w he forgive me."

"What did you do?" asked Emil, as Silas stopped abruptly with a loud
"hem," and a look in his rough face that made Daisy go and stand by him
with her little hand on his knee.

"I shot him."

Quite a thrill went through the listeners as Silas said that, for
Major seemed a hero in their eyