with a snort into thewater and made for the other shore. Chad and Jack followed and, whenthey reached the road, Beelzebub was again a prisoner; the sheep, swollen like sponges, were straggling down the river, and Dillons andTurners were standing around in silence. Jack shook himself and droppedpanting in the dust at his master's feet, without so much as an upwardglance or a lift of his head for a pat of praise. As old Joel raisedone foot heavily to his stirrup, he grunted, quietly:

"Well, I be damned. " And when he was comfortably in his saddle he saidagain, with unction:

"I DO be damned. I'll just take that dawg to help drive them sheep downto town. Come on, boy. "

Chad started joyfully, but the old mother called from the door: "Who'sa-goin' to take this gal to school, I'd like to know?"

Old Joel pulled in his horse, straightened one leg, and looked allaround--first at the Dillons, who had started away, then at Dolph andRube, who were moving determinedly after the sheep (it was Court Day intown and they could not miss Court Day), and then at Chad, who halted. 

"Boy, " he said, "don't you want to go to school--you ought to go toschool?"

"Yes, " said Chad, obediently, though the trip to town--and Chad hadnever been to a town--was a sore temptation. 

"Go on, then, an' tell the teacher I sent ye. Here, Mammy--eh, what'syo' name, boy? Oh, Mammy--Chad, here 'll take her. Take good keer o'that gal, boy, an' learn yo' a-b-abs like a man now. "

Melissa came shyly forward from the door and Joel whistled to Jack andcalled him, but Jack though he liked nothing better than to drive sheeplay still, looking at Chad. 

"Go 'long, Jack, " said Chad, and Jack sprang up and was off, though hestopped again and looked back, and Chad had to tell him again to go on. In a moment dog, men, and sheep were moving in a cloud of dust around abend in the road and little Melissa was at the gate. 

"Take good keer of 'Lissy, " said the mother from the porch, kindly; andChad, curiously touched all at once by the trust shown him, stalkedahead like a little savage, while Melissa with her basket followedsilently behind. The boy never thought of taking the basket himself:that is not the way of men with women in the hills and not once did helook around or speak on the way up the river and past the blacksmith'sshop and the grist-mill just beyond the mouth of Kingdom Come; but whenthey arrived at the log school-house it was his turn to be shy and hehung back to let Melissa go in first. Within, there was no floor butthe bare earth, no window but the cracks between the logs, and no desksbut the flat sides of slabs, held up by wobbling pegs. On one side weregirls in linsey and homespun: some thin, undersized, underfed, and withweak, dispirited eyes and yellow tousled hair; others, round-faced, round-eyed, dark, and sturdy; most of them large-waisted andround-shouldered--especially the older ones--from work in the fields;but, now and then, one like Melissa, the daughter of a valley farmer, erect, agile, spirited, intelligent. On the other side were the boys, in physical characteristics the same and suggesting the same socialdivisions: at the top the farmer--now and then a slave-holder andperhaps of gentle blood--who had dropped by the way on the westwardmarch of civilization and had cleared some rich river bottom and aneighboring summit of the mountains, where he sent his sheep and cattleto graze; where a creek opened into this valley some free-settler, whose grandfather had fought at King's Mountain--usually ofScotch-Irish descent, often English, but sometimes German or sometimeseven Huguenot--would have his rude home of logs; under him, and inwretched cabins at the head of the creek or on the washed spur of themountain above, or in some "deadenin"' still higher up and swept bymists and low-trailing clouds, the poor white trash--worthlessdescendants of the servile and sometimes criminal class who might havetraced their origin back to the slums of London; hand-to-mouth tenantsof the valley-aristocrat, hewers of wood for him in the lowlands andupland guardians of his cattle and sheep. And finally, walking up anddown the earth floor--stern and smooth of face and of a preternaturaldignity hardly to be found elsewhere--the mountain school-master. 

It was a "blab school, " as the mountaineers characterize a school inwhich the pupils study aloud, and the droning chorus as shrill aslocust cries ceased suddenly when Chad came in, and every eye wasturned on him with a sexless gaze of curiosity that made his faceredden and his heart throb. But he forgot them when the school-masterpierced him with eyes that seemed to shoot from under his heavy browslike a strong light from deep darkness. Chad met them, nor did his chindroop, and Caleb Hazel saw that the boy's face was frank and honest, and that his eye was fearless and kind, and, without question, hemotioned to a seat--with one wave of his hand setting Chad on thecorner of a slab and the studious drone to vibrating again. When theboy ventured to glance around, he saw Daws Dillon in one corner, makinga face at him, and little Tad scowling from behind a book: and on theother side, among the girls, he saw another hostile face--next littleMelissa which had the pointed chin and the narrow eyes of the "Dillonbreed, " as old Joel called the family, whose farm was at the mouth ofKingdom Come and whose boundary touched his own. When the first morningrecess came, "little recess, " as it was called--the master kept Chad inand asked him his name; if he had ever been to school, and whether heknew his A B C's; and he showed no surprise when Chad, without shame, told him no. So the master got Melissa's spelling-book and pointed outthe first seven letters of the alphabet, and made Chad repeat themthree times--watching the boy's earnest, wrinkling brow closely andwith growing interest. When school "took up" again, Chad was told tosay them aloud in concert with the others--which he did, until he couldrepeat them without looking at his book, and the master saw him thussaying them while his eyes roved around the room, and he nodded tohimself with satisfaction--for he was accustomed to visible communionwith himself, in school and out. At noon--"big recess" Melissa gaveChad some corn-bread and bacon, and the boys gathered around him, whilethe girls looked at him curiously, merely because he was a stranger, and some of them--especially the Dillon girl--whispered, and Chadblushed and was uncomfortable, for once the Dillon girl laughedunkindly. The boys had no games, but they jumped and threw "rocks" withgreat accuracy at a little birch-tree, and Daws and Tad always spat ontheir stones and pointed with the forefinger of the left hand first atwhat they were going to throw at, while Chad sat to one side and tookno part, though he longed to show them what he could do. By and by theyfell to wrestling, and finally Tad bantered him for a trial. Chadhesitated, and his late enemy misunderstood. 

"I'll give ye both underholts agin, " he said, loftily, "you're afeerd!"

This was too much, and Chad sprang to his feet and grappled, disdainingthe proffered advantage, and got hurled to the ground, his headstriking the earth violently, and making him so dizzy that the bravesmile with which he took his fall looked rather sickly and pathetic. 

"Yes, an' Whizzer can whoop yo' dawg, too, " said Tad, and Chad saw thathe was going to have trouble with those Dillons, for Daws winked at theother boys, and the Dillon girl laughed again scornfully--at which Chadsaw Melissa's eyes flash and her hands clinch as, quite unconsciously, she moved toward him to take his part; and all at once he was glad thathe had nobody else to champion him. 

"You wouldn' dare tech him if one of my brothers was here, " she said, indignantly, "an' don t you dare tech him again, Tad Dillon. An' you--"she said, witheringly, "you--" she repeated and stopped helpless forthe want of words but her eyes spoke with the fierce authority of theTurner clan, and its dominant power for half a century, and NancyDillon shrank, though she turned and made a spiteful face, when Melissawalked toward the school-house alone. 

That afternoon was the longest of Chad's life--it seemed as though itwould never come to an end; for Chad had never sat so still for solong. His throat got dry repeating the dreary round of letters over andover and his head ached and he fidgeted in his chair while the slowhours passed and the sun went down behind the mountain and left theschool-house in rapidly cooling shadow. His heart leaped when the lastclass was heard and the signal was given that meant freedom for thelittle prisoners; but Melissa sat pouting in her seat--she had missedher lesson and must be kept in for a while. So Chad, too, kept his seatand the master heard him say his letters, without the book, and noddedhis head as though to say to himself that such quickness was exactlywhat he had looked for. By the time Chad had learned down to the letterO, Melissa was ready, for she was quick, too, and it was her anger thatmade her miss--and the two started home, Chad stalking ahead once more. To save him, he could not say a word of thanks, but how he wished thata bear or a wild-cat would spring into the road! He would fight it withteeth and naked hands to show her how he felt and to save her from harm. 

The sunlight still lay warm and yellow far under the crest of PineMountain, and they had not gone far when Caleb Hazel overtook them andwith long strides forged ahead. The school-master "boarded around" andit was his week with the Turners, and Chad was glad, for he alreadyloved the tall, gaunt, awkward man who asked him question afterquestion so kindly--loved him as much as he revered and feared him--andthe boy's artless, sturdy answers in turn pleased Caleb Hazel. And whenChad told who had given him Jack, the master began to talk about thefaraway, curious country of which the cattle-dealer had told Chad somuch: where the land was level and there were no mountains at all;where on one farm might be more sheep, cattle, and slaves than Chad hadseen in all his life; where the people lived in big houses of stone andbrick--what brick was Chad could not imagine--and rode along hard, white roads in shiny covered wagons, with two "niggers" on a high seatin front and one little "nigger" behind to open gates, and were proudand very high-heeled indeed; where there were towns that had morepeople than a whole county in the mountains, with rock roads runningthrough them in every direction and narrow rock paths along theseroads--like rows of hearth-stones--for the people to walk on--the landof the bluegrass--the "settlemints of old Kaintuck. "

And there were churches everywhere as tall as trees and school-housesa-plenty; and big schools, called colleges, to which the boys went whenthey were through with the little schools. The master had gone to oneof these colleges for a year, and he was trying to make enough money togo again. And Chad must go some day, too; there was no reason why heshouldn't, since any boy could do anything he pleased if he only madeup his mind and worked hard and never gave up. The master was anorphan, too, he said with a slow smile; he had been an orphan for along while, and indeed the lonely struggle of his own boyhood was whatwas helping to draw him to Chad. This college, he said, was a hugebrown house as big as a cliff that the master pointed out, that, grayand solemn, towered high above the river; and with a rock porch biggerthan a great bowlder that hung just under the cliff, with twenty long, long stone steps to climb before one came to the big double front door. 

"How do you git thar?" Chad asked so breathlessly that Melissa lookedquickly up with a sudden foreboding that she might lose her littleplayfellow some day. The master had walked, and it took him a week. Agood horse could make the trip in four days, and the river-men floatedlogs down the river to the capital in eight or ten days, according tothe "tide. " "When did they go?" In the spring, when the 'tides' came. "The Turners went down, didn't they, Melissa?" And Melissa said thather brother Tom had made one trip, and that Dolph and Rube were "might'nigh crazy" to go that coming spring; and, thereupon, a mightyresolution filled Chad's heart to the brim and steadied his eyes, buthe did not open his lips then. 

Dusk was settling when the Turner cabin came in sight. None of themen-folks had come home yet, and the mother was worried; there was woodto cut and the cows to milk, and Chad's friend, old Betsey the brindle, had strayed off again; but she was glad to see Caleb Hazel, who, without a word, went out to the wood-pile, took off his coat, and swungthe axe with mighty arms, while Chad carried in the wood and piled itin the kitchen and then the two went after the old brindle together. 

When they got back there was a great tumult at the cabin. Tom hadbrought some friends from over the mountain, and had told the neighborsas he came along that there was going to be a party at his house thatnight. 

So there was a great bustle about the barn where Rube was getting thestock fed and the milking done; and around the kitchen, where Dolph wascutting more wood and piling it up at the door. Inside, the mother washurrying up supper with Sintha, an older daughter, who had just comehome from a visit, and Melissa helping her, while old Joel sat by thefire in the sleeping-room and smoked, with Jack lying on the hearth, oranywhere he pleased, for Jack, with his gentle ways, was winning thehousehold one by one. He sprang up when he heard Chad's voice, and flewat him, jumping up and pawing him affectionately and licking his facewhile Chad hugged him and talked to him as though he were human and abrother; never before had the two been separated for a day. So, whilethe master helped Rube at the barn and Chad helped Dolph at thewood-pile, Jack hung about his master--tired and hungry as he was andmuch as he wanted to be by the fire or waiting in the kitchen for a slybit from Melissa, whom he knew at once as the best of his new friends. 

After supper, Dolph got out his banjo and played "Shady Grove, " and"Blind Coon Dog, " and "Sugar Hill, " and "Gamblin' Man, " while Chad'seyes glistened and his feet shuffled under his chair. And when Dolphput the rude thing down on the bed and went into the kitchen, Chadedged toward it and, while old Joel was bragging about Jack to theschool-master, he took hold of it with trembling fingers and touchedthe strings timidly. Then he looked around cautiously: nobody waspaying any attention to him and he took it up into his lap and began topick, ever so softly. Nobody saw him but Melissa, who slipped quietlyto the back of the room and drew near him. Softly and swiftly Chad'sfingers worked and Melissa could scarcely hear the sound of the banjounder her father's loud voice, but she could make out that he wasplaying a tune that still vibrates unceasingly from the Pennsylvaniaborder to the pine-covered hills of Georgia--"Sourwood Mountain. "Melissa held her breath while she listened--Dolph could not play likethat--and by and by she slipped quietly to her father and pulled hissleeve and pointed to Chad. Old Joel stopped talking, but Chad nevernoticed; his head was bent over the neck of the banjo, his body wasswaying rhythmically, his chubby fingers were going like lightning, andhis eyes were closed--the boy was fairly lost to the world. The tunecame out in the sudden silence, clean-cut and swinging:

 Heh-o-dee-um-dee-eedle-dahdee-dee!

rang the strings and old Joel's eyes danced. 

"Sing it, boy!" he roared, "sing it!" And Chad sprang from the bed, onfire with confusion and twisting his fingers helplessly. He lookedalmost frightened when Dolph ran back into the room and cried:

"Who was that a-pickin' that banjer?"

It was not often that Dolph showed such excitement, but he had goodcause, and, when he saw Chad standing, shamefaced and bashful, in themiddle of the floor, and Melissa joyously pointing her finger at him, he caught up the banjo from the bed and put it into the boy's hands. "Here, you just play that tune agin!"

Chad shrank back, half distressed and half happy, and only a hailoutside from the first of the coming guests saved him from utterconfusion. Once started, they came swiftly, and in half an hour allwere there. Each got a hearty welcome from old Joel, who, with a winkand a laugh and a nod to the old mother, gave a hearty squeeze to somebuxom girl, while the fire roared a heartier welcome still. Then wasthere a dance indeed--no soft swish of lace and muslin, but the activeswing of linsey and simple homespun; no French fiddler's bows andscrapings, no intricate lancers, no languid waltz; but neat shufflingforward and back, with every note of the music beat; floor-thumping"cuttings of the pigeon's wing, " and jolly jigs, two by two, and agreat "swinging of corners, " and "caging the bird, " and "fust lady tothe right CHEAT an' swing"; no flirting from behind fans and understairways and little nooks, but honest, open courtship--strong armsabout healthy waists, and a kiss taken now and then, with everybody tosee and nobody to care who saw. If a chair was lacking, a pair ofbrawny knees made one chair serve for two, but never, if you please, for two men. Rude, rough, semi-barbarous, if you will, but simple, natural, honest, sane, earthy--and of the earth whence springs the oakand in time, maybe, the flower of civilization. 

At the first pause in the dance, old Joel called loudly for Chad. Theboy tried to slip out of the door, but Dolph seized him and pulled himto a chair in the corner and put the banjo in his hands. Everybodylooked on with curiosity at first, and for a little while Chadsuffered; but when the dance turned attention from him, he forgothimself again and made the old thing hum with all the rousing tunesthat had ever swept its string. When he stopped at last, to wipe theperspiration from his face, he noticed for the first time theschool-master, who was yet divided between the church and the law, standing at the door, silent, grave, disapproving. And he was not alonein his condemnation; in many a cabin up and down the river, stern talkwas going on against the ungodly 'carryings on, ' under the Turner roof, and, far from accepting them as proofs of a better birth and broadersocial ideas, these Calvinists of the hills set the merry-makers downas the special prey of the devil, and the dance and the banjo as slyplots of the same to draw their souls to hell. 

Chad felt the master's look, and he did not begin playing again, butput the banjo down by his chair and the dance came to an end. Once moreChad saw the master look, this time at Sintha, who was leaning againstthe wall with a sturdy youth in a fringed hunting-shirt bending overher--his elbow against a log directly over her shoulder, Sintha saw thelook, too, and she answered with a little toss of her head, but whenCaleb Hazel turned to go out the door, Chad saw that the girl's eyesfollowed him. A little later, Chad went out too, and found the masterat the corner of the fence and looking at a low red star whose rich, peaceful light came through a gap in the hills. Chad shyly drew nearhim, hoping in some way to get a kindly word, but the master was soabsorbed that he did not see or hear the boy and Chad, awed by thestern, solemn face, withdrew and, without a word to anybody, climbedinto the loft and went to bed. He could hear every stroke on the floorbelow, every call of the prompter, and the rude laughter and banter, but he gave little heed to it all. For he lay thinking of Caleb Hazeland listening again to the stories he and the cattle-dealer had toldhim about the wonderful settlements. "God's Country, " the dealer alwayscalled it, and such it must be, if what he and the master said wastrue. By and by the steady beat of feet under him, the swift notes ofthe banjo, the calls of the prompter and the laughter fused, becameinarticulate, distant--ceased. And Chad, as he was wont to do, journeyed on to "God's Country" in his dreams. 

CHAPTER 4. 

THE COMING OF THE TIDE

While the corn grew, school went on and, like the corn, Chad'sschooling put forth leaves and bore fruit rapidly. The boy's mind wasas clear as his eye and, like a mountain-pool, gave back every imagethat passed before it. Not a word dropped from the master's lips thathe failed to hear and couldn't repeat, and, in a month, he had putDolph and Rube, who, big as they were, had little more than learned thealphabet, to open shame; and he won immunity with his fists from gibeand insult from every boy within his inches in school--including TadDillon, who came in time to know that it was good to let the boy alone. He worked like a little slave about the house, and, like Jack, won hisway into the hearts of old Joel and his wife, and even of Dolph andRube, in spite of their soreness over Chad's having spelled them bothdown before the whole school. As for Tall Tom, he took as much pride asthe school-master in the boy, and in town, at the grist-mill, thecross-roads, or blacksmith shop, never failed to tell the story of thedog and the boy, whenever there was a soul to listen. And as forMelissa, while she ruled him like a queen and Chad paid sturdy anduncomplaining homage, she would have scratched out the eyes of one ofher own brothers had he dared to lay a finger on the boy. For Chad hadGod's own gift--to win love from all but enemies and nothing butrespect and fear from them. Every morning, soon after daybreak, hestalked ahead of the little girl to school, with Dolph and Rubelounging along behind, and, an hour before sunset, stalked back in thesame way home again. When not at school, the two fished and playedtogether--inseparable. 

Corn was ripe now, and school closed and Chad went with the men intothe fields and did his part, stripping the gray blades from the yellowstalks, binding them into sheaves, stowing them away under the low roofof the big barn, or stacking them tent-like in the fields--leaving eachear perched like a big roosting bird on each lone stalk. And when theautumn came, there were husking parties and dances and much merriment;and, night after night, Chad saw Sintha and the school-master in frontof the fire--"settin' up"--close together with their arms about eachother's necks and whispering. And there were quilting parties andhousewarmings and house-raisings--one that was of great importance toCaleb Hazel and to Chad. For, one morning, Sintha disappeared and cameback with the tall young hunter in the deerskin leggings--blushingfuriously--a bride. At once old Joel gave them some cleared land at thehead of a creek; the neighbors came in to build them a cabin, and amongthem all, none worked harder than the school-master; and no one butChad guessed how sorely hit he was. 

Meanwhile, the woods high and low were ringing with the mellow echoesof axes, and the thundering crash of big trees along the mountain-side;for already the hillsmen were felling trees while the sap was in theroots, so that they could lie all winter, dry better and float betterin the spring, when the rafts were taken down the river to the littlecapital in the Bluegrass. And Caleb Hazel said that he would go down ona raft in the spring and perhaps Chad could go with him who knew? Forthe school-master had now made up his mind finally--he would go outinto the world and make his way out there; and nobody but Chad noticedthat his decision came only after, and only a little while after, thehouse-raising at the head of the creek. 

When winter came, school opened again, and on Saturdays and Sundays andcold snowy nights, Chad and the school-master--for he too lived at theTurners' now--sat before the fire in the kitchen, and the school-masterread to him from "Ivanhoe" and "The Talisman, " which he had broughtfrom the Bluegrass, and from the Bible which had been his own since hewas a child. And the boy drank in the tales until he was drunk withthem and learned the conscious scorn of a lie, the conscious love oftruth and pride in courage, and the conscious reverence for women thatmake the essence of chivalry as distinguished from the unthinking codeof brave, simple people. He adopted the master's dignified phraseologyas best he could; he watched him, as the master stood before the firewith his hands under his coat-tails, his chin raised, and his eyesdreamily upward, and Tall Tom caught the boy in just this attitude oneday and made fun of him before all the others. He tried somehigh-sounding phrases on Melissa, and Melissa told him he must becrazy. Once, even, he tried to kiss her hand gallantly and she slappedhis face. Undaunted, he made a lance of white ash, threaded some looseyarn into Melissa's colors, as he told himself, sneaked into the barn, where Beelzebub was tied, got on the sheep's back and, as the old ramsprang forward, couched his lance at the trough and shattered it with athrill that left him trembling for half an hour. It was too good togive up that secret joust and he made another lance and essayed anothertournament, but this time Beelzebub butted the door open and sprangwith a loud ba-a-a into the yard and charged for the gate--in full viewof old Joel, the three brothers, and the school-master, who werestanding in the road. Instinctively, Chad swung on in spite of the roarof laughter and astonishment that greeted him and, as Tom banged thegate, the ram swerved and Chad shot off sidewise as from a catapult anddropped, a most unheroic little knight, in the mire. That ended Chad'schivalry in the hills, for in the roars of laughter that greeted him, Chad recognized Caleb Hazel's as the loudest. If HE laughed, chivalrycould never thrive there, and Chad gave it up; but the seeds were sown. 

The winter passed, and what a time Chad and Jack had, snaking logs outof the mountains with two, four, six--yes, even eight yoke of oxen, when the log was the heart of a monarch oak or poplar--snaking them tothe chute; watching them roll and whirl and leap like jack-straws fromend to end down the steep incline and, with one last shoot in the air, roll, shaking, quivering, into a mighty heap on the bank of KingdomCome. And then the "rafting" of those logs--dragging them into the poolof the creek, lashing them together with saplings driven to the logswith wooden pins in auger-holes--wading about, meanwhile, waist deep inthe cold water: and the final lashing of the raft to a near-by treewith a grape-vine cable--to await the coming of a "tide. "

Would that tide never come? It seemed not. The spring ploughing wasover, the corn planted; there had been rain after rain, but gentlerains only. There had been prayers for rain:

"O Lord, " said the circuit-rider, "we do not presume to dictate toThee, but we need rain, an' need it mighty bad. We do not presume todictate, but, if it pleases Thee, send us, not a gentle sizzle-sizzle, but a sod-soaker, O Lord, a gullywasher. Give us a tide, O Lord!"Sunrise and sunset, old Joel turned his eye to the east and the westand shook his head. Tall Tom did the same, and Dolph and Rube studiedthe heavens for a sign. The school-master grew visibly impatient andChad was in a fever of restless expectancy. The old mother had made hima suit of clothes--mountain-clothes--for the trip. Old Joel gave him afive-dollar bill for his winter's work. Even Jack seemed to know thatsomething unusual was on hand and hung closer about the house, for fearhe might be left behind. 

Softly at last, one night, came the patter of little feet on the roofand passed--came again and paused; and then there was a rush and asteady roar that wakened Chad and thrilled him as he lay listening. Itdid not last long, but the river was muddy enough and high enough forthe Turner brothers to float the raft slowly out from the mouth ofKingdom Come and down in front of the house, where it was anchored to ahuge sycamore in plain sight. At noon the clouds gathered and old Joelgave up his trip to town. 

"Hit'll begin in about an hour, boys, " he said, and in an hour it didbegin. There was to be no doubt about this flood. At dusk, the riverhad risen two feet and the raft was pulling at its cable like anawakening sea-monster. Meanwhile, the mother had cooked a great pone ofcorn-bread, three feet in diameter, and had ground coffee and got sidesof bacon ready. All night it poured and the dawn came clear, only todarken into gray again. But the river--the river! The roar of it filledthe woods. The frothing hem of it swished through the tops of the treesand through the underbrush, high on the mountain-side. Arched slightlyin the middle, for the river was still rising, it leaped and surged, tossing tawny mane and fleck and foam as it thundered along--a mad, molten mass of yellow struck into gold by the light of the sun. Andthere the raft, no longer the awkward monster it was the day before, floated like a lily-pad, straining at the cable as lightly as agreyhound leaping against its leash. 

The neighbors were gathered to watch the departure--old Jerry Budd, blacksmith and "yarb doctor, " and his folks; the Cultons andMiddletons, and even the Dillons--little Tad and Whizzer--and all. Anda bright picture of Arcadia the simple folk made, the men in homespunand the women with their brilliant shawls, as they stood on the banklaughing, calling to one another, and jesting like children. All wereaboard now and there was no kissing nor shaking hands in the farewell. The good old mother stood on the bank, with Melissa holding to herapron and looking at Chad gravely. 

"Take good keer o' yo'self, Chad, " she said kindly, and then she lookeddown at the little girl. "He's a-comin' back, honey--Chad's a-comin'back. " And Chad nodded brightly, but Melissa drew her apron across hermouth, dropped her eyes to the old rifle in the boy's lap, and did notsmile. 

All were aboard now--Dolph and Rube, old Squire Middleton, and theschool-master, all except Tall Tom, who stood by the tree to unwind thecable. 

"Hold on!" shouted the Squire. 

A raft shot suddenly around the bend above them and swept past with theDillon brothers Jake and Jerry, nephews of old Tad Dillon, at bow andstern--passed with a sullen wave from Jerry and a good-natured smilefrom stupid Jake. 

"All right, " Tom shouted, and he unwound the great brown pliant vinefrom the sycamore and leaped aboard. Just then there was a mad howlbehind the house and a gray streak of light flashed over the bank andJack, with a wisp of rope around his neck, sprang through the air froma rock ten feet high and landed lightly on the last log as the raftshot forward. Chad gulped once and his heart leaped with joy, for hehad agreed to leave Jack with old Joel, and old Joel had tied the dogin the barn. 

"Hi!" shouted the old hunter. "Throw that dawg off, Chad--throw himoff. "

But Chad shook his head and smiled. 

"He won't go back, " he shouted, and, indeed, there was Jack squatted onhis haunches close by his little master and looking gravely back asthough he were looking a last good-by. 

"Hi there!" shouted old Joel again. "How am I goin to git along withoutthat dawg? Throw him off, Boy--throw him off, I tell ye!" Chad seizedthe dog by the shoulders, but Jack braced himself and, like a child, looked up in his master's face. Chad let go and shook his head. 

A frantic yell from Tall Tom at the bow oar drew every eye to him. Thecurrent was stronger than anyone guessed and the raft was being sweptby an eddy straight for the point of the opposite shore where there wasa sharp turn in the river. 

"Watch out thar, " shouted old Joel, "you're goin to 'bow'!" Dolph andRube were slashing the stern oar forward and back through the swiftwater, but straight the huge craft made for that deadly point. Everyman had hold of an oar and was tussling in silence for life. Every manon shore was yelling directions and warning, while the women shrankback with frightened faces. Chad scarcely knew what the matter was, buthe gripped his rifle and squeezed Jack closer to him. He heard Tom roara last warning as the craft struck, quivered a moment, and the sternswept around. The craft had "bowed. "

"Watch out--jump, boys, jump! Watch when she humps! Watch yo' legs!"These were the cries from the shore, and still Chad did not understand. He saw Tom leap from the bow, and, as the stern swung to the othershore, Dolph, too, leaped. Then the stern struck. The raft humped inthe middle like a bucking horse--the logs ground savagely together. Chad heard a cry of pain from Jack and saw the dog fly up in the airand drop in the water. He and his gun had gone up, too, but he cameback on the raft with one leg in between two logs and he drew it up intime to keep the limb from being smashed to a pulp as the logs crashedtogether again, but not quickly enough to save the foot from a painfulsqueeze. Then he saw Tom and Dolph leap back again, the raft whirled onand steadied in its course, and behind him he saw Jack swimming feeblyfor the shore--fighting the waves for his life, for the dog was hurt. Twice he turned his eyes despairingly toward Chad, and the boy wouldhave leaped in the water to save him if Tom had not caught him by thearm. 

"Tell him to git to shore, " he said quickly, and Chad motioned, whenJack looked again, and the dog obediently made for land. Old Joel wascalling tenderly:

"Come on, Jack; come on, ole feller!"

Chad watched with a thumping heart. Once Jack went under, but gave nosound. Again he disappeared, and when he came up he gave a cry forhelp, but when he heard Chad's answering cry he fought on stroke bystroke until Chad saw old Joel reach out from the bushes and pull himin. And Chad could see that one of his hind legs hung limp. Then theraft swung around the curve out of sight. 

Behind, the whole crowd rushed down to the water's edge. Jack tried toget away from old Joel and scramble after Chad on his broken leg, butold Joel held him, soothing him, and carried him back to the house, where the old "yarb doctor" put splints on the leg and bound it uptightly, just as though it had been the leg of a child. Melissa wascrying and the old man put his hand on her head. 

"He'll be all right, honey. That leg'll be as good as the other one intwo or three weeks. It's all right, little gal. "

Melissa stopped weeping with a sudden gulp. But when Jack was lying inthe kitchen by the fire alone, she slipped in and put her arm aroundthe dog's head, and, when Jack began to lick her face, she bent her ownhead down and sobbed. 

CHAPTER 5. 

OUT OF THE WILDERNESS

On the way to God's Country at last! Already Chad had schooled himselffor the parting with Jack, and but for this he must--little man that hewas--have burst into tears. As it was, the lump in his throat stayedthere a long while, but it passed in the excitement of that mad racedown the river. The old Squire had never known such a tide. 

"Boys, " he said, gleefully, "we're goin' to make a REcord on thistrip--you jus' see if we don't. That is, if we ever git thar alive. "

All the time the old man stood in the middle of the raft yellingorders. Ahead was the Dillon raft, and the twin brothers--the giants, one mild, the other sour-faced--were gesticulating angrily at eachother from bow and stern. As usual, they were quarrelling. On theTurner raft, Dolph was at the bow, the school-master at the stern, while Rube--who was cook--and Chad, in spite of a stinging pain in onefoot, built an oven of stones, where coffee could be boiled and baconbroiled, and started a fire, for the air was chill on the river, especially when they were running between the hills and no sun couldstrike them. 

When the fire blazed up, Chad sat by it watching Tall Tom and theschool-master at the stern oar and Rube at the bow. When the turn wassharp, how they lashed the huge white blades through the yellowwater--with the handle across their broad chests, catching with theirtoes in the little notches that had been chipped along the logs andtossing the oars down and up with a mighty swing that made the bladesquiver and bend like the tops of pliant saplings! Then, on a run, theywould rush back to start the stroke again, while the old Squire yelled:

"Hit her up thar now--easy--easy! NOW! Hit her up! Hit her up--NOW!"

Now they passed between upright, wooded, gray mountain-sides, threadedwith faint lines of the coming green; now between gray walls of rockstreaked white with water-falls, and now past narrow little valleyswhich were just beginning to sprout with corn. At the mouth of thecreeks they saw other rafts making ready and, now and then, a raftwould shoot out in the river from some creek ahead or behind them. Inan hour, they struck a smooth run of several hundred yards where themen at the oars could sit still and rest, while the raft shot lightlyforward in the middle of the stream; and down the river they could seethe big Dillons making the next sharp turn and, even that far away, they could hear Jerry yelling and swearing at his patient brother. 

"Some o' these days, " said the old Squire, "that fool Jake's a-goin' topick up somethin' an' knock that mean Jerry's head off. I wonder hehain't done it afore. Hit's funny how brothers can hate when they dogit to hatin'. "

That night, they tied up at Jackson--to be famous long after the war asthe seat of a bitter mountain-feud. At noon the next day, they struck"the Nahrrers" (Narrows), where the river ran like a torrent betweenhigh steep walls of rock, and where the men stood to the oarswatchfully and the old squire stood upright, watching every movement ofthe raft; for "bowing" there would have meant destruction to the raftand the death of them all. That night they were in Beattyville, whencethey floated next day, along lower hills and, now and then, past abroad valley. Once Chad looked at the school-master--he wondered ifthey were approaching the Bluegrass--but Caleb Hazel smiled and shookhis head. And had Chad waited another half hour, he would not haveasked the question, even with his eyes, for they swept between highcliffs again--higher than he had yet seen. 

That night they ran from dark to dawn, for the river was broader and abrilliant moon was high; and, all night, Chad could hear the swish ofthe oars, as they floated in mysterious silence past the trees and thehills and the moonlit cliffs, and he lay on his back, looking up at themoon and the stars, and thinking about the land to which he was goingand of Jack back in the land he had left; and of little Melissa. Shehad behaved very strangely during the last few days before the boy hadleft. She had not been sharp with him, even in play. She had been veryquiet--indeed, she scarcely spoke a word to him, but she did littlethings for him that she had never done before, and she was unusuallykind to Jack. Once, Chad found her crying behind the barn, and then shewas very sharp with him, and told him to go away and cried more thanever. Her little face looked very white, as she stood on the bank, and, somehow, Chad saw it all that night in the river and among the treesand up among the stars, but he little knew what it all meant to him orto her. He thought of the Turners back at home, and he could see themsitting around the big fire--Joel with his pipe, the old motherspinning flax, Jack asleep on the hearth, and Melissa's big solemn eyesshining from the dark corner where she lay wide-awake in bed and, whenhe went to sleep, her eyes followed him in his dreams. 

When he awoke, the day was just glimmering over the hills, and thechill air made him shiver, as he built up the fire and began to getbreakfast ready. At noon, that day, though the cliffs were still high, the raft swung out into a broader current, where the water ran smoothlyand, once, the hills parted and, looking past a log-cabin on the bankof the river, Chad saw a stone house--relic of pioneer days--and, farther out, through a gap in the hills, a huge house with greatpillars around it and, on the hill-side, many sheep and fat cattle anda great barn. There dwelt one of the lords of the Bluegrass land, andagain Chad looked to the school-master and, this time, theschool-master smiled and nodded as though to say:

"We're getting close now, Chad. " So Chad rose to his feet thrilled, andwatched the scene until the hills shut it off again. One more night andone more dawn, and, before the sun rose, the hills had grown smallerand smaller and the glimpses between them more frequent and, at last, far down the river, Chad saw a column of smoke and all the men on theraft took off their hats and shouted. The end of the trip was near, forthat black column meant the capital!

Chad trembled on his feet and his heart rose into his throat, whileCaleb Hazel seemed hardly less moved. His hat was off and he stoodmotionless, with his face uplifted, and his grave eyes fastened on thatdark column as though it rose from the pillar of fire that was leadinghim to some promised land. 

As they rounded the next curve, some monster swept out of the low hillson the right, with a shriek that startled the boy almost into terrorand, with a mighty puffing and rumbling, shot out of sight again. Theschool-master shouted to Chad, and the Turner brothers grinned at himdelightedly:

"Steam-cars!" they cried, and Chad nodded back gravely, trying to holdin his wonder. 

Sweeping around the next curve, another monster hove in sight with thesame puffing and a long "h-o-o-ot!" A monster on the river and movingup stream steadily, with no oar and no man in sight, and the Turnersand the school-master shouted again. Chad's eyes grew big with wonderand he ran forward to see the rickety little steamboat approach and, with wide eyes, devoured it, as it wheezed and labored up-stream pastthem--watched the thundering stern-wheel threshing the water into awake of foam far behind it and flashing its blades, water-dripping inthe sun--watched it till it puffed and wheezed and labored on out ofsight. Great Heavens! to think that he--Chad--was seeing all that!

About the next bend, more but thinner columns of smoke were visible. Soon the very hills over the capital could be seen, with little greenwheat-fields dotting them and, as the raft drew a little closer, Chadcould see houses on the hills--more strange houses of wood and stone, and porches, and queer towers on them from which glistened shiningpoints. 

"What's them?" he asked. 

"Lightnin'-rods, " said Tom, and Chad understood, for the school-masterhad told him about them back in the mountains. Was there anything thatCaleb Hazel had not told him? The haze over the town was now visible, and soon they swept past tall chimneys puffing out smoke, greatwarehouses covered on the outside with weather-brown tin, and, straightahead--Heavens, what a bridge!--arching clear over the river andcovered like a house, from which people were looking down on them asthey swept under. There were the houses, in two rows on the streets, jammed up against each other and without any yards. And people! Wherehad so many people come from? Close to the river and beyond the bridgewas another great mansion, with tall pillars, about it was a greenyard, as smooth as a floor, and negroes and children were standing onthe outskirting stone wall and looking down at them as they floated by. And another great house still, and a big garden with little pathsrunning through it and more patches of that strange green grass. Wasthat bluegrass? It was, but it didn't look blue and it didn't look likeany other grass Chad had ever seen. Below this bridge was anotherbridge, but not so high, and, while Chad looked, another black monsteron wheels went crashing over it. 

Tom and the school-master were working the raft slowly to the shorenow, and, a little farther down, Chad could see more rafts tiedup--rafts, rafts, nothing but rafts on the river, everywhere! Up thebank a mighty buzzing was going on, amid a cloud of dust, and littlecars with logs on them were shooting about amid the gleamings of manysaws, and, now and then, a log would leap from the river and start uptoward that dust-cloud with two glistening iron teeth sunk in one endand a long iron chain stretching up along a groove built of boards--andHeaven only knew what was pulling it up. On the bank was a stout, jolly-looking man, whose red, kind face looked familiar to Chad, as heran down shouting a welcome to the Squire. Then the raft slipped alonganother raft, Tom sprang aboard it with the grape-vine cable, and theschool-master leaped aboard with another cable from the stern. 

"Why, boy, " cried the stout man. "Where's yo' dog?" Then Chadrecognized him, for he was none other than the cattle-dealer who hadgiven him Jack. 

"I left him at home. "

"Is he all right?"

"Yes--I reckon. "

"Then I'd like to have him back again. "

Chad smiled and shook his head. 

"Not much. "

"Well, he's the best sheep-dog on earth. "

The raft slowed up, creaking--slower--straining and creaking, andstopped. The trip was over, and the Squire had made his "record, " forthe red-faced man whistled incredulously when the old man told him whatday he had left Kingdom Come. 

An hour later the big Dillon twins hove in sight, just as the Turnerparty was climbing the sawdust hill into the town, where Dolph and Rubewere for taking the middle of the street like other mountaineers, whowere marching thus ahead of them, single file, but Tom and theschool-master laughed at them and drew them over to the sidewalk. Bricks and stones laid down for people to walk on--how wonderful. Andall the houses were of brick or were weather-boarded--all builttogether wall against wall. And the stores with the big glass windowsall filled with wonderful things! Then a pair of swinging greenshutters through which, while Chad and the school-master waitedoutside, Tom insisted on taking Dolph and Rube and giving them theirfirst drink of Bluegrass whiskey--red liquor, as the hill-men call it. A little farther on, they all stopped still on a corner of the street, while the school-master pointed out to Chad and Dolph and Rube theCapitol--a mighty structure of massive stone, with majestic stonecolumns, where people went to the Legislature. How they looked withwondering eyes at the great flag floating lazily over it, and at thewonderful fountain tossing water in the air, and with the water threewhite balls which leaped and danced in the jet of shining spray andnever flew away from it. How did they stay there? The school-masterlaughed--Chad had asked him a question at last that he couldn't answer. And the tall spiked iron fence that ran all the way around the yard, which was full of trees--how wonderful that was, too! As they stoodlooking, law-makers and visitors poured out through the doors--a bravearray--some of them in tight trousers, high hats, and blue coats withbrass buttons, and, as they passed, Caleb Hazel reverently whisperedthe names of those he knew--distinguished lawyers, statesmen, andMexican veterans: witty Tom Marshall; Roger Hanson, bulky, brilliant;stately Preston, eagle-eyed Buckner, and Breckenridge, the magnificent, forensic in bearing. Chad was thrilled. 

A little farther on, they turned to the left, and the school-masterpointed out the Governor's mansion, and there, close by, was a highgray wall--a wall as high as a house, with a wooden box taller than aman on each corner, and, inside, another big gray building in which, visible above the walls, were grated windows--the penitentiary! Everymountaineer has heard that word, and another--the Legislator. 

Chad shivered as he looked, for he could recall that sometimes down inthe mountains a man would disappear for years and turn up again athome, whitened by confinement; and, during his absence, when anyoneasked about him, the answer was penitentiary. He wondered what thoseboxes on the walls were for, and he was about to ask, when a guardstepped from one of them with a musket and started to patrol the wall, and he had no need to ask. Tom wanted to go up on the hill and look atthe Armory and the graveyard, but the school-master said they did nothave time, and, on the moment, the air was startled with whistles farand near--six o'clock! At once Caleb Hazel led the way to supper in theboarding-house, where a kind-faced old lady spoke to Chad in a motherlyway, and where the boy saw his first hot biscuit and was almost afraidto eat anything at the table for fear he might do something wrong. Forthe first time in his life, too, he slept on a mattress without anyfeather-bed, and Chad lay wondering, but unsatisfied still. Not yet hadhe been out of sight of the hills, but the master had told him thatthey would see the Bluegrass next day, when they were to start back tothe mountains by train as far as Lexington. And Chad went to sleep, dreaming his old dream. 

CHAPTER 6

LOST AT THE CAPITAL

It had been arranged by the school-master that they should all meet atthe railway station to go home, next day at noon, and, as the Turnerboys had to help the Squire with the logs at the river, and theschool-master had to attend to some business of his own, Chad roamedall morning around the town. So engrossed was he with the people andthe sights and sounds of the little village that he came to himselfwith a start and trotted back to the boarding-house for fear that hemight not be able to find the station alone. The old lady was standingin the sunshine at the gate. 

Chad panted--"Where's--?"

"They're gone. "

"Gone!" echoed Chad, with a sinking heart. 

"Yes, they've been gone--" But Chad did not wait to listen; he whirledinto the hall-way, caught up his rifle, and, forgetting his injuredfoot, fled at full speed down the street. He turned the corner, butcould not see the station, and he ran on about another corner and stillanother, and, just when he was about to burst into tears, he saw thelow roof that he was looking for, and hot, panting, and tired, herushed to it, hardly able to speak. 

"Has that enJINE gone?" he asked breathlessly. The man who was whirlingtrunks on their corners into the baggage-room did not answer. Chad'seyes flashed and he caught the man by the coat-tail. 

"Has that enJINE gone?" he cried. 

The man looked over his shoulder. 

"Leggo my coat, you little devil. Yes, that enJINE'S gone, " he added, mimicking. Then he saw the boy's unhappy face and he dropped the trunkand turned to him. 

"What's the matter?" he asked, kindly. 

Chad had turned away with a sob. 

"They've lef' me--they've lef' me, " he said, and then, controllinghimself:

"Is thar another goin'?"

"Not till to-morrow mornin'. "

Another sob came, and Chad turned away--he did not want anybody to seehim cry. And this was no time for crying, for Chad's prayer back at thegrave under the poplar flashed suddenly back to him. 

"I got to ack like a man now. " And, sobered at once, he walked on upthe hill--thinking. He could not know that the school-master was backin the town, looking for him. If he waited until the next morning, theTurners would probably have gone on; whereas, if he started out now onfoot, and walked all night, he might catch them before they leftLexington next morning. And if he missed the Squire and the Turnerboys, he could certainly find the school-master there. And if not, hecould go on to the mountains alone. Or he might stay in the"settlemints"--what had he come for? He might--he would--oh, he'd getalong somehow, he said to himself, wagging his head--he always had andhe always would. He could always go back to the mountains. If he onlyhad Jack--if he only had Jack! Nothing would make any difference then, and he would never be lonely, if he only had Jack. But, cheered withhis determination, he rubbed the tears from his eyes with hiscoat-sleeve and climbed the long hill. There was the Armory, which, years later, was to harbor Union troops in the great war, and beyond itwas the little city of the dead that sits on top of the hill far abovethe shining river. At the great iron gates he stopped a moment, peeringthrough. He saw a wilderness of white slabs and, not until he made hisway across the thick green turf and spelled out the names carved onthem, could he make out what they were for. How he wondered when he sawthe innumerable green mounds, for he hardly knew there were as manypeople in the world living as he saw there must be in that place, dead. But he had no time to spare and he turned quickly back to thepike--saddened--for his heart went back, as his faithful heart wasalways doing, to the lonely graves under the big poplar back in themountains. 

When he reached the top of the slope, he saw a rolling country of lowhills stretching out before him, greening with spring; with farstretches of thick grass and many woodlands under a long, low sky, andhe wondered if this was the Bluegrass. But he "reckoned" not--not yet. And yet he looked in wonder at the green slopes, and the woods, and theflashing creek, and nowhere in front of him--wonder of all--could hesee a mountain. It was as Caleb Hazel had told him, only Chad was notlooking for any such mysterious joy as thrilled his sensitive soul. There had been a light sprinkle of snow--such a fall as may come evenin early April--but the noon sun had let the wheat-fields and thepastures blossom through it, and had swept it from the gray moist pikeuntil now there were patches of white only in gully and along northhill-sides under little groups of pines and in the woods, where thesunlight could not reach; and Chad trudged sturdily on in spite of hisheavy rifle and his lame foot, keenly alive to the new sights andsounds and smells of the new world--on until the shadows lengthened andthe air chilled again; on, until the sun began to sink close to thefar-away haze of the horizon. Never had the horizon looked so far away. His foot began to hurt, and on the top of a hill he had to stop and sitdown for a while in the road, the pain was so keen. The sun was settingnow in a glory of gold, rose, pink, and crimson over him, the stillclouds caught the divine light which swept swiftly through the heavensuntil the little pink clouds over the east, too, turned golden pink andthe whole heavens were suffused with green and gold. In the west, cloudwas piled on cloud like vast cathedrals that must have been built forworship on the way straight to the very throne of God. And Chad satthrilled, as he had been at the sunrise on the mountains the morningafter he ran away. There was no storm, but the same loneliness came tohim now and he wondered what he should do. He could not get muchfarther that night--his foot hurt too badly. He looked up--the cloudshad turned to ashes and the air was growing chill--and he got to hisfeet and started on. At the bottom of the hill and down a little creekhe saw a light and he turned toward it. The house was small, and hecould hear the crying of a child inside and could see a tall mancutting wood, so he stopped at the bars and shouted

"Hello!"

The man stopped his axe in mid-air and turned. A woman, with a baby inher arms, appeared in the light of the door with children crowdingabout her. 

"Hello!" answered the man. 

"I want to git to stay all night. " The man hesitated. 

"We don't keep people all night. "

"Not keep people all night, " thought Chad with wonder. 

"Oh, I reckon you will, " he said. Was there anybody in the world whowouldn't take in a stranger for the night? From the doorway the womansaw that it was a boy who was asking shelter and the trust in his voiceappealed vaguely to her. 

"Come in!" she called, in a patient, whining tone. "You can stay, Ireckon. "

But Chad changed his mind suddenly. If they were in doubt about wantinghim--he was in no doubt as to what he would do. 

"No, I reckon I'd better git on, " he said sturdily, and he turned andlimped back up the hill to the road--still wondering, and he rememberedthat, in the mountains, when people wanted to stay all night, theyusually stopped before sundown. Travelling after dark was suspicious inthe mountains, and perhaps it was in this land, too. So, with thisthought, he had half a mind to go back and explain, but he pushed on. Half a mile farther, his foot was so bad that he stopped with a cry ofpain in the road and, seeing a barn close by, he climbed the fence andinto the loft and burrowed himself under the hay. From under the shedhe could see the stars rising. It was very still and very lonely and hewas hungry--hungrier and lonelier than he had ever been in his life, and a sob of helplessness rose to his lips--if he only had Jack--but heheld it back. 

"I got to ack like a man now. " And, saying this over and over tohimself, he went to sleep. 

CHAPTER 7. 

A FRIEND ON THE ROAD

Rain fell that night--gentle rain and warm, for the south wind rose atmidnight. At four o clock a shower made the shingles over Chad rattlesharply, but without wakening the lad, and then the rain ceased; andwhen Chad climbed stiffly from his loft--the world was drenched andstill, and the dawn was warm, for spring had come that morning, andChad trudged along the road--unchilled. Every now and then he had tostop to rest his foot. Now and then he would see people gettingbreakfast ready in the farm-houses that he passed, and, though hislittle belly was drawn with pain, he would not stop and ask forsomething to eat--for he did not want to risk another rebuff. The sunrose and the light leaped from every wet blade of grass and burstingleaf to meet it--leaped as though flashing back gladness that thespring was come. For a little while Chad forgot his hunger and forgothis foot--like the leaf and grass-blade his stout heart answered withgladness, too, and he trudged on. 

Meanwhile, far behind him, an old carriage rolled out of a big yard andstarted toward him and toward Lexington. In the driver's seat was anold gray-haired, gray-bearded negro with knotty hands and a kindlyface; while, on the oval shaped seat behind the lumbering old vehicle, sat a little darky with his bare legs dangling down. In the carriagesat a man who might have been a stout squire straight from merryEngland, except that there was a little tilt to the brim of his slouchhat that one never sees except on the head of a Southerner, and in hisstrong, but easy, good-natured mouth was a pipe of corn-cob with a longcane stem. The horses that drew him were a handsome pair of halfthoroughbreds, and the old driver, with his eyes half closed, looked asthough, even that early in the morning, he were dozing. An hour later, the pike ran through an old wooden-covered bridge, to one side of whicha road led down to the water, and the old negro turned the carriage tothe creek to let his horses drink. The carriage stood still in themiddle of the stream and presently the old driver turned his head:"Mars Cal!" he called in a low voice. The Major raised his head. Theold negro was pointing with his whip ahead and the Major saw somethingsitting on the stone fence, some twenty yards beyond, which stirred himsharply from his mood of contemplation. 

"Shades of Dan'l Boone!" he said, softly. It was a miniaturepioneer--the little still figure watching him solemnly and silently. Across the boy's lap lay a long rifle--the Major could see that it hada flintlock--and on his tangled hair was a coonskin cap--the scalpabove his steady dark eyes and the tail hanging down the lad's neck. And on his feet were--moccasins! The carriage moved out of the streamand the old driver got down to hook the check-reins over the shiningbit of metal that curved back over the little saddles to which theboy's eyes had swiftly strayed. Then they came back to the Major. 

"Howdye!" said Chad. 

"Good-mornin', little man, " said the Major pleasantly, and Chad knewstraightway that he had found a friend. But there was silence. Chadscanned the horses and the strange vehicle and the old driver and thelittle pickaninny who, hearing the boy's voice, had stood up on hisseat and was grinning over one of the hind wheels, and then his eyesrested on the Major with a simple confidence and unconscious appealthat touched the Major at once. 

"Are you goin' my way?" The Major's nature was too mellow andeasy-going to pay any attention to final g's. Chad lifted his old gunand pointed up the road. 

"I'm a-goin' thataway. "

"Well, don't you want to ride?"

"Yes, " he said, simply. 

"Climb right in, my boy. "

So Chad climbed in, and, holding the old rifle upright between hisknees, he looked straight forward, in silence, while the Major studiedhim with a quiet smile. 

"Where are you from, little man?"

"I come from the mountains. "

"The mountains?" said the Major. 

The Major had fished and hunted in the mountains, and somewhere in thatunknown region he owned a kingdom of wild mountain-land, but he knew aslittle about the people as he knew about the Hottentots, and caredhardly more. 

"What are you doin' up here?"

"I'm goin' home, " said Chad. 

"How did you happen to come away?"

"Oh, I been wantin' to see the settleMINTS. "

"The settleMINTS, " echoed the Major, and then he understood. Herecalled having heard the mountaineers call the Bluegrass region the"settlemints" before. 

"I come down on a raft with Dolph and Tom and Rube and the Squire andthe school-teacher, an' I got lost in Frankfort. They've gone on, Ireckon, an' I'm tryin' to ketch 'em. "

"What will you do if you don't?"

"Foller'em, " said Chad, sturdily. 

"Does your father live down in the mountains?"

"No, " said Chad, shortly. 

The Major looked at the lad gravely. 

"Don't little boys down in the mountains ever say sir to their elders?"

"No, " said Chad. "No, sir, " he added gravely and the Major broke into apleased laugh--the boy was quick as lightning. 

"I ain't got no daddy. An' no mammy--I ain't got--nothin'. " It was saidquite simply, as though his purpose merely was not to sail under falsecolors, and the Major's answer was quick and apologetic:

"Oh!" he said, and for a moment there was silence again. Chad watchedthe woods, the fields, and the cattle, the strange grain growing abouthim, and the birds and the trees. Not a thing escaped his keen eye, and, now and then, he would ask a question which the Major would answerwith some surprise and wonder. His artless ways pleased the old fellow. 

"You haven't told me your name. "

"You hain't axed me. "

"Well, I axe you now, " laughed the Major, but Chad saw nothing to laughat. 

"Chad, " he said. 

"Chad what?"

Now it had always been enough in the mountains, when anybody asked hisname, for him to answer simply--Chad. He hesitated now and his browwrinkled as though he were thinking hard. 

"I don't know, " said Chad. 

"What? Don't know your own name?" The boy looked up into the Major'sface with eyes that were so frank and unashamed and at the same time sovaguely troubled that the Major was abashed. 

"Of course not, " he said kindly, as though it were the most naturalthing in the world that a boy should not know his own name. Presentlythe Major said, reflectively:

"Chadwick. "

"Chad, " corrected the boy. 

"Yes, I know"; and the Major went on thinking that Chadwick happened tobe an ancestral name in his own family. 

Chad's brow was still wrinkled--he was trying to think what old NathanCherry used to call him. 

"I reckon I hain't thought o' my name since I left old Nathan, " hesaid. Then he told briefly about the old man, and lifting his lame footsuddenly, he said: "Ouch!" The Major looked around and Chad explained:

"I hurt my foot comin' down the river an' hit got wuss walkin' somuch. " The Major noticed then that the boy's face was pale, and thatthere were dark hollows under his eyes, but it never occurred to himthat the lad was hungry, for, in the Major's land, nobody ever wenthungry for long. But Chad was suffering now and he leaned back in hisseat and neither talked nor looked at the passing fields. By and by, hespied a crossroads store. 

"I wonder if I can't git somethin' to eat in that store. "

The Major laughed: "You ain't gettin' hungry so soon, are you? You musthave eaten breakfast pretty early. "

"I ain't had no breakfast--an' I didn't hev no supper last night. "

"What?" shouted the Major. 

Chad stated the fact with brave unconcern, but his lip quiveredslightly--he was weak. 

"Well, I reckon we'll get something to eat there whether they've gotanything or not. "

And then Chad explained, telling the story of his walk from Frankfort. The Major was amazed that anybody could have denied the boy food andlodging. 

"Who were they, Tom?" he asked

The old driver turned:

"They was some po' white trash down on Cane Creek, I reckon, suh. Must'a' been. " There was a slight contempt in the negro's words thatmade Chad think of hearing the Turners call the Dillons whitetrash--though they never said "po' white trash. "

"Oh!" said the Major. So the carriage stopped, and when a man in ablack slouch hat came out, the Major called:

"Jim, here's a boy who ain't had anything to eat for twenty-four hours. Get him a cup of coffee right away, and I reckon you've got some coldham handy. "

"Yes, indeed, Major, " said Jim, and he yelled to a negro girl who wasstanding on the porch of his house behind the store. 

Chad ate ravenously and the Major watched him with genuine pleasure. When the boy was through, he reached in his pocket and brought out hisold five-dollar bill, and the Major laughed aloud and patted him on thehead. 

"You can't pay for anything while you are with me, Chad. "

The whole earth wore a smile when they started out again. The swellinghills had stretched out into gentler slopes. The sun was warm, theclouds were still, and the air was almost drowsy. The Major's eyesclosed and everything lapsed into silence. That was a wonderful ridefor Chad. It was all true, just as the school-master had told him; thebig, beautiful houses he saw now and then up avenues of blossominglocusts; the endless stone fences, the whitewashed barns, the woodlandsand pastures; the meadow-larks flitting in the sunlight and singingeverywhere; fluting, chattering blackbirds, and a strange new blackbird with red wings, at which Chad wondered very much, as he watched itbalancing itself against the wind and singing as it poised. Everythingseemed to sing in that wonderful land. And the seas of bluegrassstretching away on every side, with the shadows of clouds passing inrapid succession over them, like mystic floating islands--and never amountain in sight. What a strange country it was. 

"Maybe some of your friends are looking for you in Frankfort, " said theMajor. 

"No, sir, I reckon not, " said Chad--for the man at the station had toldhim that the men who had asked about him were gone. 

"All of them?" asked the Major. 

Of course, the man at the station could not tell whether all of themhad gone, and perhaps the school-master had stayed behind--it was CalebHazel if anybody. 

"Well, now, I wonder, " said Chad--"the school-teacher might'a' stayed. "

Again the two lapsed into silence--Chad thinking very hard. He mightyet catch the school-master in Lexington, and he grew very cheerful atthe thought. 

"You ain't told me yo' name, " he said, presently. The Major's lipssmiled under the brim of his hat. 

"You hain't axed me. "

"Well, I axe you now. " Chad, too, was smiling. 

"Cal, " said the Major. "Cal what?"

"I don't know. "

"Oh, yes, you do, now--you foolin' me"--the boy lifted one finger atthe Major. 

"Buford, Calvin Buford. "

"Buford--Buford--Buford, " repeated the boy, each time with his foreheadwrinkled as though he were trying to recall something. 

"What is it, Chad?"

"Nothin'--nothin'. "

And then he looked up with bewildered face at the Major and broke intothe quavering voice of an old man. 

"Chad Buford, you little devil, come hyeh this minute or I'll beat thelife outen you!"

"What--what!" said the Major excitedly. The boy's face was as honest asthe sky above him. "Well, that's funny--very funny. "

"Well, that's it, " said Chad, "that's what ole Nathan used to call me. I reckon I hain't naver thought o' my name agin tell you axed me. " TheMajor looked at the lad keenly and then dropped back in his seatruminating. 

Away back in 1778 a linchpin had slipped in a wagon on the WildernessRoad and his grandfather's only brother, Chadwick Buford, had concludedto stop there for a while and hunt and come on later--thus ran an oldletter that the Major had in his strong box at home--and that brotherhad never turned up again and the supposition was that he had beenkilled by Indians. Now it would be strange if he had wandered up in themountains and settled there and if this boy were a descendant of his. It would be very, very strange, and then the Major almost laughed atthe absurdity of the idea. The name Buford was all over the State. Theboy had said, with amazing frankness and without a particle of shame, that he was a waif--a "woodscolt, " he said, with paralyzing candor. Andso the Major dropped the matter out of his mind, except in so far thatit was a peculiar coincidence--again saying, half to himself--

"It certainly is very odd!"

CHAPTER 8. 

HOME WITH THE MAJOR

Ahead of them, it was Court Day in Lexington. From the town, as acentre, white turnpikes radiated in every direction like the strands ofa spider's web. Along them, on the day before, cattle, sheep, and hogshad made their slow way. Since dawn, that morning, the fine dust hadbeen rising under hoof and wheel on every one of them, for Court Day isyet the great day of every month throughout the Bluegrass. The crowdhad gone ahead of the Major and Chad. Only now and then would a laggardbuggy or carriage turn into the pike from a pasture-road orlocust-bordered avenue. Only men were occupants, for the ladies rarelygo to town on court days--and probably none would go on that day. Trouble was expected. An abolitionist, one Brutus Dean--not from theNorth, but a Kentuckian, a slave-holder and a gentleman--would probablystart a paper in Lexington to exploit his views in the heart of theBluegrass; and his quondam friends would shatter his press and tear hisoffice to pieces. So the Major told Chad, and he pointed out some"hands" at work in a field. 

"An', mark my words, some day there's goin' to be the damnedest fightthe world ever saw over these very niggers. An' the day ain't so faraway. "

It was noon before they reached the big cemetery on the edge ofLexington. Through a rift in the trees the Major pointed out the graveof Henry Clay, and told him about the big monument that was to bereared above his remains. The grave of Henry Clay! Chad knew all abouthim. He had heard Caleb Hazel read the great man's speeches aloud bythe hour--had heard him intoning them to himself as he walked the woodsto and fro from school. Would wonders never cease. 

There seemed to be no end to the houses and streets and people in thisbig town, and Chad wondered why everybody turned to look at him andsmiled, and, later in the day, he came near getting into a fight withanother boy who seemed to be making fun of him to his companions. Hewondered at that, too, until it suddenly struck him that he saw nobodyelse carrying a rifle and wearing a coonskin cap--perhaps it was hiscap and his gun. The Major was amused and pleased, and he took acertain pride in the boy's calm indifference to the attention he wasdrawing to himself. And he enjoyed the little mystery which he and hisqueer little companion seemed to create as they drove through thestreets. 

On one corner was a great hemp factory. 

Through the windows Chad could see negroes, dusty as millers, bustlingabout, singing as they worked. Before the door were two men--one onhorseback. The Major drew up a moment. 

"How are you, John? Howdye, Dick?" Both men answered heartily, and bothlooked at Chad--who looked intently at them--the graceful, powerful manon foot and the slender, wiry man with wonderful dark eyes on horseback. 

"Pioneering, Major?" asked John Morgan. 

"This is a namesake of mine from the mountains. He's come up to see thesettlements. "

Richard Hunt turned on his horse. "How do you like 'em?"

"Never seed nothin' like 'em in my life, " said Chad, gravely. Morganlaughed and Richard Hunt rode on with them down the street. 

"Was that Captin Morgan?" asked Chad. 

"Yes, " said the Major. "Have you heard of him before?"

"Yes, sir. A feller on the road tol' me, if I was lookin' fer somethin'to do hyeh in Lexington to go to Captin Morgan. "

The Major laughed: "That's what everybody does. "

At once, the Major took the boy to an old inn and gave him a heartymeal; and while the Major attended to some business, Chad roamed thestreets. 

"Don't get into trouble, my boy, " said the Major, "an' come back herean hour or two by sun. "

Naturally, the lad drifted where the crowd was thickest--to Cheapside. Cheapside--at once the market-place and the forum of the Bluegrass frompioneer days to the present hour--the platform that knew Clay, Crittenden, Marshall, Breckenridge, as it knows the lesser men ofto-day, who resemble those giants of old as the woodlands of theBluegrass to-day resemble the primeval forests from which they sprang. 

Cheapside was thronged that morning with cattle, sheep, hogs, horses, farmers, aristocrats, negroes, poor whites. The air was a babel ofcries from auctioneers--head, shoulders, and waistband above thecrowd--and the cries of animals that were changing owners that day--oneof which might now and then be a human being. The Major was busy, andChad wandered where he pleased--keeping a sharp lookout everywhere forthe school-master, but though he asked right and left he could findnobody, to his great wonder, who knew even the master's name. In themiddle of the afternoon the country people began to leave town andCheapside was cleared, but, as Chad walked past the old inn, he saw acrowd gathered within and about the wide doors of a livery-stable, andin a circle outside that lapped half the street. The auctioneer was inplain sight above the heads of the crowd, and the horses were led outone by one from the stable. It was evidently a sale of considerablemoment, and there were horse-raisers, horse-trainers, jockeys, stable-boys, gentlemen--all eager spectators or bidders. Chad edged hisway through the outer rim of the crowd and to the edge of the sidewalk, and, when a spectator stepped down from a dry-goods box from which hehad been looking on, Chad stepped up and took his place. Straightway, he began to wish he could buy a horse and ride back to the mountains. What fun that would be, and how he would astonish the folks on KingdomCome. He had his five dollars still in his pocket, and when the firsthorse was brought out, the auctioneer raised his hammer and shouted inloud tones:

"How much am I offered for this horse?"

There was no answer, and the silence lasted so long that before he knewit Chad called out in a voice that frightened him:

"Five dollars!" Nobody heard the bid, and nobody paid any attention tohim. 

"One hundred dollars, " said a voice. 

"One hundred and twenty-five, " said another, and the horse was knockeddown for two hundred dollars. 

A black stallion with curving neck and red nostrils and two white feetwalked proudly in. 

"How much am I offered?"

"Five dollars, " said Chad, promptly. A man who sat near heard the boyand turned to look at the little fellow, and was hardly able to believehis ears. And so it went on. Each time a horse was put up Chad shoutedout:

"Five dollars, " and the crowd around him began to smile and laugh andencourage him and wait for his bid. The auctioneer, too, saw him, andentered into the fun himself, addressing himself to Chad at everyopening bid. 

"Keep it up, little man, " said a voice behind him. "You'll get one byand by. " Chad looked around. Richard Hunt was smiling to him from hishorse on the edge of the crowd. 

The last horse was a brown mare--led in by a halter. She was old and atrifle lame, and Chad, still undispirited, called out this time louderthan ever:

"Five dollars!"

He shouted out this time loudly enough to be heard by everybody, and auniversal laugh rose; then came silence, and, in that silence, animperious voice shouted back:

"Let him have her!" It was the owner of the horse who spoke--a tall manwith a noble face and long iron-gray hair. The crowd caught his mood, and as nobody wanted the old mare very much, and the owner would be thesole loser, nobody bid against him, and Chad's heart thumped when theauctioneer raised his hammer and said:

"Five dollars, five dollars--what am I offered? Five dollars, fivedollars, going at five dollars, five dollars--going at fivedollars--going--going, last bid, gentlemen!" The hammer came down witha blow that made Chad's heart jump and brought a roar of laughter fromthe crowd. 

"What is the name, please?" said the auctioneer, bending forward withgreat respect and dignity toward the diminutive purchaser. 

"Chad. "

The auctioneer put his hand to one ear. 

"I beg your pardon--Dan'l Boone did you say?"

"No!" shouted Chad indignantly--he began to feel that fun was going onat his expense. "You heerd me--CHAD. "

"Ah, Mr. Chad. "

Not a soul knew the boy, but they liked his spirit, and severalfollowed him when he went up and handed his five dollars and took thehalter of his new treasure trembling so that he could scarcely stand. The owner of the horse placed his hand on the little fellow's head. 

"Wait a minute, " he said, and, turning to a negro boy: "Jim, go bring abridle. " The boy brought out a bridle, and the tall man slipped it onthe old mare's head, and Chad led her away--the crowd watching him. Just outside he saw the Major, whose eyes opened wide:

"Where'd you get that old horse, Chad?"

"Bought her, " said Chad. 

"What? What'd you give for her?"

"Five dollars. "

The Major looked pained, for he thought the boy was lying, but RichardHunt called him aside and told the story of the purchase; and then howthe Major did laugh--laughed until the tears rolled down his face. 

And then and there he got out of his carriage and went into a saddler'sshop and bought a brand new saddle with a red blanket, and put it onthe old mare and hoisted the boy to his seat. Chad was to have nolittle honor in his day, but he never knew a prouder moment than whenhe clutched the reins in his left hand and squeezed his short legsagainst the fat sides of that old brown mare. 

He rode down the street and back again, and then the Major told him hehad better put the black boy on the mare, to ride her home ahead ofhim, and Chad reluctantly got off and saw the little darky on his newsaddle and his new horse. 

"Take good keer o' that hoss, boy, " he said, with a warning shake ofhis head, and again the Major roared. 

First, the Major said, he would go by the old University and leave wordwith the faculty for the school-master when he should come there tomatriculate; and so, at a turnstile that led into a mighty green yardin the middle of which stood a huge gray mass of stone, the carriagestopped, and the Major got out and walked through the campus and up thegreat flight of stone steps and disappeared. The mighty columns, thestone steps--where had Chad heard of them? And then the truth flashed. This was the college of which the school-master had told him down inthe mountains, and, looking, Chad wanted to get closer. 

"I wonder if it'll make any difference if I go up thar?" he said to theold driver. 

"No, " the old man hesitated--"no, suh, co'se not. " And Chad climbed outand the old negro followed him with his eyes. He did not wholly approveof his master's picking up an unknown boy on the road. It was all rightto let him ride, but to be taking him home--old Tom shook his head. 

"Jess wait till Miss Lucy sees that piece o' white trash, " he said, shaking his head. Chad was walking slowly with his eyes raised. It mustbe the college where the school-master had gone to school--for thebuilding was as big as the cliff that he had pointed out down in themountains, and the porch was as big as the black rock that he pointedout at the same time--the college where Caleb Hazel said Chad, too, must go some day. The Major was coming out when the boy reached thefoot of the steps, and with him was a tall, gray man with spectaclesand a white tie and very white nails, and the Major said:

"There he is now, Professor. " And the Professor looked at Chadcuriously, and smiled and smiled again kindly when he saw the boy'sgrave, unsmiling eyes fastened on him. 

Then, out of the town and through the late radiant afternoon they wentuntil the sun sank and the carriage stopped before a gate. While thepickaninny was opening it, another carriage went swiftly behind them, and the Major called out cleanly to the occupants--a quiet, sombre, dignified-looking man and two handsome boys and a little girl. "They'remy neighbors, Chad, " said the Major. 

Not a sound did the wheels make on the thick turf as they drove towardthe old-fashioned brick house (it had no pillars), with its windowsshining through the firs and cedars that filled the yard. The Major puthis hand on the boy's shoulder:

"Well, here we are, little man. "

At the yard gate there was a great barking of dogs, and a great shoutof welcome from the negroes who came forward to take the horses. Toeach of them the Major gave a little package, which each darky tookwith shining teeth and a laugh of delight--all looking with wonder atthe curious little stranger with his rifle and coonskin cap, until ascowl from the Major checked the smile that started on each black face. Then the Major led Chad up a flight of steps and into a big hall and oninto a big drawing-room, where there was a huge fireplace and a greatfire that gave Chad a pang of homesickness at once. Chad was notaccustomed to taking off his hat when he entered a house in themountains, but he saw the Major take off his, and he dropped his owncap quickly. The Major sank into a chair. 

"Here we are, little man, " he said, kindly. 

Chad sat down and looked at the books, and the portraits and prints, and the big mirrors and the carpets on the floor, none of which he hadever seen before, and he wondered at it all and what it all might mean. A few minutes later, a tall lady in black, with a curl down each sideof her pale face, came in. Like old Tom, the driver, the Major, too, had been wondering what his sister, Miss Lucy, would think of hisbringing so strange a waif home, and now, with sudden humor, he sawhimself fortified. 

"Sister, " he said, solemnly, "here's a little kinsman of yours. He's agreat-great-grandson of your great-great-uncle--Chadwick Buford. That'shis name. What kin does that make us?"

"Hush, brother, " said Miss Lucy, for she saw the boy reddening withembarrassment and she went across and shook hands with him, taking inwith a glance his coarse strange clothes and his soiled hands and faceand his tangled hair, but pleased at once with his shyness and his darkeyes. She was really never surprised at any caprice of her brother, andshe did not show much interest when the Major went on to tell where hehad found the lad--for she would have thought it quite possible that hemight have taken the boy out of a circus. As for Chad, he was in awe ofher at once--which the Major noticed with an inward chuckle, for theboy had shown no awe of him. Chad could hardly eat for shyness atsupper and because everything was so strange and beautiful, and hescarcely opened his lips when they sat around the great fire, untilMiss Lucy was gone to bed. Then he told the Major all about himself andold Nathan and the Turners and the school-master, and how he hoped tocome back to the Bluegrass, and go to that big college himself, and heamazed the Major when, glancing at the books, he spelled out the titlesof two of Scott's novels, "The Talisman" and "Ivanhoe, " and told howthe school-master had read them to him. And the Major, who had apassion for Sir Walter, tested Chad's knowledge, and he could mentionhardly a character or a scene in the two books that did not draw anexcited response from the boy. 

"Wouldn't you like to stay here in the Bluegrass now and go to school?"

Chad's eyes lighted up. 

"I reckon I would; but how am I goin' to school, now, I'd like to know?I ain't got no money to buy books, and the school-teacher said you haveto pay to go to school, up here. "

"Well, we'll see about that, " said the Major, and Chad wondered what hemeant. Presently the Major got up and went to the sideboard and pouredout a drink of whiskey and, raising it to his lips, stopped:

"Will you join me?" he asked, humorously, though it was hard for theMajor to omit that formula even with a boy. 

"I don't keer if I do, " said Chad, gravely. The Major was astounded andamused, and thought that the boy was not in earnest, but he handed himthe bottle and Chad poured out a drink that staggered his host, anddrank it down without winking. At the fire, the Major pulled out hischewing tobacco. This, too, he offered and Chad accepted, equalling theMajor in the accuracy with which he reached the fireplace thereafterwith the juice, carrying off his accomplishment, too, with perfect andunconscious gravity. The Major was nigh to splitting with silentlaughter for a few minutes, and then he grew grave. 

"Does everybody drink and chew down in the mountains?"

"Yes, sir, " said Chad. "Everybody makes his own licker where I comefrom. "

"Don't you know it's very bad for little boys to drink and chew?"

"No, sir. "

"Did nobody ever tell you it was very bad for little boys to drink andchew?"

"No, sir"--not once had Chad forgotten that. 

"Well, it is. "

Chad thought for a minute. "Will it keep me from gittin' to be a BIGman?"

"Yes. "

Chad quietly threw his quid into the fire. 

"Well, I be damned, " said the Major under his breath. "Are you goin' toquit?"

"Yes, sir. "

Meanwhile, the old driver, whose wife lived on the next farm, wastelling the servants over there about the queer little stranger whomhis master had picked up on the road that day, and after Chad was goneto bed, the Major got out some old letters from a chest and read themover again. Chadwick Buford was his great-grandfather's twin brother, and not a word had been heard of him since the two had parted thatmorning on the old Wilderness Road, away back in the earliest pioneerdays. So, the Major thought and thought suppose--suppose? And at lasthe got up and with an uplifted candle, looked a long while at theportrait of his grandfather that hung on the southern wall. Then, witha sudden humor, he carried the light to the room where the boy was insound sleep, with his head on one sturdy arm, his hair loose on thepillow, and his lips slightly parted and showing his white, even teeth;he looked at the boy a long time and fancied he could see someresemblance to the portrait in the set of the mouth and the nose andthe brow, and he went back smiling at his fancies and thinking--for theMajor was sensitive to the claim of any drop of the blood in his ownveins--no matter how diluted. He was a handsome little chap. 

"How strange! How strange!"

And he smiled when he thought of the boy's last question. 

"Where's YO' mammy?"

It had stirred the Major. 

"I am like you, Chad, " he had said. "I've got no mammy--no nothin', except Miss Lucy, and she don't live here. I'm afraid she won't be onthis earth long. Nobody lives here but me, Chad. "

CHAPTER 9. 

MARGARET

The Major was in town and Miss Lucy had gone to spend the day with aneighbor; so Chad was left alone. 

"Look aroun', Chad, and see how you like things, " said the Major. "Goanywhere you please. "

And Chad looked around. He went to the barn to see his old mare and theMajor's horses, and to the kennels, where the fox-hounds reared againstthe palings and sniffed at him curiously; he strolled about thequarters, where the little pickaninnies were playing, and out to thefields, where the servants were at work under the overseer, JeromeConners, a tall, thin man with shrewd eyes, a sour, sullen face, andprotruding upper teeth. One of the few smiles that ever came to thatface came now when the overseer saw the little mountaineer. By and byChad got one of the "hands" to let him take hold of the plough and goonce around the field, and the boy handled the plough like a veteran, so that the others watched him, and the negro grinned, when he cameback, and said

"You sutinly can plough fer a fac'!"

He was lonesome by noon and had a lonely dinner, during which he couldscarcely realize that it was really he--Chad--Chad sitting up at thetable alone and being respectfully waited on by a kinky-headed littlenegro girl--called Thanky-ma'am because she was born on Thanksgivingday--and he wondered what the Turners would think if they could see himnow--and the school-master. Where was the school-master? He began to besorry that he hadn't gone to town to try to find him. Perhaps the Majorwould see him--but how would the Major know the school-master? He wassorry he hadn't gone. After dinner he started out-doors again. Earthand sky were radiant with light. Great white tumbling clouds were piledhigh all around the horizon--and what a long length of sky it was inevery direction down in the mountains, he had to look straight up, sometimes, to see the sky at all. Blackbirds chattered in the cedars ashe went to the yard gate. The field outside was full of singingmeadow-larks, and crows were cawing in the woods beyond. There had beena light shower, and on the dead top of a tall tree he saw a buzzardstretching his wings out to the sun. Past the edge of the woods, ran alittle stream with banks that were green to the very water's edge, andChad followed it on through the woods, over a worn rail-fence, along asprouting wheat-field, out into a pasture in which sheep and cattlewere grazing, and on, past a little hill, where, on the next low slope, sat a great white house with big white pillars, and Chad climbed on topof the stone fence--and sat, looking. On the portico stood a tall manin a slouch hat and a lady in black. At the foot of the steps a boy--ahead taller than Chad perhaps--was rigging up a fishing-pole. A negroboy was leading a black pony toward the porch, and, to his dying day, Chad never forgot the scene that followed. For, the next moment, alittle figure in a long riding-skirt stood in the big doorway and thenran down the steps, while a laugh, as joyous as the water running athis feet, floated down the slope to his ears. He saw the negro stoop, the little girl bound lightly to her saddle; he saw her black curlsshake in the sunlight, again the merry laugh tinkled in his ears, andthen, with a white plume nodding from her black cap, she galloped offand disappeared among the trees; and Chad sat looking afterher--thrilled, mysteriously thrilled--mysteriously saddened, straightway. Would he ever see her again?

The tall man and the lady in black went in-doors, the negrodisappeared, and the boy at the foot of the steps kept on rigging hispole. Several times voices sounded under the high creek bank below him, but, quick as his ears were, Chad did not hear them. Suddenly there wasa cry that startled him, and something flashed in the sun over the edgeof the bank and flopped in the grass. 

"Snowball!" an imperious young voice called below the bank, "get thatfish!"

On the moment Chad was alert again--somebody was fishing downthere--and he sprang from his perch and ran toward the fish just as awoolly head and a jet-black face peeped over the bank. 

The pickaninny's eyes were stretched wide when he saw the strangefigure in coonskin cap and moccasins running down on him, his facealmost blanched with terror, and he loosed his hold and, with a cry offright, rolled back out of sight. Chad looked over the bank. A boy ofhis own age was holding another pole, and, hearing the little darkyslide down, he said, sharply:

"Get that fish, I tell you!"

"Look dar, Mars' Dan, look dar!"

The boy looked around and up and stared with as much wonder as hislittle body-servant, but with no fear. 

"Howdye!" said Chad; but the white boy stared on silently. 

"Fishin'?" said Chad. 

"Yes, " said Dan, shortly--he had shown enough curiosity and he turnedhis eyes to his cork. "Get that fish, Snowball, " he said again. 

"I'll git him fer ye, " Chad said; and he went to the fish and unhookedit and came down the bank with the perch in one hand and the pole inthe other. 

"Whar's yo' string?" he asked, handing the pole to the still tremblinglittle darky. 

"I'll take it, " said Dan, sticking the butt of his cane-pole in themud. The fish slipped through his wet fingers, when Chad passed it tohim, dropped on the bank, flopped to the edge of the creek, and thethree boys, with the same cry, scrambled for it--Snowball falling downon it and clutching it in both his black little paws. 

"Dar now!" he shrieked. "I got him!"

"Give him to me, " said Dan. 

"Lemme string him, " said the black boy. 

"Give him to me, I tell you!" And, stringing the fish, Dan took theother pole and turned his eyes to his corks, while the pickaninnysquatted behind him and Chad climbed up and sat on the bank letting hislegs dangle over. When Dan caught a fish he would fling it with a whoophigh over the bank. After the third fish, the lad was mollified and gotover his ill-temper. He turned to Chad. 

"Want to fish?"

Chad sprang down the bank quickly. 

"Yes, " he said, and he took the other pole out of the bank, put on afresh wriggling worm, and moved a little farther down the creek wherethere was an eddy. 

"Ketchin' any?" said a voice above the bank, and Chad looked up to seestill another lad, taller by a head than either he or Dan--evidentlythe boy whom he had seen rigging a pole up at the big house on the hill. 

"Oh, 'bout 'leven, " said Dan, carelessly. 

"Howdye!" said Chad. 

"Howdye!" said the other boy, and he, too, stared curiously, but Chadhad got used to people staring at him. 

"I'm goin' over the big rock, " added the new arrival, and he went downthe creek and climbed around a steep little cliff, and out on a hugerock that hung over the creek, where he dropped his hook. He had nocork, and Chad knew that he was trying to catch catfish. Presently hejerked, and a yellow mudcat rose to the surface, fighting desperatelyfor his life, and Dan and Snowball yelled crazily. Then Dan pulled outa perch. 

"I got another one, " he shouted. And Chad fished silently. They weremaking "a mighty big fuss, " he thought, "over mighty little fish. " Ifhe just had a minnow an' had 'em down in the mountains, "I Gonnies, he'd show'em what fishin' was!" But he began to have good luck as itwas. Perch after perch he pulled out quietly, and he kept Snowball busystringing them until he had five on the string. The boy on the rock waswatching him and so was the boy near him--furtively--while Snowball'sadmiration was won completely, and he grinned and gurgled his delight, until Dan lost his temper again and spoke to him sharply. Dan did notlike to be beaten at anything. Pretty soon there was a light thunder ofhoofs on the turf above the bank. A black pony shot around the bank andwas pulled in at the edge of the ford, and Chad was looking into thedancing black eyes of a little girl with a black velvet cap on her darkcurls and a white plume waving from it. 

"Howdye!" said Chad, and his heart leaped curiously, but the littlegirl did not answer. She, too, stared at him as all the others had doneand started to ride into the creek, but Dan stopped her sharply:

"Now, Margaret, don't you ride into that water. You'll skeer the fish. "

"No, you won't, " said Chad, promptly. "Fish don't keer nothin' about ahoss. " But the little girl stood still, and her brother's face flushed. He resented the stranger's interference and his assumption of a betterknowledge of fish. 

"Mind your own business, " trembled on his tongue, and the fact that heheld the words back only served to increase his ill-humor and make aworse outbreak possible. But, if Chad did not understand, Snowball did, and his black face grew suddenly grave as he sprang more alertly thanever at any word from his little master. Meanwhile, all unconscious, Chad fished on, catching perch after perch, but he could not keep hiseyes on his cork while the little girl was so near, and more than oncehe was warned by a suppressed cry from the pickaninny when to pull. Once, when he was putting on a worm, he saw the little girl watchingthe process with great disgust, and he remembered that Melissa wouldnever bait her own hook. All girls were alike, he "reckoned" tohimself, and when he caught a fish that was unusually big, he walkedover to her. 

"I'll give this un to you, " he said, but she shrank from it. 

"Go 'way!" she said, and she turned her pony. Dan was red in the faceby this time. How did this piece of poor white trash dare to offer afish to his sister. And this time the words came out like the crack ofa whip:

"S'pose you mind your own business!"

Chad started as though he had been struck and looked around quickly. Hesaid nothing, but he stuck the butt of his pole in the mud at once andclimbed up on the bank again and sat there, with his legs hanging over;and his own face was not pleasant to see. The little girl was riding ata walk up the road. Chad kept perfect silence, for he realized that hehad not been minding his own business; still he did not like to be toldso and in such a way. Both corks were shaking at the same time now. 

"You got a bite, " said Dan, but Chad did not move. 

"You got a bite, I tell you, " he said, in almost the tone he had usedto Snowball, but Chad, when the small aristocrat looked sharply around, dropped his elbows to his knees and his chin into his hand--taking nonotice. Once he spat dexterously into the creek. Dan's own cork wasgoing under:

"Snowball!" he cried--"jerk!" A fish flew over Chad's head. Snowballhad run for the other pole at command and jerked, too, but the fish wasgone and with it the bait. 

"You lost that fish!" said the boy, hotly, but Chad sat silent--still. If he would only say something! Dan began to think that the strangerwas a coward. So presently, to show what a great little man he was, hebegan to tease Snowball, who was up on the bank unhooking the fish, ofwhich Chad had taken no notice. 

"What's your name?"

"Snowball!" henchman, obediently. 

"Louder!"

"S-n-o-w-b-a-l-l!"

"Louder!" The little black fellow opened his mouth wide. 

"S-N-O-W-B-A-L-L!" he shrieked. 

"LOUDER!"

At last Chad spoke quietly. 

"He can't holler no louder. "

"What do you know about it? Louder!", and Dan started menacingly afterthe little darky but Chad stepped between. 

"Don't hit him!"

Now Dan had never struck Snowball in his life, and he would as soonhave struck his own brother--but he must not be told that he couldn't. His face flamed and little Hotspur that he was, he drew his fist backand hit Chad full in the chest. Chad leaped back to avoid the blow, tumbling Snowball down the bank; the two clinched, and, while theytussled, Chad heard the other brother clambering over the rocks, thebeat of hoofs coming toward him on the turf, and the little girl's cry:

"Don't you DARE touch my brother!"

Both went down side by side with their head just hanging over the bank, where both could see Snowball's black wool coming to the surface in thedeep hole, and both heard his terrified shriek as he went under again. Chad was first to his feet. 

"Git a rail!" he shouted and plunged in, but Dan sprang in after him. In three strokes, for the current was rather strong, Chad had the kinkywool in his hand, and, in a few strokes more, the two boys had Snowballgasping on the bank. Harry, the taller brother, ran forward to helpthem carry him up the bank, and they laid him, choking and bawling, onthe grass. Whip in one hand and with the skirt of her long blackriding-habit in the other, the little girl stood above, lookingon--white and frightened. The hullabaloo had reached the house andGeneral Dean was walking swiftly down the hill, with Snowball's mammy, topped by a red bandanna handkerchief, rushing after him and thekitchen servants following. 

"What does this mean?" he said, sternly, and Chad was in a strange aweat once--he was so tall, and he stood so straight, and his eye was sopiercing. Few people could lie into that eye. The little girl spokefirst--usually she does speak first, as well as last. 

"Dan and--and--that boy were fighting and they pushed Snowball into thecreek. "

"Dan was teasin' Snowball, " said Harry the just. 

"And that boy meddled, " said Dan. 

"Who struck first?" asked the General, looking from one boy to theother. Dan dropped his eyes sullenly and Chad did not answer. 

"I wasn't goin' to hit Snowball, " said Dan. 

"I thought you wus, " said Chad. 

"Who struck first?" repeated the General, looking at Dan now. 

"That boy meddled and I hit him. "

Chad turned and answered the General's eyes steadily. 

"I reckon I had no business meddlin'!"

"He tried to give sister a fish. "

That was unwise in Dan--Margaret's chin lifted. 

"Oh, " she said, "that was it, too, was it? Well--"

"I didn't see no harm givin' the little gal a fish, " said Chad. "Littlegal, " indeed! Chad lost the ground he might have gained. Margaret'seyes looked all at once like her father's. 

"I'm a little GIRL, thank you. "

Chad turned to her father now, looking him in the face straight andsteadily. 

"I reckon I had no business meddlin', but I didn't think hit was fa'rfer him to hit the nigger; the nigger was littler, an' I didn't thinkhit 'as right. "

"I didn't mean to hit him--I was only playin'!"

"But I THOUGHT you was goin' to hit him, " said Chad. He looked at theGeneral again. "But I had no business meddlin'. " And he picked up hisold coonskin cap from the grass to start away. 

"Hold on, little man, " said the General. 

"Dan, haven't I told you not to tease Snowball?" Dan dropped his eyesagain. 

"Yes, sir. "

"You struck first, and this boy says he oughtn't to have meddled, but Ithink he did just right. Have you anything to say to him?"

Dan worked the toe of his left boot into the turf for a moment "No, sir. "

"Well, go up to your room and think about it awhile and see if youdon't owe somebody an apology. Hurry up now an' change your clothes. 

"You'd better come up to the house and get some dry clothes foryourself, my boy, " he added to Chad. "You'll catch cold. "

"Much obleeged, " said Chad. "But I don't ketch cold. "

He put on his old coonskin cap, and then the General recognized him. 

"Why, aren't you the little boy who bought a horse from me in town theother day?" And then Chad recognized him as the tall man who had cried"Let him have her. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Well, I know all about you, " said the General, kindly. "You arestaying with Major Buford. He's a great friend and neighbor of mine. Now you must come up and get some clothes, Harry!"--But Chad, though hehesitated, for he knew now that the gentleman had practically given himthe mare, interrupted, sturdily, "No, sir, I can't go--not while he's a-feelin' hard at me. "

"Very well, " said the General, gravely. Chad started off on a trot andstopped suddenly, "I wish you'd please tell that little GURL"--Chadpronounced the word with some difficulty--"that I didn't mean nothin'callin' her a little gal. Ever'body calls gurls gals whar I come from. "

"All right, " laughed the General. Chad trotted all the way home andthere Miss Lucy made him take off his wet clothes at once, though theboy had to go to bed while they were drying, for he had no otherclothes, and while he lay in bed the Major came up and listened toChad's story of the afternoon, which Chad told him word for word justas it had all happened. 

"You did just right, Chad, " said the Major, and he went down thestairs, chuckling:

"Wouldn't go in and get dry clothes because Dan wouldn't apologize. Dear me! I reckon they'll have it out when they see each other again. I'd like to be on hand, and I'd bet my bottom dollar on Chad. " But theydid not have it out. Half an hour after supper somebody shouted"Hello!" at the gate, and the Major went out and came back smiling. 

"Somebody wants to see you, Chad, " he said. And Chad went out and foundDan there on the black pony with Snowball behind him. 

"I've come over to say that I had no business hittin' you down at thecreek, and--" Chad interrupted him:

"That's all right, " he said, and Dan stopped and thrust out his hand. The two boys shook hands gravely. 

"An' my papa says you are a man an' he wants you to come over and seeus and I want you--and Harry and Margaret. We all want you. "

"All right, " said Chad. Dan turned his black pony and galloped off. 

"An' come soon!" he shouted back. 

Out in the quarters Mammy Ailsie, old Tom's wife, was having her ownsay that night. 

"Ole Marse Cal Buford pickin' a piece of white trash out de gutter an'not sayin' whar he come from an' nuttin' 'bout him. An' old Mars Henrytakin' him jus' like he was quality. My Tom say dae boy don' know whois his mammy ner his daddy. I ain' gwine to let my little mistis playwid no sech trash, I tell you--'deed I ain't!" And this talk wouldreach the drawing-room by and by, where the General was telling thefamily, at just about the same hour, the story of the horse sale andChad's purchase of the old brood mare. 

"I knew where he was from right away, " said Harry. "I've seenmountain-people wearing caps like his up at Uncle Brutus's, when theycome down to go to Richmond. "

The General frowned. 

"Well, you won't see any more people like him up there again. "

"Why, papa?"

"Because you aren't going to Uncle Brutus's any more. "

"Why, papa?"

The mother put her hand on her husband's knee. 

"Never mind, son, " she said. 

CHAPTER 10. 

THE BLUEGRASS

God's Country!

No humor in that phrase to the Bluegrass Kentuckian! There neverwas--there is none now. To him, the land seems in all the New World, tohave been the pet shrine of the Great Mother herself. She fashioned itwith loving hands. She shut it in with a mighty barrier of mightymountains to keep the mob out. She gave it the loving clasp of a mightyriver, and spread broad, level prairies beyond that the mob might glideby, or be tempted to the other side, where the earth was level andthere was no need to climb; that she might send priests from her shrineto reclaim Western wastes or let the weak or the unloving--if suchcould be--have easy access to another land. 

In the beginning, such was her clear purpose to the Kentuckian's eye, she filled it with flowers and grass and trees, and fish and bird andwild beasts. Just as she made Eden for Adam and Eve. The red men foughtfor the Paradise--fought till it was drenched with blood, but no tribe, without mortal challenge from another straightway, could ever call arood its own. Boone loved the land from the moment the eagle eye in hishead swept its shaking wilderness from a mountain-top, and every manwho followed him loved the land no less. And when the chosen came, theyfound the earth ready to receive them--lifted above the baneful breathof river-bottom and marshland, drained by rivers full of fish, filledwith woods full of game, and underlaid--all--with thick, blue, limestone strata that, like some divine agent working in the dark, keptcrumbling--ever crumbling--to enrich the soil and give bone-buildingvirtue to every drop of water and every blade of grass. For thosechosen people such, too, seemed her purpose--the Mother went to therace upon whom she had smiled a benediction for a thousand years--therace that obstacle but strengthens, that thrives best under an alieneffort to kill, that has ever conquered its conquerors, and that seemsbent on the task of carrying the best ideals any age has ever knownback to the Old World from which it sprang. The Great Mother knows!Knows that her children must suffer, if they stray too far from hergreat teeming breasts. And how she has followed close when this Saxonrace--her youngest born--seemed likely to stray too far--gathering itssons to her arms in virgin lands that they might suckle again and keepthe old blood fresh and strong. Who could know what danger threatenedit when she sent her blue-eyed men and women to people the wildernessof the New World? To climb the Alleghenies, spread through the wastesbeyond, and plant their kind across a continent from sea to sea. Whoknows what dangers threaten now, when, his task done, she seems to beopening the eastern gates of the earth with a gesture that seems tosay--"Enter, reclaim, and dwell therein!"

One little race of that race in the New World, and one only, has shekept flesh of her flesh, bone of her bone--to that race only did shegive no outside aid. She shut it in with gray hill and shining river. She shut it off from the mother state and the mother nation and left itto fight its own fight with savage nature, savage beast, and savageman. And thus she gave the little race strength of heart and body andbrain, and taught it to stand together as she taught each man of therace to stand alone, protect his women, mind his own business, andmeddle not at all; to think his own thoughts and die for them if needbe, though he divided his own house against itself; taught the man tocleave to one woman, with the penalty of death if he strayed elsewhere;to keep her--and even himself--in dark ignorance of the sins againstHerself for which she has slain other nations, and in that happyignorance keeps them to-day, even while she is slaying elsewhere still. 

And Nature holds the Kentuckians close even to-day--suckling at herbreasts and living after her simple laws. What further use she may havefor them is hid by the darkness of to-morrow, but before the Great Warcame she could look upon her work and say with a smile that it wasgood. The land was a great series of wooded parks such as one mighthave found in Merry England, except that worm fence and stone wall tookthe place of hedge along the highways. It was a land of peace and of aplenty that was close to easy luxury--for all. Poor whites were few, the beggar was unknown, and throughout the region there was no man, woman, or child, perhaps, who did not have enough to eat and to wearand a roof to cover his head, whether it was his own roof or not. Ifslavery had to be--then the fetters were forged light and hung loosely. And, broadcast, through the people, was the upright sturdiness of theScotch-Irishman, without his narrowness and bigotry; the grace andchivalry of the Cavalier without his Quixotic sentiment and hisweakness; the jovial good-nature of the English squire and theleavening spirit of a simple yeomanry that bore itself with unconscioustenacity to traditions that seeped from the very earth. And the wingsof the eagle hovered over all. 

For that land it was the flowering time of the age and the people; andthe bud that was about to open into the perfect flower had its livingsymbol in the little creature racing over the bluegrass fields on ablack pony, with a black velvet cap and a white nodding plume above hershaking curls, just as the little stranger who had floated down intothose Elysian fields--with better blood in his veins than he knew--wasa reincarnation perhaps of the spirit of the old race that had laindormant in the hills. The long way from log-cabin to Greek portico hadmarked the progress of the generations before her, and, on this sameway, the boy had set his sturdy feet. 

CHAPTER 11. 

A TOURNAMENT

On Sunday, the Major and Miss Lucy took Chad to church--a countrychurch built of red brick and overgrown with ivy--and the sermon wasvery short, Chad thought, for, down in the mountains, the circuit-riderwould preach for hours--and the deacons passed around velvet pouchesfor the people to drop money in, and they passed around bread, of whichnearly everybody took a pinch, and a silver goblet with wine, fromwhich the same people took a sip--all of which Chad did not understand. Usually the Deans went to Lexington to church, for they wereEpiscopalians, but they were all at the country church that day, andwith them was Richard Hunt, who smiled at Chad and waved hisriding-whip. After church Dan came to him and shook hands. Harry noddedto him gravely, the mother smiled kindly, and the General put his handon the boy's head. Margaret looked at him furtively, but passed him by. Perhaps she was still "mad" at him, Chad thought, and he was muchworried. Margaret was not shy like Melissa, but her face was kind. TheGeneral asked them all over to take dinner, but Miss Lucy declined--shehad asked people to take dinner with her. And Chad, with keendisappointment, saw them drive away. 

It was a lonely day for him that Sunday. He got tired staying so longat the table, and he did not understand what the guests were talkingabout. The afternoon was long, and he wandered restlessly about theyard and the quarters. Jerome Conners, the overseer, tried to befriendly with him for the first time, but the boy did not like theoverseer and turned away from him. He walked down to the pike gate andsat on it, looking over toward the Deans'. He wished that Dan wouldcome over to see him or, better still, that he could go over to see Danand Harry and--Margaret. But Dan did not come and Chad could not askthe Major to let him go--he was too shy about it--and Chad was gladwhen bedtime came. 

Two days more and spring was come in earnest. It was in the softness ofthe air, the tenderness of cloud and sky, and the warmth of thesunlight. The grass was greener and the trees quivered happily. Hensscratched and cocks crowed more lustily. Insect life was busier. Astallion nickered in the barn, and from the fields came the mooing ofcattle. Field-hands going to work chaffed the maids about the house andquarters. It stirred dreamy memories of his youth in the Major, and itbrought a sad light into Miss Lucy's faded eyes. Would she ever seeanother spring? It brought tender memories to General Dean, and over atWoodlawn, after he and Mrs. Dean had watched the children go off withhappy cries and laughter to school, it led them back into the househand in hand. And it set Chad's heart aglow as he walked through thedewy grass and amid the singing of many birds toward the pike gate. He, too, was on his way to school--in a brave new suit of clothes--andnobody smiled at him now, except admiringly, for the Major had takenhim to town the preceding day and had got the boy clothes such as Danand Harry wore. Chad was worried at first--he did not like to accept somuch from the Major. 

"I'll pay you back, " said Chad. "I'll leave you my hoss when I go 'way, if I don't, " and the Major laughingly said that was all right and hemade Chad, too, think that it was all right. And so spring took theshape of hope in Chad's breast, that morning, and a little later ittook the shape of Margaret, for he soon saw the Dean children ahead ofhim in the road and he ran to catch up with them. 

All looked at him with surprise--seeing his broad white collar withruffles, his turned-back, ruffled cuffs, and his boots with red tops;but they were too polite to say anything. Still Chad felt Margarettaking them all in and he was proud and confident. And, when her eyeswere lifted to the handsome face that rose from the collar and thethick yellow hair, he caught them with his own in an unconscious lookof fealty, that made the little girl blush and hurry on and not look athim again until they were in school, when she turned her eyes, as didall the other boys and girls, to scan the new "scholar. " Chad's work inthe mountains came in well now. The teacher, a gray, sad-eyed, thin-faced man, was surprised at the boy's capacity, for he could readas well as Dan, and in mental arithmetic even Harry was no match forhim; and when in the spelling class he went from the bottom to the headin a single lesson, the teacher looked as though he were going to givethe boy a word of praise openly and Margaret was regarding him with anew light in her proud eyes. That was a happy day for Chad, but itpassed after school when, as they went home together, Margaret lookedat him no more; else Chad would have gone by the Deans' house when Danand Harry asked him to go and look at their ponies and the new sheepthat their father had just bought; for Chad was puzzled and awed andshy of the little girl. It was strange--he had never felt that wayabout Melissa. But his shyness kept him away from her day after dayuntil, one morning, he saw her ahead of him going to school alone, andhis heart thumped as he quietly and swiftly overtook her withoutcalling to her; but he stopped running that she might not know that hehad been running, and for the first time she was shy with him. Harryand Dan were threatened with the measles, she said, and would say nomore. When they went through the fields toward the school-house, Chadstalked ahead as he had done in the mountains with Melissa, and, looking back, he saw that Margaret had stopped. He waited for her tocome up, and she looked at him for a moment as though displeased. Puzzled, Chad gave back her look for a moment and turned without aword--still stalking ahead. He looked back presently and Margaret hadstopped and was pouting. 

"You aren't polite, little boy. My mamma says a NICE little boy alwayslets a little GIRL go first. " But Chad still walked ahead. He lookedback presently and she had stopped again--whether angry or ready tocry, he could not make out--so he waited for her, and as she cameslowly near he stepped gravely from the path, and Margaret went on likea queen. 

In town, a few days later, he saw a little fellow take off his hat whena lady passed him, and it set Chad to thinking. He recalled asking theschool-master once what was meant when the latter read about a knightdoffing his plume, and the school-master had told him that men, inthose days, took off their hats in the presence of ladies just as theydid in the Bluegrass now; but Chad had forgotten. He understood it allthen and he surprised Margaret, next morning, by taking off his capgravely when he spoke to her; and the little lady was greatly pleased, for her own brothers did not do that, at least, not to her, though shehad heard her mother tell them that they must. All this must bechivalry, Chad thought, and when Harry and Dan got well, he revived hisold ideas, but Harry laughed at him and Dan did, too, until Chad, remembering Beelzebub, suggested that they should have a tournamentwith two rams that the General had tied up in the stable. They wouldmake spears and each would get on a ram. Harry would let them out intothe lot and they would have "a real charge--sure enough. " But Margaretreceived the plan with disdain, until Dan, at Chad's suggestion, askedthe General to read them the tournament scene in "Ivanhoe, " whichexcited the little lady a great deal; and when Chad said that she mustbe the "Queen of Love and Beauty" she blushed prettily and thought, after all, that it would be great fun. They would make lances ofash-wood and helmets of tin buckets, and perhaps Margaret would makered sashes for them. Indeed, she would, and the tournament would takeplace on the next Saturday. But, on Saturday, one of the sheep wastaken over to Major Buford's and the other was turned loose in theMajor's back pasture and the great day had to be postponed. 

It was on the night of the reading from "Ivanhoe" that Harry and Danfound out how Chad could play the banjo. Passing old Mammy's cabin thatnight before supper, the three boys had stopped to listen to old Tomplay, and after a few tunes, Chad could stand it no longer. 

"I foller pickin' the banjer a leetle, " he said shyly, and thereupon hehad taken the rude instrument and made the old negro's eyes stretchwith amazement, while Dan rolled in the grass with delight, and everynegro who heard ran toward the boy. After supper, Dan brought the banjointo the house and made Chad play on the porch, to the delight of themall. And there, too, the servants gathered, and even old Mammy wasobserved slyly shaking her foot--so that Margaret clapped her hands andlaughed the old woman into great confusion. After that no Saturday camethat Chad did not spend the night at the Deans', or Harry and Dan didnot stay at Major Buford's. And not a Saturday passed that the threeboys did not go coon-hunting with the darkies, or fox-hunting with theMajor and the General. Chad never forgot that first starlit night whenhe was awakened by the near winding of a horn and heard the Major jumpfrom bed. He jumped too, and when the Major reached the barn, a darklittle figure was close at his heels. 

"Can I go, too?" Chad asked, eagerly. 

"Think you can stick on?"

"Yes, sir. "

"All right. Get my bay horse. That old mare of yours is too slow. "

The Major's big bay horse! Chad was dizzy with pride. 

When they galloped out into the dark woods, there were the General andHarry and Dan and half a dozen neighbors, sitting silently on theirhorses and listening to the music of the hounds. 

The General laughed. 

"I thought you'd come, " he said, and the Major laughed too, and cockedhis ear. "Old Rock's ahead, " he said, for he knew, as did everyonethere, the old hound's tongue. 

"He's been ahead for an hour, " said the General with quietsatisfaction, "and I think he'll stay there. "

Just then a dark object swept past them, and the Major with a low cryhied on his favorite hound. 

"Not now, I reckon, " he said, and the General laughed again. 

Dan and Harry pressed their horses close to Chad, and all talked in lowvoices. 

"Ain't it fun?" whispered Dan. Chad answered with a shiver of pure joy. 

"He's making for the creek, " said the Major, sharply, and he touchedspurs to his horse. How they raced through the woods, cracking brushand whisking around trees, and how they thundered over the turf andclattered across the road and on! For a few moments the Major keptclose to Chad, watching him anxiously, but the boy stuck to the big baylike a jockey, and he left Dan and Harry on their ponies far behind. All night they rode under the starlit sky, and ten miles away theycaught poor Reynard. Chad was in at the kill, with the Major and theGeneral, and the General gave Chad the brush with his own hand. 

"Where did you learn to ride, boy?"

"I never learned, " said Chad, simply, whereat the Major winked at hisfriends and patted Chad on the shoulder. 

"I've got to let my boys ride better horses, I suppose, " said theGeneral; "I can't have a boy who does not know how to ride beating themthis way. "

Day was breaking when the Major and Chad rode into the stable-yard. Theboy's face was pale, his arms and legs ached, and he was so sleepy thathe could hardly keep his eyes open. 

"How'd you like it, Chad?"

"I never knowed nothing like it in my life, " said Chad. 

"I'm going to teach you to shoot. "

"Yes, sir, " said Chad. 

As they approached the house, a squirrel barked from the woods. 

"Hear that, Chad?" said the Major. "We'll get him. "

The following morning, Chad rose early and took his old rifle out intothe woods, and when the Major came out on the porch before breakfastthe boy was coming up the walk with six squirrels in his hand. TheMajor's eyes opened and he looked at the squirrels when Chad droppedthem on the porch. Every one of them was shot through the head. 

"Well, I'm damned! How many times did you shoot, Chad?"

"Seven. "

"What--missed only once?"

"I took a knot fer a squirrel once, " said Chad. 

The Major roared aloud. 

"Did I say I was going to teach you to shoot, Chad?"

"Yes, sir. "

The Major chuckled and that day he told about those squirrels and thatknot to everybody he saw. With every day the Major grew fonder andprouder of the boy and more convinced than ever that the lad was of hisown blood. 

"There's nothing that I like that that boy don't take to like a duck towater. " And when he saw the boy take off his hat to Margaret andobserved his manner with the little girl, he said to himself that ifChad wasn't a gentleman born, he ought to have been, and the Majorbelieved that he must be. 

Everywhere, at school, at the Deans', with the darkies--with everybodybut Conners, the overseer, had became a favorite, but, as to Napoleon, so to Chad, came Waterloo--with the long deferred tournament cameWaterloo to Chad. 

And it came after a certain miracle on May-day. The Major had takenChad to the festival where the dance was on sawdust in the woodland--inthe bottom of a little hollow, around which the seats ran as in anamphitheatre. Ready to fiddle for them stood none other than JohnMorgan himself, his gray eyes dancing and an arch smile on his handsomeface; and, taking a place among the dancers, were Richard Huntand--Margaret. The poised bow fell, a merry tune rang out, and RichardHunt bowed low to his little partner, who, smiling and blushing, dropped him the daintiest of graceful courtesies. Then the miracle cameto pass. Rage straightway shook Chad's soul--shook it as a terriershakes a rat--and the look on his face and in his eyes went back athousand years. And Richard Hunt, looking up, saw the strangespectacle, understood, and did not even smile. On the contrary, he wentat once after the dance to speak to the boy and got for his answerfierce, white, staring silence and a clinched fist, that was almostready to strike. Something else that was strange happened then to Chad. He felt a very firm and a very gentle hand on his shoulder, his owneyes dropped before the piercing dark eyes and kindly smile above him, and, a moment later, he was shyly making his way with Richard Hunttoward Margaret. 

It was on Thursday of the following week that Dan told him the two ramswere once more tied in his father's stable. On Saturday, then, theywould have the tournament. To get Mammy's help, Margaret had to tellthe plan to her, and Mammy stormed against the little girl taking partin any such undignified proceedings, but imperious Margaret forced herto keep silent and help make sashes and a tent for each of the twoknights. Chad would be the "Knight of the Cumberland" and Dan the"Knight of the Bluegrass. " Snowball was to be Dan's squire and blackRufus, Harry's body-servant, would be squire to Chad. Harry was KingJohn, the other pickaninnies would be varlets and vassals, and outragedUncle Tom, so Dan told him, would, "by the beard of Abraham, " have tobe a "Dog of an Unbeliever. " Margaret was undecided whether she wouldplay Rebecca, or the "Queen of Love and Beauty, " until Chad told hershe ought to be both, so both she decided to be. So all was done--thespears fashioned of ash, the helmets battered from tin buckets, colorsknotted for the spears, and shields made of sheepskins. On the stilessat Harry and Margaret in royal state under a canopy of calico, withindignant Mammy behind them. At each end of the stable-lot was a tentof cotton, and before one stood Snowball and before the other blackRufus, each with his master's spear and shield. Near Harry stood Sam, the trumpeter, with a fox-horn to sound the charge, and four blackvassals stood at the stable-door to lead the chargers forth. 

Near the stiles were the neighbors' children, and around the barn wasgathered every darky on the place, while behind the hedge and peepingthrough it were the Major and the General, the one chuckling, the othersmiling indulgently. 

The stable-doors opened, the four vassals disappeared and came forth, each pair leading a ram, one covered with red calico, the other withblue cotton, and each with a bandanna handkerchief around his neck. Each knight stepped forth from his tent, as his charger wasdragged--ba-a-ing and butting--toward it, and, grasping his spear andshield and setting his helmet on more firmly, got astride gravely--eachsquire and vassal solemn, for the King had given command that no varletmust show unseemly mirth. Behind the hedge, the Major was holding hishands to his side, and the General was getting grave. It had justoccurred to him that those rams would make for each other liketornadoes, and he said so. 

"Of course they will, " chuckled the Major. "Don't you suppose they knowthat? That's what they're doing it for. Bless my soul!"

The King waved his hand just then and his black trumpeter tooted thecharge. 

"Leggo!" said Chad. 

"Leggo!" said Dan. 

And Snowball and Rufus let go, and each ram ran a few paces and stoppedwith his head close to the ground, while each knight brandished hisspear and dug with his spurred heels. One charger gave a ba-a! Theother heard, raised his head, saw his enemy, and ba-a-ed an answeringchallenge. Then they started for each other with a rush that brought asudden fearsome silence, quickly followed by a babel of excited cries, in which Mammy's was loudest and most indignant. Dan, nearly unseated, had dropped his lance to catch hold of his charger's wool, and Chad hadgallantly lowered the point of his, because his antagonist was unarmed. But the temper of rams and not of knights was in that fight now andthey came together with a shock that banged the two knights into eachother and hurled both violently to the ground. General Dean and theMajor ran anxiously from the hedge. Several negro men rushed for therams, who were charging and butting like demons. Harry tumbled from thecanopy in a most unkingly fashion. Margaret cried and Mammy wrung herhands. Chad rose dizzily, but Dan lay still. Chad's elbow had struckhim in the temple and knocked him unconscious. 

The servants were thrown into an uproar when Dan was carried back intothe house. Harry was white and almost in tears. 

"I did it, father, I did it, " he said, at the foot of the steps. 

"No, " said Chad, sturdily, "I done it myself. "

Margaret heard and ran from the hallway and down the steps, brushingaway her tears with both hands. 

"Yes, you did--you DID, " she cried. "I hate you. "

"Why, Margaret, " said General Dan. 

Chad startled and stung, turned without a word and, unnoticed by therest, made his way slowly across the fields. 

CHAPTER 12. 

BACK TO KINGDOM COME

It was the tournament that, at last, loosed Mammy's tongue. She wassavage in her denunciation of Chad to Mrs. Dean--so savage and in suchplain language that her mistress checked her sharply, but not beforeMargaret had heard, though the little girl, with an awed face, slippedquietly out of the room into the yard, while Harry stood in thedoorway, troubled and silent. 

"Don't let me hear you speak that way again Mammy, " said Mrs. Dean, sosternly that the old woman swept out of the room in high dudgeon Andyet she told her husband of Mammy's charge;

"I am rather surprised at Major Buford. "

"Perhaps he doesn't know, " said the General. "Perhaps it isn't true. "

"Nobody knows anything about the boy. "

"Well, I cannot have my children associating with a waif. "

"He seems like a nice boy. "

"He uses extraordinary language. I cannot have him teaching my childrenmischief. Why I believe Margaret is really fond of him. I know Harryand Dan are. " The General looked thoughtful. 

"I will speak to Major Buford about him, " he said, and he did--nolittle to that gentleman's confusion--though he defended Chadstaunchly--and the two friends parted with some heat. 

Thereafter, the world changed for Chad, for is there any older andtruer story than that Evil has wings, while Good goes a plodding way?Chad felt the change, in the negroes, in the sneering overseer, andcould not understand. The rumor reached Miss Lucy's ears and she andthe Major had a spirited discussion that rather staggered Chad'skind-hearted companion. It reached the school, and a black-hairedyoungster, named Georgie Forbes, who had long been one of Margaret'sabject slaves, and who hated Chad, brought out the terrible charge inthe presence of a dozen school-children at noon-recess one day. It hadbeen no insult in the mountains, but Chad, dazed though he was, knew itwas meant for an insult, and his hard fist shot out promptly, landingin his enemy's chin and bringing him bawling to the earth. Others gaveout the cry then, and the boy fought right and left like a demon. Danstood sullenly near, taking no part, and Harry, while he stopped theunequal fight, turned away from Chad coldly, calling Margaret, who hadrun up toward them, away at the same time, and Chad's three friendsturned from him then and there, while the boy, forgetting all else, stood watching them with dumb wonder and pain. The school-bell clanged, but Chad stood still--with his heart well nigh breaking. In a fewminutes the last pupil had disappeared through the school-room door, and Chad stood under a great elm--alone. But only a moment, for heturned quickly away, the tears starting to his eyes, walked rapidlythrough the woods, climbed the worm fence beyond, and dropped, sobbing, in the thick bluegrass. 

An hour later he was walking swiftly through the fields toward the oldbrick house that had sheltered him. He was very quiet at supper thatnight, and after Miss Lucy had gone to bed and he and the Major wereseated before the fire, he was so quiet that the Major looked at himanxiously. 

"What's the matter Chad? Are you sick?"

"Nothin'--no, sir. "

But the Major was uneasy, and when he rose to go to bed, he went overand put his hand on the boy's head. 

"Chad, " he said, "if you hear of people saying mean things about you, you mustn't pay any attention to them. "

"No, sir. "

"You're a good boy, and I want you to live here with me. Good-night, Chad, " he added, affectionately. Chad nearly broke down, but hesteadied himself. 

"Good-by, Major, " he said, brokenly. "I'm obleeged to you. "

"Good-by?" repeated the Major. "Why?"

"Good-night, I mean, " stammered Chad. 

The Major stood inside his own door, listening to the boy's slow stepsup the second flight. "I'm gettin' to love that boy, " he said, wonderingly--"An' I'm damned if people who talk about him don't have meto reckon with"--and the Major shook his head from side to side. Several times he thought he could hear the boy moving around in theroom above him, and while he was wondering why the lad did not go tobed, he fell asleep. 

Chad was moving around. First, by the light of a candle, he laboriouslydug out a short letter to the Major--scalding it with tears. Then hetook off his clothes and got his old mountain-suit out of thecloset--moccasins and all--and put them on. Very carefully he foldedthe pretty clothes he had taken off--just as Miss Lucy had taughthim--and laid them on the bed. Then he picked up his old rifle in onehand and his old coonskin cap in the other, blew out the candle, slipped noiselessly down the stairs in his moccasined feet, out theunbolted door and into the starlit night. From the pike fence he turnedonce to look back to the dark, silent house amid the dark trees. Thenhe sprang down and started through the fields--his face set toward themountains. 

It so happened that mischance led General Dean to go over to see MajorBuford about Chad next morning. The Major listened patiently--or triedineffectively to listen--and when the General was through, he burst outwith a vehemence that shocked and amazed his old friend. 

"Damn those niggers!" he cried, in a tone that seemed to include theGeneral in his condemnation, "that boy is the best boy I ever knew. Ibelieve he is my own blood, he looks a little like that picturethere"--pointing to the old portrait--"and if he is what I believe heis, by ----, sir, he gets this farm and all I have. Do you understandthat?"

"I believe he told you what he was. "

"He did--but I don't believe he knows, and, anyhow, whatever he is, heshall have a home under this roof as long as he lives. "

The General rose suddenly--stiffly. 

"He must never darken my door again. "

"Very well. " The Major made a gesture which plainly said, "In thatevent, you are darkening mine too long, " and the General rose, slowlydescended the steps of the portico, and turned:

"Do you really mean, that you are going to let a little brat that youpicked up in the road only yesterday stand between you and me?"

The Major softened. 

"Look here, " he said, whisking a sheet of paper from his coat-pocket. While the General read Chad's scrawl, the Major watched his face. 

"He's gone, by ----. A hint was enough for him. If he isn't the son ofa gentleman, then I'm not, nor you. "

"Cal, " said the General, holding out his hand, "we'll talk this overagain. "

The bees buzzed around the honeysuckles that clambered over the porch. A crow flew overhead. The sound of a crying child came around thecorner of the house from the quarters, and the General's footsteps diedon the gravel-walk, but the Major heard them not. Mechanically hewatched the General mount his black horse and canter toward the pikegate. The overseer called to him from the stable, but the Major droppedhis eyes to the scrawl in his hand, and when Miss Lucy came out hesilently handed it to her. 

"I reckon you know what folks is a-sayin' about me. I tol' you myself. But I didn't know hit wus any harm, and anyways hit ain't my fault, Ireckon, an' I don't see how folks can blame me. But I don' want nobodywho don' want me. An' I'm leavin' 'cause I don't want to bother you. Inever bring nothing but trouble nohow an' I'm goin' back to themountains. Tell Miss Lucy good-by. She was mighty good to me, but Iknow she didn't like me. I left the hoss for you. If you don't have nouse fer the saddle, I wish you'd give hit to Harry, 'cause he tuk upfer me at school when I was fightin', though he wouldn't speak to me nomore. I'm mighty sorry to leave you. I'm obleeged to you cause you wusso good to me an' I'm goin' to see you agin some day, if I can. Good-by. "

"Left that damned old mare to pay for his clothes and his board and hisschooling, " muttered the Major. "By the gods"--he rose suddenly andstrode away--"I beg your pardon, Lucy. "

A tear was running down each of Miss Lucy's faded cheeks. 

Dawn that morning found Chad springing from a bed in a haystack--tenmiles from Lexington. By dusk that day, he was on the edge of theBluegrass and that night he stayed at a farm-house, going in boldly, for he had learned now that the wayfarer was as welcome in a Bluegrassfarm-house as in a log-cabin in the mountains. Higher and higher grewthe green swelling slopes, until, climbing one about noon next day, hesaw the blue foothills of the Cumberland through the clear air--and hestopped and looked long, breathing hard from pure ecstasy. Theplain-dweller never knows the fierce home hunger that the mountain-bornhave for hills. 

Besides, beyond those blue summits were the Turners and theschool-master and Jack, waiting for him, and he forgot hunger andweariness as he trod on eagerly toward them. That night, he stayed in amountain-cabin, and while the contrast of the dark room, the crowdingchildren, the slovenly dress, and the coarse food was strangelydisagreeable, along with the strange new shock came the thrill that allthis meant hills and home. It was about three o'clock of the fourth daythat, tramping up the Kentucky River, he came upon a long, even stretchof smooth water, from the upper end of which two black boulders werethrust out of the stream, and with a keener thrill he realized that hewas nearing home. He recalled seeing those rocks as the raft swept downthe river, and the old Squire had said that they were named afteroxen--"Billy and Buck. " Opposite the rocks he met a mountaineer. 

"How fer is it to Uncle Joel Turner's?"

"A leetle the rise o' six miles, I reckon. "

The boy was faint with weariness, and those six miles seemed a dozen. Idea of distance is vague among the mountaineers, and two hours ofweary travel followed, yet nothing that he recognized was in sight. Once a bend of the river looked familiar, but when he neared it, theroad turned steeply from the river and over a high bluff, and the boystarted up with a groan. He meant to reach the summit before he stoppedto rest, but in sheer pain, he dropped a dozen paces from the top andlay with his tongue, like a dog's, between his lips. 

The top was warm, but a chill was rising from the fast-darkeningshadows below him. The rim of the sun was about to brush the green tipof a mountain across the river, and the boy rose in a minute, draggedhimself on to the point where, rounding a big rock, he dropped againwith a thumping heart and a reeling brain. There it was--old Joel'scabin in the pretty valley below--old Joel's cabin--home! Smoke wasrising from the chimney, and that far away it seemed that Chad couldsmell frying bacon. There was the old barn and he could make out one ofthe boys feeding stock and another chopping wood--was that theschool-master? There was the huge form of old Joel at the fence talkingwith a neighbor. He was gesticulating as though angry, and the oldmother came to the door as the neighbor moved away with a shufflinggait that the boy knew belonged to the Dillon breed. Where was Jack?Jack! Chad sprang to his feet and went down the hill on a run. Heclimbed the orchard fence, breaking the top rail in his eagerness, andas he neared the house, he gave a shrill yell. A scarlet figure flashedlike a flame out of the door, with an answering cry, and the Turnersfollowed:

"Why, boy, " roared old Joel. "Mammy, hit's Chad!"

Dolph dropped an armful of feed. The man with the axe left it stuck ina log, and each man shouted:

"Chad!"

The mountaineers are an undemonstrative race, but Mother Turner tookthe boy in her arms and the rest crowded around, slapping him on theback and all asking questions at once. Dolph and Rube and Tom. Yes, andthere was the school-master--every face was almost tender with love forthe boy. But where was Jack?

"Where's--where's Jack?" said Chad. 

Old Joel changed face--looking angry; the rest were grave. Only the oldmother spoke:

"Jack's all right. "

"Oh, " said Chad, but he looked anxious. 

Melissa inside heard. He had not asked for HER, and with the suddenchoking of a nameless fear she sprang out the door to be caught by theschool-master, who had gone around the corner to look for her. 

"Lemme go, " she said, fiercely, breaking his hold and darting away, butstopping, when she saw Chad in the doorway, looking at her with a shysmile. 

"Howdye, Melissa!"

The girl stared at him mildly and made no answer, and a wave of shameand confusion swept over the boy as his thoughts flashed back to alittle girl in a black cap and on a black pony, and he stood reddeningand helpless. There was a halloo at the gate. It was old SquireMiddleton and the circuit-rider, and old Joel went toward them with adarkening face. 

"Why, hello, Chad, " the Squire said. "You back again?"

He turned to Joel. 

"Look hyeh, Joel. Thar hain't no use o' your buckin' agin yo' neighborsand harborin' a sheep-killin' dog. " Chad started and looked from oneface to another--slowly but surely making out the truth. 

"You never seed the dawg afore last spring. You don't know that hehain't a sheep-killer. "

"It's a lie--a lie, " Chad cried, hotly, but the school-master stoppedhim. 

"Hush, Chad, " he said, and he took the boy inside and told him Jack wasin trouble. A Dillon sheep had been found dead on a hill-side. DawsDillon had come upon Jack leaping out of the pasture, and Jack had comehome with his muzzle bloody. Even with this overwhelming evidence, oldJoel stanchly refused to believe the dog was guilty and ordered old manDillon off the place. A neighbor had come over, then another, and another, until old Joel got livid with rage. 

"That dawg mought eat a dead sheep but he never would kill a live one, and if you kill him, by ----, you've got to kill me fust. "

Now there is no more unneighborly or unchristian act for a farmer thanto harbor a sheep-killing dog. So the old Squire and the circuit-riderhad come over to show Joel the grievous error of his selfish, obstinatecourse, and, so far, old Joel had refused to be shown. All of his sonssturdily upheld him and little Melissa fiercely--the old mother and theschool-master alone remaining quiet and taking no part in thedissension. 

"Have they got Jack?"

"No, Chad, " said the school-master. "He's safe--tied up in the stable. "Chad started out, and no one followed but Melissa. A joyous bark thatwas almost human came from the stable as Chad approached, for the dogmust have known the sound of his master's footsteps, and when Chad drewopen the door, Jack sprang the length of his tether to meet him and wasjerked to his back. Again and again he sprang, barking, as thoughbeside himself, while Chad stood at the door, looking sorrowfully athim. 

"Down, Jack!" he said sternly, and Jack dropped obediently, lookingstraight at his master with honest eyes and whimpering like a child. 

"Jack, " said Chad, "did you kill that sheep?" This was all strangeconduct for his little master, and Jack looked wondering and dazed, buthis eyes never wavered or blinked. Chad could not long stand thosehonest eyes. 

"No, " he said, fiercely--"no, little doggie, no--no!" And Chad droppedon his knees and took Jack in his arms and hugged him to his breast. 

CHAPTER 13. 

ON TRIAL FOR HIS LIFE

By degrees the whole story was told Chad that night. Now and then theTurners would ask him about his stay in the Bluegrass, but the boywould answer as briefly as possible and come back to Jack. Before goingto bed, Chad said he would bring Jack into the house:

"Somebody might pizen him, " he explained, and when he came back, hestartled the circle about the fire:

"Whar's Whizzer?" he asked, sharply. "Who's seen Whizzer?"

Then it developed that no one had seen the Dillon dog--since the daybefore the sheep was found dead near a ravine at the foot of themountain in a back pasture. Late that afternoon Melissa had foundWhizzer in that very pasture when she was driving old Betsy, thebrindle, home at milking-time. Since then, no one of the Turners hadseen the Dillon dog. That, however, did not prove that Whizzer was notat home. And yet, "I'd like to know whar Whizzer is now!" said Chad, and, after, at oldJoel's command, he had tied Jack to a bedpost--an outrage that puzzledthe dog sorely--the boy threshed his bed for an hour--trying to thinkout a defence for Jack and wondering if Whizzer might not have beenconcerned in the death of the sheep. 

It is hardly possible that what happened, next day, could happenanywhere except among simple people of the hills. Briefly, the oldSquire and the circuit-rider had brought old Joel to the point ofsaying, the night before, that he would give Jack up to be killed, ifhe could be proven guilty. But the old hunter cried with an oath:

"You've got to prove him guilty. " And thereupon the Squire said hewould give Jack every chance that he would give a man--HE WOULD TRYHIM; each side could bring in witnesses; old Joel could have a lawyerif he wished, and Jack's case would go before a jury. If pronouncedinnocent, Jack should go free: if guilty--then the dog should be handedover to the sheriff, to be shot at sundown. Joel agreed. 

It was a strange procession that left the gate of the Turner cabin nextmorning. Old Joel led the way, mounted, with "ole Sal, " his rifle, across his saddle-bow. Behind him came Mother Turner and Melissa onfoot and Chad with his rifle over his left shoulder, and leading Jackby a string with his right hand. Behind them slouched Tall Tom with hisrifle and Dolph and Rube, each with a huge old-fashioned horse-pistolswinging from his right hip. Last strode the school-master. The cabinwas left deserted--the hospitable door held closed by a deer-skin latchcaught to a wooden pin outside. 

It was a strange humiliation to Jack thus to be led along the highway, like a criminal going to the gallows. There was no power on earth thatcould have moved him from Chad's side, other than the boy's owncommand--but old Joel had sworn that he would keep the dog tied and theold hunter always kept his word. He had sworn, too, that Jack shouldhave a fair trial. Therefore, the guns--and the school-master walkedwith his hands behind him and his eyes on the ground: he feared trouble. 

Half a mile up the river and to one side of the road, a space of somethirty feet square had been cut into a patch of rhododendron and filledwith rude benches of slabs--in front of which was a rough platform onwhich sat a home-made, cane-bottomed chair. Except for the opening fromthe road, the space was walled with a circle of living green throughwhich the sun dappled the benches with quivering disks of yellowlight--and, high above, great poplars and oaks arched their mightyheads. It was an open-air "meeting-house" where the circuit-riderpreached during his summer circuit and there the trial was to takeplace. 

Already a crowd was idling, whittling, gossiping in the road, when theTurner cavalcade came in sight--and for ten miles up and down the riverpeople were coming in for the trial. 

"Mornin', gentlemen, " said old Joel, gravely. 

"Mornin', " answered several, among whom was the Squire, who eyed Joel'sgun and the guns coming up the road. 

"Squirrel-huntin'?" he asked and, as the old hunter did not answer, headded, sharply:

"Air you afeerd, Joel Turner, that you ain't a-goin' to git justicefrom ME?"

"I don't keer whar it comes from, " said Joel, grimly--"but I'm a-goin'to HAVE it. "

It was plain that the old man not only was making no plea for sympathy, but was alienating the little he had: and what he had was very little, for who but a lover of dogs can give full sympathy to his kind? And, then, Jack was believed to be guilty. It was curious to see how eachDillon shrank unconsciously as the Turners gathered--all but Jerry, oneof the giant twins. He always stood his ground--fearing nor man, nordog--nor devil. 

Ten minutes later, the Squire took his seat on the platform, while thecircuit-rider squatted down beside him. The crowd, men and women andchildren, took the rough benches. To one side sat and stood theDillons, old Tad and little Tad, Daws, Nance, and others of the tribe. Straight in front of the Squire gathered the Turners about Melissa andChad--and Jack as a centre--with Jack squatted on his hanches foremostof all, facing the Squire with grave dignity and looking at none elsesave, occasionally, the old hunter or his little master. 

To the right stood the sheriff with his rifle, and on the outskirtshung the school-master. Quickly the old Squire chose a jury--giving oldJoel the opportunity to object as he called each man's name. Old Joelobjected to none, for every man called, he knew, was more friendly tohim than to the Dillons: and old Tad Dillon raised no word of protest, for he knew his case was clear. Then began the trial, and any soul thatwas there would have shuddered could he have known how that trial wasto divide neighbor against neighbor, and mean death and bloodshed forhalf a century after the trial itself was long forgotten. 

The first witness, old Tad--long, lean, stooping, crafty--had seen thesheep rushing wildly up the hill-side "'bout crack o' day, " he said, and had sent Daws up to see what the matter was. Daws had shouted back:

"That damned Turner dog has killed one o' our sheep. Thar he comes now. Kill him!" And old Tad had rushed in-doors for his rifle and had takena shot at Jack as he leaped into the road and loped for home. Just thena stern, thick little voice rose from behind Jack:

"Hit was a God's blessin' fer you that you didn't hit him. "

The Squire glared down at the boy and old Joel said, kindly:

"Hush, Chad. "

Old Dillon had then gone down to the Turners and asked them to kill thedog, but old Joel had refused. 

"Whar was Whizzer?" Chad asked, sharply. 

"You can't axe that question, " said the Squire. "Hit'ser-er-irrelevant. "

Daws came next. When he reached the fence upon the hill-side he couldsee the sheep lying still on the ground. As he was climbing over, theTurner dog jumped the fence and Daws saw blood on his muzzle. 

"How close was you to him?" asked the Squire. 

"'Bout twenty feet, " said Daws. 

"Humph!" said old Joel. 

"Whar was Whizzer?" Again the old Squire glared down at Chad. 

"Don't you axe that question again, boy. Didn't I tell you hit wasirrelevant?"

"What's irrelevant?" the boy asked, bluntly. 

The Squire hesitated. "Why--why, hit ain't got nothin' to do with thecase. "

"Hit ain't?" shouted Chad. 

"Joel, " said the Squire, testily, "ef you don't keep that boy still, I'll fine him fer contempt o' court. "

Joel laughed, but he put his heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. LittleTad Dillon and Nance and the Dillon mother had all seen Jack runningdown the road. There was no doubt but that it was the Turner dog. Andwith this clear case against poor Jack, the Dillons rested. And whatelse could the Turners do but establish Jack's character and put in aplea of mercy--a useless plea, old Joel knew--for a first offence? Jackwas the best dog old Joel had ever known, and the old man toldwonderful tales of the dog's intelligence and kindness and how onenight Jack had guarded a stray lamb that had broken its leg--untildaybreak--and he had been led to the dog and the sheep by Jack'sbarking for help. The Turner boys confirmed this story, though it wasreceived with incredulity. 

How could a dog that would guard one lone helpless lamb all night longtake the life of another?

There was no witness that had aught but kind words to say of the dog oraught but wonder that he should have done this thing--even back to thecattle-dealer who had given him to Chad. For at that time the dealersaid--so testified Chad, no objection being raised to hearsayevidence--that Jack was the best dog he ever knew. That was all theTurners or anybody could do or say, and the old Squire was about toturn the case over to the jury when Chad rose:

"Squire, " he said and his voice trembled, "Jack's my dog. I lived withhim night an' day for 'bout three years an' I want to axe somequestions. "

He turned to Daws:

"I want to axe you ef thar was any blood around that sheep. "

"Thar was a great big pool o' blood, " said Daws, indignantly. Chadlooked at the Squire. 

"Well, a sheep-killin' dog don't leave no great big pool o' blood, Squire, with the FUST one he kills! He SUCKS it!" Several men noddedtheir heads. 

"Squire! The fust time I come over these mountains, the fust people Iseed was these Dillons--an' Whizzer. They sicked Whizzer on Jack hyehand Jack whooped him. Then Tad thar jumped me and I whooped him. " (TheTurner boys were nodding confirmation. ) "Sence that time they've hatedJack an' they've hated me and they hate the Turners partly fer takin'keer o' me. Now you said somethin' I axed just now was irrelevant, butI tell you, Squire, I know a sheep-killin' dawg, and jes' as I knowJack AIN'T, I know the Dillon dawg naturely is, and I tell you, if theDillons' dawg killed that sheep and they could put it on Jack--they'ddo it. They'd do it--Squire, an' I tell you, you--ortern't--tolet--that sheriff--thar--shoot my--dog--until the Dillons answers whatI axed--" the boy's passionate cry rang against the green walls and outthe opening and across the river--

"WHAR'S WHIZZER?"

The boy startled the crowd and the old Squire himself, who turnedquickly to the Dillons. 

"Well, whar is Whizzer?"

Nobody answered. 

"He ain't been seen, Squire, sence the evenin' afore the night o' thekillin'!" Chad's statement seemed to be true. Not a voice contradicted. 

"An' I want to know if Daws seed signs o' killin' on Jack's head whenhe jumped the fence, why them same signs didn't show when he got home. "

Poor Chad! Here old Tad Dillon raised his hand. 

"Axe the Turners, Squire, " he said, and as the school-master on theoutskirts shrank, as though he meant to leave the crowd, the old man'squick eye caught the movement and he added:

"Axe the school-teacher!"

Every eye turned with the Squire's to the master, whose face wasstrangely serious straightway. 

"Did you see any signs on the dawg when he got home?" The gaunt manhesitated, with one swift glance at the boy, who almost paled in answer. 

"Why, " said the school-master, and again he hesitated, but old Joel, ina voice that was without hope, encouraged him:

"Go on!"

"What was they?"

"Jack had blood on his muzzle, and a little strand o' wool behind oneear. "

There was no hope against that testimony. Melissa broke away from hermother and ran out to the road--weeping. Chad dropped with a sob to hisbench and put his arms around the dog: then he rose up and walked outthe opening while Jack leaped against his leash to follow. Theschool-master put out his hand to stop him, but the boy struck it asidewithout looking up and went on. He could not stay to see Jackcondemned. He knew what the verdict would be, and in twenty minutes thejury gave it, without leaving their seats. 

"Guilty!"

The Sheriff came forward. He knew Jack and Jack knew him, and waggedhis tail and whimpered up at him when he took the leash. 

"Well, by ----, this is a job I don't like, an' I'm damned ef I'magoin' to shoot this dawg afore he knows what I'm shootin' him fer. I'mgoin' to show him that sheep fust. Whar's that sheep, Daws?"

Daws led the way down the road, over the fence, across the meadow, andup the hill-side where lay the slain sheep. Chad and Melissa saw themcoming--the whole crowd--before they themselves were seen. For a minutethe boy watched them. They were going to kill Jack where the Dillonssaid he had killed the sheep, and the boy jumped to his feet and ran upthe hill a little way and disappeared in the bushes, that he might nothear Jack's death-shot, while Melissa sat where she was, watching thecrowd come on. Daws was at the foot of the hill, and she saw him make agesture toward her, and then the Sheriff came on with Jack--over thefence, past her, the Sheriff saying, kindly, "Howdy, Melissa. I shorelyam sorry ta have to kill Jack, " and on to the dead sheep, which layfifty yards beyond. If the Sheriff expected to drop head and tail andlook mean he was greatly mistaken. Jack neither hung back nor sniffedat the carcass. Instead he put one fore foot on it and with the otherbent in the air, looked without shame into the Sheriff's eyes--as muchas to say:

"Yes, this is a wicked and shameful thing, but what have I got to dowith it? Why are you bringing ME here?"

The Sheriff came back greatly puzzled and shaking his head. PassingMelissa, he stopped to let the unhappy little girl give Jack a lastpat, and it was there that Jack suddenly caught scent of Chad's tracks. With one mighty bound the dog snatched the rawhide string from thecareless Sheriff's hand, and in a moment, with his nose to the ground, was speeding up toward the woods. With a startled yell and a frightfuloath the Sheriff threw his rifle to his shoulder, but the little girlsprang up and caught the barrel with both hands, shaking it fiercely upand down and hieing Jack on with shriek after shriek. A minute laterJack had disappeared in the bushes, Melissa was running like the winddown the hill toward home, while the whole crowd in the meadow wasrushing up toward the Sheriff, led by the Dillons, who were yelling andswearing like madmen. Above them, the crestfallen Sheriff waited. TheDillons crowded angrily about him, gesticulating and threatening, whilehe told his story. But nothing could be done--nothing. They did notknow that Chad was up in the woods or they would have gone in search ofhim--knowing that when they found him they would find Jack--but to lookfor Jack now would be like searching for a needle in a hay-stack. Therewas nothing to do, then, but to wait for Jack to come home, which hewould surely do--to get to Chad--and it was while old Joel waspromising that the dog should be surrendered to the Sheriff that littleTad Dillon gave an excited shriek. 

"Look up thar!"

And up there at the edge of the wood was Chad standing and, at hisfeet, Jack sitting on his haunches, with his tongue out and looking asthough nothing had happened or could ever happen to Chad or to him. 

"Come up hyeh, " shouted Chad. 

"You come down hyeh, " shouted the Sheriff, angrily. So Chad came down, with Jack trotting after him. Chad had cut off the rawhide string, butthe Sheriff caught Jack by the nape of the neck. 

"You won't git away from me agin, I reckon. "

"Well, I reckon you ain't goin' to shoot him, " said Chad. "Leggo thatdawg. "

"Don't be a fool, Jim, " said old Joel. "The dawg ain't goin' to leavethe boy. " The Sheriff let go. 

"Come on up hyeh, " said Chad. "I got somethin' to show ye. "

The boy turned with such certainty that with out a word Squire, Sheriff, Turners, Dillons, and spectators followed. As they approacheda deep ravine the boy pointed to the ground where were evidences ofsome fierce struggle--the dirt thrown up, and several small stonesscattered about with faded stains of blood on them. 

"Wait hyeh!" said the boy, and he slid down the ravine and appearedagain dragging something after him. Tall Tom ran down to help him andthe two threw before the astonished crowd the body of a black and whitedog. "Now I reckon you know whar Whizzer is, " panted Chad vindictivelyto the Dillons. 

"Well, what of it?" snapped Daws

"Oh, nothin', " said the boy with fine sarcasm. "Only WHIZZER killedthat sheep and Jack killed Whizzer. " From every Dillon throat came ascornful grunt. 

"Oh, I reckon so, " said Chad, easily. "Look dhar!" He lifted the deaddog's head, and pointed at the strands of wool between his teeth. Heturned it over, showing the deadly grip in the throat and close to thejaws, that had choked the life from Whizzer--Jack's own grip. 

"Ef you will jes' rickollect, Jack had that same grip the timeafore--when I pulled him off o' Whizzer. "

"By ----, that is so, " said Tall Tom, and Dolph and Rube echoed himamid a dozen voices, for not only old Joel, but many of his neighborsknew Jack's method of fighting, which had made him a victor up and downthe length of Kingdom Come. 

There was little doubt that the boy was right--that Jack had come onWhizzer killing the sheep, and had caught him at the edge of theravine, where the two had fought, rolling down and settling the oldfeud between them in the darkness at the bottom. And up there on thehill-side, the jury that pronounced Jack guilty pronounced himinnocent, and, as the Turners started joyfully down the hill, the sunthat was to have sunk on Jack stiff in death sank on Jack friskingbefore them--home. 

And yet another wonder was in store for Chad. A strange horse with astrange saddle was hitched to the Turner fence; beside it was an oldmare with a boy's saddle, and as Chad came through the gate a familiarvoice called him cheerily by name. On the porch sat Major Buford. 

CHAPTER 14. 

THE MAJOR IN THE MOUNTAINS

The quivering heat of August was giving way and the golden peace ofautumn was spreading through the land. The breath of mountain woods byday was as cool as the breath of valleys at night. In the mountains, boy and girl were leaving school for work in the fields, and from theCumberland foothills to the Ohio, boy and girl were leaving happyholidays for school. Along a rough, rocky road and down a shiningriver, now sunk to deep pools with trickling riffles between--for adrouth was on the land--rode a tall, gaunt man on an old brown marethat switched with her tail now and then at a long-legged, rough-hairedcolt stumbling awkwardly behind. Where the road turned from the riverand up the mountain, the man did a peculiar thing, for there, in thatlonely wilderness, he stopped, dismounted, tied the reins to anoverhanging branch and, leaving mare and colt behind, strode up themountain, on and on, disappearing over the top. Half an hour later, asturdy youth hove in sight, trudging along the same road with his capin his hand, a long rifle over one shoulder and a dog trotting at hisheels. Now and then the boy would look back and scold the dog and thedog would drop his muzzle with shame, until the boy stooped to pat himon the head, when he would leap frisking before him, until anotheraffectionate scolding was due. The old mare turned her head when sheheard them coming, and nickered. Without a moment's hesitation the laduntied her, mounted and rode up the mountain. For two days the man andthe boy had been "riding and tying, " as this way of travel for two menand one horse is still known in the hills, and over the mountain, theywere to come together for the night. At the foot of the spur on theother side, boy and dog came upon the tall man sprawled at full lengthacross a moss-covered bowlder. The dog dropped behind, but the man'squick eye caught him:

"Where'd that dog come from, Chad?" Jack put his belly to the earth andcrawled slowly forward--penitent, but determined. 

"He broke loose, I reckon. He come tearin' up behind me 'bout an hourago, like a house afire. Let him go. " Caleb Hazel frowned. 

"I told you, Chad, that we'd have no place to keep him. "

"Well, we can send him home as easy from up thar as we can fromhyeh--let him go. "

"All right!" Chad understood not a whit better than the dog; for Jackleaped to his feet and jumped around the school-master, trying to lickhis hands, but the school-master was absorbed and would none of him. There, the mountain-path turned into a wagon-road and the school-masterpointed with one finger. 

"Do you know what that is, Chad?"

"No, sir. " Chad said "sir" to the school-master now. 

"Well, that's"--the school-master paused to give his wordseffect--"that's the old Wilderness Road. "

Ah, did he not know the old, old Wilderness Road! The boy gripped hisrifle unconsciously, as though there might yet be a savage lying inambush in some covert of rhododendron close by. And, as they trudgedahead, side by side now, for it was growing late, the school-mastertold him, as often before, the story of that road and the pioneers whohad trod it--the hunters, adventurers, emigrants, fine ladies and finegentlemen who had stained it with their blood; and how that road hadbroadened into the mighty way for a great civilization from sea to sea. The lad could see it all, as he listened, wishing that he had lived inthose stirring days, never dreaming in how little was he of differentmould from the stout-hearted pioneers who beat out the path with theirmoccasined feet; how little less full of danger were his own days tobe; how little different had been his own life, and was his our posenow--how little different after all was the bourn to which his ownrestless feet were bearing him. 

Chad had changed a good deal since that night after Jack's trial, whenthe kind-hearted old Major had turned up at Joel's cabin to take himback to the Bluegrass. He was taller, broader at shoulder, deeper ofchest; his mouth and eyes were prematurely grave from much brooding andlooked a little defiant, as though the boy expected hostility from theworld and was prepared to meet it, but there was no bitterness in them, and luminous about the lad was the old atmosphere of brave, sunny cheerand simple self-trust that won people to him. 

The Major and old Joel had talked late that night after Jack's trial. The Major had come down to find out who Chad was, if possible, and totake him back home, no matter who he might be. The old hunter lookedlong into the fire. 

"Co'se I know hit 'ud be better fer Chad, but, Lawd, how we'd hate togive him up. Still, I reckon I'll have to let him go, but I can standhit better, if you can git him to leave Jack hyeh. " The Major smiled. Did old Joel know where Nathan Cherry lived? The old hunter did. Nathanwas a "damned old skinflint who lived across the mountain on StoneCreek--who stole other folks' farms and if he knew anything about Chadthe old hunter would squeeze it out of his throat; and if old Nathan, learning where Chad now was, tried to pester him he would break everybone in the skinflint's body. " So the Major and old Joel rode over nextday to see Nathan, and Nathan with his shifting eyes told them Chad'sstory in a high, cracked voice that, recalling Chad's imitation of it, made the Major laugh. Chad was a foundling, Nathan said: his mother wasdead and his father had gone off to the Mexican War and never comeback: he had taken the mother in himself and Chad had been born in hisown house, when he lived farther up the river, and the boy had begun torun away as soon as he was old enough to toddle. And with each sentenceNathan would call for confirmation on a silent, dark-faced daughter whosat inside: "Didn't he, Betsy?" or "Wasn't he, gal?" And the girl wouldnod sullenly, but say nothing. It seemed a hopeless mission exceptthat, on the way back, the Major learned that there were one or twoBufords living down the Cumberland, and like old Joel, shook his headover Nathan's pharisaical philanthropy to a homeless boy and wonderedwhat the motive under it was--but he went back with the old hunter andtried to get Chad to go home with him. The boy was rock-firm in hisrefusal. 

"I'm obleeged to you, Major, but I reckon I better stay in themountains. " That was all Chad would say, and at last the Major gave upand rode back over the mountain and down the Cumberland alone, still onhis quest. At a blacksmith's shop far down the river he found a man whohad "heerd tell of a Chad Buford who had been killed in the Mexican Warand whose daddy lived 'bout fifteen mile down the river. " The Majorfound that Buford dead, but an old woman told him his name was Chad, that he had "fit in the War o' 1812 when he was nothin' but a chunk ofa boy, and that his daddy, whose name, too, was Chad, had been killedby Injuns some'eres aroun' Cumberland Gap. " By this time the Major wasas keen as a hound on the scent, and, in a cabin at the foot of thesheer gray wall that crumbles into the Gap, he had the amazing luck tofind an octogenarian with an unclouded memory who could recollect aqueer-looking old man who had been killed by Indians--"a ole fellerwith the curiosest hair I ever did see, " added the patriarch. His namewas Colonel Buford, and the old man knew where he was buried, for hehimself was old enough at the time to help bury him. Greatly excited, the Major hired mountaineers to dig into the little hill that the oldman pointed out, on which there was, however, no sign of a grave, and, at last, they uncovered the skeleton of an old gentleman in a wig andperuke! There was little doubt now that the boy, no matter what theblot on his 'scutcheon, was of his own flesh and blood, and the Majorwas tempted to go back at once for him, but it was a long way, and hewas ill and anxious to get back home. So he took the Wilderness Roadfor the Bluegrass, and wrote old Joel the facts and asked him to sendChad to him whenever he would come. But the boy would not go. There wasno definite reason in his mind. It was a stubborn instinct merely--theinstinct of pride, of stubborn independence--of shame that festered inhis soul like a hornet's sting. Even Melissa urged him. She never tiredof hearing Chad tell about the Bluegrass country, and when she knewthat the Major wanted him to go back, she followed him out in the yardthat night and found him on the fence whittling. A red star was sinkingbehind the mountains. "Why won't you go back no more, Chad?" she said. 

"'Cause I HAIN'T got no daddy er mammy. " Then Melissa startled him. 

"Well, I'd go--an' I hain't got no daddy er mammy. " Chad stopped hiswhittling. 

"Whut'd you say, Lissy?" he asked, gravely. 

Melissa was frightened--the boy looked so serious. 

"Cross yo' heart an' body that you won't NUVER tell NO body. " Chadcrossed. 

"Well, mammy said I mustn't ever tell nobody--but I HAIN'T got no daddyer mammy. I heerd her a-tellin' the school-teacher. " And the littlegirl shook her head over her frightful crime of disobedience. 

"You HAIN'T?"

"I HAIN'T!"

Melissa, too, was a waif, and Chad looked at her with a wave of newaffection and pity. 

"Now, why won't you go back just because you hain't got no daddy an'mammy?"

Chad hesitated. There was no use making Melissa unhappy. 

"Oh, I'd just ruther stay hyeh in the mountains, " he said, carelessly--lying suddenly like the little gentleman that he was--lyingas he knew, and as Melissa some day would come to know. Then Chadlooked at the little girl a long while, and in such a queer way thatMelissa turned her face shyly to the red star. 

"I'm goin' to stay right hyeh. Ain't you glad, Lissy?"

The little girl turned her eyes shyly back again. "Yes, Chad, " she said. 

He would stay in the mountains and work hard; and when he grew up hewould marry Melissa and they would go away where nobody knew him orher: or they would stay right there in the mountains where nobodyblamed him for what he was nor Melissa for what she was; and he wouldstudy law like Caleb Hazel, and go to the Legislature--but Melissa! Andwith the thought of Melissa in the mountains came always the thought ofdainty Margaret in the Bluegrass and the chasm that lay between thetwo--between Margaret and him, for that matter; and when Mother Turnercalled Melissa from him in the orchard next day, Chad lay on his backunder an apple-tree, for a long while, thinking; and then he whistledfor Jack and climbed the spur above the river where he could look downon the shadowed water and out to the clouded heaps of rose and greenand crimson, where the sun was going down under one faint white star. Melissa was the glow-worm that, when darkness came, would be awatch-fire at his feet--Margaret, the star to which his eyes werelifted night and day--and so runs the world. He lay long watching thatstar. It hung almost over the world of which he had dreamed so long andupon which he had turned his back forever. Forever? Perhaps, but hewent back home that night with a trouble in his soul that was not topass, and while he sat by the fire he awoke from the same dream to findMelissa's big eyes fixed on him, and in them was a vague trouble thatwas more than his own reflected back to him. 

Still the boy went back sturdily to his old life, working in thefields, busy about the house and stable, going to school, reading andstudying with the school-master at nights, and wandering in the woodswith Jack and his rifle. And he hungered for spring to come again whenhe should go with the Turner boys to take another raft of logs down theriver to the capital. Spring came, and going out to the back pastureone morning, Chad found a long-legged, ungainly creature stumblingawkwardly about his old mare--a colt! That, too, he owed the Major, andhe would have burst with pride had he known that the colt's sire was afamous stallion in the Bluegrass. That spring he did go down the riveragain. He did not let the Major know he was coming and, through anameless shyness, he could not bring himself to go to see his oldfriend and kinsman, but in Lexington, while he and the school-masterwere standing on Cheapside, the Major whirled around a corner on themin his carriage, and, as on the turnpike a year before, old Tom, thedriver, called out:

"Look dar, Mars Cal!" And there stood Chad. 

"Why, bless my soul! Chad--why, boy! How you have grown!" For Chad hadgrown, and his face was curiously aged and thoughtful. The Majorinsisted on taking him home, and the school-master, too, who wentreluctantly. Miss Lucy was there, looking whiter and more fragile thanever, and she greeted Chad with a sweet kindliness that took the stingfrom his unjust remembrance of her. And what that failure to understandher must have been Chad better knew when he saw the embarrassed awe, inher presence, of the school-master, for whom all in the mountains hadso much reverence. At the table was Thankyma'am waiting. Around thequarters and the stable the pickaninnies and servants seemed toremember the boy in a kindly genuine way that touched him, and evenJerome Conners, the overseer, seemed glad to see him. The Major wasdrawn at once to the grave school-master, and he had a long talk withhim that night. It was no use, Caleb Hazel said, trying to persuade theboy to live with the Major--not yet. And the Major was more contentwhen he came to know in what good hands the boy was, and, down in hisheart, he loved the lad the more for his sturdy independence, and forthe pride that made him shrink from facing the world with the shame ofhis birth; knowing that Chad thought of him perhaps more than ofhimself. Such unwillingness to give others trouble seemed remarkable inso young a lad. Not once did the Major mention the Deans to the boy, and about them Chad asked no questions--not even when he saw theircarriage passing the Major's gate. When they came to leave the Majorsaid:

"Well, Chad, when that filly of yours is a year old, I'll buy 'em bothfrom you, if you'll sell 'em, and I reckon you can come up and go toschool then. "

Chad shook his head. Sell that colt? He would as soon have thought ofselling Jack. But the temptation took root, just the same, then andthere, and grew steadily until, after another year in the mountains, itgrew too strong. For, in that year, Chad grew to look the fact of hisbirth steadily in the face, and in his heart grew steadily a proudresolution to make his way in the world despite it. It was curious howMelissa came to know the struggle that was going on within him and howChad came to know that she knew--though no word passed between them:more curious still, how it came with a shock to Chad one day to realizehow little was the tragedy of his life in comparison with the tragedyin hers, and to learn that the little girl with swift vision hadalready reached that truth and with sweet unselfishness had reconciledherself. He was a boy--he could go out in the world and conquer it, while her life was as rigid and straight before her as though it ranbetween close walls of rock as steep and sheer as the cliff across theriver. One thing he never guessed--what it cost the little girl tosupport him bravely in his purpose, and to stand with smiling face whenthe first breath of one sombre autumn stole through the hills, and Chadand the school-master left the Turner home for the Bluegrass, this timeto stay. 

She stood in the doorway after they had waved good-by from the head ofthe river--the smile gone and her face in a sudden dark eclipse. Thewise old mother went in-doors. Once the girl started through the yardas though she would rush after them and stopped at the gate, clinchingit hard with both hands. As suddenly she became quiet. 

She went in-doors to her work and worked quietly and without a word. Thus she did all day while her mind and her heart ached. When she wentafter the cows before sunset she stopped at the barn where Beelzebubhad been tied. She lifted her eyes to the hay-loft where she and Chadhad hunted for hens' eggs and played hide-and-seek. She passed throughthe orchard where they had worked and played so many happy hours, andon to the back pasture where the Dillon sheep had been killed and shehad kept the Sheriff from shooting Jack. And she saw and notedeverything with a piteous pain and dry eyes. But she gave no sign thatnight, and not until she was in bed did she with covered head give way. Then the bed shook with her smothered sobs. This is the sad way withwomen. After the way of men, Chad proudly marched the old WildernessRoad that led to a big, bright, beautiful world where one had but to doand dare to reach the stars. The men who had trod that road had madethat big world beyond, and their life Chad himself had lived so far. Only, where they had lived he had been born--in a log cabin. Theirweapons--the axe and the rifle--had been his. He had had the samefight with Nature as they. He knew as well as they what life in thewoods in "a half-faced camp" was. Their rude sports and pastimes, theirlog-rollings, house-raisings, quilting parties, corn-huskings, feats ofstrength, had been his. He had the same lynx eyes, cool courage, swiftness of foot, readiness of resource that had been trained intothem. His heart was as stout and his life as simple and pure. He wastaking their path and, in the far West, beyond the Bluegrass worldwhere he was going, he could, if he pleased, take up the same life atthe precise point where they had left off. At sunset, Chad and theschool-master stood on the summit of the Cumberland foothills andlooked over the rolling land with little less of a thrill, doubtless, than the first hunters felt when the land before them was as much awilderness as the wilds through which they had made their way. Belowthem a farmhouse shrank half out of sight into a little hollow, andtoward it they went down. 

The outside world had moved swiftly during the two years that they hadbeen buried in the hills as they learned at the farm-house that night. Already the national storm was threatening, the air was electricallycharged with alarms, and already here and there the lightning hadflashed. The underground railway was busy with black freight, and JohnBrown, fanatic, was boldly lifting his shaggy head. Old Brutus Dean waseven publishing an abolitionist paper at Lexington, the aristocraticheart of the State. He was making abolition speeches throughout theBluegrass with a dagger thrust in the table before him--shaking hisblack mane and roaring defiance like a lion. The news thrilled Chadunaccountably, as did the shadow of any danger, but it threw theschool-master into gloom. There was more. A dark little man by the nameof Douglas and a sinewy giant by the name of Lincoln were thrilling theWest. Phillips and Garrison were thundering in Massachusetts, and fierytongues in the South were flashing back scornful challenges and threatsthat would imperil a nation. An invisible air-line shot suddenlybetween the North and the South, destined to drop some day and lie adead-line on the earth, and on each side of it two hordes of brothers, who thought themselves two hostile peoples, were shrinking away fromeach other with the half-conscious purpose of making ready for acharge. In no other State in the Union was the fratricidal character ofthe coming war to be so marked as in Kentucky, in no other State wasthe national drama to be so fully played to the bitter end. 

That night even, Brutus Dean was going to speak near by, and Chad andCaleb Hazel went to hear him. The fierce abolitionist first placed aBible before him. 

"This is for those who believe in religion, " he said; then a copy ofthe Constitution: "this for those who believe in the laws and infreedom of speech. And this, " he thundered, driving a dagger into thetable and leaving it to quiver there, "is for the rest!" Then he wenton and no man dared to interrupt. 

And only next day came the rush of wind that heralds the storm. Justoutside of Lexington Chad and the school-master left the mare and coltat a farm-house and with Jack went into town on foot. It was Saturdayafternoon, the town was full of people, and an excited crowd waspressing along Main Street toward Cheapside. The man and the boyfollowed eagerly. Cheapside was thronged--thickest around a framebuilding that bore a newspaper sign on which was the name of BrutusDean. A man dashed from a hardware store with an axe, followed byseveral others with heavy hammers in their hands. One swing of the axe, the door was crashed open and the crowd went in like wolves. Shatteredwindows, sashes and all, flew out into the street, followed by showersof type, chair-legs, table-tops, and then, piece by piece, the batteredcogs, wheels, and forms of a printing-press. The crowd made littlenoise. In fifteen minutes the house was a shell with gaping windows, surrounded with a pile of chaotic rubbish, and the men who had done thework quietly disappeared. Chad looked at the school-master for thefirst time: neither of them had uttered a word. The school-master'sface was white with anger, his hands were clinched, and his eyes wereso fierce and burning that the boy was frightened. 

CHAPTER 15. 

TO COLLEGE IN THE BLUEGRASS

As the school-master had foretold, there was no room at college forJack. Several times Major Buford took the dog home with him, but Jackwould not stay. The next morning the dog would turn up at the door ofthe dormitory where Chad and the school-master slept, and as a lastresort the boy had to send Jack home. So, one Sunday morning Chad ledJack out of the town for several miles, and at the top of a high hillpointed toward the mountains and sternly told him to go home. And Jack, understanding that the boy was in earnest, trotted sadly away with aplacard around his neck:

I own this dog. His name is Jack. He is on his way to Kingdom Come. Please feed him. Uncle Joel Turner will shoot any man who steels him. CHAD. 

It was no little consolation to Chad to think that the faithfulsheep-dog would in no small measure repay the Turners for all they haddone for him. But Jack was the closest link that bound him to themountains, and dropping out of sight behind the crest of the hill, Chadcrept to the top again and watched Jack until he trotted out of sight, and the link was broken. Then Chad went slowly and sorrowfully back tohis room. 

It was the smallest room in the dormitory that the school-master hadchosen for himself and Chad, and in it were one closet, one table, onelamp, two chairs and one bed--no more. There were two windows in thelittle room--one almost swept by the branches of a locust-tree andoverlooking the brown-gray sloping campus and the roofs andchurch-steeples of the town--the other opening to the east on a sweepof field and woodland over which the sun rose with a daily message fromthe unseen mountains far beyond and toward which Chad had sent Jacktrotting home. It was a proud day for Chad when Caleb Hazel took him to"matriculate"--leading him from one to another of the professors, whoawed the lad with their preternatural dignity, but it was a sad blowwhen he was told that in everything but mathematics he must go to thepreparatory department until the second session of the term--the"kitchen, " as it was called by the students. He bore it bravely, though, and the school-master took him down the shady streets to thebusy thoroughfare, where the official book-store was, and where Chad, with pure ecstasy, caught his first new books under one arm and trudgedback, bending his head now and then to catch the delicious smell of thefresh leaves and print. It was while he was standing with his treasuresunder the big elm at the turnstile, looking across the campus at thesundown that two boys came down the gravel path. He knew them both atonce as Dan and Harry Dean. Both looked at him curiously, as hethought, but he saw that neither knew him and no one spoke. The soundof wheels came up the street behind him just then, and a carriagehalted at the turnstile to take them in. Turning, Chad saw a slendergirl with dark hair and eyes and heard her call brightly to the boys. He almost caught his breath at the sound of her voice, but he keptsturdily on his way, and the girl's laugh rang in his ears as it rangthe first time he heard it, was ringing when he reached his room, ringing when he went to bed that night, and lay sleepless, lookingthrough his window at the quiet stars. 

For some time, indeed, no one recognized him, and Chad was glad. Oncehe met Richard Hunt riding with Margaret, and the piercing dark eyesthat the boy remembered so well turned again to look at him. Chadcolored and bravely met them with his own, but there was norecognition. And he saw John Morgan--Captain John Morgan--at the headof the "Lexington Rifles, " which he had just formed from the bestblood of the town, as though in long preparation for that comingwar--saw him and Richard Hunt, as lieutenant, drilling them in thecampus, and the sight thrilled him as nothing else, except Margaret, had ever done. Many times he met the Dean brothers on the playgroundand in the streets, but there was no sign that he was known until hewas called to the blackboard one day in geometry, the only course inwhich he had not been sent to the "kitchen. " Then Chad saw Harry turnquickly when the professor called his name. Confused though he was fora moment, he gave his demonstration in his quaint speech with perfectclearness and without interruption from the professor, who gave the boya keen look as he said, quietly:

"Very good, sir!" And Harry could see his fingers tracing in hisclass-book the figures that meant a perfect recitation. 

"How are you, Chad?" he said in the hallway afterward. 

"Howdye!" said Chad, shaking the proffered hand. 

"I didn't know you--you've grown so tall. Didn't you know me?"

"Yes. "

"Then why didn't you speak to me?"

"'Cause you didn't know ME. "

Harry laughed. "Well, that isn't fair. See you again. "

"All right, " said Chad. 

That very afternoon Chad met Dan in a football game--an old-fashionedgame, in which there were twenty or thirty howling lads on each sideand nobody touched the ball except with his foot--met him so violentlythat, clasped in each other's arms, they tumbled to the ground. 

"Leggo!" said Dan. 

"S'pose you leggo!" said Chad. 

As Dan started after the ball he turned to look at Chad and after thegame he went up to him. 

"Why, aren't you the boy who was out at Major Buford's once?"

"Yes. " Dan thrust out his hand and began to laugh. So did Chad, andeach knew that the other was thinking of the tournament. 

"In college?"

"Math'matics, " said Chad. "I'm in the kitchen fer the rest. "

"Oh!" said Dan. "Where you living?" Chad pointed to the dormitory, andagain Dan said "Oh!" in a way that made Chad flush, but added, quickly:

"You better play on our side to-morrow. "

Chad looked at his clothes--foot-ball seemed pretty hard on clothes--"Idon't know, " he said--"mebbe. "

It was plain that neither of the boys was holding anything againstChad, but neither had asked the mountain lad to come to see him--anomission that was almost unforgivable according to Chad's socialethics. So Chad proudly went into his shell again, and while the threeboys met often, no intimacy developed. Often he saw them with Margaret, on the street, in a carriage or walking with a laughing crowd of boysand girls; on the porticos of old houses or in the yards; and, onenight, Chad saw, through the wide-open door of a certain old house onthe corner of Mill and Market Streets, a party going on; and Margaret, all in white, dancing, and he stood in the shade of the trees oppositewith new pangs shooting through him and went back to his room indesolate loneliness, but with a new grip on his resolution that his ownday should yet come. 

Steadily the boy worked, forging his way slowly but surely toward thehead of his class in the "kitchen, " and the school-master helped himunwearyingly. And it was a great help--mental and spiritual--to be nearthe stern Puritan, who loved the boy as a brother and was ever ready toguide him with counsel and aid him with his studies. In time the Majorwent to the president to ask him about Chad, and that august dignitaryspoke of the lad in a way that made the Major, on his way through thecampus, swish through the grass with his cane in great satisfaction. Healways spoke of the boy now as his adopted son and, whenever it waspossible, he came in to take Chad out home to spend Sunday with him;but, being a wise man and loving Chad's independence, he let the boyhave his own way. He had bought the filly--and would hold her, he said, until Chad could buy her back, and he would keep the old nag as abroodmare and would divide profits with Chad--to all of which the boyagreed. The question of the lad's birth was ignored between them, andthe Major rarely spoke to Chad of the Deans, who were living in townduring the winter, nor questioned him about Dan or Harry or Margaret. But Chad had found out where the little girl went to church, and everySunday, despite Caleb Hazel's protest, he would slip into the Episcopalchurch, with a queer feeling--little Calvinist of the hills that hewas--that it was not quite right for him even to enter that church; andhe would watch the little girl come in with her family and, after thequeer way of these "furriners, " kneel first in prayer. And there, withsoul uplifted by the dim rich light and the peal of the organ, he wouldsit watching her; rising when she rose, watching the light from thewindows on her shining hair and sweet-spirited face, watching herreverent little head bend in obeisance to the name of the Master, though he kept his own held straight, for no Popery like that was forhim. Always, however, he would slip out before the service was quiteover and never wait even to see her come out of church. He was tooproud for that and, anyhow, it made him lonely to see the peoplegreeting one another and chatting and going off home together whenthere was not a soul to speak to him. It was just one such Sunday thatthey came face to face for the first time. Chad had gone down thestreet after leaving the church, had changed his mind and was goingback to his room. People were pouring from the church, as he went by, but Chad did not even look across. A clatter rose behind him and heturned to see a horse and rockaway coming at a gallop up the street, which was narrow. The negro driver, frightened though he was, had senseenough to pull his running horse away from the line of vehicles infront of the church so that the beast stumbled against the curb-stone, crashed into a tree, and dropped struggling in the gutter below anotherline of vehicles waiting on the other side of the street. Likelightning, Chad leaped and landed full length on the horse's head andwas tossed violently to and fro, but he held on until the animal laystill. 

"Unhitch the hoss, " he called, sharply. 

"Well, that was pretty quick work for a boy, " said a voice across thestreet that sounded familiar, and Chad looked across to see GeneralDean and Margaret watching him. The boy blushed furiously when his eyesmet Margaret's and he thought he saw her start slightly, but he loweredhis eyes and hurried away. 

It was only a few days later that, going up from town toward thecampus, he turned a corner and there was Margaret alone and movingslowly ahead of him. Hearing his steps she turned her head to see whoit was, but Chad kept his eyes on the ground and passed her withoutlooking up. And thus he went on, although she was close behind him, across the street and to the turnstile. As he was passing through, avoice rose behind him:

"You aren't very polite, little boy. " He turned quickly--Margaret hadnot gone around the corner: she, too, was coming through the campus andthere she stood, grave and demure, though her eyes were dancing. 

"My mamma says a NICE little boy always lets a little GIRL go FIRST. "

"I didn't know you was comin' through. "

"Was comin' through!" Margaret made a little face as though tosay--"Oh, dear. "

"I said I didn't know you were coming through this way. "

Margaret shook her head. "No, " she said; "no, you didn't. "

"Well, that's what I meant to say. " Chad was having a hard time withhis English. He had snatched his cap from his head, had stepped backoutside the stile and was waiting to turn it for her. Margaret passedthrough and waited where the paths forked. 

"Are you going up to the college?" she asked. 

"I was--but I ain't now--if you'll let me walk a piece with you. " Hewas scarlet with confusion--a tribute that Chad rarely paid his kind. His way of talking was very funny, to be sure, but had she not heardher father say that "the poor little chap had had no chance in life;"and Harry, that some day he would be the best in his class?

"Aren't you--Chad?"

"Yes--ain't you Margaret--Miss Margaret?"

"Yes, I'm Margaret. " She was pleased with the hesitant title and theboy's halting reverence. 

"An' I called you a little gal. " Margaret's laugh tinkled in merryremembrance. "An' you wouldn't take my fish. "

"I can't bear to touch them. "

"I know, " said Chad, remembering Melissa. 

They passed a boy who knew Chad, but not Margaret. The lad took off hishat, but Chad did not lift his; then a boy and a girl and, when onlythe two girls spoke, the other boy lifted his hat, though he did notspeak to Margaret. Still Chad's hat was untouched and when Margaretlooked up, Chad's face was red with confusion again. But it never tookthe boy long to learn and, thereafter, during the walk his hat came offunfailingly. Everyone looked at the two with some surprise and Chadnoticed that the little girl's chin was being lifted higher and higher. His intuition told him what the matter was, and when they reached thestile across the campus and Chad saw a crowd of Margaret's friendscoming down the street, he halted as if to turn back, but the littlegirl told him imperiously to come on. It was a strange escort forhaughty Margaret--the country-looking boy, in coarse homespun--butMargaret spoke cheerily to her friends and went on, looking up at Chadand talking to him as though he were the dearest friend she had onearth. 

At the edge of town she suggested that they walk across a pasture andgo back by another street, and not until they were passing through thewoodland did Chad come to himself. 

"You know I didn't rickollect when you called me 'little boy. '"

"Indeed!"

"Not at fust, I mean, " stammered Chad. 

Margaret grew mock-haughty and Chad grew grave. He spoke very slowlyand steadily. "I reckon I rickollect ever'thing that happened out thara sight better'n you. I ain't forgot nothin'--anything. "

The boy's sober and half-sullen tone made Margaret catch her breathwith a sudden vague alarm. 

Unconsciously she quickened her pace, but, already, she was mistress ofan art to which she was born and she said, lightly:

"Now, that's MUCH better. " A piece of pasteboard dropped from Chad'sjacket just then, and, taking the little girl's cue to swerve from thepoint at issue, he picked it up and held it out for Margaret to read. It was the first copy of the placard which he had tied around Jack'sneck when he sent him home, and it set Margaret to laughing and askingquestions. Before he knew it Chad was telling her about Jack and themountains; how he had run away; about the Turners and about Melissa andcoming down the river on a raft--all he had done and all he meant todo. And from looking at Chad now and then, Margaret finally kept hereyes fixed on his--and thus they stood when they reached the gate, while crows flew cawing over them and the air grew chill. 

"And did Jack go home?"

Chad laughed. 

"No, he didn't. He come back, and I had to hide fer two days. Then, because he couldn't find me he did go, thinking I had gone back to themountains, too. He went to look fer me. "

"Well, if he comes back again I'll ask my papa to get them to let youkeep Jack at college, " said Margaret. 

Chad shook his head. 

"Then I'll keep him for you myself. " The boy looked his gratitude, butshook his head again. 

"He won't stay. "

Margaret asked for the placard again as they moved down the street. 

"You've got it spelled wrong, " she said, pointing to "steel. " Chadblushed. "I can't spell when I write, " he said. "I can't eventalk--right. "

"But you'll learn, " she said. 

"Will you help me?"

"Yes. "

"Tell me when I say things wrong?"

"Yes. "

"Where'm I goin' to see you?"

Margaret shook her head thoughtfully: then the reason for her speakingfirst to Chad came out. 

"Papa and I saw you on Sunday, and papa said you must be very strong aswell as brave, and that you knew something about horses. Harry told uswho you were when papa described you, and then I remembered. Papa toldHarry to bring you to see us. And you must come, " she said, decisively. 

They had reached the turnstile at the campus again. 

"Have you had any more tournaments?" asked Margaret. 

"No, " said Chad, apprehensively. 

"Do you remember the last thing I said to you?"

"I rickollect that better'n anything, " said Chad. 

"Well, I didn't hate you. I'm sorry I said that, " she said gently. Chadlooked very serious. 

"That's all right, " he said. "I seed--I saw you on Sunday, too. "

"Did you know me?"

"I reckon I did. And that wasn't the fust time. " Margaret's eyes wereopening with surprise. 

"I been goin' to church ever' Sunday fer nothin' else but just to seeyou. " Again his tone gave her vague alarm, but she asked:

"Why didn't you speak to me?"

They were nearing the turnstile across the campus now, and Chad did notanswer. 

"Why didn't you speak to me?"

Chad stopped suddenly, and Margaret looked quickly at him, and saw thathis face was scarlet. The little girl started and her own face flamed. There was one thing she had forgotten, and even now she could notrecall what it was--only that it was something terrible she must notknow--old Mammy's words when Dan was carried in senseless after thetournament. Frightened and helpless, she shrank toward the turnstile, but Chad did not wait. With his cap in his hand, he turned abruptly, without a sound, and strode away. 

CHAPTER 16. 

AGAIN THE BAR SINISTER

And yet, the next time Chad saw Margaret, she spoke to him shyly butcordially, and when he did not come near her, she stopped him on thestreet one day and reminded him of his promise to come and see them. And Chad knew the truth at once--that she had never asked her fatherabout him, but had not wanted to know what she had been told she mustnot know, and had properly taken it for granted that her father wouldnot ask Chad to his house, if there were a good reason why he shouldnot come. But Chad did not go even to the Christmas party that Margaretgave in town, though the Major urged him. He spent Christmas with theMajor, and he did go to a country party, where the Major was delightedwith the boy's grace and agility dancing the quadrille, and where thelad occasioned no little amusement with his improvisations in the wayof cutting pigeon's wings and shuffling, which he had learned in themountains. So the Major made him accept a loan and buy a suit forsocial purposes after Christmas, and had him go to Madam Blake'sdancing school, and promise to go to the next party to which he wasasked. And that Chad did--to the big gray house on the corner, throughwhose widespread doors his longing eyes had watched Margaret and herfriends flitting like butterflies months before. 

It intoxicated the boy--the lights, music, flowers, the little girls inwhite--and Margaret. For the first time he met her friends, NellieHunt, sister to Richard; Elizabeth Morgan, cousin to John Morgan; andMiss Jennie Overstreet, who, young as she was, wrote poems--but Chadhad eyes only for Margaret. It was while he was dancing a quadrillewith her, that he noticed a tall, pale youth with black hair, glaringat him, and he recognized Georgie Forbes, a champion of Margaret, andthe old enemy who had caused his first trouble in his new home. Chadlaughed with fearless gladness, and Margaret tossed her head. It wasGeorgie now who blackened and spread the blot on Chad's good name, andit was Georgie to whom Chad--fast learning the ways ofgentlemen--promptly sent a pompous challenge, that the difficulty mightbe settled "in any way the gentleman saw fit. " Georgie insultinglydeclined to fight with one who was not his equal, and Chad boxed hisjaws in the presence of a crowd, floored him with one blow, andcontemptuously twisted his nose. Thereafter open comment ceased. Chadwas making himself known. He was the swiftest runner on the footballfield; he had the quickest brain in mathematics; he was elected to thePericlean Society, and astonished his fellow-members with a fierydenunciation of the men who banished Napoleon to St. Helena--so fierywas it, indeed, that his opponents themselves began to wonder how thatcrime had ever come to pass. He would fight at the drop of a hat, andhe always won; and by-and-by the boy began to take a fierce joy inbattling his way upward against a block that would have crushed aweaker soul. It was only with Margaret that that soul was in awe. Hebegan to love her with a pure reverence that he could never know atanother age. Every Saturday night, when dusk fell, he was mounting thesteps of her house. Every Sunday morning he was waiting to take herhome from church. Every afternoon he looked for her, hoping to catchsight of her on the streets, and it was only when Dan and Harry gotindignant, and after Margaret had made a passionate defence of Chad inthe presence of the family, that the General and Mrs. Dean took thematter in hand. It was a childish thing, of course; a girlish whim. Itwas right that they should be kind to the boy--for Major Buford's sake, if not for his own; but they could not have even the pretence of morethan a friendly intimacy between the two, and so Margaret was told thetruth. Immediately, when Chad next saw her, her honest eyes sadly toldhim that she knew the truth, and Chad gave up then. Thereafter hedisappeared from sports and from his kind every way, except in theclassroom and in the debating hall. Sullenly he stuck to his books. From five o'clock in the morning until ten o'clock at night, he was atthem steadily, in his room, or at recitation except for an hour's walkwith the school-master and the three half-hours that his meals kept himaway. He grew so pale and thin that the Major and Caleb Hazel weregreatly worried, but protest from both was useless. Before the end ofthe term he had mounted into college in every study, and was holdinghis own. At the end he knew his power--knew what he COULD do, and hisface was set, for his future, dauntless. When vacation came, he went atonce to the Major's farm, but not to be idle. In a week or two he wastaking some of the reins into his own hands as a valuable assistant tothe Major. He knew a good horse, could guess the weight of a steer withsurprising accuracy, and was a past master in knowledge of sheep. Byinstinct he was canny at a trade--what mountaineer is not?--and heastonished the Major with the shrewd deals he made. Authority seemed tocome naturally to him, and the Major swore that he could get more workout of the "hands" than the overseer himself, who sullenly resentedChad's interference, but dared not open his lips. Not once did he go tothe Deans', and neither Harry nor Dan came near him. There was littleintercourse between the Major and the General, as well; for, while theMajor could not, under the circumstances, blame the General, inconsistently, he could not quite forgive him, and the line of politecoolness between the neighbors was never overstepped. At the end ofJuly, Chad went to the mountains to see the Turners and Jack andMelissa. He wore his roughest clothes, put on no airs, and, to alleyes, save Melissa's, he was the same old Chad. But feminine subtletyknows no social or geographical lines, and while Melissa knew what hadhappened as well as Chad, she never let him see that she knew. Apparently she was giving open encouragement to Dave Hilton, a tawnyyouth from down the river, who was hanging, dog-like, about the house, and foolish Chad began to let himself dream of Margaret with a lightheart. On the third day before he was to go back to the Bluegrass, aboy came from over Black Mountain with a message from old NathanCherry. Old Nathan had joined the church, had fallen ill, and, fearinghe was going to die, wanted to see Chad. Chad went over with curiouspremonitions that were not in vain, and he came back with a strangestory that he told only to old Joel, under promise that he would nevermake it known to Melissa. Then he started for the Bluegrass, going overPine Mountain and down through Cumberland Gap. He would come back everyyear of his life, he told Melissa and the Turners, but Chad knew he wasbidding a last farewell to the life he had known in the mountains. AtMelissa's wish and old Joel's, he left Jack behind, though he sorelywanted to take the dog with him. It was little enough for him to do inreturn for their kindness, and he could see that Melissa's affectionfor Jack was even greater than his own: and how incomparably lonelierthan his life was the life that she must lead! This time Melissa didnot rush to the yard gate when he was gone. She sank slowly where shestood to the steps of the porch, and there she sat stone-still. OldJoel passed her on the way to the barn. Several times the old motherwalked to the door behind her, and each time starting to speak, stoppedand turned back, but the girl neither saw nor heard them. Jack trottedby, whimpering. He sat down in front of her, looking up at her unseeingeyes, and it was only when he crept to her and put his head in her lap, that she put her arms around him and bent her own head down; but notears came. 

CHAPTER 17. 

CHADWICK BUFORD, GENTLEMAN

And so, returned to the Bluegrass, the midsummer of that year, ChadwickBuford gentleman. A youth of eighteen, with the self-possession of aman, and a pair of level, clear eyes, that looked the world in the faceas proudly as ever but with no defiance and no secret sense of shame Itwas a curious story that Chad brought back and told to the Major, onthe porch under the honeysuckle vines, but it seemed to surprise theMajor very little: how old Nathan had sent for him to come to hisdeath-bed and had told Chad that he was no foundling; that one of hisfarms belonged to the boy; that he had lied to the Major about Chad'smother, who was a lawful wife, in order to keep the land for himself;how old Nathan had offered to give back the farm, or pay him the priceof it in livestock, and how, at old Joel's advice he had taken thestock and turned the stock into money. How, after he had found hismother's grave, his first act had been to take up the rough bee-gumcoffin that held her remains, and carry it down the river, and bury herwhere she had the right to lie, side by side with her grandfather andhis--the old gentleman who slept in wig and peruke on thehill-side--that her good name and memory should never again sufferinsult from any living tongue. It was then that Major took Chad by theshoulders roughly, and, with tears in his eyes, swore that he wouldhave no more nonsense from the boy; that Chad was flesh of his fleshand bone of his bone; that he would adopt him and make him live wherehe belonged, and break his damned pride. And it was then that Chad toldhim how gladly he would come, now that he could bring him anuntarnished name. And the two walked together down to the old familygraveyard, where the Major said that the two in the mountains should bebrought some day and where the two brothers who had parted nearlyfourscore years ago could, side by side, await Judgment Day. 

When they went back into the house the Major went to the sideboard. 

"Have a drink, Chad?"

Chad laughed: "Do you think it will stunt my growth?"

"Stand up here, and let's see, " said the Major. 

The two stood up, back to back, in front of a long mirror, and Chad'sshaggy hair rose at least an inch above the Major's thin locks of gray. The Major turned and looked at him from head to foot with affectionatepride. 

"Six feet in your socks, to the inch, without that hair. I reckon itwon't stunt you--not now. "

"All right, " laughed Chad, "then I'll take that drink. " And togetherthey drank. 

Thus, Chadwick Buford, gentleman, after the lapse of three-quarters ofa century, came back to his own: and what that own, at that day and inthat land, was!

It was the rose of Virginia, springing, in full bloom, from new andricher soil--a rose of a deeper scarlet and a stronger stem: and thebig village where the old University reared its noble front was thevery heart of that rose. There were the proudest families, thestateliest homes, the broadest culture, the most gracious hospitality, the gentlest courtesies, the finest chivalry, that the State has everknown. There lived the political idols; there, under the low sky, rosethe memorial shaft to Clay. There had lived beaux and belles, memoriesof whom hang still about the town, people it with phantom shapes, andgive an individual or a family here and there a subtle distinctionto-day. There the grasp of Calvinism was most lax. There were thedance, the ready sideboard, the card table, the love of the horse andthe dog, and but little passion for the game-cock. There were as manlyvirtues, as manly vices, as the world has ever known. And there, lovewas as far from lust as heaven from hell. 

It was on the threshold of this life that Chad stood. Kentucky hadgiven birth to the man who was to uphold the Union--birth to the manwho would seek to shatter it. Fate had given Chad the early life ofone, and like blood with the other; and, curiously enough, in his ownshort life, he already epitomized the social development of the nation, from its birth in a log cabin to its swift maturity behind the columnsof a Greek portico. Against the uncounted generations of gentlepeoplethat ran behind him to sunny England, how little could the short sleepof three in the hills count! It may take three generations to make agentleman, but one is enough, if the blood be there, the heart beright, and the brain and hand come early under discipline. 

It was to General Dean that the Major told Chad's story first. The twoold friends silently grasped hands, and the cloud between them passedlike mist. 

"Bring him over to dinner on Saturday, Cal--you and Miss Lucy, won'tyou? Some people are coming out from town. " In making amends, there wasno half-way with General Dean. 

"I will, " said the Major, "gladly. "

The cool of the coming autumn was already in the air that Saturday whenMiss Lucy and the Major and Chad, in the old carriage, with old Tom asdriver and the pickaninny behind, started for General Dean's. The Majorwas beautiful to behold, in his flowered waistcoat, his ruffled shirt, white trousers strapped beneath his highly polished, high-heeled boots, high hat and frock coat, with only the lowest button fastened, in orderto give a glimpse of that wonderful waistcoat, just as that, too, wasunbuttoned at the top that the ruffles might peep out upon the world. Chad's raiment, too, was a Solomon's--for him. He had protested, but invain; and he, too, wore white trousers with straps, high-heeled boots, and a wine-colored waistcoat and slouch hat, and a brave, though veryconscious, figure he made, with his tall body, well-poised head, strongshoulders and thick hair. It was a rare thing for Miss Lucy to do, butthe old gentlewoman could not resist the Major, and she, too, rode instate with them, smiling indulgently at the Major's quips, and now, kindly, on Chad. A drowsy peace lay over the magnificent woodlands, unravaged then except for firewood; the seared pastures, just beginningto show green again for the second spring; the flashing creek, the seasof still hemp and yellow corn, and Chad saw a wistful shadow cross MissLucy's pale face, and a darker one anxiously sweep over the Major'sjesting lips. 

Guests were arriving, when they entered the yard gate, and guests werecoming behind them. General and Mrs. Dean were receiving them on theporch, and Harry and Dan were helping the ladies out of theircarriages, while, leaning against one of the columns, in pure white, was the graceful figure of Margaret. That there could ever have beenany feeling in any member of the family other than simple, graciouskindliness toward him, Chad could neither see nor feel. At once everytrace of embarrassment in him was gone, and he could but wonder at theswift justice done him in a way that was so simple and effective. Evenwith Margaret there was no trace of consciousness. The past was wipedclean of all save courtesy and kindness. There were the Hunts--Nellie, and the Lieutenant of the Lexington Rifles, Richard Hunt, adauntless-looking dare-devil, with the ready tongue of a coffee-housewit and the grace of a cavalier. There was Elizabeth Morgan, to whomHarry's grave eyes were always wandering, and Miss Jennie Overstreet, who was romantic and openly now wrote poems for the Observer, and wholooked at Chad with no attempt to conceal her admiration of hisappearance and her wonder as to who he was. And there were theneighbors roundabout--the Talbotts, Quisenberrys, Clays, Prestons, Morgans--surely no less than forty strong, and all for dinner. It wasno little trial for Chad in that crowd of fine ladies, judges, soldiers, lawyers, statesmen--but he stood it well. While hisself-consciousness made him awkward, he had pronounced dignity ofbearing; his diffidence emphasized his modesty, and he had the goodsense to stand and keep still. Soon they were at table--and what atable and what a dinner that was! The dining-room was the biggest andsunniest room in the house; its walls covered with hunting prints, pictures of game and stag heads. The table ran the length of it. Thesnowy tablecloth hung almost to the floor. At the head sat Mrs. Dean, with a great tureen of calf's head soup in front of her. Before theGeneral was the saddle of venison that was to follow, drenched in abottle of ancient Madeira, and flanked by flakes of red-currant jelly. Before the Major rested broiled wild ducks, on which he could show hiscarving skill--on game as well as men. A great turkey supplanted thevenison, and last to come, and before Richard Hunt, Lieutenant of theRifles, was a Kentucky ham. That ham! Mellow, aged, boiled inchampagne, baked brown, spiced deeply, rosy pink within, and of aflavor and fragrance to shatter the fast of a Pope; and without, abrown-edged white layer, so firm that the lieutenant's deft carvingknife, passing through, gave no hint to the eye that it was deliciousfat. There had been merry jest and laughter and banter and gallantcompliment before, but it was Richard Hunt's turn now, and story afterstory he told, as the rose-flakes dropped under his knife in such thinslices that their edges coiled. It was full half an hour before thecarver and story-teller were done. After that ham the tablecloth waslifted, and the dessert spread on another lying beneath; then that, too, was raised, and the nuts and wines were placed on a third--reddamask this time. 

Then came the toasts: to the gracious hostess from Major Buford; toMiss Lucy from General Dean; from valiant Richard Hunt to blushingMargaret, and then the ladies were gone, and the talk was politics--theelection of Lincoln, slavery, disunion. 

"If Lincoln is elected, no power but God's can avert war, " said RichardHunt, gravely. 

Dan's eyes flashed. "Will you take me?"

The lieutenant lifted his glass. "Gladly, my boy. "

"Kentucky's convictions are with the Union; her kinship and sympathieswith the South, " said a deep-voiced lawyer. "She must remain neutral. "

"Straddling the fence, " said the Major, sarcastically. 

"No; to avert the war, if possible, or to act the peacemaker when thetragedy is over. "

"Well, I can see Kentuckians keeping out of a fight, " laughed theGeneral, and he looked around. Three out of five of the men present hadbeen in the Mexican war. The General had been wounded at Cerro Gordo, and the Major had brought his dead home in leaden coffins. 

"The fanatics of Boston, the hot-heads of South Carolina--they aremaking the mischief. "

"And New England began with slavery, " said the lawyer again. 

"And naturally, with that conscience that is a national calamity, wasthe first to give it up, " said Richard Hunt, "when the market price ofslaves fell to sixpence a pound in the open Boston markets. " There wasan incredulous murmur. 

"Oh, yes, " said Hunt, easily, "I can show you advertisements in Bostonpapers of slaves for sale at sixpence a pound. "

Perhaps it never occurred to a soul present that the word "slave" wasnever heard in that region except in some such way. With Southerners, the negroes were "our servants" or "our people"--never slaves. Two ladsat that table were growing white--Chad and Harry--and Chad's lipsopened first. 

"I don't think slavery has much to do with the question, really, " hesaid, "not even with Mr. Lincoln. " The silent surprise that followedthe boy's embarrassed statement ended in a gasp of astonishment whenHarry leaned across the table and said, hotly:

"Slavery has EVERYTHING to do with the question. "

The Major looked bewildered; the General frowned, and the keen-eyedlawyer spoke again:

"The struggle was written in the Constitution. The framers evaded it. Logic leads one way as well as another and no man can logically blameanother for the way he goes. "

"No more politics now, gentlemen, " said the General quickly. "We willjoin the ladies. Harry, " he added, with some sternness, "lead the way!"

As the three boys rose, Chad lifted his glass. His face was pale andhis lips trembled. 

"May I propose a toast, General Dean?"

"Why, certainly, " said the General, kindly. 

"I want to drink to one man but for whom I might be in a log cabin now, and might have died there for all I know--my friend and, thank God! mykinsman--Major Buford. "

It was irregular and hardly in good taste, but the boy had waited tillthe ladies were gone, and it touched the Major that he should want tomake such a public acknowledgment that there should be no false colorsin the flag he meant henceforth to bear. 

The startled guests drank blindly to the confused Major, though theyknew not why, but as the lads disappeared the lawyer asked:

"Who is that boy, Major?"

Outside, the same question had been asked among the ladies and the samestory told. The three girls remembered him vaguely, they said, and whenChad reappeared, in the eyes of the poetess at least, the halo ofromance floated above his head. 

She was waiting for Chad when he came out on the porch, and she shookher curls and flashed her eyes in a way that almost alarmed him. OldMammy dropped him a curtsey, for she had had her orders, and, behindher, Snowball, now a tall, fine-looking coal-black youth, grinned awelcome. The three girls were walking under the trees, with their armsmysteriously twined about one anther's waists, and the poetess walkeddown toward them with the three lads, Richard Hunt following. Chadcould not know how it happened, but, a moment later, Dan was walkingaway with Nellie Hunt one way; Harry with Elizabeth Morgan the other;the Lieutenant had Margaret alone, and Miss Overstreet was leading himaway, raving meanwhile about the beauty of field and sky. As they wenttoward the gate he could not help flashing one look toward the pairunder the fir tree. An amused smile was playing under the Lieutenant'sbeautiful mustache, his eyes were dancing with mischief, and Margaretwas blushing with anything else than displeasure. 

"Oho!" he said, as Chad and his companion passed on. "Sits the wind inthat corner? Bless me, if looks could kill, I'd have a happy death hereat your feet, Mistress Margaret. SEE the young man! It's the secondtime he has almost slain me. "

Chad could scarcely hear Miss Jennie's happy chatter, scarcely saw theshaking curls, the eyes all but in a frenzy of rolling. His eyes werein the back of his head, and his backward-listening ears heard onlyMargaret's laugh behind him. 

"Oh, I do love the autumn"--it was at the foot of those steps, thoughtChad, that he first saw Margaret springing to the back of her pony anddashing off under the fir trees--"and it's coming. There's one scarletleaf already"--Chad could see the rock fence where he had sat thatspring day--"it's curious and mournful that you can see in any season asign of the next to come. " And there was the creek where he found Danfishing, and there the road led to the ford where Margaret had spurnedhis offer of a slimy fish--ugh! "I do love the autumn. It makes mefeel like the young woman who told Emerson that she had such mammoththoughts she couldn't give them utterance--why, wake up, Mr. Buford, wake up!" Chad came to with a start. 

"Do you know you aren't very polite, Mr. Buford?" Mr. Buford! That didsound funny. 

"But I know what the matter is, " she went on. "I saw you look"--shenodded her head backward. "Can you keep a secret?" Chad nodded; he hadnot yet opened his lips. 

"Thae's going to be a match back there. He's only a few years older. The French say that a woman should be half a man's age plus sevenyears. That would make her only a few years too young, and she canwait. " Chad was scarlet under the girl's mischievous torture, but a cryfrom the house saved him. Dan was calling them back. 

"Mr. Hunt has to go back early to drill the Rifles. Can you keepanother secret?" Again Chad nodded gravely. "Well, he is going to driveme back. I'll tell him what a dangerous rival he has. " Chad was dumb;there was much yet for him to learn before he could parry with a tonguelike hers. 

"He's very good-looking, " said Miss Jennie, when she joined the girls, "but oh, so stupid. "

Margaret turned quickly and unsuspiciously. "Stupid! Why, he's thefirst man in his class. "

"Oh, " said Miss Jennie, with a demure smile, "perhaps I couldn't drawhim out, " and Margaret flushed to have caught the deftly tossed bait soreadily. 

A moment later the Lieutenant was gathering up the reins, with MissJennie by his side. He gave a bow to Margaret, and Miss Jennie noddedto Chad. 

"Come see me when you come to town, Mr. Buford, " she called, as thoughto an old friend, and still Chad was dumb, though he lifted his hatgravely. 

At no time was Chad alone with Margaret, and he was not sorry--hermanner so puzzled him. The three lads and three girls walked togetherthrough Mrs. Dean's garden with its grass walks and flower beds andvegetable patches surrounded with rose bushes. At the lower edge theycould see the barn with sheep in the yard around it, and there were thevery stiles where Harry and Margaret had sat in state when Dan and Chadwere charging in the tournament. The thing might never have happenedfor any sign from Harry or Dan or Margaret, and Chad began to wonder ifhis past or his present were a dream. 

How fine this courtesy was Chad could not realize. Neither could heknow that the favor Margaret had shown him when he was little more thanoutcast he must now, as an equal, win for himself. Miss Jennie hadcalled him "Mr. Buford. " He wondered what Margaret would call him whenhe came to say good-by. She called him nothing. She only smiled at him. 

"You must come to see us soon again, " she said, graciously, and so saidall the Deans. 

The Major was quiet going home, and Miss Lucy drowsed. All evening theMajor was quiet. 

"If a fight does come, " he said, when they were going to bed, "I reckonI'm not too old to take a hand. "

"And I reckon I'm not too young, " said Chad. 

CHAPTER 18. 

THE SPIRIT OF '76 AND THE SHADOW OF '61

One night, in the following April, there was a great dance inLexington. Next day the news of Sumter came. Chad pleaded to be let offfrom the dance, but the Major would not hear of it. It was afancy-dress ball, and the Major had a pet purpose of his own that hewanted gratified and Chad had promised to aid him. That fancy was thatChad should go in regimentals, as the stern, old soldier on the wall, of whom the Major swore the boy was the "spit and image. " The Majorhimself helped Chad dress in wig, peruke, stock, breeches, boots, spurs, cocked hat, sword and all. And then he led the boy down into theparlor, where Miss Lucy was waiting for them, and stood him up on oneside of the portrait. To please the old fellow, Chad laughingly struckthe attitude of the pictured soldier, and the Major cried:

"What'd I tell you, Lucy!" Then he advanced and made a low bow. 

"General Buford, " he said, "General Washington's compliments, and willGeneral Buford plant the flag on that hill where the left wing of theBritish is entrenched?"

"Hush, Cal, " said Miss Lucy, laughing. 

"General Buford's compliments to General Washington. General Bufordwill plant that flag on ANY hill that ANY enemy holds against it. "

The lad's face paled as the words, by some curious impulse, sprang tohis lips, but the unsuspecting Major saw no lurking significance in hismanner, nor in what he said, and then there was a rumble of carriagewheels at the door. 

The winter had sped swiftly. Chad had done his work in college onlyfairly well, for Margaret had been a disturbing factor. The girl was animpenetrable mystery to him, for the past between them was not onlywiped clean--it seemed quite gone. Once only had he dared to open hislips about the old days, and the girl's flushed silence made a likemistake forever impossible. He came and went at the Deans' as hepleased. Always they were kind, courteous, hospitable--no more, noless, unvaryingly. During the Christmas holidays he and Margaret hadhad a foolish quarrel, and it was then that Chad took his little flingat his little world--a fling that was foolish, but harmful, chiefly inthat it took his time and his mind and his energy from his work. He notonly neglected his studies, but he fell in with the wild young bucks ofthe town, learned to play cards, took more wine than was good for himsometimes, was on the verge of several duels, and night after nightraced home in his buggy against the coming dawn. Though Miss Lucylooked worried, the indulgent old Major made no protest. Indeed he wasrather pleased. Chad was sowing his wild oats--it was in the blood, andthe mood would pass. It did pass, naturally enough, on the very daythat the breach between him and Margaret was partly healed; and theheart of Caleb Hazel, whom Chad, for months, had not dared to face, wasmade glad when the boy came back to him remorseful and repentant--theold Chad once more. 

They were late in getting to the dance. Every window in the old Hunthome was brilliant with light. Chinese lanterns swung in the big yard. The scent of early spring flowers smote the fresh night air. Music andthe murmur of nimble feet and happy laughter swept out the wide-opendoors past which white figures flitted swiftly. Scarcely anybody knewChad in his regimentals, and the Major, with the delight of a boy, ledhim around, gravely presenting him as General Buford here and there. Indeed, the lad made a noble figure with his superb height and bearing, and he wore sword and spurs as though born to them. Margaret wasdancing with Richard Hunt when she saw his eyes searching for herthrough the room, and she gave him a radiant smile that almost stunnedhim. She had been haughty and distant when he went to her to pleadforgiveness: she had been too hard, and Margaret, too, was repentant. 

"Why, who's that?" asked Richard Hunt. "Oh, yes, " he added, getting hisanswer from Margaret's face. "Bless me, but he's fine--the very spiritof '76. I must have him in the Rifles. "

"Will you make him a lieutenant?" asked Margaret. 

"Why, yes, I will, " said Mr. Hunt, decisively. "I'll resign myself inhis favor, if it pleases you. "

"Oh, no, no--no one could fill your place. "

"Well, he can, I fear--and here he comes to do it. I'll have to retreatsome time, and I suppose I'd as well begin now. " And the gallantgentleman bowed to Chad. 

"Will you pardon me, Miss Margaret? My mother is calling me. "

"You must have keen ears, " said Margaret; "your mother is upstairs. "

"Yes; but she wants me. Everybody wants me, but--" he bowed again withan imperturbable smile and went his way. 

Margaret looked demurely into Chad's eager eyes. 

"And how is the spirit of '76?"

"The spirit of '76 is unchanged. "

"Oh, yes, he is; I scarcely knew him. "

"But he's unchanged; he never will change. "

Margaret dropped her eyes and Chad looked around. 

"I wish we could get out of here. "

"We can, " said Margaret, demurely. 

"We will!" said Chad, and he made for a door, outside which lanternswere swinging in the wind. Margaret caught up some flimsy garment andwound it about her pretty round throat--they call it a "fascinator" inthe South. 

Chad looked down at her. 

"I wish you could see yourself; I wish I could tell you how you look. "

"I have, " said Margaret, "every time I passed a mirror. And otherpeople have told me. Mr. Hunt did. He didn't seem to have much trouble. "

"I wish I had his tongue. "

"If you had, and nothing else, you wouldn't have me"--Chad started asthe little witch paused a second, drawling--"leaving my friends andthis jolly dance to go out into a freezing yard and talk to an agedColonial who doesn't appreciate his modern blessings. The next thingyou'll be wanting, I suppose--will be--"

"You, Margaret; you--YOU!"

It had come at last and Margaret hardly knew the choked voice thatinterrupted her. She had turned her back to him to sit down. She pauseda moment, standing. Her eyes closed; a slight tremor ran through her, and she sank with her face in her hands. Chad stood silent, trembling. Voices murmured about them, but like the music in the house, theyseemed strangely far away. The stirring of the wind made the suddendamp on his forehead icy-cold. Margaret's hands slowly left her face, which had changed as by a miracle. Every trace of coquetry was gone. Itwas the face of a woman who knew her own heart, and had the sweetfrankness to speak it, that was lifted now to Chad. 

"I'm so glad you are what you are, Chad; but had you beenotherwise--that would have made no difference to me. You believe that, don't you, Chad? They might not have let me marry you, but I shouldhave cared, just the same. They may not now, but that, too, will makeno difference. " She turned her eyes from his for an instant, as thoughshe were looking far backward. "Ever since that day, " she said, slowly, "when I heard you say, 'Tell the little gurl I didn't mean nothin'callin' her a little gal'"--there was a low, delicious gurgle in thethroat as she tried to imitate his odd speech, and then her eyessuddenly filled with tears, but she brushed them away, smilingbrightly. "Ever since then, Chad--" she stopped--a shadow fell acrossthe door of the little summer house. 

"Here I am, Mr. Hunt, " she said, lightly; "is this your dance?" Sherose and was gone. "Thank you, Mr. Buford, " she called back, sweetly. 

For a moment Chad stood where he was, quite dazed--so quickly, sounexpectedly had the crisis come. The blood had rushed to his face andflooded him with triumphant happiness. A terrible doubt chilled him asquickly. Had he heard aright?--could he have misunderstood her? Had thedream of years really come true? What was it she had said? He stumbledaround in the half darkness, wondering. Was this another phase of herunceasing coquetry? How quickly her tone had changed when RichardHunt's shadow came. At that moment, he neither could nor would havechanged a hair had some genie dropped them both in the midst of thecrowded ball-room. He turned swiftly toward the dancers. He must see, know--now!

The dance was a quadrille and the figure was "Grand right and left. "Margaret had met Richard Hunt opposite, half-way, when Chad reached thedoor and was curtseying to him with a radiant smile. Again the boy'sdoubts beat him fiercely; and then Margaret turned her head, as thoughshe knew he must be standing there. Her face grew so suddenly seriousand her eyes softened with such swift tenderness when they met his, that a wave of guilty shame swept through him. And when she came aroundto him and passed, she leaned from the circle toward him, merry andmock-reproachful:

"You mustn't look at me like that, " she whispered, and Hunt, close athand, saw, guessed and smiled. Chad turned quickly away again. 

That happy dawn--going home! The Major drowsed and fell asleep. Thefirst coming light, the first cool breath that was stealing over theawakening fields, the first spring leaves with their weight of dew, were not more fresh and pure than the love that was in the boy's heart. He held his right hand in his left, as though he were imprisoning therethe memory of the last little clasp that she had given it. He looked atthe Major, and he wondered how anybody on earth, at that hour, could beasleep. He thought of the wasted days of the past few months; thesilly, foolish life he had led, and thanked God that, in the memory ofthem, there was not one sting of shame. How he would work for her now!Little guessing how proud she already was, he swore to himself howproud she should be of him some day. He wondered where she was, andwhat she was doing. She could not be asleep, and he must have criedaloud could he have known--could he have heard her on her knees at herbedside, whispering his name for the first time in her prayers; couldhe have seen her, a little later, at her open window, looking acrossthe fields, as though her eyes must reach him through the morning dusk. 

That happy dawn--for both, that happy dawn!

It was well that neither, at that hour, could see beyond the rim of hisown little world. In a far Southern city another ball, that night, hadbeen going on. Down there the air was charged with the prescience ofdark trouble, but, while the music moaned to many a heart like a god inpain, there was no brooding--only a deeper flush to the cheek, abrighter sparkle to the eye, a keener wit to the tongue; to the dance, a merrier swing. And at that very hour of dawn, ladies, slippered, bareof head, and in evening gowns, were fluttering like white moths alongthe streets of old Charleston, and down to the Battery, where FortSumter lay, gray and quiet in the morning mist--to await with jest andlaughter the hissing shriek of one shell that lighted the fires of afour years' hell in a happy land of God-fearing peace and God-givenplenty, and the hissing shriek of another that Anderson, Kentuckian, hurled back, in heroic defence of the flag struck for the first time byother than an alien hand. 

CHAPTER 19. 

THE BLUE OR THE GRAY

In the far North, as in the far South, men had but to drift with thetide. Among the Kentuckians, the forces that moulded her sons--Davisand Lincoln--were at war in the State, as they were at war in thenation. By ties of blood, sympathies, institutions, Kentucky was boundfast to the South. Yet, ten years before, Kentuckians had demanded thegradual emancipation of the slave. That far back, they had carved apledge on a block of Kentucky marble, which should be placed in theWashington monument, that Kentucky would be the last to give up theUnion. For ten years, they had felt the shadow of the war creepingtoward them. In the dark hours of that dismal year, before the dawn offinal decision, the men, women, and children of Kentucky talked oflittle else save war, and the skeleton of war took its place in thecloset of every home from the Ohio to the crest of the Cumberland. Whenthe dawn of that decision came, Kentucky spread before the world arecord of independent-mindedness, patriotism, as each side gave theword, and sacrifice that has no parallel in history. She sent theflower of her youth--forty thousand strong--into the Confederacy; shelifted the lid of her treasury to Lincoln, and in answer to his everycall, sent him a soldier, practically without a bounty and without adraft. And when the curtain fell on the last act of the great tragedy, half of her manhood was behind it--helpless from disease, wounded, ordead on the battle-field. 

So, on a gentle April day, when the great news came, it came like asword that, with one stroke, slashed the State in twain, shearingthrough the strongest bonds that link one man to another, whether ofblood, business, politics or religion, as though they were no more thanthreads of wool. Nowhere in the Union was the National drama so playedto the bitter end in the confines of a single State. As the nation wasrent apart, so was the commonwealth; as the State, so was the county;as the county, the neighborhood; as the neighborhood, the family; andas the family, so brother and brother, father and son. In the nationthe kinship was racial only. Brother knew not the face of brother. There was distance between them, antagonism, prejudice, a smoulderingdislike easily fanned to flaming hatred. In Kentucky the brothers hadbeen born in the same bed, slept in the same cradle, played under thesame roof, sat side by side in the same schoolroom, and stood now onthe threshold of manhood arm in arm, with mutual interests, mutuallove, mutual pride in family that made clan feeling peculiarly intense. For antislavery fanaticism, or honest unionism, one needed not to go tothe far North; as, for imperious, hotheaded, non-interference or pureState sovereignty, one needed not to go to the far South. They were allthere in the State, the county, the family--under the same roof. Alongthe border alone did feeling approach uniformity--the border ofKentucky hills. There unionism was free from prejudice as nowhere elseon the continent save elsewhere throughout the Southern mountains. Those Southern Yankees knew nothing about the valley aristocrat, nothing about his slaves, and cared as little for one as for the other. Since '76 they had known but one flag, and one flag only, and to thatflag instinctively they rallied. But that the State should be sweptfrom border to border with horror, there was division even here: for, in the Kentucky mountains, there was, here and there, a patriarch likeJoel Turner who owned slaves, and he and his sons fought for them as heand his sons would have fought for their horses, or their cattle, ortheir sheep. 

It was the prescient horror of such a condition that had no little partin the neutral stand that Kentucky strove to maintain. She knew whatwar was--for every fireside was rich in memories that men and women hadof kindred who had fallen on numberless battle-fields--back even to St. Clair's defeat and the Raisin massacre; and though she did not fear warfor its harvest of dangers and death, she did look with terror on aconflict between neighbors, friends, and brothers. So she refusedtroops to Lincoln; she refused them to Davis. Both pledged her immunityfrom invasion, and, to enforce that pledge, she raised Home Guards asshe had already raised State Guards for internal protection and peace. And there--as a State--she stood: but the tragedy went on in theKentucky home--a tragedy of peculiar intensity and pathos in oneKentucky home--the Deans'. 

Harry had grown up tall, pale, studious, brooding. He had always beenthe pet of his Uncle Brutus--the old Lion of White Hall. Visiting theHall, he had drunk in the poison, or consecration, as was the point ofview, of abolitionism. At the first sign he was never allowed to goagain. But the poison had gone deep. Whenever he could he went to hearold Brutus speak. Eagerly he heard stories of the fearlessabolitionist's hand-to-hand fights with men who sought to skewer hisfiery tongue. Deeply he brooded on every word that his retentive earhad caught from the old man's lips, and on the wrongs he endured inbehalf of his cause and for freedom of speech. 

One other hero did he place above him--the great commoner after whom hehad been christened, Henry Clay Dean. He knew how Clay's life had beendevoted to averting the coming war, and how his last days had beendarkly shadowed by the belief that, when he was gone, the war mustcome. At times he could hear that clarion voice as it rang through theSenate with the bold challenge to his own people that paramount was hisduty to the nation--subordinate his duty to his State. Who can tellwhat the nation owed, in Kentucky, at least, to the passionateallegiance that was broadcast through the State to Henry Clay? It wasnot in the boy's blood to be driven an inch, and no one tried to drivehim. In his own home he was a spectre of gnawing anguish to his motherand Margaret, of unspeakable bitterness and disappointment to hisfather, and an impenetrable sphinx to Dan. For in Dan there was noshaking doubt. He was the spirit, incarnate, of the young, unquestioning, unthinking, generous, reckless, hotheaded, passionateSouth. 

And Chad? The news reached Major Buford's farm at noon, and Chad wentto the woods and came in at dusk, haggard and spent. Miserably now heheld his tongue and tortured his brain. Purposely, he never opened hislips to Harry Dean. He tried to make known to the Major the strugglegoing on within him, but the iron-willed old man brushed away allargument with an impatient wave of his hand. With Margaret he talkedonce, and straightway the question was dropped like a living coal. So, Chad withdrew from his fellows. The social life of the town, gayer thanever now, knew him no more. He kept up his college work, but when hewas not at his books, he walked the fields, and many a moonlit midnightfound him striding along a white turnpike, or sitting motionless on topof a fence along the border of some woodland, his chin in both hands, fighting his fight out in the cool stillness alone. He himself littleknew the unmeant significance there was in the old Continental uniformhe had worn to the dance. Even his old rifle, had he but known it, hadbeen carried with Daniel Morgan from Virginia to Washington's aid inCambridge. His earliest memories of war were rooted in thrillingstories of King's Mountain. He had heard old men tell of pointingdeadly rifles at red-coats at New Orleans, and had absorbed their ownlove of Old Hickory. The school-master himself, when a mere lad, hadbeen with Scott in Mexico. The spirit of the back-woodsman had beencaught in the hills, and was alive and unchanged at that very hour. Theboy was practically born in Revolutionary days, and that was why, likeall mountaineers, Chad had little love of State and only love ofcountry--was first, last and all the time, simply American. It was notreason--it was instinct. The heroes the school-master had taught him tolove and some day to emulate, had fought under one flag, and, likethem, the mountaineers never dreamed there could be another. And so theboy was an unconscious reincarnation of that old spirit, uninfluencedby temporary apostasies in the outside world, untouched absolutely bysectional prejudice or the appeal of the slave. The mountaineer had nohatred of the valley aristocrat, because he knew nothing of him, andenvied no man what he was, what he had, or the life he led. So, as forslavery, that question, singularly enough, never troubled his soul. Tohim slaves were hewers of wood and drawers of water. The Lord had madethem so and the Bible said that it was right. That the school-masterhad taught Chad. He had read "Uncle Tom's Cabin, " and the story madehim smile. The tragedies of it he had never known and he did notbelieve. Slaves were sleek, well-fed, well-housed, loved and trusted, rightly inferior and happy; and no aristocrat ever moved among themwith a more lordly, righteous air of authority than did this mountainlad who had known them little more than half a dozen years. Unlike theNorth, the boy had no prejudice, no antagonism, no jealousy, nogrievance to help him in his struggle. Unlike Harry, he had no slavesympathy to stir him to the depths, no stubborn, rebellious pride toprod him on. In the days when the school-master thundered at him somespeech of the Prince of Kentuckians, it was always the national thrillin the fiery utterance that had shaken him even then. So thatunconsciously the boy was the embodiment of pure Americanism, and forthat reason he and the people among whom he was born stood among themillions on either side, quite alone. 

What was he fighting then--ah, what? If the bed-rock of his characterwas not loyalty, it was nothing. In the mountains the Turners had takenhim from the Wilderness. In the Bluegrass the old Major had taken himfrom the hills. His very life he owed to the simple, kindlymountaineers, and what he valued more than his life he owed to thesimple gentleman who had picked him up from the roadside and, almostwithout question, had taken him to his heart and to his home. TheTurners, he knew, would fight for their slaves as they would havefought Dillon or Devil had either proposed to take from them a cow, ahog, or a sheep. For that Chad could not blame them. And the Major wasgoing to fight, as he believed, for his liberty, his State, hiscountry, his property, his fireside. So in the eyes of both, Chad mustbe the snake who had warmed his frozen body on their hearthstones andbitten the kindly hands that had warmed him back to life. What wouldMelissa say? Mentally he shrank from the fire of her eyes and the scornof her tongue when she should know. And Margaret--the thought of herbrought always a voiceless groan. To her, he had let his doubts beknown, and her white silence closed his own lips then and there. Thesimple fact that he had doubts was an entering wedge of coldnessbetween them that Chad saw must force them apart for he knew that thetruth must come soon, and what would be the bitter cost of that truth. She could never see him as she saw Harry. Harry was a beloved anderring brother. Hatred of slavery had been cunningly planted in hisheart by her father's own brother, upon whose head the blame forHarry's sin was set. The boy had been taunted until his own father'sscorn had stirred his proud independence into stubborn resistance andintensified his resolution to do what he pleased and what he thoughtwas right. But Chad--she would never understand him. She would neverunderstand his love for the Government that had once abandoned herpeople to savages and forced her State and his to seek aid from aforeign land. In her eyes, too, he would be rending the hearts that hadbeen tenderest to him in all the world: and that was all. Of what fateshe would deal out to him he dared not think. If he lifted his handagainst the South, he must strike at the heart of all he loved best, towhich he owed most. If against the Union, at the heart of all that wasbest in himself. In him the pure spirit that gave birth to the nationwas fighting for life. Ah, God! what should he do--what should he do?

CHAPTER 20. 

OFF TO THE WAR

Throughout that summer Chad fought his fight, daily swaying this wayand that--fought it in secret until the phantom of neutrality faded andgave place to the grim spectre of war--until with each hand Kentuckydrew a sword and made ready to plunge both into her own stout heart. When Sumter fell, she shook her head resolutely to both North andSouth. Crittenden, in the name of Union lovers and the dead Clay, pleaded with the State to take no part in the fratricidal crime. Fromthe mothers, wives, sisters and daughters of thirty-one counties camepiteously the same appeal. Neutrality, to be held inviolate, was theanswer to the cry from both the North and the South; but armedneutrality, said Kentucky. The State had not the moral right to secede;the Nation, no constitutional right to coerce: if both the North andthe South left their paths of duty and fought--let both keep theirbattles from her soil. Straightway State Guards went into camp and HomeGuards were held in reserve, but there was not a fool in theCommonwealth who did not know that, in sympathy, the State Guards werealready for the Confederacy and the Home Guards for the Union cause. This was in May. 

In June, Federals were enlisting across the Ohio; Confederates, justover the border of Dixie which begins in Tennessee. Within a monthStonewall Jackson sat on his horse, after Bull Run, watching the routedYankees, praying for fresh men that he might go on and take theCapitol, and, from the Federal dream of a sixty-days' riot, the Northwoke with a gasp. A week or two later, Camp Dick Robinson squatted downon the edge of the Bluegrass, the first violation of the State'sneutrality, and beckoned with both hands for Yankee recruits. Soon anorder went round to disarm the State Guards, and on that very day theState Guards made ready for Dixie. On that day the crisis came at theDeans', and on that day Chad Buford made up his mind. When the Majorand Miss Lucy went to bed that night, he slipped out of the house andwalked through the yard and across the pike, following the little creekhalf unconsciously toward the Deans', until he could see the light inMargaret's window, and there he climbed the worm fence and sat leaninghis head against one of the forked stakes with his hat in his lap. Hewould probably not see her again. He would send her word next morningto ask that he might, and he feared what the result of that word wouldbe. Several times his longing eyes saw her shadow pass the curtain, andwhen her light was out, he closed his eyes and sat motionless--how longhe hardly knew; but, when he sprang down, he was stiffened from themidnight chill and his unchanged posture. He went back to his roomthen, and wrote Margaret a letter and tore it up and went to bed. Therewas little sleep for him that night, and when the glimmer of morningbrightened at his window, he rose listlessly, dipped his hot head in abowl of water and stole out to the barn. His little mare whinnied awelcome as he opened the barn door. He patted her on the neck. 

"Good-by, little girl, " he said. He started to call her by name andstopped. Margaret had named the beautiful creature "Dixie. " Theservants were stirring. 

"Good-mawnin', Mars Chad, " said each, and with each he shook hands, saying simply that he was going away that morning. Only old Tom askedhim a question. 

"Foh Gawd, Mars Chad, " said the old fellow, "old Mars Buford can't gitalong widout you. You gwine to come back soon?"

"I don't know, Uncle Tom, " said Chad, sadly. 

"Whar you gwine, Mars Chad?"

"Into the army. "

"De ahmy?" The old man smiled. "You gwine to fight de Yankees?"

"I'm going to fight WITH the Yankees. "

The old driver looked as though he could not have heard aright. 

"You foolin' this ole nigger, Mars Chad, ain't you?"

Chad shook his head, and the old man straightened himself a bit. 

"I'se sorry to heah it, suh, " he said, with dignity, and he turned tohis work. 

Miss Lucy was not feeling well that morning and did not come down tobreakfast. The boy was so pale and haggard that the Major looked at himanxiously. 

"What's the matter with you, Chad? Are you--?"

"I didn't sleep very well last night, Major. "

The Major chuckled. "I reckon you ain't gettin' enough sleep thesedays. I reckon I wouldn't, either, if I were in your place. "

Chad did not answer. After breakfast he sat with the Major on the porchin the fresh, sunny air. The Major smoked his pipe, taking the stem outof his mouth now and then to shout some order as a servant passed underhis eye. 

"What's the news, Chad?"

"Mr. Crittenden is back. "

"What did old Lincoln say?"

"That Camp Dick Robinson was formed for Kentuckians by Kentuckians, andhe did not believe that it was the wish of the State that it should beremoved. "

"Well, by ----! after his promise. What did Davis say?"

"That if Kentucky opened the Northern door for invasion, she must notclose the Southern door to entrance for defence. "

"And dead right he is, " growled the Major with satisfaction. 

"Governor Magoffin asked Ohio and Indiana to join in an effort for apeace Congress, " Chad added. 

"Well?"

"Both governors refused. "

"I tell you, boy, the hour has come. "

The hour had come. 

"I'm going away this morning, Major. "

The Major did not even turn his head. 

"I thought this was coming, " he said quietly. Chad's face grew evenpaler, and he steeled his heart for the revelation. 

"I've already spoken to Lieutenant Hunt, " the Major went on. "Heexpects to be a captain, and he says that, maybe, he can make you alieutenant. You can take that boy Brutus as a body servant. " He broughthis fist down on the railing of the porch. "God, but I'd give the restof my life to be ten years younger than I am now. "

"Major, I'm GOING INTO THE UNION ARMY. "

The Major's pipe almost dropped from between his lips. Catching thearms of his chair with both hands, he turned heavily and with dazedwonder, as though the boy had struck him with his fist from behind, and, without a word, stared hard into Chad's tortured face. The keenold eye had not long to look before it saw the truth, and then, silently, the old man turned back. His hands trembled on the chair, andhe slowly thrust them into his pockets, breathing hard through hisnose. The boy expected an outbreak, but none came. A bee buzzed abovethem. A yellow butterfly zigzagged by. Blackbirds chattered in thefirs. The screech of a peacock shrilled across the yard, and aploughman's singing wailed across the fields:

 Trouble, O Lawd! Nothin' but trouble in de lan' of Canaan. 

The boy knew he had given his old friend a mortal hurt. 

"Don't, Major, " he pleaded. "You don't know how I have fought againstthis. I tried to be on your side. I thought I was. I joined the Rifles. I found first that I couldn't fight WITH the South, and--then--I--foundthat I had to fight FOR the North. It almost kills me when I think ofall you have done. "

The Major waved his hand imperiously. He was not the man to hear hisfavors recounted, much less refer to them himself. He straightened andgot up from his chair. His manner had grown formal, stately, coldlycourteous. 

"I cannot understand, but you are old enough, sir, to know your ownmind. You should have prepared me for this. You will excuse me amoment. " Chad rose and the Major walked toward the door, his step notvery steady, and his shoulders a bit shrunken--his back, somehow, looked suddenly old. 

"Brutus!" he called sharply to a black boy who was training rosebushesin the yard. "Saddle Mr. Chad's horse. " Then, without looking again atChad, he turned into his office, and Chad, standing where he was, witha breaking heart, could hear, through the open window, the rustling ofpapers and the scratching of a pen. 

In a few minutes he heard the Major rise and he turned to meet him. Theold man held a roll of bills in one hand and a paper in the other. 

"Here is the balance due you on our last trade, " he said, quietly. "Themare is yours--Dixie, " he added, grimly. "The old mare is in foal. Iwill keep her and send you your due when the time comes. We are quiteeven, " he went on in a level tone of business. "Indeed, what you havedone about the place more than exceeds any expense that you have evercaused me. If anything, I am still in your debt. "

"I can't take it!" said Chad, choking back a sob. 

"You will have to take it, " the Major broke in, curtly, "unless--" theMajor held back the bitter speech that was on his lips and Chadunderstood. The old man did not want to feel under any obligations tohim. 

"I would offer you Brutus, as was my intention, except that I know youwould not take him, " again he added, grimly, "and Brutus would run awayfrom you. "

"No, Major, " said Chad, sadly, "I would not take Brutus, " and hestepped down one step of the porch backward. 

"I tried to tell you, Major, but you wouldn't listen. I don't wonder, for I couldn't explain to you what I couldn't understand myself. I--"the boy choked and tears filled his eyes. He was afraid to hold out hishand. 

"Good-by, Major, " he said, brokenly. 

"Good-by, sir, " answered the Major, with a stiff bow, but the old man'slip shook and he turned abruptly within. 

Chad did not trust himself to look back, but, as he rode through thepasture to the pike gate, his ears heard, never to forget, the chatterof the blackbirds, the noises around the barn, the cry of the peacock, and the wailing of the ploughman:

 Trouble, O Lawd! Nothin' but trouble--

At the gate the little mare turned her head toward town and startedaway in the easy swinging lope for which she was famous. From acornfield Jerome Conners, the overseer, watched horse and rider for awhile, and then his lips were lifted over his protruding teeth in oneof his ghastly, infrequent smiles. Chad Buford was out of his way atlast. At the Deans' gate, Snowball was just going in on Margaret's ponyand Chad pulled up. 

"Where's Mr. Dan, Snowball?--and Mr. Harry?"

"Mars Dan he gwine to de wah--an' I'se gwine wid him. "

"Is Mr. Harry going, too?" Snowball hesitated. He did not like togossip about family matters, but it was a friend of the family who wasquestioning him. 

"Yessuh! But Mammy say Mars Harry's teched in de haid. He gwine tofight wid de po' white trash. "

"Is Miss Margaret at home?"

"Yessuh. "

Chad had his note to Margaret, unsealed. He little felt like seeing hernow, but he had just as well have it all over at once. He took it outand looked it over once more--irresolute. 

"I'm going away to join the Union army, Margaret. May I come to tellyou good-by? If not, God bless you always. CHAD. "

"Take this to Miss Margaret, Snowball, and bring me an answer here assoon as you can. "

"Yessuh. "

The black boy was not gone long. Chad saw him go up the steps, and in afew moments he reappeared and galloped back. 

"Ole Mistis say dey ain't no answer. "

"Thank you, Snowball. " Chad pitched him a coin and loped on towardLexington with his head bent, his hands folded on the pommel, and thereins flapping loosely. Within one mile of Lexington he turned into across-road and set his face toward the mountains. 

An hour later, the General and Harry and Dan stood on the big portico. Inside, the mother and Margaret were weeping in each other's arms. Twonegro boys were each leading a saddled horse from the stable, whileSnowball was blubbering at the corner of the house. At the last momentDan had decided to leave him behind. If Harry could have no servant, Dan, too, would have none. Dan was crying without shame. Harry's facewas as white and stern as his father's. As the horses drew near theGeneral stretched out the sabre in his hand to Dan. 

"This should belong to you, Harry. "

"It is yours to give, father, " said Harry, gently. 

"It shall never be drawn against my roof and your mother. "

The boy was silent. 

"You are going far North?" asked the General, more gently. "You willnot fight on Kentucky soil?"

"You taught me that the first duty of a soldier is obedience. I must gowhere I'm ordered. "

"God grant that you two may never meet. "

"Father!" It was a cry of horror from both the lads. 

The horses were waiting at the stiles. The General took Dan in his armsand the boy broke away and ran down the steps, weeping. 

"Father, " said Harry, with trembling lips, "I hope you won't be toohard on me. Perhaps the day will come when you won't be so ashamed ofme. I hope you and mother will forgive me. I can't do otherwise than Imust. Will you shake hands with me, father?"

"Yes, my son. God be with you both. "

And then, as he watched the boys ride side by side to the gate, headded:

"I could kill my own brother with my own hand for this. "

He saw them stop a moment at the gate; saw them clasp hands and turnopposite ways--one with his face set for Tennessee, the other makingfor the Ohio. Dan waved his cap in a last sad good-by. Harry rode overthe hill without turning his head. The General stood rigid, with hishands clasped behind his back, staring across the gray fields betweenthem. Through the winds, came the low sound of sobbing. 

CHAPTER 21. 

MELISSA

Shortly after dusk, that night, two or three wagons moved quietly outof Lexington, under a little guard with guns loaded and bayonets fixed. Back at the old Armory--the home of the "Rifles"--a dozen youngstersdrilled vigorously with faces in a broad grin, as they swept under themotto of the company--"Our laws the commands of our Captain. " They werefollowing out those commands most literally. Never did Lieutenant Huntgive his orders more sonorously--he could be heard for blocks away. Never did young soldiers stamp out maneuvers more lustily--they mademore noise than a regiment. Not a man carried a gun, though ringingorders to "Carry arms" and "Present arms" made the windows rattle. Itwas John Morgan's first ruse. While that mock-drill was going on, andlistening Unionists outside were laughing to think how those Rifleswere going to be fooled next day, the guns of the company were movingin those wagons toward Dixie--toward mocking-bird-haunted BowlingGreen, where the underfed, unclothed, unarmed body of Albert SydneyJohnston's army lay, with one half-feathered wing stretching into theCumberland hills and the frayed edge of the other touching the Ohio. 

Next morning, the Home Guards came gayly around to the Armory to seizethose guns, and the wily youngsters left temporarily behind (they, too, fled for Dixie, that night) gibed them unmercifully; so that, then andthere, a little interchange of powder-and-ball civilities followed; andthus, on the very first day, Daniel Dean smelled the one and heard theother whistle right harmlessly and merrily. Straightway, more guardswere called out; cannon were planted to sweep the principal streets, and from that hour the old town was under the rule of a Northern orSouthern sword for the four years' reign of the war. 

Meanwhile, Chad Buford was giving a strange journey to Dixie. Wheneverhe dismounted, she would turn her head toward the Bluegrass, as thoughit surely were time they were starting for home. When they reached theend of the turnpike, she lifted her feet daintily along the muddy road, and leaped pools of water like a cat. Climbing the first foot-hills, she turned her beautiful head to right and left, and with pointed earssnorted now and then at the strange dark woods on either side and thetumbling water-falls. The red of her wide nostrils was showing when shereached the top of the first mountain, and from that high point ofvantage she turned her wondering eyes over the wide rolling stretchthat waved homeward, and whinnied with distinct uneasiness when Chadstarted her down into the wilderness beyond. Distinctly that road wasno path for a lady to tread, but Dixie was to know it better in thecoming war. 

Within ten miles of the Turners', Chad met the first man that heknew--Hence Sturgill from Kingdom Come. He was driving a wagon. 

"Howdye, Hence!" said Chad, reining in. 

"Whoa!" said Hence, pulling in and staring at Chad's horse and at Chadfrom hat to spur. 

"Don't you know me, Hence?"

"Well, God--I--may--die, if it ain't Chad! How air ye, Chad? Goin' upto ole Joel's?"

"Yes. How are things on Kingdom Come?"

Hence spat on the ground and raised one hand high over his head:

"God--I--may--die, if thar hain't hell to pay on Kingdom Come. Youbetter keep offo' Kingdom Come, " and then he stopped with an expressionof quick alarm, looked around him into the bushes and dropped his voiceto a whisper:

"But I hain't sayin' a word--rickollect now--not a word!"

Chad laughed aloud. "What's the matter with you, Hence?"

Hence put one finger on one side of his nose--still speaking in a lowtone:

"Whut'd I say, Chad? D'I say one word?" He gathered up his reins. "Yourickollect Jake and Jerry Dillon?" Chad nodded. "You know Jerry wasal'ays a-runnin' over Jake 'cause Jake' didn't have good sense. Jakewas drapped when he was a baby. Well, Jerry struck Jake over the headwith a fence-rail 'bout two months ago, an when Jake come to, he hadjust as good sense as anybody, and now he hates Jerry like pizen, anJerry's half afeard of him. An' they do say a how them two brothers aira-goin'" Again Hence stopped abruptly and clucked to his team "But Iain't a-sayin' a word, now, mind ye--not a word!"

Chad rode on, amused, and thinking that Hence had gone daft, but he wasto learn better. A reign of forty years' terror was starting in thosehills. 

Not a soul was in sight when he reached the top of the hill from whichhe could see the Turner home below--about the house or the orchard orin the fields. No one answered his halloo at the Turner gate, thoughChad was sure that he saw a woman's figure flit past the door. It was afull minute before Mother Turner cautiously thrust her head outside thedoor and peered at him. 

"Why, Aunt Betsey, " called Chad, "don't you know me?"

At the sound of his voice Melissa sprang out the door with a welcomingcry, and ran to him, Mother Turner following with a broad smile on herkind old face. Chad felt the tears almost come--these were friendsindeed. How tall Melissa had grown, and how lovely she was, with hertangled hair and flashing eyes and delicately modelled face. She wentwith him to the stable to help him put up his horse, blushing when helooked at her and talking very little, while the old mother, from thefence, followed him with her dim eyes. At once Chad began to ply bothwith questions--where was Uncle Joel and the boys and theschool-master? And, straightway, Chad felt a reticence in both--acurious reticence even with him. On each side of the fireplace, on eachside of the door, and on each side of the window, he saw narrow blocksfixed to the logs. One was turned horizontal, and through the holeunder it Chad saw daylight--portholes they were. At the door were takenblocks as catches for a piece of upright wood nearby, which was plainlyused to bar the door. The cabin was a fortress. By degrees the storycame out. The neighborhood was in a turmoil of bloodshed and terror. Tom and Dolph had gone off to the war--Rebels. Old Joel had been calledto the door one night, a few weeks since, and had been shot downwithout warning. They had fought all night. Melissa herself had handleda rifle at one of the portholes. Rube was out in the woods now, withJack guarding and taking care of his wounded father. A Home Guard hadbeen organized, and Daws Dillon was captain. They were driving out ofthe mountains every man who owned a negro, for nearly every man whoowned a negro had taken, or was forced to take, the Rebel side. TheDillons were all Yankees, except Jerry, who had gone off with Tom; andthe giant brothers, Rebel Jerry and Yankee Jake--as both were alreadyknown--had sworn to kill each other on sight. Bushwhacking had alreadybegun. When Chad asked about the school-master, the old woman's facegrew stern, and Melissa's lip curled with scorn. 

"Yankee!" The girl spat the word out with such vindictive bitternessthat Chad's face turned slowly scarlet, while the girl's keen eyespierced him like a knife, and narrowed as, with pale face and heavingbreast, she rose suddenly from her chair and faced him--amazed, bewildered, burning with sudden hatred. "And you're another!" Thegirl's voice was like a hiss. 

"Why, 'Lissy!" cried the old mother, startled, horrified. 

"Look at him!" said the girl. The old woman looked; her face grew hardand frightened, and she rose feebly, moving toward the girl as thoughfor protection against him. Chad's very heart seemed suddenly to turnto water. He had been dreading the moment to come when he must tell. Heknew it would be hard, but he was not looking for this. 

"You better git away!" quavered the old woman, "afore Joel and Rubecome in. "

"Hush!" said the girl, sharply, her hands clinched like claws, herwhole body stiff, like a tigress ready to attack, or awaiting attack. 

"Mebbe he come hyeh to find out whar they air--don't tell him!"

"Lissy!" said Chad, brokenly. 

"Then whut did you come fer?"

"To tell you good-by, I came to see all of you, Lissy. "

The girl laughed scornfully, and Chad knew he was helpless. He couldnot explain, and they could not understand--nobody had understood. 

"Aunt Betsey, " he said, "you took Jack and me in, and you took care ofme just as though I had been your own child. You know I'd give my lifefor you or Uncle Joel, or any one of the boys"--his voice grew a littlestern--"and you know it, too, Lissy--"

"You're makin' things wuss, " interrupted the girl, stridently, "an' nowyou're goin' to do all you can to kill us. I reckon you can see thatdoor. Why don't you go over to the Dillons?" she panted. "They'refriends o' your'n. An' don't let Uncle Joel or Rube ketch you anywharround hyeh!"

"I'm not afraid to see Uncle Joel or Rube, Lissy. "

"You must git away, Chad, " quavered the old woman. "They mought hurtye!"

"I'm sorry not to see Jack. He's the only friend I have now. "

"Why, Jack would snarl at ye, " said the girl, bitterly. "He hates aYankee. " She pointed again with her finger. "I reckon you can see thatdoor. "

They followed him, Melissa going on the porch and the old womanstanding in the doorway. On one side of the walk Chad saw a rose-bushthat he had brought from the Bluegrass for Melissa. It was dying. Hetook one step toward it, his foot sinking in the soft earth where thegirl had evidently been working around it, and broke off the one greenleaf that was left. 

"Here, Lissy! You'll be sorry you were so hard on me. I'd never getover it if I didn't think you would. Keep this, won't you, and let's befriends, not enemies. "

He held it out, and the girl angrily struck the rose-leaf from his handto her feet. 

Chad rode away at a walk. Two hundred yards below, where the hill rose, the road was hock-deep with sand, and Dixie's feet were as noiseless asa cat's. A few yards beyond a ravine on the right, a stone rolled fromthe bushes into the road. Instinctively Chad drew rein, and Dixie stoodmotionless. A moment later, a crouching figure, with a long squirrelrifle, slipped out of the bushes and started noiselessly across theravine. Chad's pistol flashed. 

"Stop!"

The figure crouched more, and turned a terror-stricken face--DawsDillon's. 

"Oh, it's you, is it--Well, drop that gun and come down here. "

The Dillon boy rose, leaving his gun on the ground, and came down, trembling. 

"What're you doin' sneaking around in the brush?"

"Nothin'!" The Dillon had to make two efforts before he could speak atall. "Nothin', jes' a-huntin'!"

"Huntin'!" repeated Chad. He lowered his pistol and looked at the sorryfigure silently. 

"I know what you were huntin', you rattlesnake! I understand you arecaptain of the Home Guard. I reckon you don't know that nobody has togo into this war. That a man has the right to stay peaceably at home, and nobody has the right to bother him. If you don't know it, I tellyou now. I believe you had something to do with shooting Uncle Joel. "

The Dillon shook his head, and fumbled with his hands. 

"If I knew it, I'd kill you where you stand, now. But I've got one wordto say to you, you hell-pup. I hate to think it, but you and I are onthe same side--that is, if you have any side. But in spite of that, ifI hear of any harm happening to Aunt Betsey, or Melissa, or Uncle Joel, or Rube, while they are all peaceably at home, I'm goin' to hold youand Tad responsible, whether you are or not, and I'll kill you"--heraised one hand to make the Almighty a witness to his oath--"I'll killyou, if I have to follow you both to hell for doin' it. Now, you takekeer of 'em! Turn 'round!"

The Dillon hesitated. 

"Turn!" Chad cried, savagely, raising his pistol. "Go back to that gun, an' if you turn your head I'll shoot you where you're sneakin' aroun'to shoot Rube or Uncle Joel--in the back, you cowardly feist. Pick upthat gun! Now, let her off! See if you can hit that beech-tree in frontof you. Just imagine that it's me. "

The rifle cracked and Chad laughed. 

"Well, you ain't much of a shot. I reckon you must have chills andfever. Now, come back here. Give me your powder-horn. You'll find it ontop of the hill on the right-hand side of the road. Now, youtrot--home!"

Then Dillon stared. 

"Double-quick!" shouted Chad. "You ought to know what that means if youare a soldier--a soldier!" he repeated, contemptuously. 

The Dillon disappeared on a run. 

Chad rode all that night. At dawn he reached the foot-hills, and bynoon he drew up at the road which turned to Camp Dick Robinson. He satthere a long time thinking, and then pushed on toward Lexington. If hecould, he would keep from fighting on Kentucky soil. 

Next morning he was going at an easy "running-walk" along the oldMaysville road toward the Ohio. Within three miles of Major Buford's, he leaped the fence and stuck across the fields that he might go aroundand avoid the risk of a painful chance meeting with his old friend orany of the Deans. 

What a land of peace and plenty it was--the woodlands, meadows, pasturelands! Fat cattle raised their noses from the thick grass and lookedwith mild inquiry at him. Sheep ran bleating toward him, as though hewere come to salt them. A rabbit leaped from a thorn-bush and whiskedhis white flag into safety in a hemp-field. Squirrels barked in the bigoaks, and a covey of young quail fluttered up from a fence corner andsailed bravely away. 'Possum signs were plentiful, and on the edge ofthe creek he saw a coon solemnly searching under a rock with one pawfor crawfish Every now and then Dixie would turn her head impatientlyto the left, for she knew where home was. The Deans' house was justover the hill he would have but the ride to the top to see it and, perhaps, Margaret. There was no need. As he sat, looking up the hill, Margaret herself rode slowly over it, and down, through the sunlightslanting athwart the dreaming woods, straight toward him. Chad satstill. Above him the road curved, and she could not see him until sheturned the little thicket just before him. Her pony was more startledthan was she. A little leap of color to her face alone showed hersurprise. 

"Did you get my note?"

"I did. You got my mother's message?"

"I did. " Chad paused. "That is why I am passing around you. "

The girl said nothing. 

"But I'm glad I came so near. I wanted to see you once more. I wish Icould make you understand. But nobody understands. I hardly understandmyself. But please try to believe that what I say is true. I'm justback from the mountains, and listen, Margaret--" He halted a moment tosteady his voice. "The Turners down there took me in when I was aragged outcast. They clothed me, fed me, educated me. The Major took mewhen I was little more; and he fed me, clothed me, educated me. TheTurners scorned me--Melissa told me to go herd with the Dillons. TheMajor all but turned me from his door. Your father was bitter towardme, thinking that I had helped turn Harry to the Union cause. But letme tell you! If the Turners died, believing me a traitor; if Lissy diedwith a curse on her lips for me; if the Major died without, as hebelieved, ever having polluted his lips again with my name; if Harrywere brought back here dead, and your father died, believing that hisblood was on my hands; and if I lost you and your love, and you died, believing the same thing--I must still go. Oh, Margaret, I can'tunderstand--I have ceased to reason. I only know I must go!"

The girl in the mountains had let her rage and scorn loose like astorm, but the gentlewoman only grew more calm. Every vestige of colorleft her, but her eyes never for a moment wavered from his face. Hervoice was quiet and even and passionless. 

"Then, why don't you go?"

The lash of an overseer's whip across his face could not have made hissoul so bleed. Even then he did not lose himself. 

"I am in your way, " he said, quietly. And backing Dixie from the road, and without bending his head or lowering his eyes, he waited, hat inhand, for Margaret to pass. 

All that day Chad rode, and, next morning, Dixie climbed the Union bankof the Ohio and trotted into the recruiting camp of the Fourth OhioCavalry. The first man Chad saw was Harry Dean--grave, sombre, taciturn, though he smiled and thrust out his hand eagerly. Chad's eyesdropped to the sergeant's stripes on Harry's sleeves, and again Harrysmiled. 

"You'll have 'em yourself in a week. These fellows ride like a lot ofmeal-bags over here. Here's my captain, " he added, in a lower voice. 

A pompous officer rode slowly up. He pulled in his horse when he sawChad. 

"You want to join the army?"

"Yes, " said Chad. 

"All right. That's a fine horse you've got. "

Chad said nothing. 

"What's his name?"

"HER name is Dixie. "

The captain stared. Some soldiers behind laughed in a smotheredfashion, sobering their' faces quickly when the captain turned uponthem, furious. 

"Well, change her name!"

"I'll not change her name, " said Chad, quietly. 

"What!" shouted the officer. "How dare you--" Chad's eyes lookedominous. 

"Don't you give any orders to me--not yet. You haven't the right; andwhen you have, you can save your breath by not giving that one. Thishorse comes from Kentucky, and so do I; her name will stay Dixie aslong as I straddle her, and I propose to straddle her until one of usdies, or, "--he smiled and nodded across the river--"somebody over theregets her who won't object to her name as much as you do. "

The astonished captain's lips opened, but a quiet voice behindinterrupted him:

"Never mind, Captain. " Chad turned and saw a short, thick-set man witha stubbly brown beard, whose eyes were twinkling, though his face wasgrave. "A boy who wants to fight for the Union, and insists on callinghis horse Dixie, must be all right. Come with me, my lad. "

As Chad followed, he heard the man saluted as Colonel Grant, but hepaid no heed. Few people at that time did pay heed to the name ofUlysses Grant. 

CHAPTER 22. 

MORGAN'S MEN

Boots and saddles at daybreak!

Over the border, in Dixie, two videttes in gray trot briskly from out aleafy woodland, side by side, and looking with keen eyes right andleft; one, erect, boyish, bronzed; the other, slouching, bearded, huge--the boy, Daniel Dean; the man, Rebel Jerry Dillon, one of thegiant twins. 

Fifty yards behind them emerges a single picket; after him come threemore videttes, the same distance apart. Fifty yards behind the lastrides "the advance"--a guard of twenty-five picked men. No commissionamong "Morgan's Men" was more eagerly sought than a place on that guardof hourly risk and honor. Behind it trot still three more videttes, atintervals of one hundred yards, and just that interval behind the lastof these ride Morgan's Men, the flower of Kentucky's youth, in columnsof fours--Colonel Hunt's regiment in advance, the colors borne byRenfrew the Silent in a brilliant Zouave jacket studded with buttons ofred coral. In the rear rumble two Parrot guns, affectionatelychristened the "Bull Pups. "

Skirting the next woodland ran a cross-road. Down one way gallops Dan, and down the other lumbers Rebel Jerry, each two hundred yards. A cryrings from vidette to vidette behind them and back to the guard. Twohorsemen spur from the "advance" and take the places of the last twovidettes, while the videttes in front take and keep the originalformation until the column passes that cross-road, when Dean and Dillongallop up to their old places in the extreme front again. Far in front, and on both flanks, are scouting parties, miles away. 

This was the way Morgan marched. 

Yankees ahead! Not many, to be sure--no more numerous than two or threeto one; so back fall the videttes and forward charges that advanceguard like a thunderbolt, not troubling the column behind. Wild yells, a clattering of hoofs, the crack of pistol-shots, a wild flight, amerry chase, a few riderless horses gathered in from the fleeingYankees, and the incident is over. 

Ten miles more, and many hostile bayonets gleam ahead. A serious fight, this, perhaps--so back drops the advance, this time as a reserve; upgallops the column into single rank and dismounts, while the flankcompanies, deploying as skirmishers, cover the whole front, one man outof each set of fours and the corporals holding the horses in the rear. The "Bull Pups" bark and the Rebel yell rings as the line--the filestwo yards apart--"a long flexible line curving forward at eachextremity"--slips forward at a half run. This time the Yankees charge. 

From every point of that curving line pours a merciless fire, and thecharging men in blue recoil--all but one. (War is full of grim humor. )On comes one lone Yankee, hatless, red-headed, pulling on his reinswith might and main, his horse beyond control, and not one of the enemyshoot as he sweeps helplessly into their line. A huge rebel grabs hisbridle-rein. 

"I don't know whether to kill you now, " he says, with pretendedferocity, "or wait till the fight is over. "

"For God's sake, don't kill me at all!" shouts the Yankee. "I'm adissipated character, and not prepared to die. "

Shots from the right flank and rear, and the line is thrown about likea rope. But the main body of the Yankees is to the left. 

"Left face! Double-quick!" is the ringing order, and, by magic, theline concentrates in a solid phalanx and sweeps forward. 

This was the way Morgan fought. 

And thus, marching and fighting, he went his triumphant way into theland of the enemy, without sabres, without artillery, without even the"Bull Pups, " sometimes--fighting infantry, cavalry, artillery with onlymuzzle-loading rifles, pistols, and shotguns; scattering Home Guardslike turkeys; destroying railroads and bridges; taking towns andburning Government stores, and encompassed, usually, with forces treblehis own. 

This was what Morgan did on a raid, was what he had done, what he wasstarting out now to do again. 

Darkness threatens, and the column halts to bivouac for the night onthe very spot where, nearly a year before, Morgan's Men first joinedJohnston's army, which, like a great, lean, hungry hawk, guarded theSouthern border. 

Daniel Dean was a war-worn veteran now. He could ride twenty hours outof the twenty-four; he could sleep in his saddle or anywhere but onpicket duty, and there was no trick of the trade in camp, or on themarch, that was not at his finger's end. 

Fire first! Nobody had a match, the leaves were wet and the twigssoggy, but by some magic a tiny spark glows under some shadowy figure, bites at the twigs, snaps at the branches, and wraps a log in flames. 

Water next! A tin cup rattles in a bucket, and another shadowy figuresteals off into the darkness, with an instinct as unerring as the skillof a water-witch with a willow wand. The Yankees chose open fields forcamps, but your rebel took to the woods. Each man and his chum picked atree for a home, hung up canteens and spread blankets at the foot ofit. Supper--Heavens, what luck--fresh beef! One man broils it on coals, pinning pieces of fat to it to make gravy; another roasts it on aforked stick, for Morgan carried no cooking utensils on a raid. 

Here, one man made up bread in an oilcloth (and every Morgan's man hadone soon after they were issued to the Federals); another worked upcorn-meal into dough in the scooped-out half of a pumpkin; one bakedbread on a flat rock, another on a board, while a third had twisted hisdough around his ram-rod; if it were spring-time, a fourth might befitting his into a cornshuck to roast in ashes. All this Dan Dean coulddo. 

The roaring fire thickens the gloom of the woods where the lonelypickets stand. Pipes are out now. An oracle outlines the generalcampaign of the war as it will be and as it should have been. Along-winded, innocent braggart tells of his personal prowess that day. A little group is guying the new recruit. A wag shaves a beardedcomrade on one side of his face, pockets his razor and refuses to shavethe other side. A poet, with a bandaged eye, and hair like a windblownhay-stack, recites "I am dying, Egypt--dying, " and then a pure, clear, tenor voice starts through the forest-aisles, and there is suddensilence. Every man knows that voice, and loves the boy who ownsit--little Tom Morgan, Dan's brother-in-arms, the General'sseventeen-year-old brother--and there he stands leaning against a tree, full in the light of the fire, a handsome, gallant figure--a song likea seraph's pouring from his lips. One bearded soldier is gazing at himwith curious intentness, and when the song ceases, lies down with asuddenly troubled face. He has seen the "death-look" in the boy'seyes--that prophetic death-look in which he has unshaken faith. Thenight deepens, figures roll up in blankets, quiet comes, and Dan lieswide awake and deep in memories, and looking back on those earlyhelpless days of the war with a tolerant smile. 

He was a war-worn veteran now, but how vividly he could recall thatfirst night in the camp of a big army, in the very woods where he nowlay--dusk settling over the Green River country, which Morgan's Mengrew to love so well; a mocking-bird singing a farewell song from thetop of a stunted oak to the dead summer and the dying day; Morganseated on a cracker-box in front of his tent, contemplatively chewingone end of his mustache; Lieutenant Hunt swinging from his horse, smiling grimly. 

"It would make a horse laugh--a Yankee cavalry horse, anyhow--to seethis army. "

Hunt had been over the camp that first afternoon on a personal tour ofinvestigation. They were not a thousand Springfield and Enfield riflesat that time in Johnston's army. Half of the soldiers were armed withshotguns and squirrel rifle and the greater part of the other half withflintlock muskets. But nearly every man, thinking he was in for arough-and-tumble fight, had a bowie knife and a revolver swung to hisbelt. 

"Those Arkansas and Texas fellows have got knives that would make aMalay's blood run cold. "

"Well, they'll do to hew firewood and cut meat, " laughed Morgan. 

The troops were not only badly armed. On his tour, Hunt had seen menmaking blankets of pieces of old carpet, lined on one side with a pieceof cotton cloth; men wearing ox-hide buskins, or complicated wrappingof rags, for shoes; orderly sergeants making out reports on shingles;surgeon using a twisted handkerchief instead of a tourniquet. There wasa total lack of medicine, and camp diseases were already breakingout--measles, typhoid fever, pneumonia, bowel troubles--each fatal, itseemed, in time of war. 

"General Johnston has asked Richmond for a stand of thirty thousandarms, " Morgan had mused, and Hunt looked up inquiringly. 

"Mr. Davis can only spare a thousand. "

"That's lucky, " said Hunt, grimly. 

And then the military organization of that army, so characteristic ofthe Southerner! An officer who wanted to be more than a colonel, andcouldn't be a brigadier, would have a "legion"--a hybrid unit between aregiment and a brigade. Sometimes there was a regiment whose roll-callwas more than two thousand men, so popular was its colonel. Companieswould often refuse to designate themselves by letter, but by thethrilling titles they had given themselves. How Morgan and Hunt hadlaughed over "The Yellow Jackets, " "The Dead Shots, " "The Earthquakes, ""The Chickasha Desperadoes, " and "The Hell Roarers"! Regiments wouldbear the names of their commanders--a singular instance of theSoutherner's passion for individuality, as a man, a company, aregiment, or a brigade. And there was little or no discipline, as theword is understood among the military elect, and with no army that theworld has ever seen, Richard Hunt always claimed, was there so littleneed of it. For Southern soldiers, he argued, were, from the start, obedient, zealous, and tolerably patient, from good sense and a strongsense of duty. They were born fighters; a spirit of emulation inducedthem to learn the drill; pride and patriotism kept them true andpatient to the last, but they could not be made, by punishment or thefear of it, into machines. They read their chance of success, not inopposing numbers, but in the character and reputation of theircommanders, who, in turn, believed, as a rule, that "the unthinkingautomaton, formed by routine and punishment, could no more stand beforethe high-strung young soldier with brains and good blood, and somepractice and knowledge of warfare, than a tree could resist a stroke oflightning. " So that with Southern soldiers discipline came to mean "thepride which made soldiers learn their duties rather than incurdisgrace; the subordination that came from self-respect and respect forthe man whom they thought worthy to command them. "

Boots and saddles again at daybreak! By noon the column reached GreenRiver, over the Kentucky line, where Morgan, even on his way down tojoin Johnston, had begun the operations which were to make him famous. No picket duty that infantry could do as well, for Morgan's cavalry! Hewanted it kept out on the front or the flanks of an army, and as closeas possible upon the enemy. Right away, there had been thrilling timesfor Dan in the Green River country--setting out at dark, chasingcountrymen in Federal pay or sympathy, prowling all night around andamong pickets and outposts; entrapping the unwary; taking a position onthe line of retreat at daybreak, and turning leisurely back to campwith prisoners and information. How memories thronged! At this veryturn of the road, Dan remembered, they had their first brush with theenemy. No plan of battle had been adopted, other than to hide on bothsides of the road and send their horses to the rear. 

"I think we ought to charge 'em, " said Georgie Forbes, Chad's oldenemy. Dan saw that his lip trembled, and, a moment later, Georgie, muttering something, disappeared. 

The Yankees had come on, and, discovering them, halted. Morgan himselfstepped out in the road and shot the officer riding at the head of thecolumn. His men fell back without returning the fire, deployed andopened up. Dan recognized the very tree behind which he had stood, andagain he could almost hear Richard Hunt chuckling from behind anotherclose by. 

"We would be in bad shape, " said Richard Hunt, as the bullets whistledhigh overhead, "if we were in the tops of these trees instead of behindthem. " There had been no maneuvering, no command given among theConfederates. Each man fought his own fight. In ten minutes ahorse-holder ran up from the rear, breathless, and announced that theYankees were flanking. Every man withdrew, straightway, after his ownfashion, and in his own time. One man was wounded and several were shotthrough the clothes. 

"That was like a camp-meeting or an election row, " laughed Morgan, whenthey were in camp. 

"Or an affair between Austrian and Italian outposts, " said Hunt. 

A chuckle rose behind them. A lame colonel was limping past. 

"I got your courier, " he said. 

"I sent no courier, " said Morgan. 

"It was Forbes who wanted to charge 'em, " said Dan. 

Again the Colonel chuckled. 

"The Yankees ran when you did, " he said, and limped, chuckling, away. 

But it was great fun, those moonlit nights, burning bridges and chasingHome Guards who would flee fifteen or twenty miles sometimes to"rally. " Here was a little town through which Dan and Richard Hunt hadmarched with nine prisoners in a column--taken by them alone--and acaptured United States flag, flying in front, scaring Confederatesympathizers and straggling soldiers, as Hunt reported, horribly. Danchuckled at the memory, for the prisoners were quartered with differentmesses, and, that night, several bottles of sparkling Catawba happened, by some mystery, to be on hand. The prisoners were told that this wasregularly issued by their commissaries, and thereupon they plead, withtears, to be received into the Confederate ranks. 

This kind of service was valuable training for Morgan's later work. Slight as it was, it soon brought him thirty old, condemnedartillery-horses--Dan smiled now at the memory of those ancientchargers--which were turned over to Morgan to be nursed until theywould bear a mount, and, by and by, it gained him a colonelcy and threecompanies, superbly mounted and equipped, which, as "Morgan'sSquadron, " became known far and near. Then real service began. 

In January, the right wing of Johnston's hungry hawk had been broken inthe Cumberland Mountains. Early in February, Johnston had withdrawn itfrom Kentucky before Buell's hosts, with its beak always to the foe. Bythe middle of the month, Grant had won the Western border States to theUnion, with the capture of Fort Donelson. In April, the sun of Shilohrose and set on the failure of the first Confederate aggressivecampaign at the West; and in that fight Dan saw his first real battle, and Captain Hunt was wounded. In May, Buell had pushed the Confederatelines south and east toward Chattanooga. To retain a hold on theMississippi valley, the Confederates must make another push forKentucky, and it was this great Southern need that soon put JohnMorgan's name on the lips of every rebel and Yankee in the middleSouth. In June, provost-marshals were appointed in every county inKentucky; the dogs of war began to be turned locals on the "seceshsympathizers" throughout the State, and Jerome Conners, overseer, beganto render sly service to the Union cause. 

For it was in June that Morgan paid his first memorable little visit tothe Bluegrass, and Daniel Dean wrote his brother Harry the short taleof the raid. 

"We left Dixie with nine hundred men, " the letter ran, "and got back intwenty-four days with twelve hundred. Travelled over one thousandmiles, captured seventeen towns, destroyed all Government supplies andarms in them, scattered fifteen hundred Home Guards, and paroled twelvehundred regular troops. Lost of the original nine hundred, in killed, wounded, and missing, about ninety men. How's that? We kept twentythousand men busy guarding Government posts or chasing us, and we'regoing back often. Oh Harry, I AM glad that you are with Grant. "

But Harry was not with Grant--not now. While Morgan was marching upfrom Dixie to help Kirby Smith in the last great effort that theConfederacy was about to make to win Kentucky--down from the yellowriver marched the Fourth Ohio Cavalry to go into camp at Lexington; andwith it marched Chadwick Buford and Harry Dean who, too, were veteransnow--who, too, were going home. Both lads wore a second lieutenant'sempty shoulder-straps, which both yet meant to fill with bars, butChad's promotion had not come as swiftly as Harry had predicted; theCaptain, whose displeasure he had incurred, prevented that. It hadcome, in time, however, and with one leap he had landed, after Shiloh, at Harry's side. In the beginning, young Dean had wanted to go to theArmy of the Potomac, as did Chad, but one quiet word from the taciturncolonel with the stubbly reddish-brown beard and the perpetual blackcigar kept both where they were. 

"Though, " said Grant to Chad, as his eye ran over beautiful Dixie fromtip of nose to tip of tail, and came back to Chad, slightly twinkling, "I've a great notion to put you in the infantry just to get hold ofthat horse. "

So it was no queer turn of fate that had soon sent both the lads tohelp hold Zollicoffer at Cumberland Gap, that stopped them at Camp DickRobinson to join forces with Wolford's cavalry, and brought Chad faceto face with an old friend. Wolford's cavalry was gathered from themountains and the hills, and when some scouts came in that afternoon, Chad, to his great joy, saw, mounted on a gaunt sorrel, none other thanhis old school-master, Caleb Hazel, who, after shaking hands with bothHarry and Chad, pointed silently at a great, strange figure followinghim on a splendid horse some fifty yards behind. The man wore a slouchhat, tow linen breeches, home-made suspenders, a belt with two pistols, and on his naked heels were two huge Texan spurs. Harry broke into alaugh, and Chad's puzzled face cleared when the man grinned; it wasYankee Jake Dillon, one of the giant twins. Chad looked at himcuriously; that blow on the head that his brother, Rebel Jerry, hadgiven him, had wrought a miracle. The lips no longer hung apart, butwere set firmly, and the eye was almost keen; the face was still ratherstupid, but not foolish--and it was still kind. Chad knew that, somewhere in the Confederate lines, Rebel Jerry was looking for Jake, as Yankee Jake, doubtless, was now looking for Jerry, and he began tothink that it might be well for Jerry if neither was ever found. DawsDillon, so he learned from Caleb Hazel and Jake, was already making hisname a watchword of terror along the border of Virginia and Tennessee, and was prowling, like a wolf, now and then, along the edge of theBluegrass. Old Joel Turner had died of his wound, Rube had gone off tothe war and Mother Turner and Melissa were left at home, alone. 

"Daws fit fust on one side and then on t'other, " said Jake, and then hesmiled in a way that Chad understood; "an' sence you was down thar lastDaws don't seem to hanker much atter meddlin' with the Turners, thoughthe two women did have to run over into Virginny, once in a while. Melissy, " he added, "was a-goin' to marry Dave Hilton, so folks said;and he reckoned they'd already hitched most likely, sence Chad thar--"

A flash from Chad's eyes stopped him, and Chad, seeing Harry's puzzledface, turned away. He was glad that Melissa was going to marry--yes, hewas glad; and how he did pray that she might be happy!

Fighting Zollicoffer, only a few days later, Chad and Harry had theirbaptism of fire, and strange battle orders they heard, that made themsmile even in the thick of the fight. 

"Huddle up thar!" "Scatterout, now!" "Form a line of fight!" "Wait tillyou see the shine of their eyes!"

"I see 'em!" shouted a private, and "bang" went his gun. That was theway the fight opened. Chad saw Harry's eyes blazing like stars from hispale face, which looked pained and half sick, and Chad understood--thelads were fighting their own people, and there was no help for it. Avoice bellowed from the rear, and a man in a red cap loomed in thesmoke-mist ahead:

"Now, now! Git up and git, boys!"

That was the order for the charge, and the blue line went forward. Chadnever forgot that first battle-field when he saw it a few hours laterstrewn with dead and wounded, the dead lying, as they dropped, in everyconceivable position, features stark, limbs rigid; one man with ahalf-smoked cigar on his breast; the faces of so many beardless; somefrowning, some as if asleep and dreaming; and the wounded--some talkingpitifully, some in delirium, some courteous, patient, anxious to savetrouble, others morose, sullen, stolid, independent; never forgot it, even the terrible night after Shiloh, when he searched heaps of woundedand slain for Caleb Hazel, who lay all through the night wounded almostto death. 

Later, the Fourth Ohio followed Johnston, as he gave way before Buell, and many times did they skirmish and fight with ubiquitous Morgan'sMen. Several times Harry and Dan sent each other messages to say thateach was still unhurt, and both were in constant horror of some daycoming face to face. Once, indeed, Harry, chasing a rebel and firing athim, saw him lurch in his saddle, and Chad, coming up, found the lad onthe ground, crying over a canteen which the rebel had dropped. It wasmarked with the initials D. D. , the strap was cut by the bullet Harryhad fired, and not for a week of agonizing torture did Harry learn thatthe canteen, though Dan's, had been carried that day by another man. 

It was on these scouts and skirmishes that the four--Harry and Chad, and Caleb Hazel and Yankee Jake Dillon, whose dog-like devotion to Chadsoon became a regimental joke--became known, not only among their ownmen, but among their enemies, as the shrewdest and most daring scoutsin the Federal service. Every Morgan's man came to know the name ofChad Buford; but it was not until Shiloh that Chad got hisshoulder-straps, leading a charge under the very eye of General Grant. After Shiloh, the Fourth Ohio went back to its old quarters across theriver, and no sooner were Chad and Harry there than Kentucky was putunder the Department of the Ohio; and so it was also no queer turn offate that now they were on their way to new head-quarters in Lexington. 

Straight along the turnpike that ran between the Dean and the Bufordfarms, the Fourth Ohio went in a cloud of thick dust that rose andsettled like a gray choking mist on the seared fields. Side by siderode Harry and Chad, and neither spoke when, on the left, the whitecolumns of the Dean house came into view, and, on the right, the redbrick of Chad's old home showed through the dusty leaves; not even whenboth saw on the Dean porch the figures of two women who, standingmotionless, were looking at them. Harry's shoulders drooped, and hestared stonily ahead, while Chad turned his head quickly. The frontdoor and shutters of the Buford house were closed, and there were fewsigns of life about the place. Only at the gate was the slouchingfigure of Jerome Conners, the overseer, who, waving his hat at thecolumn, recognized Chad, as he rode by, and spoke to him, Chad thought, with a covert sneer. Farther ahead, and on the farthest boundary of theBuford farm, was a Federal fort, now deserted, and the beautifulwoodland that had once stood in perfect beauty around it was sadlyravaged and nearly gone, as was the Dean woodland across the road. Itwas plain that some people were paying the Yankee piper for thedeath-dance in which a mighty nation was shaking its feet. 

On they went, past the old college, down Broadway, wheeling at SecondStreet--Harry going on with the regiment to camp on the other edge ofthe town; Chad reporting with his colonel at General Ward'shead-quarters, a columned brick house on one corner of the collegecampus, and straight across from the Hunt home, where he had firstdanced with Margaret Dean. 

That night the two lay on the edge of the Ashland woods, looking up atthe stars, the ripened bluegrass--a yellow, moonlit sea--around themand the woods dark and still behind them. Both smoked and were silent, but each knew that to the other his thoughts were known; for both hadbeen on the same errand that day, and the miserable tale of the lastten months both had learned. 

Trouble had soon begun for the ones who were dear to them, when bothleft for the war. At once General Anderson had promised immunity fromarrest to every peaceable citizen in the State, but at once theshiftless, the prowling, the lawless, gathered to the Home Guards forself-protection, to mask deviltry and to wreak vengeance for privatewrongs. At once mischief began. Along the Ohio, men with Southernsympathies were clapped into prison. Citizens who had joined theConfederates were pronounced guilty of treason, and Breckinridge wasexpelled from the Senate as a traitor. Morgan's great raid in June, '61, spread consternation through the land and, straightway, everydistrict and county were at the mercy of a petty local provost. No manof Southern sympathies could stand for office. Courts in session werebroken up with the bayonet. Civil authority was overthrown. Destructionof property, indemnity assessments on innocent men, arrests, imprisonment, and murder became of daily occurrence. Ministers werejailed and lately prisons had even been prepared for disloyal women. Major Buford, forced to stay at home on account of his rheumatism andthe serious illness of Miss Lucy, had been sent to prison once and wasnow under arrest again. General Dean, old as he was, had escaped andhad gone to Virginia to fight with Lee; and Margaret and Mrs. Dean, with a few servants, were out on the farm alone. 

But neither spoke of the worst that both feared was yet to come--and"Taps" sounded soft and dear on the night air. 

CHAPTER 23. 

CHAD CAPTURES AN OLD FRIEND

Meanwhile Morgan was coming on--led by the two videttes in gray--DanielDean and Rebel Jerry Dillon--coming on to meet Kirby Smith in Lexingtonafter that general had led the Bluegrass into the Confederate fold. They were taking short cuts through the hills now, and Rebel Jerry wasguide, for he had joined Morgan for that purpose. Jerry had long beennotorious along the border. He never gave quarter on his expeditionsfor personal vengeance, and it was said that not even he knew how manymen he had killed. Every Morgan's man had heard of him, and was anxiousto see him; and see him they did, though they never heard him open hislips except in answer to a question. To Dan he seemed to take a strangefancy right away, but he was as voiceless as the grave, except for anoccasional oath, when bush-whackers of Daws Dillon's ilk would pop atthe advance guard--sometimes from a rock directly overhead, for chasewas useless. It took a roundabout climb of one hundred yards to get tothe top of that rock, so there was nothing for videttes and guards todo but pop back, which they did to no purpose. On the third day, however, after a skirmish in which Dan had charged with a little moredare-deviltry than usual, the big Dillon ripped out an oath of protest. An hour later he spoke again:

"I got a brother on t'other side. "

Dan started. "Why, so have I, " he said. "What's your brother with?"

"Wolford's cavalry. "

"That's curious. So was mine--for a while. He's with Grant now. " Theboy turned his head away suddenly. 

"I might meet him, if he were with Wolford now, " he said, half tohimself, but Jerry heard him and smiled viciously. 

"Well, that's what I'm goin' with you fellers fer--to meet mine. "

"What!" said Dan, puzzled. 

"We've been lookin' fer each other sence the war broke out. I reckon hewent on t'other side to keep me from killin' him. "

Dan shrank away from the giant with horror; but next day themountaineer saved the boy's life in a fight in which Dan'schum--gallant little Tom Morgan--lost his; and that night, as Dan laysleepless and crying in his blanket, Jerry Dillon came in fromguard-duty and lay down by him. 

"I'm goin' to take keer o' you. "

"I don't need you, " said Dan, gruffly, and Rebel Jerry grunted, turnedover on his side and went to sleep. Night and day thereafter he was bythe boy's side. 

A thrill ran through the entire command when the column struck thefirst Bluegrass turnpike, and a cheer rang from front to rear. NearMidway, a little Bluegrass town some fifteen miles from Lexington, ahalt was called, and another deafening cheer arose in the extreme rearand came forward like a rushing wind, as a coal-black horse gallopedthe length of the column--its rider, hat in hand, bowing with a proudsmile to the flattering storm--for the idolatry of the man and his menwas mutual--with the erect grace of an Indian, the air of a courtier, and the bearing of a soldier in every line of the six feet and more ofhis tireless frame. No man who ever saw John Morgan on horseback buthad the picture stamped forever on his brain, as no man who ever sawthat coal-black horse ever forgot Black Bess. Behind him came hisstaff, and behind them came a wizened little man, whose nickname was"Lightning"--telegraph operator for Morgan's Men. There was need ofLightning now, so Morgan sent him on into town with Dan and JerryDillon, while he and Richard Hunt followed leisurely. 

The three troopers found the station operator seated on theplatform--pipe in mouth, and enjoying himself hugely. He looked lazilyat them. 

"Call up Lexington, " said Lightning, sharply. 

"Go to hell!" said the operator, and then he nearly toppled from hischair. Lightning, with a vicious gesture, had swung a pistol on him. 

"Here--here!" he gasped, "what'd you mean?"

"Call up Lexington, " repeated Lightning. The operator seated himself. 

"What do you want in Lexington?" he growled. 

"Ask the time of day?" The operator stared, but the instrument clicked. 

"What's your name?" asked Lightning. 

"Woolums. "

"Well, Woolums, you're a 'plug. ' I wanted to see how you handled thekey. Yes, Woolums, you're a plug. "

Then Lightning seated himself, and Woolums' mouth flew open--Lightningcopied his style with such exactness. Again the instrument clicked andLightning listened, smiling:

"Will there be any danger coming to Midway?" asked a railroad conductorin Lexington. Lightning answered, grinning:

"None. Come right on. No sign of rebels here. " Again a click fromLexington. 

"General Ward orders General Finnell of Frankfort to move his forces. General Ward will move toward Georgetown, to which Morgan with eighteenhundred men is marching. "

Lightning caught his breath--this was Morgan's force and his intentionexactly. He answered:

"Morgan with upward of two thousand men has taken the road toFrankfort. This is reliable. " Ten minutes later, Lightning chuckled. 

"Ward orders Finnell to recall his regiment to Frankfort. "

Half an hour later another idea struck Lightning. He clicked as thoughtelegraphing from Frankfort:

"Our pickets just driven in. Great excitement. Force of enemy must betwo thousand. "

Then Lightning laughed. "I've fooled 'em, " said Lightning. 

There was turmoil in Lexington. The streets thundered with the tramp ofcavalry going to catch Morgan. Daylight came and nothing wasdone--nothing known. The afternoon waned, and still Ward fretted athead-quarters, while his impatient staff sat on the piazza talking, speculating, wondering where the wily raider was. Leaning on thecampus-fence near by were Chadwick Buford and Harry Dean. 

It had been a sad day for those two. The mutual tolerance thatprevailed among their friends in the beginning of the war had given wayto intense bitterness now. There was no thrill for them in the flagsfluttering a welcome to them from the windows of loyalists, for underthose flags old friends passed them in the street with no sign ofrecognition, but a sullen, averted face, or a stare of open contempt. Elizabeth Morgan had met them, and turned her head when Harry raisedhis cap, though Chad saw tears spring to her eyes as she passed. Sad asit was for him, Chad knew what the silent torture in Harry's heart mustbe, for Harry could not bring himself, that day, even to visit his ownhome. And now Morgan was coming, and they might soon be in adeath-fight, Harry with his own blood-brother and both with boyhoodfriends. 

"God grant that you two may never meet!"

That cry from General Dean was beating ceaselessly through Harry'sbrain now, and he brought one hand down on the fence, hardly noticingthe drop of blood that oozed from the force of the blow. 

"Oh, I wish I could get away from here!"

"I shall the first chance that comes, " said Chad, and he lifted hishead sharply, staring down the street. A phaeton was coming slowlytoward them and in it were a negro servant and a girl in white. Harrywas leaning over the fence with his back toward the street, and Chad, the blood rushing to his face, looked in silence, for the negro wasSnowball and the girl was Margaret. He saw her start and flush when shesaw him, her hands giving a little convulsive clutch at the reins; butshe came on, looking straight ahead. Chad's hand went unconsciously tohis cap, and when Harry rose, puzzled to see him bareheaded, thephaeton stopped, and there was a half-broken cry:

"Harry!"

Cap still in hand, Chad strode away as the brother, with an answeringcry, sprang toward her. 

 . . . . . 

When he came back, an hour later, at dusk, Harry was seated on theportico, and the long silence between them was broken at last. 

"She--they oughtn't to come to town at a time like this, " said Chad, roughly. 

"I told her that, " said Harry, "but it was useless. She will come andgo just as she pleases. "

Harry rose and leaned for a moment against one of the big pillars, andthen he turned impulsively, and put one hand lightly on the other'sshoulder. 

"I'm sorry, old man, " he said, gently. 

A pair of heels clicked suddenly together on the grass before them, andan orderly stood at salute. 

"General Ward's compliments, and will Lieutenant Buford and LieutenantDean report to him at once?"

The two exchanged a swift glance, and the faces of both grew grave withsudden apprehension. 

Inside, the General looked worried, and his manner was rather sharp. 

"Do you know General Dean?" he asked, looking at Harry. 

"He is my father. "

The General wheeled in his chair. 

"What!" he exclaimed. "Well--um--I suppose one of you will be enough. You can go. "

When the door closed behind Harry, he looked at Chad. 

"There are two rebels at General Dean's house to-night, " he said, quietly. "One of them, I am told---why, he must be that boy's brother, "and again the General mused; then he added, sharply:

"Take six good men out there right away and capture them. And watch outfor Daws Dillon and his band of cut-throats. I am told he is in thisregion. I've sent a company after him. But you capture the two atGeneral Dean's. "

"Yes, sir, " said Chad, turning quickly, but the General had seen thelad's face grow pale. 

"It is very strange down here--they may be his best friends, " hethought, and, being a kindhearted man, he reached out his hand toward abell to summon Chad back, and drew it in again. 

"I cannot help that; but that boy must have good stuff in him. "

Harry was waiting for him outside. He knew that Dan would go home if itwas possible, and what Chad's mission must be. 

"Don't hurt him, Chad. "

"You don't have to ask that, " answered Chad, sadly. 

 . . . . . 

So Chad's old enemy, Daws Dillon, was abroad. There was a big man withthe boy at the Deans', General Ward had said, but Chad little guessedthat it was another old acquaintance, Rebel Jerry Dillon, who, at thathour, was having his supper brought out to the stable to him, sayingthat he would sleep there, take care of the horses, and keep on thelook-out for Yankees. Jerome Conners's hand must be in this, Chadthought, for he never for a moment doubted that the overseer hadbrought the news to General Ward. He was playing a fine game of loyaltyto both sides, that overseer, and Chad grimly made up his mind that, from one side or the other, his day would come. And this was thefortune of war--to be trotting, at the head of six men, on such amission, along a road that, at every turn, on every little hill, andalmost in every fence-corner, was stored with happy memories for him;to force entrance as an enemy under a roof that had showered courtesyand kindness down on him like rain, that in all the world was mostsacred to him; to bring death to an old playmate, the brother of thewoman whom he loved, or capture, which might mean a worse death in aloathsome prison. He thought of that dawn when he drove home after thedance at the Hunts' with the old Major asleep at his side and his heartalmost bursting with high hope and happiness, and he ran his hand overhis eyes to brush the memory away. He must think only of his duty now, and that duty was plain. 

Across the fields they went in a noiseless walk, and leaving theirhorses in the woods, under the care of one soldier, slipped into theyard. Two men were posted at the rear of the house, one was stationedat each end of the long porch to command the windows on either side, and, with a sergeant at his elbow, Chad climbed the long stepsnoiselessly and knocked at the front door. In a moment it was thrownopen by a woman, and the light fell full in Chad's face. 

"You--you--YOU!" said a voice that shook with mingled terror andcontempt, and Margaret shrank back, step by step. Hearing her, Mrs. Dean hurried into the hallway. Her face paled when she saw the Federaluniform in her doorway, but her chin rose haughtily, and her voice wassteady and most courteous:

"What can we do for you?" she asked, and she, too, recognized Chad, andher face grew stern as she waited for him to answer. 

"Mrs. Dean, " he said, half choking, "word has come to head-quartersthat two Confederate soldiers are spending the night here, and I havebeen ordered to search the house for them. My men have surrounded it, but if you will give me your word that they are not here, not a manshall cross your threshold--not even myself. "

Without a word Mrs. Dean stood aside. 

"I am sorry, " said Chad, motioning to the Sergeant to follow him. As hepassed the door of the drawing-room, he saw, under the lamp, a pipewith ashes strewn about its bowl. Chad pointed to it. 

"Spare me, Mrs. Dean. " But the two women stood with clinched hands, silent. Dan had flashed into the kitchen, and was about to leap fromthe window when he saw the gleam of a rifle-barrel, not ten feet away. He would be potted like a rat if he sprang out there, and he dashednoiselessly up the back stairs, as Chad started up the front stairwaytoward the garret, where he had passed many a happy hour playing withMargaret and Harry and the boy whom he was after as an enemy, now. Thedoor was open at the first landing, and the creak of the stairs underDan's feet, heard plainly, stopped. The Sergeant, pistol in hand, started to push past his superior. 

"Keep back, " said Chad, sternly, and as he drew his pistol, a terrifiedwhisper rose from below. 

"Don't, don't!" And then Dan, with hands up, stepped into sight. 

"I'll spare you, " he said, quietly. "Not a word, mother. They've gotme. You can tell him there is no one else in the house, though. "

Mrs. Dean's eyes filled with tears, and a sob broke from Margaret. 

"There is no one else, " she said, and Chad bowed. "In the house, " sheadded, proudly, scorning the subterfuge. 

"Search the barn, " said Chad, "quick!" The Sergeant ran down the steps. 

"I reckon you are a little too late, my friend, " said Dan. "Why, blessme, it's my old friend Chad--and a lieutenant! I congratulate you, " headded, but he did not offer to shake hands. 

Chad had thought of the barn too late. Snowball had seen the mencreeping through the yard, had warned Jerry Dillon, and Jerry hadslipped the horses into the woodland, and had crept back to learn whatwas going on. 

"I will wait for you out here, " said Chad. "Take your time. "

"Thank you, " said Dan. 

He came out in a moment and Mrs. Dean and Margaret followed him. At agesture from the Sergeant, a soldier stationed himself on each side ofDan, and, as Chad turned, he took off his cap again. His face was verypale and his voice almost broke:

"You will believe, Mrs. Dean, " he said, "that this was something I HADto do. "

Mrs. Dean bent her head slightly. 

"Certainly, mother, " said Dan. "Don't blame Lieutenant Chad. Morganwill have Lexington in a few days and then I'll be free again. MaybeI'll have Lieutenant Chad a prisoner--no telling!"

Chad smiled faintly, and then, with a flush, he spoke again--warningMrs. Dean, in the kindliest way, that, henceforth, her house would beunder suspicion, and telling her of the severe measures that had beeninaugurated against rebel sympathizers. 

"Such sympathizers have to take oath of allegiance and give bonds tokeep it. "

"If they don't?"

"Arrest and imprisonment. "

"And if they give the oath and violate it?"

"The penalty is death, Mrs. Dean. "

"And if they aid their friends?"

"They are to be dealt with according to military law. "

"Anything else?"

"If loyal citizens are hurt or damaged by guerrillas, disloyal citizensof the locality must make compensation. "

"Is it true that a Confederate sympathizer will be shot down if on thestreets of Lexington?"

"There was such an order, Mrs. Dean. "

"And if a loyal citizen is killed by one of these so-called guerillas, for whose acts nobody is responsible, prisoners of war are to be shotin retaliation?"

"Mother!" cried Margaret. 

"No, Mrs. Dean--not prisoners of war--guerillas. "

"And when will you begin war on women?"

"Never, I hope. " His hesitancy brought a scorn into the searching eyesof his pale questioner that Chad could not face, and without daringeven to look at Margaret he turned away. 

Such retaliatory measures made startling news to Dan. He grew verygrave while he listened, but as he followed Chad he chatted and laughedand joked with his captors. Morgan would have Lexington in three days. He was really glad to get a chance to fill his belly with Yankee grub. It hadn't been full more than two or three times in six months. 

All the time he was watching for Jerry Dillon, who, he knew, would notleave him if there was the least chance of getting him out of theYankee's clutches. He did not have to wait long. Two men had gone toget the horses, and as Dan stepped through the yard-gate with hiscaptors, two figures rose out of the ground. One came with head bentlike a battering-ram. He heard Snowball's head strike a stomach on oneside of him, and with an astonished groan the man went down. He saw theman on his other side drop from some crashing blow, and he saw Chadtrying to draw his pistol. His own fist shot out, catching Chad on thepoint of the chin. At the same instant there was a shot and theSergeant dropped. 

"Come on, boy!" said a hoarse voice, and then he was speeding awayafter the gigantic figure of Jerry Dillon through the thick darkness, while a harmless volley of shots sped after them. At the edge of thewoods they dropped. Jerry Dillon had his hand over his mouth to keepfrom laughing aloud. 

"The hosses ain't fer away, " he said. "Oh, Lawd!"

"Did you kill him?"

"I reckon not, " whispered Jerry. "I shot him on the wrong side. I'mal'ays a-fergettin' which side a man's heart's on. "

"What became of Snowball?"

"He run jes' as soon as he butted the feller on his right. He said he'dgit one, but I didn't know what he was doin' when I seed him start likea sheep. Listen!"

There was a tumult at the house--moving lights, excited cries, and agreat hurrying. Black Rufus was the first to appear with a lantern, andwhen he held it high as the fence, Chad saw Margaret in the light, herhands clinched and her eyes burning. 

"Have you killed him?" she asked, quietly but fiercely. "You nearly didonce before. Have you succeeded this time?" Then she saw the Sergeantwrithing on the ground, his right forearm hugging his breast, and herhands relaxed and her face changed. 

"Did Dan do that? Did Dan do that?"

"Dan was unarmed, " said Chad, quietly. 

"Mother, " called the girl, as though she had not heard him, "sendsomeone to help. Bring him to the house, " she added, turning. As nomovement was made, she turned again. 

"Bring him up to the house, " she said, imperiously, and when thehesitating soldiers stooped to pick up the wounded man, she saw thestreak of blood running down Chad's chin and she stared open-eyed. Shemade one step toward him, and then she shrank back out of the light. 

"Oh!" she said. "Are you wounded, too? Oh!"

"No!" said Chad, grimly. "Dan didn't do that"--pointing to theSergeant--"he did this--with his fist. It's the second time Dan hasdone this. Easy, men, " he added, with low-voiced authority. 

Mrs. Dean was holding the door open. 

"No, " said Chad, quickly. "That wicker lounge will do. He will becooler on the porch. " Then he stooped, and loosening the Sergeant'sblouse and shirt examined the wound. 

"It's only through the shoulder, Lieutenant, " said the man, faintly. But it was under the shoulder, and Chad turned. 

"Jake, " he said, sharply, "go back and bring a surgeon--and an officerto relieve me. I think he can be moved in the morning, Mrs. Dean. Withyour permission I will wait here until the Surgeon comes. Please don'tdisturb yourself further"--Margaret had appeared at the door, with somebandages that she and her mother had been making for Confederates andbehind her a servant followed with towels and a pail of water--"I amsorry to trespass. "

"Did the bullet pass through?" asked Mrs. Dean, simply. 

"No, Mrs. Dean, " said Chad. 

Margaret turned indoors. Without another word, her mother knelt abovethe wounded man, cut the shirt away, staunched the trickling blood, anddeftly bound the wound with lint and bandages, while Chad stood, helplessly watching her. 

"I am sorry, " he said again, when she rose, "sorry--"

"It is nothing, " said Mrs. Dean, quietly. "If you need anything, youwill let me know. I shall be waiting inside. "

She turned and a few moments later Chad saw Margaret's white figureswiftly climb the stairs--but the light still burned in the noiselessroom below. 

 . . . . . 

Meanwhile Dan and Jerry Dillon were far across the fields on their wayto rejoin Morgan. When they were ten miles away, Dan, who was leading, turned. 

"Jerry, that Lieutenant was an old friend of mine. General Morgan usedto say he was the best scout in the Union Army. He comes from your partof the country, and his name is Chad Buford. Ever heard of him?"

"I've knowed him sence he was a chunk of a boy, but I don't rickollectever hearin' his last name afore. I naver knowed he had any. "

"Well, I heard him call one of his men Jake--and he looked exactly likeyou. " The giant pulled in his horse. 

"I'm goin' back. "

"No, you aren't, " said Dan; "not now--it's too late. That's why Ididn't tell you before. " Then he added, angrily: "You are a savage andyou ought to be ashamed of yourself harboring such hatred against yourown blood-brother. "

Dan was perhaps the only one of Morgan's Men who would have dared totalk that way to the man, and Jerry Dillon took it only in sullensilence. 

A mile farther they struck a pike, and, as they swept along, abrilliant light glared into the sky ahead of them, and they pulled in. A house was in flames on the edge of a woodland, and by its light theycould see a body of men dash out of the woods and across the field onhorseback, and another body dash after them in pursuit--the pursuersfiring and the pursued sending back defiant yells. Daws Dillon was athis work again, and the Yankees were after him. 

 . . . . . 

Long after midnight Chad reported the loss of his prisoner. He was muchchagrined--for failure was rare with him--and his jaw and teeth achedfrom the blow Dan had given him, but in his heart he was glad that theboy had got away When he went to his tent, Harry was awake and waitingfor him. 

"It's I who have escaped, " he said; "escaped again. Four times now wehave been in the same fight. Somehow fate seems to be pointing alwaysone way--always one way. Why, night after night, I dream that either heor I--" Harry's voice trembled--he stopped short, and, leaning forward, stared out the door of his tent. A group of figures had halted in frontof the Colonel's tent opposite, and a voice called, sharply:

"Two prisoners, sir. We captured 'em with Daws Dillon. They areguerillas, sir. "

"It's a lie, Colonel, " said an easy voice, that brought both Chad andHarry to their feet, and plain in the moonlight both saw Daniel Dean, pale but cool, and near him, Rebel Jerry Dillon--both with their handsbound behind them. 

CHAPTER 24. 

A RACE BETWEEN DIXIE AND DAWN

But the sun sank next day from a sky that was aflame with rebelvictories. It rose on a day rosy with rebel hopes, and the propheticcoolness of autumn was in the early morning air when Margaret in herphaeton moved through the front pasture on her way to town--alone. Shewas in high spirits and her head was lifted proudly. Dan's boast hadcome true. Kirby Smith had risen swiftly from Tennessee, had struck theFederal Army on the edge of the Bluegrass the day before and sent ithelter-skelter to the four winds. Only that morning she had seen aregiment of the hated Yankees move along the turnpike in flight for theOhio. It was the Fourth Ohio Cavalry, and Harry and one whose namenever passed her lips were among those dusty cavalrymen; but she wasglad, and she ran down o the stile and, from the fence, waved the Starsand Bars at them as they passed--which was very foolish, but whichbrought her deep content. Now the rebels did hold Lexington. Morgan'sMen were coming that day and she was going into town to see Dan andColonel Hunt and General Morgan and be fearlessly happy and triumphant. At the Major's gate, whom should she see coming out but the dear oldfellow himself, and, when he got off his horse and came to her, sheleaned forward and kissed him, because he looked so thin and pale fromconfinement, and because she was so glad to see him. Morgan's Men werereally coming, that very day, the Major said, and he told her muchthrilling news. Jackson had obliterated Pope at the second battle ofManassas. Eleven thousand prisoners had been taken at Harper's Ferryand Lee had gone on into Maryland on the flank of Washington. Recruitswere coming into the Confederacy by the thousands. Bragg had fifty-fivethousand men and an impregnable stronghold in front of Buell, who hadbut few men more--not enough to count a minute, the Major said. 

"Lee has routed 'em out of Virginia, " cried the old fellow, "and Buellis doomed. I tell you, little girl, the fight is almost won. "

Jerome Conners rode to the gate and called to the Major in a tone thatarrested the girl's attention. She hated that man and she had noted aqueer change in his bearing since the war began. She looked for a flashof anger from the Major, but none came, and she began to wonder whathold the overseer could have on his old master. 

She drove on, puzzled, wondering, and disturbed; but her cheeks wereflushed--the South was going to win, the Yankees were gone, and shemust get to town in time to see the triumphant coming of Morgan's Men. They were coming in when she reached the Yankee head-quarters, which, she saw, had changed flags--thank God--coming proudly in, amid thewaving of the Stars and Bars and frenzied shouts of welcome. Where werethe Bluegrass Yankees now? The Stars and Stripes that had flutteredfrom their windows had been drawn in and they were keeping very quiet, indeed--Oh! it was joy! There was gallant Morgan himself swinging fromBlack Bess to kiss his mother, who stood waiting for him at her gate, and there was Colonel Hunt, gay, debonair, jesting, shaking hands rightand left, and crowding the streets, Morgan's Men--the proudest blood inthe land, every gallant trooper getting his welcome from the lips andarms of mother, sister, sweetheart, or cousin of farthest degree. Butwhere was Dan? She had heard nothing of him since the night he hadescaped capture, and while she looked right and left for him to dashtoward her and swing from his horse, she heard her name called, andturning she saw Richard Hunt at the wheel of her phaeton. He waved hishand toward the happy reunions going on around them. 

"The enforced brotherhood, Miss Margaret, " he said, his eyes flashing, "I belong to that, you know. "

For once the subtle Colonel made a mistake. Perhaps the girl in hertrembling happiness and under the excitement of the moment might havewelcomed him, as she was waiting to welcome Dan, but she drew back now. 

"Oh! no, Colonel--not on that ground. "

Her eyes danced, she flushed curiously, as she held out her hand, andthe Colonel's brave heart quickened. Straightway he began towonder--but a quick shadow in Margaret's face checked him. 

"But where's Dan? Where is Dan?" she repeated, impatiently. 

Richard Hunt looked puzzled. He had just joined his command andsomething must have gone wrong with Dan. So he lied swiftly. 

"Dan is out on a scout. I don't think he has got back yet. I'll findout. "

Margaret watched him ride to where Morgan stood with his mother in themidst of a joyous group of neighbors and friends, and, a moment later, the two officers came toward her on foot. 

"Don't worry, Miss Margaret, " said Morgan, with a smile. "The Yankeeshave got Dan and have taken him away as prisoner--but don't worry, we'll get him exchanged in a week. I'll give three brigadier-generalsfor him. "

Tears came to the girl's eyes, but she smiled through them bravely. 

"I must go back and tell mother, " she said, brokenly. "I hoped--"

"Don't worry, little girl, " said Morgan again. "I'll have him if I haveto capture the whole State of Ohio. "

Again Margaret smiled, but her heart was heavy, and Richard Hunt wasunhappy. He hung around her phaeton all the while she was in town. Hewent home with her, cheering her on the way and telling her of theConfederate triumph that was at hand. He comforted Mrs. Dean over Dan'scapture, and he rode back to town slowly, with his hands on hissaddle-bow--wondering again. Perhaps Margaret had gotten over herfeeling for that mountain boy--that Yankee--and there Richard Huntchecked his own thoughts, for that mountain boy, he had discovered, wasa brave and chivalrous enemy, and to such, his own high chivalry gavesalute always. 

He was very thoughtful when he reached camp. He had an unusual desireto be alone, and that night, he looked long at the stars, thinking ofthe girl whom he had known since her babyhood--knowing that he wouldnever think of her except as a woman again. 

So the Confederates waited now in the Union hour of darkness for Braggto strike his blow. He did strike it, but it was at the heart of theSouth. He stunned the Confederacy by giving way before Buell. Hebrought hope back with the bloody battle of Perryville. Again he facedBuell at Harrodsburg, and then he wrought broadcast despair by fallingback without battle, dividing his forces and retreating into Tennessee. The dream of a battle-line along the Ohio with a hundred thousand moremen behind it was gone and the last and best chance to win the war waslost forever. Morgan, furious with disappointment, left Lexington. Kentucky fell under Federal control once more; and Major Buford, dazed, dismayed, unnerved, hopeless, brought the news out to the Deans. 

"They'll get me again, I suppose, and I can't leave home on account ofLucy. "

"Please do, Major, " said Mrs. Dean. "Send Miss Lucy over here and makeyour escape. We will take care of her. " The Major shook his head sadlyand rode away. 

Next day Margaret sat on the stile and saw the Yankees coming back toLexington. On one side of her the Stars and Bars were fixed to thefence from which they had floated since the day she had waved the flagat them as they fled. She saw the advance guard come over the hill andjog down the slope and then the regiment slowly following after. In therear she could see two men, riding unarmed. Suddenly three cavalrymenspurred forward at a gallop and turned in at her gate. The soldier inadvance was an officer, and he pulled out a handkerchief, waved itonce, and, with a gesture to his companions, came on alone. She knewthe horse even before she recognized the rider, and her cheeks flushed, her lips were set, and her nostrils began to dilate. The horsemanreined in and took off his cap. 

"I come under a flag of truce, " he said, gravely, "to ask this garrisonto haul down its colors--and--to save useless effusion of blood, " headded, still more gravely. 

"Your war on women has begun, then?"

"I am obeying orders--no more, no less. "

"I congratulate you on your luck or your good judgment always to be onhand when disagreeable duties are to be done. "

Chad flushed. 

"Won't you take the flag down?"

"No, make your attack. You will have one of your usual victories--withoverwhelming numbers--and it will be safe and bloodless. There are onlytwo negroes defending this garrison. They will not fight, nor will we. "

"Won't you take the flag down?"

"No!"

Chad lifted his cap and wheeled. The Colonel was watching at the gate. 

"Well, sir" he asked, frowning. 

"I shall need help, sir, to take that flag down, " said Chad. 

"What do you mean, sir?"

"A woman is defending it. "

"What!" shouted the Colonel. 

"That is my sister, Colonel, " said Harry Dean. The Colonel smiled andthen grew grave. 

"You should warn her not to provoke the authorities. The Government isadvising very strict measures now with rebel sympathizers. " Then hesmiled again. 

"Fours! Left wheel! Halt! Present--sabres!"

A line of sabres flashed in the sun, and Margaret, not understanding, snatched the flag from the fence and waved it back in answer. TheColonel laughed aloud. The column moved on, and each captain, following, caught the humor of the situation and each company flashedits sabres as it went by, while Margaret stood motionless. 

In the rear rode those two unarmed prisoners. She could see now thattheir uniforms were gray and she knew that they were prisoners, but shelittle dreamed that they were her brother Dan and Rebel Jerry Dillon, nor did Chad Buford or Harry Dean dream of the purpose for which, justat that time, they were being brought back to Lexington. Perhaps oneman who saw them did know: for Jerome Conners, from the woods opposite, watched the prisoners ride by with a malicious smile that nothing butimpending danger to an enemy could ever bring to his face; and with thesame smile he watched Margaret go slowly back to the house, while herflag still fluttered from the stile. 

The high tide of Confederate hopes was fast receding now. The army ofthe Potomac, after Antietam, which overthrew the first Confederateaggressive campaign at the East, was retreating into its Southernstronghold, as was the army of the West after Bragg's abandonment ofMumfordsville, and the rebel retirement had given the provost-marshalsin Kentucky full sway. Two hundred Southern sympathizers, under arrest, had been sent into exile north of the Ohio, and large sums of moneywere levied for guerilla outrages here and there--a heavy sum fallingon Major Buford for a vicious murder done in his neighborhood by DawsDillon and his band on the night of the capture of Daniel Dean andRebel Jerry. The Major paid the levy with the first mortgage he hadever given in his life, and straightway Jerome Conners, who had beendealing in mules and other Government supplies, took an attitude thatwas little short of insolence toward his old master, whose farm waspassing into the overseer's clutches at last. Only two nights before, another band of guerillas had burned a farm-house, killed a Unionist, and fled to the hills before the incoming Yankees, and the KentuckyCommandant had sworn vengeance after the old Mosaic way on victimsalready within his power. 

That night Chad and Harry were summoned before General Ward. They foundhim seated with his chin in his hand, looking out the window at themoonlit campus. Without moving, he held out a dirty piece of paper toChad. 

"Read that, " he said. 

"YOU HAVE KETCHED TWO OF MY MEN AND I HEAR AS HOW YOU MEAN TO HANG 'EM. IF YOU HANG THEM TWO MEN, I'M A-GOIN' TO HANG EVERY MAN OF YOURS I CANGIT MY HANDS ON. 

"DAWS DILLON--Captain. "

Chad gave a low laugh and Harry smiled, but the General kept grave. 

"You know, of course, that your brother belongs to Morgan's command?"

"I do, sir, " said Harry, wonderingly. 

"Do you know that his companion--the man Dillon--Jerry Dillon--does?"

"I do not, sir. "

"They were captured by a squad that was fighting Daws Dillon. ThisJerry Dillon has the same name and you found the two together atGeneral Dean's. "

"But they had both just left General Morgan's command, " said Harry, indignantly. 

"That may be true, but this Daws Dillon has sent a similar message tothe Commandant, and he has just been in here again and committed twowanton outrages night before last. The Commandant is enraged and hasissued orders for stern retaliation. "

"It's a trick of Daws Dillon, " said Chad, hotly, "an infamous trick. Hehates his Cousin Jerry, he hates me, and he hates the Deans, becausethey were friends of mine. " General Ward looked troubled. 

"The Commandant says he has been positively informed that both the menjoined Daws Dillon in the fight that night. He has issued orders thatnot only every guerilla captured shall be hung, but that, whenever aUnion citizen has been killed by one of them, four of such maraudersare to be taken to the spot and shot in retaliation. It is the onlymeans left, he says. "

There was a long silence. The faces of both the lads had turned whiteas each saw the drift of the General's meaning, and Harry strodeforward to his desk. 

"Do you mean to say, General Ward--"

The General wheeled in his chair and pointed silently to an order thatlay on the desk, and as Harry started to read it, his voice broke. Daniel Dean and Rebel Jerry were to be shot next morning at sunrise. 

 . . . . . 

The General spoke very kindly to Harry. 

"I have known this all day, but I did not wish to tell you until I haddone everything I could. I did not think it would be necessary to tellyou at all, for I thought there would be no trouble. I telegraphed theCommandant, but"--he turned again to the window--"I have not been ableto get them a trial by court-martial, or even a stay in the execution. You'd better go see your brother--he knows now--and you'd better sendword to your mother and sister. "

Harry shook his head. His face was so drawn and ghastly as he stoodleaning heavily against the table that Chad moved unconsciously to hisside. 

"Where is the Commandant?" he asked. 

"In Frankfort, " said the General. Chad's eyes kindled. 

"Will you let me go see him to-night?"

"Certainly, and I will give you a message to him. Perhaps you can yetsave the boy, but there is no chance for the man Dillon. " The Generaltook up a pen. Harry seemed to sway as he turned to go, and Chad putone arm around him and went with him to the door. 

"There have been some surprising desertions from the Confederateranks, " said the General, as he wrote. "That's the trouble. " he lookedat his watch as he handed the message over his shoulder to Chad. "Youhave ten hours before sunrise and it is nearly sixty miles there andback If you are not here with a stay of execution both will be shot. Doyou think that you can make it? Of course you need not bring themessage back yourself. You can get the Commandant to telegraph--" Theslam of a door interrupted him--Chad was gone. 

Harry was holding Dixie's bridle when he reached the street and Chadswung into the saddle. 

"Don't tell them at home, " he said. "I'll be back here on time, or I'llbe dead. "

The two grasped hands. Harry nodded dumbly and Dixie's feet beat therhythm of her matchless gallop down the quiet street. The sensitivelittle mare seemed to catch at once the spirit of her rider. Herhaunches quivered. She tossed her head and champed her bit, but not apound did she pull as she settled into an easy lope that told how wellshe knew that the ride before her was long and hard. Out they went pastthe old cemetery, past the shaft to Clay rising from it, silvered withmoonlight, out where the picket fires gleamed and converging on towardthe Capital, unchallenged for the moon showed the blue of Chad'suniform and his face gave sign that no trivial business, that night, was his. Over quiet fields and into the aisles of sleeping woods beatthat musical rhythm ceaselessly, awakening drowsy birds by the wayside, making bridges thunder, beating on and on up hill and down until picketfires shone on the hills that guard the Capital. Through them, with butone challenge, Chad went, down the big hill, past the Armory, and intothe town--pulling panting Dixie up before a wondering sentinel whoguarded the Commandant's sleeping quarters. 

"The Commandant is asleep. "

"Wake him up, " said Chad, sharply. A staff-officer appeared at the doorin answer to the sentinel's knock. 

"What is your business?"

"A message from General Ward. "

"The Commandant gave orders that he was not to be disturbed. "

"He must be, " said Chad. "It is a matter of life and death. "

Above him a window was suddenly raised and the Commandant's own headwas thrust out. 

"Stop that noise, " he thundered. Chad told his mission and theCommandant straightway was furious. 

"How dare General Ward broach that matter again? My orders are givenand they will not be changed. " As he started to pull the window down, Chad cried:

"But, General--" and at the same time a voice called down the street:

"General!" Two men appeared under the gaslight--one was a sergeant andthe other a frightened negro. 

"Here is a message, General. "

The sash went down, a light appeared behind it, and soon theCommandant, in trousers and slippers, was at the door. He read the notewith a frown. 

"Where did you get this?"

"A sojer come to my house out on the edge o' town, suh, and said he'dkill me to-morrow if I didn't hand dis note to you pussonally. "

The Commandant turned to Chad. Somehow his manner seemed suddenlychanged. 

"Do you know that these men belonged to Morgan's command?"

"I know that Daniel Dean did and that the man Dillon was with him whencaptured. "

Still frowning savagely, the Commandant turned inside to his desk and amoment later the staff-officer brought out a telegram and gave it toChad. 

"You can take this to the telegraph office yourself. It is a stay ofexecution. "

"Thank you. "

Chad drew a long breath of relief and gladness and patted Dixie on theneck as he rode slowly toward the low building where he had missed thetrain on his first trip to the Capital. The telegraph operator dashedto the door as Chad drew up in front of it. He looked pale and excited. 

"Send this telegram at once, " said Chad. 

The operator looked at it. 

"Not in that direction to-night, " he said, with a strained laugh, "thewires are cut. "

Chad almost reeled in his saddle--then the paper was whisked from theastonished operator's hand and horse and rider clattered up the hill. 

 . . . . . 

At head-quarters the Commandant was handing the negro's note to astaff-officer. It read:

"YOU HANG THOSE TWO MEN AT SUNRISE TO-MORROW, AND I'LL HANG YOU ATSUNDOWN. "

It was signed "John Morgan, " and the signature was Morgan's own. 

"I gave the order only last night. How could Morgan have heard of it sosoon, and how could he have got this note to me? Could he have comeback?"

"Impossible, " said the staff-officer. "He wouldn't dare come back now. "

The Commandant shook his head doubtfully, and just then there was aknock at the door and the operator, still pale and excited, spoke hismessage:

"General, the wires are cut. "

The two officers stared at each other in silence. 

 . . . . . 

Twenty-seven miles to go and less than three hours before sunrise. There was a race yet for the life of Daniel Dean. The gallant littlemare could cover the stretch with nearly an hour to spare, and Chad, thrilled in every nerve, but with calm confidence, raced against thecoming dawn. 

"The wires are cut. "

Who had cut them and where and when and why? No matter--Chad had thepaper in his pocket that would save two lives and he would be on timeeven if Dixie broke her noble heart, but he could not get the words outof his brain--even Dixie's hoofs beat them out ceaselessly:

"The wires are cut--the wires are cut!"

The mystery would have been clear, had Chad known the message that layon the Commandant's desk back at the Capital, for the boy knew Morgan, and that Morgan's lips never opened for an idle threat. He would haveridden just as hard, had he known, but a different purpose would havebeen his. 

An hour more and there was still no light in the East. An hour more andone red streak had shot upward; then ahead of him gleamed a picketfire--a fire that seemed farther from town than any post he had seen onhis way down to the Capital--but he galloped on. Within fifty yards acry came:

"Halt! Who comes there?"

"Friend, " he shouted, reining in. A bullet whizzed past his head as hepulled up outside the edge of the fire and Chad shouted indignantly:

"Don't shoot, you fool! I have a message for General Ward!"

"Oh! All right! Come on!" said the sentinel, but his hesitation and thetone of his voice made the boy alert with suspicion. The other picketsabout the fire had risen and grasped their muskets. The wind flared theflames just then and in the leaping light Chad saw that their uniformswere gray. 

The boy almost gasped. There was need for quick thought and quickaction now. 

"Lower that blunderbuss, " he called out, jestingly, and kicking loosefrom one stirrup, he touched Dixie with the spur and pulled her up withan impatient "Whoa, " as though he were trying to replace his foot. 

"You come on!" said the sentinel, but he dropped his musket to thehollow of his arm, and, before he could throw it to his shoulder again, fire flashed under Dixie's feet and the astonished rebel saw horse andrider rise over the pike-fence. His bullet went overhead as Dixielanded on the other side, and the pickets at the fire joined in afusillade at the dark shapes speeding across the bluegrass field. Amoment later Chad's mocking yell rang from the edge of the woods beyondand the disgusted sentinel split the night with oaths. 

"That beats the devil. We never touched him I swear, I believe thathoss had wings. "

Morgan! The flash of that name across his brain cleared the mystery forChad like magic. Nobody but Morgan and his daredevils could rise out ofthe ground like that in the very midst of enemies when they weresupposed to be hundreds of mlles away in Tennessee. Morgan had cutthose wires. Morgan had every road around Lexington guarded, no doubt, and was at that hour hemming in Chad's unsuspicious regiment, whosecamp was on the other side of town, and unless he could give warning, Morgan would drop like a thunderbolt on it, asleep. He must circle thetown now to get around the rebel posts, and that meant several milesmore for Dixie. 

He stopped and reached down to feel the little mare's flanks. Dixiedrew a long breath and dropped her muzzle to tear up a rich mouthful ofbluegrass. 

"Oh, you beauty!" said the boy, "you wonder!" And on he went, throughwoodland and field, over gully, log, and fence, bullets ringing afterhim from nearly every road he crossed. 

Morgan was near. In disguise, when Bragg retreated, he had gotpermission to leave Kentucky in his own way. That meant wheeling andmaking straight back to Lexington to surprise the Fourth Ohio Cavalry;representing himself on the way, one night, as his old enemy Wolford, and being guided a short cut through the edge of the Bluegrass by anardent admirer of the Yankee Colonel--the said admirer giving Morganthe worst tirade possible, meanwhile, and nearly tumbling from hishorse when Morgan told him who he was and sarcastically advised him tomake sure next time to whom he paid his compliments. 

So that while Chad, with the precious message under his jacket, andDixie were lightly thundering along the road, Morgan's Men weregobbling up pickets around Lexington and making ready for an attack onthe sleeping camp at dawn. 

The dawn was nearly breaking now, and Harry Dean was pacing to and frobefore the old CourtHouse where Dan and Rebel Jerry lay underguard--pacing to and fro and waiting for his mother and sister to cometo say the last good-by to the boy--for Harry had given up hope and hadsent for them. At that very hour Richard Hunt was leading his regimentaround the Ashland woods where the enemy lay; another regiment wastaking its place between the camp and the town, and gray figures wereslipping noiselessly on the provost-guard that watched the rebelprisoners who were waiting for death at sunrise. As the dawn broke, thedash came, and Harry Dean was sick at heart as he sharply rallied thestartled guard to prevent the rescue of his own brother and straightwaydelirious with joy when he saw the gray mass sweeping on him and knewthat he would fail. A few shots rang out; the far rattle of musketryrose between the camp and town; the thunder of the "Bull Pups" salutedthe coming light, and Dan and Rebel Jerry had suddenly--instead ofdeath--life, liberty, arms, a horse each, and the sudden pursuit ofhappiness in a wild dash toward the Yankee camp, while in adew-drenched meadow two miles away Chad Buford drew Dixie in to listen. The fight was on. 

If the rebels won, Dan Dean would be safe; if the Yankees--then therewould still be need of him and the paper over his heart. He was toolate to warn, but not, maybe, to fight--so he galloped on. 

But the end came as he galloped. The amazed Fourth Ohio threw down itsarms at once, and Richard Hunt and his men, as they sat on their horsesoutside the camp picking up stragglers, saw a lone scout coming at agallop across the still, gray fields. His horse was black and hisuniform was blue, but he came straight on, apparently not seeing therebels behind the ragged hedge along the road. When within thirtyyards, Richard Hunt rode through a roadside gate to meet him andsaluted. 

"You are my prisoner, " he said, courteously. 

The Yankee never stopped, but wheeled, almost brushing the hedge as heturned. 

"Prisoner--hell!" he said, clearly, and like a bird was skimming awaywhile the men behind the hedge, paralyzed by his daring, fired not ashot. Only Dan Dean started through the gate in pursuit. 

"I want him, " he said, savagely. 

"Who's that?" asked Morgan, who had ridden up. 

"That's a Yankee, " laughed Colonel Hunt. 

"Why didn't you shoot him?" The Colonel laughed again. 

"I don't know, " he said, looking around at his men, who, too, weresmiling. 

"That's the fellow who gave us so much trouble in the Green RiverCountry, " said a soldier. "It's Chad Buford. "

"Well, I'm glad we didn't shoot him, " said Colonel Hunt, thinking ofMargaret. That was not the way he liked to dispose of a rival. 

"Dan will catch him, " said an officer. "He wants him bad, and I don'twonder. " Just then Chad lifted Dixie over a fence. 

"Not much, " said Morgan. "I'd rather you'd shot him than that horse. "

Dan was gaining now, and Chad, in the middle of the field beyond thefence, turned his head and saw the lone rebel in pursuit. Deliberatelyhe pulled weary Dixie in, faced about, and waited. He drew his pistol, raised it, saw that the rebel was Daniel Dean, and dropped it again tohis side. Verily the fortune of that war was strange. Dan's horserefused the fence and the boy, in a rage, lifted his pistol and fired. Again Chad raised his own pistol and again he lowered it just as Danfired again. This time Chad lurched in his saddle, but recoveringhimself, turned and galloped slowly away, while Dan--his pistol hangingat his side--stared after him, and the wondering rebels behind thehedge stared hard at Dan. 

 . . . . . 

All was over. The Fourth Ohio Cavalry was in rebel hands, and a fewminutes later Dan rode with General Morgan and Colonel Hunt toward theYankee camp. There had been many blunders in the fight. Regiments hadfired into each other in the confusion and the "Bull Pups" had kept onpounding the Yankee camp even while the rebels were taking possessionof it. On the way they met Renfrew, the Silent, in his brilliant Zouavejacket. 

"Colonel, " he said, indignantly--and it was the first time many hadever heard him open his lips--"some officer over there deliberatelyfired twice at me, though I was holding my arms over my head. "

"It was dark, " said Colonel Hunt, soothingly. "He didn't know you. "

"Ah, Colonel, he might not have known me--but he must have known thisjacket. "

On the outskirts of one group of prisoners was a tall, slender younglieutenant with a streak of blood across one cheek. Dan pulled in hishorse and the two met each other's eyes silently. Dan threw himselffrom his horse. 

"Are you hurt, Harry?"

"It's nothing--but you've got me, Dan. "

"Why, Harry!" said Morgan. "Is that you? You are paroled, my boy, " headded, kindly. "Go home and stay until you are exchanged. "

So, Harry, as a prisoner, did what he had not done before--he went homeimmediately. And home with him went Dan and Colonel Hunt, while theycould, for the Yankees would soon be after them from the north, east, south and west. Behind them trotted Rebel Jerry. On the edge of townthey saw a negro lashing a pair of horses along the turnpike towardthem. Two white faced women were seated in a carriage behind him, andin a moment Dan was in the arms of his mother and sister and both womenwere looking, through tears, their speechless gratitude to Richard Hunt. 

The three Confederates did not stay long at the Deans'. Jerry Dillonwas on the lookout, and even while the Deans were at dinner, Rufus ranin with the familiar cry that Yankees were coming. It was a regimentfrom an adjoining county, but Colonel Hunt finished his coffee, amidall the excitement, most leisurely. 

"You'll pardon us for eating and running, won't you, Mrs. Dean?" It wasthe first time in her life that Mrs. Dean ever speeded a parting guest. 

"Oh, do hurry, Colonel--please, please. " Dan laughed. 

"Good-by, Harry, " he said. "We'll give you a week or two at home beforewe get that exchange. "

"Don't make it any longer than necessary, please, " said Harry, gravely. 

"We're coming back again, Mrs. Dean, " said he Colonel, and then in alower tone to Margaret: "I'm coming often, " he added, and Margaretblushed in a way that would not have given very great joy to oneChadwick Buford. 

Very leisurely the three rode out to the pike gate, where they haltedand surveyed the advancing column, which was still several hundredyards away, and then with a last wave of their caps, started in a slowgallop for town. The advance guard started suddenly in pursuit, and theDeans saw Dan turn in his saddle and heard his defiant yell. Margaretran down and fixed her flag in its place on the fence--Harry watchingher. 

"Mother, " he said, sadly, "you don't know what trouble you may belaying up for yourself. "

Fate could hardly lay up more than what she already had, but the mothersmiled. 

"I can do nothing with Margaret, " she said. 

In town the Federal flags had been furled and the Stars and Bars thrownout to the wind. Morgan was preparing to march when Dan and ColonelHunt galloped up to head-quarters. 

"They're coming, " said Hunt, quietly. 

"Yes, " said Morgan, "from every direction. "

"Ah, John, " called an old fellow, who, though a Unionist, believing inkeeping peace with both sides, "when we don't expect you--then is thetime you come. Going to stay long?"

"Not long, " said Morgan, grimly. "In fact, I guess we'll be movingalong now. "

And he did--back to Dixie with his prisoners, tearing up railroads, burning bridges and trestles, and pursued by enough Yankees to haveeaten him and his entire command if they ever could have caught him. Asthey passed into Dixie, "Lightning" captured a telegraph office and hada last little fling at his Yankee brethren. 

"Head-quarters, Telegraph Dept. Of Ky. , Confederate States ofAmerica"--thus he headed his General Order No. --to the various Unionauthorities throughout the State. 

"Hereafter, " he clicked, grinning, "an operator will destroytelegraphic instruments and all material in charge when informed thatMorgan has crossed the border. Such instances of carelessness as latelyhave been exhibited in the Bluegrass will be severely dealt with. 

"By order of LIGHTNING, "Gen. Supt. C. S. Tel. Dept. "

Just about that time Chad Buford, in a Yankee hospital, was coming backfrom the land of ether dreams. An hour later, the surgeon who had takenDan's bullet from his shoulder, handed him a piece of paper, black withfaded blood and scarcely legible. 

"I found that in your jacket, " he said. "Is it important?"

Chad smiled. 

"No, " he said. "Not now. "

CHAPTER 25. 

AFTER DAWS DILLON--GUERILLA

Once more, and for the last time, Chadwick Buford jogged along theturnpike from the Ohio to the heart of the Bluegrass. He had filled hisempty shoulder-straps with two bars. He had a bullet wound through oneshoulder and there was a beautiful sabre cut across his right cheek. Helooked the soldier every inch of him; he was, in truth, what he looked;and he was, moreover, a man. Naturally, his face was stern andresolute, if only from habit of authority, but he had known no passionduring the war that might have seared its kindness; no other feelingtoward his foes than admiration for their unquenchable courage andmiserable regret that to such men he must be a foe. 

Now, it was coming spring again--the spring of '64, and but one moreyear of the war to come. 

The capture of the Fourth Ohio by Morgan that autumn of '62 had givenChad his long-looked-for chance. He turned Dixie's head toward thefoothills to join Wolford, for with Wolford was the work that heloved--that leader being more like Morgan in his method and daring thanany other Federal cavalryman in the field behind him. In Kentucky, heleft the State under martial sway once more, and, thereafter, thetroubles of rebel sympathizers multiplied steadily, for never again wasthe State under rebel control. A heavy hand was laid on every rebelroof. Major Buford was sent to prison again. General Dean was inVirginia, fighting, and only the fact that there was no man in the Deanhousehold on whom vengeance could fall, saved Margaret and Mrs. Deanfrom suffering, but even the time of women was to come. 

On the last day of '62, Murfreesboro was fought and the second greateffort of the Confederacy at the West was lost. Again Bragg withdrew. On New Year's Day, '63, Lincoln freed the slaves--and no rebel was moreindignant than was Chadwick Buford. The Kentucky Unionists, in general, protested: the Confederates had broken the Constitution, they said; theUnionists were helping to maintain that contract and now the Federalshad broken the Constitution, and their own high ground was swept frombeneath their feet. They protested as bitterly as their foes, be itsaid, against the Federals breaking up political conventions withbayonets and against the ruin of innocent citizens for the crimes ofguerillas, for whose acts nobody was responsible, but all to no avail. The terrorism only grew the more. 

When summer came, and while Grant was bisecting the Confederacy atVicksburg, by opening the Mississippi, and Lee was fighting Gettysburg, Chad, with Wolford, chased Morgan when he gathered his clans for hislast daring venture--to cross the Ohio and strike the enemy on its ownhearth-stones--and thus give him a little taste of what the South hadlong known from border to border. Pursued by Federals, Morgan gotacross the river, waving a farewell to his pursuing enemies on theother bank, and struck out. Within three days, one hundred thousand menwere after him and his two thousand daredevils, cutting down treesbehind him (in case he should return!), flanking him, getting in hisfront, but on he went, uncaught and spreading terror for a thousandmiles, while behind him for six hundred miles country people lined thedusty road, singing "Rally 'round the Flag, Boys, " and handing outfried chicken and blackberry-pie to his pursuers. Men taken afterwardwith typhoid fever sang that song through their delirium and tastedfried chicken no more as long as they lived. Hemmed in as Morgan was, he would have gotten away, but for the fact that a heavy fog made himmiss the crossing of the river, and for the further reason that thefirst rise in the river in that month for twenty years made itimpossible for his command to swim. He might have fought out, but hisammunition was gone. Many did escape, and Morgan himself could havegotten away. Chad, himself, saw the rebel chief swimming the river on apowerful horse, followed by a negro servant on another--saw him turndeliberately in the middle of the stream, when it was plain that hiscommand could not escape, and make for the Ohio shore to share thefortunes of his beloved officers who were left behind. Chad heard himshout to the negro:

"Go back, you will be drowned. " The negro turned his face and Chadlaughed--it was Snowball, grinning and shaking his head:

"No, Mars John, no suh!" he yelled. "It's all right fer YOU! YOU cangit a furlough, but dis nigger ain't gwine to be cotched in no freeState. 'Sides, Mars Dan, he gwine to get away, too. " And Dan did getaway, and Chad, to his shame, saw Morgan and Colonel Hunt loaded on aboat to be sent down to prison in a State penitentiary! It was agrateful surprise to Chad, two months later, to learn from a Federalofficer that Morgan with six others had dug out of prison and escaped. 

"I was going through that very town, " said the officer, "and a fellow, shaved and sheared like a convict, got aboard and sat down in the sameseat with me. As we passed the penitentiary, he turned with a yawn--andsaid, in a matter-of-fact way:

"'That's where Morgan is kept, isn't it?" and then he drew out a flask. I thought he had wonderfully good manners in spite of his looks, and, so help me, if he didn't wave his hand, bow like a Bayard, and hand itover to me:

"'Let's drink to the hope that Morgan may always be as safe as he isnow. ' I drank to his toast with a hearty Amen, and the fellow nevercracked a smile. It was Morgan himself. "

Early in '64 the order had gone round for negroes to be enrolled assoldiers, and again no rebel felt more outraged than Chadwick Buford. Wolford, his commander, was dishonorably dismissed from the service forbitter protests and harsh open criticism of the Government, and Chad, himself, felt like tearing off with his own hands the straps which hehad won with so much bravery and worn with so much pride. But theinstinct that led him into the Union service kept his lips sealed whenhis respect for that service, in his own State, was well-nighgone--kept him in that State where he thought his duty lay. There wasneed of him and thousands more like him. For, while active war was nowover in Kentucky, its brood of evils was still thickening. Every countyin the State was ravaged by a guerilla band--and the ranks of thesemarauders began to be swelled by Confederates, particularly in themountains and in the hills that skirt them. Banks, trains, publicvaults, stores, were robbed right and left, and murder and revenge wereof daily occurrence. Daws Dillon was an open terror both in themountains and in the Bluegrass. Hitherto the bands had been Union andConfederate but now, more and more, men who had been rebels joinedthem. And Chad Buford could understand. For, many a rebelsoldier--"hopeless now for his cause, " as Richard Hunt was wont to say, "fighting from pride, bereft of sympathy, aid, and encouragement thathe once received, and compelled to wring existence from his owncountrymen; a cavalryman on some out-post department, perhaps, withoutrations, fluttering with rags; shod, if shod at all, with shoes thatsucked in rain and cold; sleeping at night under the blanket that kepthis saddle by day from his sore-backed horse; paid, if paid at all, with waste paper; hardened into recklessness by war--many a rebelsoldier thus became a guerrilla--consoling himself, perhaps, with thethought that his desertion was not to the enemy. "

Bad as the methods of such men were, they were hardly worse than themeans taken in retaliation. At first, Confederate sympathizers werearrested and held as hostages for all persons captured and detained byguerillas. Later, when a citizen was killed by one of these bands, fourprisoners, supposed to be chosen from this class of free-booters, weretaken from prison and shot to death on the spot where the deed wasdone. Now it was rare that one of these brigands was ever taken alive, and thus regular soldier after soldier who was a prisoner of war, andentitled to consideration as such, was taken from prison and murderedby the Commandant without even a court-martial. It was such a deaththat Dan Dean and Rebel Jerry had narrowly escaped. Union men wereimprisoned even for protesting against these outrages, so that betweenguerilla and provost-marshal no citizen, whether Federal orConfederate, in sympathy, felt safe in property, life, or liberty. Thebetter Unionists were alienated, but worse yet was to come. Hitherto, only the finest chivalry had been shown women and children throughoutthe war. Women whose brothers and husbands and sons were in the rebelarmy, or dead on the battle-field, were banished now with theirchildren to Canada under a negro guard, or sent to prison. Stateauthorities became openly arrayed against provost-marshals and theirfollowers. There was almost an open clash. The Governor, a Unionist, threatened even to recall the Kentucky troops from the field to comeback and protect their homes. Even the Home Guards got disgusted withtheir masters, and for a while it seemed as if the State, betweenguerilla and provost-marshal, would go to pieces. For months theConfederates had repudiated all connection with these free-booters andhad joined with Federals in hunting them down, but when the Stategovernment tried to raise troops to crush them, the Commandant not onlyordered his troops to resist the State, but ordered the muster-out ofall State troops then in service. 

The Deans little knew then how much trouble Captain Chad Buford, whosedaring service against guerillas had given him great power with theUnion authorities, had saved them--how he had kept them from arrest andimprisonment on the charge of none other than Jerome Conners, theoverseer; how he had ridden out to pay his personal respects to thecomplainant, and that brave gentleman, seeing him from afar, hadmounted his horse and fled, terror-stricken. They never knew that justafter this he had got a furlough and gone to see Grant himself, who hadsent him on to tell his story to Mr. Lincoln. 

"Go back to Kentucky, then, " said Grant, with his quiet smile, "and ifGeneral Ward has nothing particular for you to do, I want him to sendyou to me, " and Chad had gone from him, dizzy with pride and hope. 

"I'm going to do something, " said Mr. Lincoln, "and I'm going to do itright away. "

And now, in the spring of '64, Chad carried in his breast despatchesfrom the President himself to General Ward at Lexington. 

As he rode over the next hill, from which he would get his firstglimpse of his old home and the Deans', his heart beat fast and hiseyes swept both sides of the road. Both houses: even the Deans'--wereshuttered and closed--both tenantless. He saw not even a negro cabinthat showed a sign of life. 

On he went at a gallop toward Lexington. Not a single rebel flag had heseen since he left the Ohio, nor was he at all surprised; the end couldnot be far off, and there was no chance that the Federals would everagain lose the State. 

On the edge of the town he overtook a Federal officer. It was HarryDean, pale and thin from long imprisonment and sickness. Harry had beenwith Sherman, had been captured again, and, in prison, had almost diedwith fever. He had come home to get well only to find his sister andmother sent as exiles to Canada. Major Buford was still in prison, MissLucy was dead, and Jerome Conners seemed master of the house and farm. General Dean had been killed, had been sent home, and was buried in thegarden. It was only two days after the burial, Harry said, thatMargaret and her mother had to leave their home. Even the bandages thatMrs. Dean had brought out to Chad's wounded sergeant, that night he hadcaptured and lost Dan, had been brought up as proof that she andMargaret were aiding and abetting Confederates. Dan had gone to joinMorgan and Colonel Hunt over in southwestern Virginia, where Morgan hadat last got a new command only a few months before. Harry made no wordof comment, but Chad's heart got bitter as gall as he listened. Andthis had happened to the Deans while he was gone to serve them. But thebloody Commandant of the State would be removed from power--that muchgood had been done--as Chad learned when he presented himself, with ablack face, to his general. 

"I could not help it, " said the General, quickly. "He seems to havehated the Deans. " And again read the despatches slowly. "You have donegood work. There will be less trouble now. " Then he paused. "I have hada letter from General Grant. He wants you on his staff. " Again hepaused, and it took the three past years of discipline to help Chadkeep his self-control. "That is, if I have nothing particular for youto do. He seems to know what you have done and to suspect that theremay be something more here for you to do. He's right. I want you todestroy Daws Dillon and his band. There will be no peace until he isout of the way. You know the mountains better than anybody. You are theman for the work. You will take one company from Wolford's regiment--hehas been reinstated, you know--and go at once. When you have finishedthat--you can go to General Grant. " The General smiled. "You are ratheryoung to be so near a major--perhaps. "

A major! The quick joy of the thought left him when he went down thestairs to the portico and saw Harry Dean's thin, sad face, and thoughtof the new grave in the Deans' garden and those two lonely women inexile. There was one small grain of consolation. It was his old enemy, Daws Dillon, who had slain Joel Turner; Daws who had almost ruinedMajor Buford and had sent him to prison--Daws had played no small partin the sorrows of the Deans, and on the heels of Daws Dillon he soonwould be. 

"I suppose I am to go with you, " said Harry. 

"Why, yes, " said Chad, startled; "how did you know?"

"I didn't know. How far is Dillon's hiding-place from where Morgan is?"

"Across the mountains. " Chad understood suddenly. "You won't have togo, " he said, quickly. 

"I'll go where I am ordered, " said Harry Dean. 

CHAPTER 26. 

BROTHER AGAINST BROTHER AT LAST

It was the first warm day of spring and the sunshine was very soothingto Melissa as she sat on the old porch early in the afternoon. Perhapsit was a memory of childhood, perhaps she was thinking of the happydays she and Chad had spent on the river bank long ago, and perhaps itwas the sudden thought that, with the little they had to eat in thehouse and that little the same three times a day, week in and week out, Mother Turner, who had been ailing, would like to have some fish;perhaps it was the primitive hunting instinct that, on such a day, setsa country boy's fingers itching for a squirrel rifle or a canefishing-pole, but she sprang from her seat, leaving old Jack to doze onthe porch, and, in half an hour, was crouched down behind a boulderbelow the river bend, dropping a wriggling worm into a dark, stillpool. As she sat there, contented and luckless, the sun grew so warmthat she got drowsy and dozed--how long she did not know--but she awokewith a start and with a frightened sense that someone was near her, though she could hear no sound. But she lay still--her heart beatinghigh--and so sure that her instinct was true that she was not evensurprised when she heard a voice in the thicket above--a low voice, butone she knew perfectly well:

"I tell you he's a-comin' up the river now. He's a-goin' to stay withole Ham Blake ter-night over the mountain an' he'll be a-comin' throughHurricane Gap 'bout daylight termorrer or next day, shore. He's got alot o' men, but we can layway 'em in the Gap an' git away all right. "It was Tad Dillon speaking--Daws Dillon, his brother, answered:

"I don't want to kill anybody but that damned Chad--Captain ChadBUFORD, he calls hisself. "

"Well, we can git him all right. I heerd that they was a-lookin' fer usan' was goin' to ketch us if they could. "

"I wish I knowed that was so, " said Daws with an oath. "Nary a one of'em would git away alive if I just knowed it was so. But we'll gitCAPTAIN Chad Buford, shore as hell! You go tell the boys to guard theGap ter-night. They mought come through afore day. " And then the noiseof their footsteps fainted out of hearing and Melissa rose and spedback to the house. 

From behind a clump of bushes above where she had sat, rose thegigantic figure of Rebel Jerry Dillon. He looked after the flying girlwith a grim smile and then dropped his great bulk down on the bed ofmoss where he had been listening to the plan of his enemies andkinsmen. Jerry had made many expeditions over from Virginia lately andeach time he had gone back with a new notch on the murderous knife thathe carried in his belt. He had but two personal enemies alive now--DawsDillon, who had tried to have him shot, and his own brother, YankeeJake. This was the second time he had been over for Daws, and after hisfirst trip he had persuaded Dan to ask permission from General Morganto take a company into Kentucky and destroy Daws and his band, andMorgan had given him leave, for Federals and Confederates were chasingdown these guerillas now--sometimes even joining forces to furthertheir common purpose. Jerry had been slipping through the woods afterDaws, meaning to crawl close enough to kill him and, perhaps, TadDillon too, if necessary, but after hearing their plan he had let themgo, for a bigger chance might be at hand. If Chad Buford was in themountains looking for Daws, Yankee Jake was with him. If he killed Dawsnow, Chad and his men would hear of his death and would go back, mostlikely--and that was the thought that checked his finger on the triggerof his pistol. Another thought now lifted him to his feet withsurprising quickness and sent him on a run down the river where hishorse was hitched in the bushes. He would go over the mountain for Dan. He could lead Dan and his men to Hurricane Gap by daylight. Chad Bufordcould fight it out with Daws and his gang, and he and Dan would fightit out with the men who won--no matter whether Yankees or guerillas. And a grim smile stayed on Rebel Jerry's face as he climbed. 

On the porch of the Turner cabin sat Melissa with her hands clinchedand old Jack's head in her lap. There was no use worrying MotherTurner--she feared even to tell her--but what should she do? She mightboldly cross the mountain now, for she was known to be a rebel, but theDillons knowing, too, how close Chad had once been to the Turners mightsuspect and stop her. No, if she went at all, she must go afternightfall--but how would she get away from Mother Turner, and how couldshe make her way, undetected through Hurricane Gap? The cliffs were sosteep and close together in one place that she could hardly pass morethan forty feet from the road on either side and she could not passthat close to pickets and not be heard. Her brain ached with planningand she was so absorbed as night came on that several times old MotherTurner querulously asked what was ailing her and why she did not paymore heed to her work, and the girl answered her patiently and went onwith her planning. Before dark, she knew what she would do, and afterthe old mother was asleep, she rose softly and slipped out the doorwithout awakening even old Jack, and went to the barn, where she gotthe sheep-bell that old Beelzebub used to wear and with the clappercaught in one hand, to keep the bell from tinkling, she went swiftlydown the road toward Hurricane Gap. Several times she had to dart intothe bushes while men on horseback rode by her, and once she came nearbeing caught by three men on foot--all hurrying at Daws Dillon's orderto the Gap through which she must go. When the road turned from theriver, she went slowly along the edge of it, so that if discovered, shecould leap with one spring into the bushes. It was raining--a colddrizzle that began to chill her and set her to coughing so that she washalf afraid that she might disclose herself. At the mouth of the Gapshe saw a fire on one side of the road and could hear talking, but shehad no difficulty passing it, on the other side. But on, where the Gapnarrowed--there was the trouble. It must have been an hour beforemidnight when she tremblingly neared the narrow defile. The rain hadceased, and as she crept around a boulder she could see, by the lightof the moon between two black clouds, two sentinels beyond. The crisiswas at hand now. She slipped to one side of the road, climbed the cliffas high as she could and crept about it. She was past one picket now, and in her eagerness one foot slipped and she half fell. She almostheld her breath and lay still. 

"I hear somethin' up thar in the bresh, " shouted the second picket. "Halt!"

Melissa tinkled the sheep-bell and pushed a bush to and fro as though asheep or a cow might be rubbing itself, and the picket she had passedlaughed aloud. 

"Goin' to shoot ole Sally Perkins's cow, air you?" he said, jeeringly. "Yes, I heerd her, " he added, lying; for, being up all the nightbefore, he had drowsed at his post. A moment later, Melissa moved on, making considerable noise and tinkling her bell constantly. She wasnear the top now and when she peered out through the bushes, no one wasin sight and she leaped into the road and fled down the mountain. Atthe foot of the spur another ringing cry smote the darkness in front ofher:

"Halt! Who goes there?"

"Don't shoot!" she cried, weakly. "It's only me. "

"Advance, 'Me, '" said the picket, astonished to hear a woman's voice. And then into the light of his fire stepped a shepherdess with asheep-bell in her hand, with a beautiful, pale, distressed face, a wet, clinging dress, and masses of yellow hair surging out of the shawl overher head. The ill startled picket dropped the butt of his musket to theground and stared. 

"I want to see Chad, your captain, " she said, timidly. 

"All right, " said the soldier, courteously. "He's just below there andI guess he's up. We are getting ready to start now. Come along. "

"Oh, no!" said Melissa, hurriedly. "I can't go down there. " It had juststruck her that Chad must not see her; but the picket thought shenaturally did not wish to face a lot of soldiers in her bedraggled andtorn dress, and he said quickly:

"All right. Give me your message and I'll take it to him. " He smiled. "You can wait here and stand guard. "

Melissa told him hurriedly how she had come over the mountain and whatwas going on over there, and the picket with a low whistle started downtoward his camp without another word. 

Chad could not doubt the accuracy of the information--the picket hadnames and facts. 

"A girl, you say?"

"Yes, sir"--the soldier hesitated--"and a very pretty one, too. Shecame over the mountain alone and on foot through this darkness. Shepassed the pickets on the other side--pretending to be a sheep. She hada bell in her hand. " Chad smiled--he knew that trick. 

"Where is she?"

"She's standing guard for me. "

The picket turned at a gesture from Chad and led the way. They found noMelissa. She had heard Chad's voice and fled up the mountain. Beforedaybreak she was descending the mountain on the other side, along thesame way, tinkling her sheep-bell and creeping past the pickets. It wasraining again now and her cold had grown worse. Several times she hadto muffle her face into her shawl to keep her cough from betraying her. As she passed the ford below the Turner cabin, she heard the splash ofmany horses crossing the river and she ran on, frightened andwondering. Before day broke she had slipped into her bed withoutarousing Mother Turner, and she did not get up that day, but lay illabed. 

The splashing of those many horses was made by Captain Daniel Dean andhis men, guided by Rebel Jerry. High on the mountain side they hidtheir horses in a ravine and crept toward the Gap on foot--so thatwhile Daws with his gang waited for Chad, the rebels lay in the brushwaiting for him. Dan was merry over the prospect:

"We will just let them fight it out, " he said, "and then we'll dash inand gobble 'em both up. That was a fine scheme of yours, Jerry. "

Rebel Jerry smiled: there was one thing he had not told hiscaptain--who those rebels were. Purposely he had kept that fact hidden. He had seen Dan purposely refrain from killing Chad Buford once and hefeared that Dan might think his brother Harry was among the Yankees. All this Rebel Jerry failed to understand, and he wanted nothing knownnow that might stay anybody's hand. Dawn broke and nothing happened. Not a shot rang out and only the smoke of the guerillas' fire showed inthe peaceful mouth of the Gap. Dan wanted to attack the guerillas, butJerry persuaded him to wait until he could learn how the land lay, anddisappeared in the bushes. At noon he came back. 

"The Yankees have found out Daws is thar in the Gap, " he said, "an'they are goin' to slip over before day ter-morrer and s'prise him. Hitdon't make no difference to us, which s'prises which--does it?"

So the rebels kept hid through the day in the bushes on the mountainside, and when Chad slipped through the Gap next morning, before day, and took up the guerilla pickets, Dan had moved into the same Gap fromthe other side, and was lying in the bushes with his men, near theguerillas' fire, waiting for the Yankees to make their attack. He hadnot long to wait. At the first white streak of dawn overhead, a shoutrang through the woods from the Yankees to the startled guerillas. 

"Surrender!" A fusillade followed. Again:

"Surrender!" and there was a short silence, broken by low curses fromthe guerillas, and a stern Yankee voice giving short, quick orders. Theguerillas had given up. Rebel Jerry moved restlessly at Dan's side andDan cautioned him. 

"Wait! Let them have time to disarm the prisoners, " he whispered. 

"Now, " he added, a little while later--"creep quietly, boys. "

Forward they went like snakes, creeping to the edge of the brush whencethey could see the sullen guerillas grouped on one side of thefire--their arms stacked, while a tall figure in blue moved here andthere, and gave orders in a voice that all at once seemed strangelyfamiliar to Dan. 

"Now, boys, " he said, half aloud, "give 'em a volley and charge. "

At his word there was a rattling fusillade, and then the rebels leapedfrom the bushes and dashed on the astonished Yankees and theirprisoners. It was pistol to pistol at first and then they closed toknife thrust and musket butt, hand to hand--in a cloud of smoke. At thefirst fire from the rebels Chad saw his prisoner, Daws Dillon, leap forthe stacked arms and disappear. A moment later, as he was emptying hispistol at his charging foes, he felt a bullet clip a lock of hair fromthe back of his head and he turned to see Daws on the farthest edge ofthe firelight levelling his pistol for another shot before he ran. Likelightning he wheeled and when his finger pulled the trigger, Daws sanklimply, his grinning, malignant face sickening as he fell. 

The tall fellow in blue snapped his pistol at Dan, and as Dan, whosepistol, too, was empty, sprang forward and closed with him, he heard atriumphant yell behind him and Rebel Jerry's huge figure flashed pasthim. With the same glance he saw among the Yankees another giant--wholooked like another Jerry--saw his face grow ghastly with fear whenJerry's yell rose, and then grow taut with ferocity as he tugged at hissheath to meet the murderous knife flashing toward him. The terribleDillon twins were come together at last, and Dan shuddered, but he sawno more, for he was busy with the lithe Yankee in whose arms he wasclosed. As they struggled, Dan tried to get his knife and the Yankeetugged for his second pistol each clasping the other's wrist. Not asound did they make nor could either see the other's face, for Dan hadhis chin in his opponent's breast and was striving to bend himbackward. He had clutched the Yankee's right hand, as it went back forhis pistol, just as the Yankee had caught his right in front, feelingfor his knife. The advantage would have been all Dan's except that theYankee suddenly loosed his wrist and gripped him tight about the bodyin an underhold, so that Dan could not whirl him round; but he couldtwist that wrist and twist it he did, with both hands and all hisstrength. Once the Yankee gave a smothered groan of pain and Dan heardhim grit his teeth to keep it back. The smoke had lifted now, and, whenthey fell, it was in the light of the fire. The Yankee had thrown himwith a knee-trick that Harry used to try on him when they were boys, but something about the Yankee snapped, as they fell, and he groanedaloud. Clutching him by the throat, Dan threw him oft--he could get athis knife now. 

"Surrender!" he said, hoarsely. 

His answer was a convulsive struggle and then the Yankee lay still. 

"Surrender!" said Dan again, lifting his knife above the Yankee'sbreast, "or, damn you, I'll--"

The Yankee had turned his face weakly toward the fire, and Dan, with acry of horror, threw his knife away and sprang to his feet. Straightwaythe Yankee's closed eyes opened and he smiled faintly. 

"Why, Dan, is that you?" he asked. "I thought it would come, " he added, quietly, and then Harry Dean lapsed into unconsciousness. 

Thus, at its best, this fratricidal war was being fought out thatdaybreak in one little hollow of the Kentucky mountains and thus, atits worst, it was being fought out in another little hollow scarcelytwenty yards away, where the giant twins--Rebel Jerry and YankeeJake--who did know they were brothers, sought each other's lives inmutual misconception and mutual hate. 

There were a dozen dead Federals and guerillas around the fire, andamong them was Daws Dillon with the pallor of death on his face and thehate that life had written there still clinging to it like a shadow. AsDan bent tenderly over his brother Harry, two soldiers brought in ahuge body from the bushes, and he turned to see Rebel Jerry Dillon. There were a half a dozen rents in his uniform and a fearful slashunder his chin--but he was breathing still. Chad Buford had escaped andso had Yankee Jake. 

CHAPTER 27. 

AT THE HOSPITAL OF MORGAN'S MEN

In May, Grant simply said--Forward! The day he crossed the Rapidan, hesaid it to Sherman down in Georgia. After the battle of the Wildernesshe said it again, and the last brutal resort of hammering down thenorthern buttress and sea-wall of the rebellion--old Virginia--andAtlanta, the keystone of the Confederate arch, was well under way. Throughout those bloody days Chad was with Grant and Harry Dean waswith Sherman on his terrible trisecting march to the sea. For, afterthe fight between Rebels and Yankees and Daws Dillon's guerilla band, over in Kentucky, Dan, coming back from another raid into theBluegrass, had found his brother gone. Harry had refused to accept aparole and had escaped. Not a man, Dan was told, fired a shot at him, as he ran. One soldier raised his musket, but Renfrew the Silent struckthe muzzle upward. 

In September, Atlanta fell and, in that same month, Dan saw his greatleader, John Morgan, dead in Tennessee. In December, the Confederacytoppled at the west under Thomas's blows at Nashville. In the spring of'65, one hundred and thirty-five thousand wretched, broken-down rebels, from Richmond to the Rio Grande, confronted Grant's million men, and inApril, Five Forks was the beginning of the final end everywhere. 

At midnight, Captain Daniel Dean, bearer of dispatches to the greatConfederate General in Virginia, rode out of abandoned Richmond withthe cavalry of young Fitzhugh Lee. They had threaded their way amidtroops, trains, and artillery across the bridge. The city was on fire. By its light, the stream of humanity was pouring out of town--Davis andhis cabinet, citizens, soldiers, down to the mechanics in the armoriesand workshops. The chief concern with all was the same, a little to eatfor a few days; for, with the morning, the enemy would come andConfederate money would be as mist. Afar off the little fleet ofConfederate gunboats blazed and the thundering explosions of theirmagazines split the clear air. Freight depots with supplies wereburning. Plunderers were spreading the fires and slipping like ghoulsthrough red light and black shadows. At daybreak the last retreatinggun rumbled past and, at sunrise, Dan looked back from the hills on thesmoking and deserted city and Grant's blue lines sweeping into it. 

Once only he saw his great chief--the next morning before day, when herode through the chill mist and darkness to find the head-quarters ofthe commanding General--two little fires of rubbish and twoambulances--with Lee lying on a blanket under the open sky. He rose, asDan drew near, and the firelight fell full on his bronzed and mournfulface. He looked so sad and so noble that the boy's heart was wrenched, and as Dan turned away, he said, brokenly:

"General, I am General Dean's son, and I want to thank you--" He couldget no farther. Lee laid one hand on his shoulder. 

"Be as good a man as your father was, my boy, " he said, and Dan rodeback the pitiable way through the rear of that noble army ofVirginia--through ranks of tattered, worn, hungry soldiers, among thebroken debris of wagons and abandoned guns, past skeleton horses andskeleton men. 

All hope was gone, but Fitz Lee led his cavalry through the Yankeelines and escaped. In that flight Daniel Dean got his only wound in thewar--a bullet through the shoulder. When the surrender came, Fitz Leegave up, too, and led back his command to get Grant's generous terms. But all his men did not go with him, and among the cavalrymen who wenton toward southwestern Virginia was Dan--making his way back to RichardHunt--for now that gallant Morgan was dead, Hunt was general of the oldcommand. 

Behind, at Appomattox, Chad was with Grant. He saw the surrender--sawLee look toward his army, when he came down the steps after he hadgiven up, saw him strike his hands together three times and rideTraveller away through the profound and silent respect of his enemiesand the tearful worship of his own men. And Chad got permissionstraightway to go back to Ohio, and he mustered out with his oldregiment, and he, too, started back through Virginia. 

Meanwhile, Dan was drawing near the mountains. He was worn out when hereached Abingdon. The wound in his shoulder was festering and he was ina high fever. At the camp of Morgan's Men he found only a hospitalleft--for General Hunt had gone southward--and a hospital was what hemost needed now. As he lay, unconscious with fever, next day, a giantfigure, lying near, turned his head and stared at the boy. It was RebelJerry Dillon, helpless from a sabre cut and frightfully scarred by thefearful wounds his brother, Yankee Jake, had given him. And thus, Chadwick Buford, making for the Ohio, saw the two strange messmates, afew days later, when he rode into the deserted rebel camp. 

All was over. Red Mars had passed beyond the horizon and the white Starof Peace already shone faintly on the ravaged South. The shatteredremnants of Morgan's cavalry, pall-bearers of the Lost Cause--had goneSouth--bare-footed and in rags--to guard Jefferson Davis to safety, andChad's heart was wrung when he stepped into the little hospital theyhad left behind--a space cleared into a thicket of rhododendron. Therewas not a tent--there was little medicine--little food. The drizzlingrain dropped on the group of ragged sick men from the branches abovethem. Nearly all were youthful, and the youngest was a mere boy, wholay delirious with his head on the root of a tree. As Chad stoodlooking, the boy opened his eyes and his mouth twitched with pain. 

"Hello, you damned Yankee. " Again his mouth twitched and again the olddare-devil light that Chad knew so well kindled in his hazy eyes. 

"I said, " he repeated, distinctly, "Hello, you damned Yank. DAMNED YankI said. " Chad beckoned to two men. 

"Go bring a stretcher. "

The men shook their heads with a grim smile--they had no stretcher. 

The boy talked dreamily. 

"Say, Yank, didn't we give you hell in--oh, well, in lots o' places. But you've got me. " The two soldiers were lifting him in their arms. "Goin' to take me to prison? Goin' to take me out to shoot me, Yank?You ARE a damned Yank. " A hoarse growl rose behind them and the giantlifted himself on one elbow, swaying his head from side to side. 

"Let that boy alone!" Dan nodded back at him confidently. 

"That's all right, Jerry. This Yank's a friend of mine. " His browwrinkled. "At any rate he looks like somebody I know. He's goin' togive me something to eat and get me well--like hell, " he added tohimself--passing off into unconsciousness again. Chad had the ladcarried to his own tent, had him stripped, bathed, and bandaged andstood looking down at him. It was hard to believe that the broken, agedyouth was the red-cheeked, vigorous lad whom he had known as DanielDean. He was ragged, starved, all but bare-footed, wounded, sick, andyet he was as undaunted, as defiant, as when he charged with Morgan'sdare-devils at the beginning of the war. Then Chad went back to thehospital--for a blanket and some medicine. 

"They are friends, " he said to the Confederate surgeon, pointing at ahuge gaunt figure. 

"I reckon that big fellow has saved that boy's life a dozen times. Yes, they're mess-mates. "

And Chad stood looking down at Jerry Dillon, one of the gianttwins--whose name was a terror throughout the mountains of the middlesouth. Then he turned and the surgeon followed. 

There was a rustle of branches on one side when they were gone, and atthe sound the wounded man lifted his head. The branches parted and theoxlike face of Yankee Jake peered through. For a full minute, the twobrothers stared at each other. 

"I reckon you got me, Jake, " said Jerry. 

"I been lookin' fer ye a long while, " said Jake, simply, and he smiledstrangely as he moved slowly forward and looked down at his enemy--hisheavy head wagging from side to side. Jerry was fumbling at his belt. The big knife flashed, but Jake's hand was as quick as its gleam, andhe had the wrist that held it. His great fingers crushed together, theblade dropped on the ground, and again the big twins looked at eachother. Slowly, Yankee Jake picked up the knife. The other moved not amuscle and in his fierce eyes was no plea for mercy. The point of theblade moved slowly down--down over the rebel's heart, and was thrustinto its sheath again. Then Jake let go the wrist. 

"Don't tech it agin, " he said, and he strode away. The big fellow layblinking. He did not open his lips when, in a moment, Yankee Jakeslouched in with a canteen of water. When Chad came back, one giant wasdrawing on the other a pair of socks. The other was still silent andhad his face turned the other way. Looking up, Jake met Chad'ssurprised gaze with a grin. 

A day later, Dan came to his senses. A tent was above him, a heavyblanket was beneath him and there were clothes on his body that feltstrangely fresh and clean. He looked up to see Chad's face between theflaps of the tent. 

"D'you do this?"

"That's all right, " said Chad. "This war is over. " And he went away tolet Dan think it out. When he came again, Dan held out his handsilently. 

CHAPTER 28. 

PALL-BEARERS OF THE LOST CAUSE

The rain was falling with a steady roar when General Hunt broke camp afew days before. The mountain-tops were black with thunderclouds, andalong the muddy road went Morgan's Men--most of them on mules which hadbeen taken from abandoned wagons when news of the surrendercame--without saddles and with blind bridles or rope halters--the restslopping along through the yellow mud on foot--literally--for few ofthem had shoes; they were on their way to protect Davis and joinJohnston, now that Lee was no more. There was no murmuring, nofaltering, and it touched Richard Hunt to observe that they were nowmore prompt to obedience, when it was optional with them whether theyshould go or stay, than they had ever been in the proudest days of theConfederacy. 

Threatened from Tennessee and cut off from Richmond, Hunt had made uphis mind to march eastward to join Lee, when the news of the surrendercame. Had the sun at that moment dropped suddenly to the horizon fromthe heaven above them, those Confederates would have been hardly morestartled or plunged into deeper despair. Crowds of infantry threw downtheir arms and, with the rest, all sense of discipline was lost. Of thecavalry, however, not more than ten men declined to march south, andout they moved through the drenching rain in a silence that was brokenonly with a single cheer when ninety men from another Kentucky brigadejoined them, who, too, felt that as long as the Confederate Governmentsurvived, there was work for them to do. So on they went to keep up thestruggle, if the word was given, skirmishing, fighting and slippingpast the enemies that were hemming them in, on with Davis, his cabinet, and General Breckinridge to join Taylor and Forrest in Alabama. Acrossthe border of South Carolina, an irate old lady upbraided Hunt forallowing his soldiers to take forage from her barn. 

"You are a gang of thieving Kentuckians, " she said, hotly; "you areafraid to go home, while our boys are surrendering decently. "

"Madam!"--Renfrew the Silent spoke--spoke from the depths of his oncebrilliant jacket--"you South Carolinians had a good deal to say aboutgetting up this war, but we Kentuckians have contracted to close itout. "

Then came the last Confederate council of war. In turn, each officerspoke of his men and of himself and each to the same effect; the causewas lost and there was no use in prolonging the war. 

"We will give our lives to secure your safety, but we cannot urge ourmen to struggle against a fate that is inevitable, and perhaps thusforfeit all hope of a restoration to their homes and friends. "

Davis was affable, dignified, calm, undaunted. 

"I will hear of no plan that is concerned only with my safety. A fewbrave men can prolong the war until this panic has passed, and theywill be a nucleus for thousands more. "

The answer was silence, as the gaunt, beaten man looked from face toface. He rose with an effort. 

"I see all hope is gone, " he said, bitterly, and though his calmremained, his bearing was less erect, his face was deathly pale and hisstep so infirm that he leaned upon General Breckinridge as he nearedthe door--in the bitterest moment, perhaps, of his life. 

So, the old Morgan's Men, so long separated, were united at the end. Ina broken voice General Hunt forbade the men who had followed him onfoot three hundred miles from Virginia to go farther, but to disperseto their homes; and they wept like children. 

In front of him was a big force of Federal cavalry; retreat the way hehad come was impossible, and to the left, if he escaped, was the sea;but dauntless Hunt refused to surrender except at the order of asuperior, or unless told that all was done that could be done to assurethe escape of his President. That order came from Breckinridge. 

"Surrender, " was the message. "Go back to your homes, I will not haveone of these young men encounter one more hazard for my sake. "

That night Richard Hunt fought out his fight with himself, pacing toand fro under the stars. He had struggled faithfully for what hebelieved, still believed, and would, perhaps, always believe, wasright. He had fought for the broadest ideal of liberty as he understoodit, for citizen, State and nation. The appeal had gone to the sword andthe verdict was against him. He would accept it. He would go home, takethe oath of allegiance, resume the law, and, as an American citizen, dohis duty. He had no sense of humiliation, he had no apology to make andwould never have--he had done his duty. He felt no bitterness, and hadno fault to find with his foes, who were brave and had done their dutyas they had seen it; for he granted them the right to see a differentduty from what he had decided was his. And that was all. 

Renfrew the Silent was waiting at the smouldering fire. He neitherlooked up nor made any comment when General Hunt spoke hisdetermination. His own face grew more sullen and he reached his handinto his breast and pulled from his faded jacket the tattered colorsthat he once had borne. 

"These will never be lowered as long as I live, " he said, "norafterwards if I can prevent it. " And lowered they never were. On alittle island in the Pacific Ocean, this strange soldier, after leavinghis property and his kindred forever, lived out his life among thenatives with this bloodstained remnant of the Stars and Bars over hishut, and when he died, the flag was hung over his grave, and above thatgrave to-day the tattered emblem still sways in southern air. 

 . . . . . 

A week earlier, two Rebels and two Yankees started across the mountaintogether--Chad and Dan and the giant Dillon twins--Chad and Yankee Jakeafoot. Up Lonesome they went toward the shaggy flank of Black Mountainwhere the Great Reaper had mowed down Chad's first friends. The logs ofthe cabin were still standing, though the roof was caved in and theyard was a tangle of undergrowth. A dull pain settled in Chad's breast, while he looked, and as they were climbing the spur, he choked when hecaught sight of the graves under the big poplar. 

There was the little pen that he had built over his foster-mother'sgrave--still undisturbed. He said nothing and, as they went down thespur, across the river and up Pine Mountain, he kept his gnawingmemories to himself. Only ten years before, and he seemed an old, oldman now. He recognized the very spot where he had slept the first nightafter he ran away and awakened to that fearful never-forgotten storm atsunrise, which lived in his memory now as a mighty portent of thestorms of human passion that had swept around him on many abattlefield. There was the very tree where he had killed the squirreland the rattlesnake. It was bursting spring now, but the buds of laureland rhododendron were unbroken. Down Kingdom Come they went. Here waswhere he had met the old cow, and here was the little hill where Jackhad fought Whizzer and he had fought Tad Dillon and where he had firstseen Melissa. Again the scarlet of her tattered gown flashed before hiseyes. At the bend of the river they parted from the giant twins. Faithful Jake's face was foolish when Chad took him by the hand andspoke to him, as man to man, and Rebel Jerry turned his face quicklywhen Dan told him that he would never forget him, and made him promiseto come to see him, if Jerry ever took another raft down to thecapital. Looking back from the hill, Chad saw them slowly moving alonga path toward the woods--not looking at each other and speaking not atall. 

Beyond rose the smoke of the old Turner cabin. On the porch sat the oldTurner mother, her bonnet in her hand, her eyes looking down the river. Dozing at her feet was Jack--old Jack. She had never forgiven Chad, andshe could not forgive him now, though Chad saw her eyes soften when shelooked at the tattered butternut that Dan wore. But Jack--half-blindand aged--sprang trembling to his feet when he heard Chad's voice andwhimpered like a child. Chad sank on the porch with one arm about theold dog's neck. Mother Turner answered all questions shortly. 

Melissa had gone to the "Settlemints. " Why? The old woman would notanswer. She was coming back, but she was ill. She had never been wellsince she went afoot, one cold night, to warn some YANKEE that DawsDillon was after him. Chad started. It was Melissa who had perhapssaved his life. Tad Dillon had stepped into Daws's shoes, and the warwas still going on in the hills. Tom Turner had died in prison. The oldmother was waiting for Dolph and Rube to come back--she was looking forthem every hour, day and night She did not know what had become of theschool-master--but Chad did, and he told her. The school-master haddied, storming breastworks at Gettysburg. The old woman said not a word. 

Dan was too weak to ride now. So Chad got Dave Hilton, Melissa's oldsweetheart, to take Dixie to Richmond--a little Kentucky town on theedge of the Bluegrass--and leave her there and he bought the old Turnercanoe. She would have no use for it, Mother Turner said--he could haveit for nothing; but when Chad thrust a ten dollar Federal bill into herhands, she broke down and threw her arms around him and cried. 

So down the river went Chad and Dan--drifting with the tide--Chad inthe stern, Dan lying at full length, with his head on a blue army-coatand looking up at the over-swung branches and the sky and the cloudsabove them--down, through a mist of memories for Chad--down to thecapital. 

And Harry Dean, too, was on his way home--coming up from the farSouth--up through the ravaged land of his own people, past homes andfields which his own hands had helped to lay waste. 

CHAPTER 29. 

MELISSA AND MARGARET

The early spring sunshine lay like a benediction over the Deanhousehold, for Margaret and her mother were home from exile. On thecorner of the veranda sat Mrs. Dean, where she always sat, knitting. Under the big weeping willow in the garden was her husband's grave. When she was not seated near it, she was there in the porch, and to ither eyes seemed always to stray when she lifted them from her work. 

The mail had just come and Margaret was reading a letter from Dan, and, as she read, her cheeks flushed. 

"He took me into his own tent, mother, and put his own clothes on meand nursed me like a brother. And now he is going to take me to you andMargaret, he says, and I shall be strong enough, I hope, to start in aweek. I shall be his friend for life. "

Neither mother nor daughter spoke when the girl ceased reading. OnlyMargaret rose soon and walked down the gravelled walk to the stile. 

Beneath the hill, the creek sparkled. She could see the very pool whereher brothers and the queer little stranger from the mountains werefishing the day he came into her life. She remembered the indignantheart-beat with which she had heard him call her "little gal, " and shesmiled now, but she could recall the very tone of his voice and thesteady look in his clear eyes when he offered her the perch he hadcaught. Even then his spirit appealed unconsciously to her, when hesturdily refused to go up to the house because her brother was "feelin'hard towards him. " How strange and far away all that seemed now! Up thecreek and around the woods she strolled, deep in memories. For a longwhile she sat on a stone wall in the sunshine--thinking and dreaming, and it was growing late when she started back to the house. At thestile, she turned for a moment to look at the old Buford home acrossthe fields. As she looked, she saw the pike-gate open and a woman'sfigure enter, and she kept her eyes idly upon it as she walked ontoward the house. The woman came slowly and hesitatingly toward theyard. When she drew nearer, Margaret could see that she wore homespun, home-made shoes, and a poke-bonnet. On her hands were yarn half-mits, and, as she walked, she pushed her bonnet from her eyes with one hand, first to one side, then to the other--looking at the locusts plantedalong the avenue, the cedars in the yard, the sweep of lawn overspreadwith springing bluegrass. At the yard gate she stopped, leaning overit--her eyes fixed on the stately white house, with its mighty pillars. Margaret was standing on the steps now, motionless and waiting, and, knowing that she was seen, the woman opened the gate and walked up thegravelled path--never taking her eyes from the figure on the porch. Straight she walked to the foot of the steps, and there she stopped, and, pushing her bonnet back, she said, simply:

"Are you Mar-ga-ret?" pronouncing the name slowly and with greatdistinctness. 

Margaret started. 

"Yes, " she said. 

The girl merely looked at her--long and hard. Once her lips moved:

"Mar-ga-ret, " and still she looked. "Do you know whar Chad is?"

Margaret flushed. 

"Who are you?"

"Melissy. "

Melissa! The two girls looked deep into each other's eyes and, for oneflashing moment, each saw the other's heart--bared and beating--andMargaret saw, too, a strange light ebb slowly from the other's face anda strange shadow follow slowly after. 

"You mean Major Buford?"

"I mean Chad. Is he dead?"

"No, he is bringing my brother home. "

"Harry?"

"No--Dan. "

"Dan--here?"

"Yes. "

"When?"

"As soon as my brother gets well enough to travel. He is wounded. "

Melissa turned her face then. Her mouth twitched and her clasped handswere working in and out. Then she turned again. 

"I come up here from the mountains, afoot jus' to tell ye--to tell YOUthat Chad ain't no"--she stopped suddenly, seeing Margaret's quickflush--"CHAD'S MOTHER WAS MARRIED. I jus' found it out last week. Heain't no--"--she started fiercely again and stopped again. "But I comehere fer HIM--not fer YOU. YOU oughtn't to 'a' keered. Hit wouldn't 'a'been his fault. He never was the same after he come back from here. Hitworried him most to death, an' I know hit was you--YOU he was alwaysthinkin' about. He didn't keer 'cept fer you. " Again that shadow cameand deepened. "An' you oughtn't to 'a' keered what he was--and that'swhy I hate you, " she said, calmly--"fer worryin' him an' bein' sohigh-heeled that you was willin' to let him mighty nigh bust his heartabout somethin' that wasn't his fault. I come fer him--youunderstand--fer HIM. I hate YOU!"

She turned without another word, walked slowly back down the walk andthrough the gate. Margaret stood dazed, helpless, almost frightened. She heard the girl cough and saw now that she walked as if weak andill. As she turned into the road, Margaret ran down the steps andacross the fields to the turnpike. When she reached the road-fence thegirl was coming around the bend her eyes on the ground, and every nowand then she would cough and put her hand to her breast. She looked upquickly, hearing the noise ahead of her, and stopped as Margaretclimbed the low stone wall and sprang down. 

"Melissa, Melissa! You mustn't hate me. You mustn't hate ME. "Margaret's eyes were streaming and her voice trembled with kindness. She walked up to the girl and put one hand on her shoulder. "You aresick. I know you are, and you must come back to the house. "

Melissa gave way then, and breaking from the girl's clasp she leanedagainst the stone wall and sobbed, while Margaret put her arms abouther and waited silently. 

"Come now, " she said, "let me help you over. There now. You must comeback and get something to eat and lie down. " And Margaret led Melissaback across the fields. 

CHAPTER 30. 

PEACE

It was strange to Chad that he should be drifting toward a new lifedown the river which once before had carried him to a new world. Thefuture then was no darker than now, but he could hardly connect himselfwith the little fellow in coon-skin cap and moccasins who had floateddown on a raft so many years ago, when at every turn of the river hiseager eyes looked for a new and thrilling mystery. 

They talked of the long fight, the two lads, for, in spite of thewar-worn look of them, both were still nothing but boys--and theytalked with no bitterness of camp life, night attacks, surprises, escapes, imprisonment, incidents of march and battle. Both spoke littleof their boyhood days or the future. The pall of defeat overhung Dan. To him the world seemed to be nearing an end, while to Chad the outlookwas what he had known all his life--nothing to begin with andeverything to be done. Once only Dan voiced his own trouble:

"What are you going to do, Chad--now that this infernal war is over?Going into the regular army?"

"No, " said Chad, decisively. About his own future Dan volunteerednothing--he only turned his head quickly to the passing woods, asthough in fear that Chad might ask some similar question, but Chad wassilent. And thus they glided between high cliffs and down into thelowlands until at last, through a little gorge between two swellingriver hills, Dan's eye caught sight of an orchard, a leafy woodland, and a pasture of bluegrass. With a cry he raised himself on one elbow. 

"Home! I tell you, Chad, we're getting home!" He closed his eyes anddrew the sweet air in as though he were drinking it down like wine. Hiseyes were sparkling when he opened them again and there was a new colorin his face. On they drifted until, toward noon, the black column ofsmoke that meant the capital loomed against the horizon. There Mrs. Dean was waiting for them, and Chad turned his face aside when themother took her son in her arms. With a sad smile she held out her handto Chad. 

"You must come home with us, " Mrs. Dean said, with quiet decision. 

"Where is Margaret, mother?" Chad almost trembled when he heard thename. 

"Margaret couldn't come. She is not very well and she is taking care ofHarry. "

The very station had tragic memories to Chad. There was the long hillwhich he had twice climbed--once on a lame foot and once on flyingDixie--past the armory and the graveyard. He had seen enough dead sincehe peered through those iron gates to fill a dozen graveyards the likein size. Going up in the train, he could see the barn where he hadslept in the hayloft the first time he came to the Bluegrass, and thecreek-bridge where Major Buford had taken him into his carriage. MajorBuford was dead. He had almost died in prison, Mrs. Dean said, and Chadchoked and could say nothing. Once, Dan began a series of eagerquestions about the house and farm, and the servants and the neighbors, but his mother's answers were hesitant and he stopped short. She, too, asked but few questions, and the three were quiet while the trainrolled on with little more speed than Chad and Dixie had made on thatlong ago night-ride to save Dan and Rebel Jerry. About that ride Chadhad kept Harry's lips and his own closed, for he wished no such appealas that to go to Margaret Dean. Margaret was not at the station inLexington. She was not well Rufus said; so Chad would not go with themthat night, but would come out next day. 

"I owe my son's life to you, Captain Buford, " said Mrs. Dean, withtrembling lip, "and you must make our house your home while you arehere. I bring that message to you from Harry and Margaret. I know andthey know now all you have done for us and all you have tried to do. "

Chad could hardly speak his thanks. He would be in the Bluegrass only afew days, he stammered, but he would go out to see them next day. Thatnight he went to the old inn where the Major had taken him to dinner. Next day he hired a horse from the livery stable where he had boughtthe old brood mare, and early in the afternoon he rode out the broadturnpike in a nervous tumult of feeling that more than once made himhalt in the road. He wore his uniform, which was new, and made himuncomfortable--it looked too much like waving a victorious flag in theface of a beaten enemy--but it was the only stitch of clothes he had, and that he might not explain. 

It was the first of May. Just eight years before, Chad with a burningheart had watched Richard Hunt gayly dancing with Margaret, while thedead chieftain, Morgan, gayly fiddled for the merry crowd. Now the sunshone as it did then, the birds sang, the wind shook the happy leavesand trembled through the budding heads of bluegrass to show that naturehad known no war and that her mood was never other than of hope andpeace. But there were no fat cattle browsing in the Dean pastures now, no flocks of Southdown sheep with frisking lambs The worm fences hadlost their riders and were broken down here and there. The gate saggedon its hinges; the fences around yard and garden and orchard had knownno whitewash for years; the paint on the noble old house was crackedand peeling, the roof of the barn was sunken in, and the cabins of thequarters were closed, for the hand of war, though unclinched, still layheavy on the home of the Deans. Snowball came to take his horse. He wasrespectful, but his white teeth did not flash the welcome Chad once hadknown. Another horse stood at the hitching-post and on it was a cavalrysaddle and a rebel army blanket, and Chad did not have to guess whoseit might be. From the porch, Dan shouted and came down to meet him, andHarry hurried to the door, followed by Mrs. Dean. Margaret was not tobe seen, and Chad was glad--he would have a little more time forself-control. She did not appear even when they were seated in theporch until Dan shouted for her toward the garden; and then lookingtoward the gate Chad saw her coming up the garden walk bare-headed, dressed in white, with flowers in her hand; and walking by her side, looking into her face and talking earnestly, was Richard Hunt. Thesight of him nerved Chad at once to steel. Margaret did not lift herface until she was half-way to the porch, and then she stopped suddenly. 

"Why, there's Major Buford, " Chad heard her say, and she came on ahead, walking rapidly. Chad felt the blood in his face again, and as hewatched Margaret nearing him--pale, sweet, frank, gracious, unconscious--it seemed that he was living over again another scene inhis life when he had come from the mountains to live with old MajorBuford; and, with a sudden prayer that his past might now be wiped asclean as it was then, he turned from Margaret's hand-clasp to look intothe brave, searching eyes of Richard Hunt and feel his sinewy fingersin a grip that in all frankness told Chad plainly that between them, atleast, one war was not quite over yet. 

"I am glad to meet you, Major Buford, in these piping times of peace. "

"And I am glad to meet you, General Hunt--only in times of peace, " Chadsaid, smiling. 

The two measured each other swiftly, calmly. Chad had a mightyadmiration for Richard Hunt. Here was a man who knew no fight but tothe finish, who would die as gamely in a drawing-room as on abattle-field. To think of him--a brigadier-general at twenty-seven, asundaunted, as unbeaten as when he heard the first bullet of the warwhistle, and, at that moment, as good an American as Chadwick Buford orany Unionist who had given his life for his cause! Such a foe thrilledChad, and somehow he felt that Margaret was measuring them as they weremeasuring each other. Against such a man what chance had he?

He would have been comforted could he have known Richard Hunt'sthoughts, for that gentleman had gone back to the picture of a raggedmountain boy in old Major Buford's carriage, one court day long ago, and now he was looking that same lad over from the visor of his capdown his superb length to the heels of his riding-boots. His eyesrested long on Chad's face. The change was incredible, but blood hadtold. The face was highly bred, clean, frank, nobly handsome; it hadstrength and dignity, and the scar on his cheek told a story that wasas well known to foe as to friend. 

"I have been wanting to thank you, not only for trying to keep us outof that infernal prison after the Ohio raid, but for trying to get usout. Harry here told me. That was generous. "

"That was nothing, " said Chad. "You forget, you could have killed meonce and--and you didn't. " Margaret was listening eagerly. 

"You didn't give me time, " laughed General Hunt. 

"Oh, yes, I did. I saw you lift your pistol and drop it again. I havenever ceased to wonder why you did that. "

Richard Hunt laughed. "Perhaps I'm sorry sometimes that I did, " hesaid, with a certain dryness. 

"Oh, no, you aren't, General, " said Margaret. 

Thus they chatted and laughed and joked together above the sombre tideof feeling that showed in the face of each if it reached not histongue, for, when the war was over, the hatchet in Kentucky was buriedat once and buried deep. Son came back to father, brother to brother, neighbor to neighbor; political disabilities were removed and thesundered threads, unravelled by the war, were knitted together fast. That is why the postbellum terrors of reconstruction were practicallyunknown in the State. The negroes scattered, to be sure, not fromdisloyalty so much as from a feverish desire to learn whether theyreally could come and go as they pleased. When they learned that theywere really free, most of them drifted back to the quarters where theywere born, and meanwhile the white man's hand that had wielded thesword went just as bravely to the plough, and the work of rebuildingwar-shattered ruins began at once. Old Mammy appeared, by and by, shookhands with General Hunt and made Chad a curtsey of rather distantdignity. She had gone into exile with her "chile" and her "ole Mistis"and had come home with them to stay, untempted by the doubtful sweetsof freedom. "Old Tom, her husband, had remained with Major Buford, waswith him on his deathbed, " said Margaret, "and was on the place still, too old, he said, to take root elsewhere. "

Toward the middle of the afternoon Dan rose and suggested that theytake a walk about the place. Margaret had gone in for a moment toattend to some household duty, and as Richard Hunt was going away nextday he would stay, he said, with Mrs. Dean, who was tired and could notjoin them. The three walked toward the dismantled barn where thetournament had taken place and out into the woods. Looking back, Chadsaw Margaret and General Hunt going slowly toward the garden, and heknew that some crisis was at hand between the two. He had hard worklistening to Dan and Harry as they planned for the future, and recalledto each other and to him the incidents of their boyhood. Harry meant tostudy law, he said, and practise in Lexington; Dan would stay at homeand run the farm. Neither brother mentioned that the old place washeavily mortgaged, but Chad guessed the fact and it made him heartsickto think of the struggle that was before them and of the privations yetin store for Mrs. Dean and Margaret. 

"Why don't you, Chad?"

"Do what?"

"Stay here and study law, " Harry smiled. "We'll go into partnership. "

Chad shook his head. "No, " he said, decisively. "I've already made upmy mind. I'm going West. "

"I'm sorry, " said Harry, and no more; he had learned long ago howuseless it was to combat any purpose of Chadwick Buford. 

General Hunt and Margaret were still away when they got back to thehouse. In fact, the sun was sinking when they came in from the woods, still walking slowly, General Hunt talking earnestly and Margaret withher hands clasped before her and her eyes on the path. The faces ofboth looked pale, even that far away, but when they neared the porch, the General was joking and Margaret was smiling, nor was anythingperceptible to Chad when he said good-by, except a certain tendernessin his tone and manner toward Margaret, and one fleeting look ofdistress in her clear eyes. He was on his horse now, and was liftinghis cap. 

"Good-by, Major, " he said. "I'm glad you got through the war alive. Perhaps I'll tell you some day why I didn't shoot you that morning. "And then he rode away, a gallant, knightly figure, across the pasture. At the gate he waved his cap and at a gallop was gone. 

After supper, a heaven-born chance led Mrs. Dean to stroll out into thelovely night. Margaret rose to go too, and Chad followed. The samechance, perhaps, led old Mammy to come out on the porch and call Mrs. Dean back. Chad and Margaret walked on toward the stiles where stillhung Margaret's weather-beaten Stars and Bars. The girl smiled andtouched the flag. 

"That was very nice of you to salute me that morning. I never felt sobitter against Yankees after that day. I'll take it down now, " and shedetached it and rolled it tenderly about the slender staff. 

"That was not my doing, " said Chad, "though if I had been Grant, andthere with the whole Union army, I would have had it salute you. I wasunder orders, but I went back for help. May I carry it for you?"

"Yes, " said Margaret, handing it to him. Chad had started toward thegarden, but Margaret turned him toward the stile and they walked nowdown through the pasture toward the creek that ran like a wind-shakenribbon of silver under the moon. 

"Won't you tell me something about Major Buford? I've been wanting toask, but I simply hadn't the heart. Can't we go over there tonight? Iwant to see the old place, and I must leave to-morrow. "

"To-morrow!" said Margaret. "Why--I--I was going to take you over thereto-morrow, for I--but, of course, you must go to-night if it is to beyour only chance. "

And so, as they walked along, Margaret told Chad of the old Major'slast days, after he was released from prison, and came home to die. Shewent to see him every day, and she was at his bedside when he breathedhis last. He had mortgaged his farm to help the Confederate cause andto pay indemnity for a guerilla raid, and Jerome Conners held his notesfor large amounts. 

"The lawyer told me that he believed some of the notes were forged, buthe couldn't prove it. He says it is doubtful if more than the house anda few acres will be left. " A light broke in on Chad's brain. 

"He told you?"

Margaret blushed. "He left all he had to me, " she said, simply. 

"I'm so glad, " said Chad. 

"Except a horse which belongs to you. The old mare is dead. "

"Dear old Major!"

At the stone fence Margaret reached for the flag. 

"We'll leave it here until we come back, " she said, dropping it in ashadow. Somehow the talk of Major Buford seemed to bring them nearertogether--so near that once Chad started to call her by her first nameand stopped when it had half passed his lips. Margaret smiled. 

"The war is over, " she said, and Chad spoke eagerly:

"And you'll call me?"

"Yes, Chad. "

The very leaves over Chad's head danced suddenly, and yet the girl wasso simple and frank and kind that the springing hope in his breast wasas quickly chilled. 

"Did he ever speak of me except about business matters?"

"Never at all at first, " said Margaret, blushing againincomprehensively, "but he forgave you before he died. "

"Thank God for that!"

"And you will see what he did for you--the last thing of his life. "

They were crossing the field now. 

"I have seen Melissa, " said Margaret, suddenly. Chad was so startledthat he stopped in the path. 

"She came all the way from the mountains to ask if you were dead, andto tell me about--about your mother. She had just learned it, she said, and she did not know that you knew. And I never let her know that Iknew, since I supposed you had some reason for not wanting her to know. "

"I did, " said Chad, sadly, but he did not tell his reason. Melissawould never have learned the one thing from him as Margaret would notlearn the other now. 

"She came on foot to ask about you and to defend you against--againstme. And she went back afoot. She disappeared one morning before we gotup. She seemed very ill, too, and unhappy. She was coughing all thetime, and I wakened one night and heard her sobbing, but she was sosullen and fierce that I was almost afraid of her. Next morning she wasgone. I would have taken her part of the way home myself. Poor thing!"Chad was walking with his head bent. 

"I'm going down to see her before I go West. "

"You are going West--to live?"

"Yes. "

They had reached the yard gate now which creaked on rusty hinges whenChad pulled it open. The yard was running wild with plantains, thegravelled walk was overgrown, the house was closed, shuttered, anddark, and the spirit of desolation overhung the place, but the ruinlooked gentle in the moonlight. Chad's throat hurt and his eyes filled. 

"I want to show you now the last thing he did, " said Margaret. Her eyeslighted with tenderness and she led him wondering down through thetangled garden to the old family graveyard. 

"Climb over and look, Chad, " she said, leaning over the wall. 

There was the grave of the Major's father which he knew so well; nextthat, to the left, was a new mound under which rested the Majorhimself. To the right was a stone marked "Chadwick Buford, born inVirginia, 1750, died in Kentucky"--and then another stone marked simply:

Mary Buford. 

"He had both brought from the mountains, " said Margaret, softly, "andthe last time he was out of the house was when he leaned here to watchthem buried there. He said there would always be a place next yourmother for you. 'Tell the boy that, ' he said. " Chad put his arms aroundthe tombstone and then sank on one knee by his mother's grave. It wasstrewn with withered violets. 

"You--YOU did that, Margaret?"

Margaret nodded through her tears. 

 . . . . . 

The wonder of it! They stood very still, looking for a long time intoeach other's eyes. Could the veil of the hereafter have been lifted forthem at that moment and they have seen themselves walking that samegarden path, hand in hand, their faces seamed with age to other eyes, but changed in not a line to them, the vision would not have added ajot to their perfect faith. They would have nodded to each other andsmiled--"Yes, we know, we know!" The night, the rushing earth, thestar-swept spaces of the infinite held no greater wonder than wastheirs--they held no wonder at all. The moon shone, that night, forthem; the wind whispered, leaves danced, flowers nodded, and cricketschirped from the grass for them; the farthest star kept eternal lidsapart just for them and beyond, the Maker himself looked down, thatnight, just to bless them. 

Back they went through the old garden, hand in hand. No caress had everpassed between these two. That any man could ever dare even to dream oftouching her sacred lips had been beyond the boy's imaginings--such wasthe reverence in his love for her--and his very soul shook when, at thegate, Margaret's eyes dropped from his to the sabre cut on his cheekand she suddenly lifted her face. 

"I know how you got that, Chad, " she said, and with her lips she gentlytouched the scar. Almost timidly the boy drew her to him. Again herlips were lifted in sweet surrender, and every wound that he had knownin his life was healed. 

 . . . . . 

"I'll show you your horse, Chad. "

They did not waken old Tom, but went around to the stable and Chad ledout a handsome colt, his satiny coat shining in the moonlight likesilver. He lifted his proud head, when he saw Margaret, and whinnied. 

"He knows his mistress, Margaret--and he's yours. "

"Oh, no, Chad. "

"Yes, " said Chad, "I've still got Dixie. "

"Do you still call her Dixie?"

"All through the war. "

Homeward they went through the dewy fields. 

"I wish I could have seen the Major before he died. If he could onlyhave known how I suffered at causing him so much sorrow. And if youcould have known. "

"He did know and so did I--later. All that is over now. "

They had reached the stone wall and Chad picked up the flag again. 

"This is the only time I have ever carried this flag, unless I--unlessit had been captured. "

"You had captured it, Chad. "

"There?" Chad pointed to the stile and Margaret nodded. 

"There--here everywhere. "

Seated on the porch, Mrs. Dean and Harry and Dan saw them coming acrossthe field and Mrs. Dean sighed. 

"Father would not say a word against it, mother, " said the elder boy, "if he were here. "

"No, " said Dan, "not a word. "

"Listen, mother, " said Harry, and he told the two about Chad's ride forDan from Frankfort to Lexington. "He asked me not to tell. He did notwish Margaret to know. And listen again, mother. In a skirmish one daywe were fighting hand to hand. I saw one man with his pistol levelledat me and another with his sabre lifted on Chad. He saw them both. Mypistol was empty, and do you know what he did? He shot the man who wasabout to shoot me instead of his own assailant. That is how he got thatscar. I did tell Margaret that. "

"Yes, you must go down in the mountain first, " Margaret was saying, "and see if there is anything you can do for the people who were sogood to you--and to see Melissa. I am worried about her. "

"And then I must come back to you?"

"Yes, you must come back to see me once more if you can. And then someday you will come again and buy back the Major's farm"--she stopped, blushing. "I think that was his wish Chad, that you and I--but I wouldnever let him say it. "

"And if that should take too long?"

"I will come to you, Chad, " said Margaret. 

Old Mammy came out on the porch as they were climbing the stile. 

"Ole Miss, " she said, indignantly, "my Tom say that he can't get nary atriflin' nigger to come out hyeh to wuk, an' ef that cawnfiel' ain'tploughed mighty soon, it's gwine to bu'n up. "

"How many horses are there on the place, Mammy?" asked Dan. 

"Hosses!" sniffed the old woman. "They ain't NARY a hoss--nothin' buttwo ole broken-down mules. "

"Well, I'll take one and start a plough myself, " said Harry. 

"And I'll take the other, " said Dan. 

Mammy groaned. 

 . . . . . 

And still the wonder of that night to Chad and Margaret!

"It was General Hunt who taught me to understand--and forgive. Do youknow what he said? That every man, on both sides, was right--who didhis duty. "

"God bless him, " said Chad. 

CHAPTER 31. 

THE WESTWARD WAY

Mother Turner was sitting in the porch with old Jack at her feet whenChad and Dixie came to the gate--her bonnet off, her eyes turned towardthe West. The stillness of death lay over the place, and over thestrong old face some preternatural sorrow. She did not rise when shesaw Chad, she did not speak when he spoke. She turned merely and lookedat him with a look of helpless suffering. She knew the question thatwas on his lips, for she dumbly motioned toward the door and then puther trembling hands on the railing of the porch and bent her face downon them. With sickening fear, Chad stepped on the threshold--cap inhand--and old Jack followed, whimpering. As his eyes grew accustomed tothe dark interior, he could see a sheeted form on a bed in the cornerand, on the pillow, a white face. 

"Melissa!" he called, brokenly. A groan from the porch answered him, and, as Chad dropped to his knees, the old woman sobbed aloud. 

In low tones, as though in fear they might disturb the dead girl'ssleep, the two talked on the porch. Brokenly, the old woman told Chadhow the girl had sickened and suffered with never a word of complaint. How, all through the war, she had fought his battles so fiercely thatno one dared attack him in her hearing. How, sick as she was, she hadgone, that night, to save his life. How she had nearly died from theresult of cold and exposure and was never the same afterward. How sheworked in the house and in the garden to keep their bodies and soulstogether, after the old hunter was shot down and her boys were gone tothe war. How she had learned the story of Chad's mother from old NathanCherry's daughter and how, when the old woman forbade her going to theBluegrass, she had slipped away and gone afoot to clear his name. Andthen the old woman led Chad to where once had grown the rose-bush hehad brought Melissa from the Bluegrass, and pointed silently to a boxthat seemed to have been pressed a few inches into the soft earth, andwhen Chad lifted it, he saw under it the imprint of a human foot--hisown, made that morning when he held out a rose-leaf to her and she hadstruck it from his hand and turned him, as an enemy, from her door. 

Chad silently went inside and threw open the window to let the lastsunlight in: and he sat there, with his face as changeless as the stillface on the pillow, sat there until the sun went down and the darknesscame in and closed softly about her. She had died, the old woman said, with his name on her lips. 

 . . . . . 

Dolph and Rube had come back and they would take good care of the oldmother until the end of her days. But, Jack--what should be done withJack? The old dog could follow him no longer. He could live hardly morethan another year, and the old mother wanted him--to remind her, shesaid, of Chad and of Melissa, who had loved him. He patted his faithfulold friend tenderly and, when he mounted Dixie, late the nextafternoon, Jack started to follow him. 

"No, Jack, " said Chad, and he rode on, with his eyes blurred. On thetop of the steep mountain he dismounted, to let his horse rest amoment, and sat on a log, looking toward the sun. He could not go backto Margaret and happiness--not now. It seemed hardly fair to the deadgirl down in the valley. He would send Margaret word, and she wouldunderstand. 

Once again he was starting his life over afresh, with his old capital, a strong body and a stout heart. In his breast still burned the spiritthat had led his race to the land, had wrenched it from savage and fromking, had made it the high temple of Liberty for the worship offreemen--the Kingdom Come for the oppressed of the earth--and, himselfthe unconscious Shepherd of that Spirit, he was going to help carry itsideals across a continent Westward to another sea and on--who knows--tothe gates of the rising sun. An eagle swept over his head, as he rose, and the soft patter of feet sounded behind him. It was Jack trottingafter him. He stooped and took the old dog in his arms. 

"Go back home, Jack!" he said. 

Without a whimper, old Jack slowly wheeled, but he stopped and turnedagain and sat on his haunches--looking back. 

"Go home, Jack!" Again the old dog trotted down the path and once morehe turned. 

"Home, Jack!" said Chad. 

The eagle was a dim, black speck in the band of yellow that lay overthe rim of the sinking sun, and after its flight, horse and rider tookthe westward way.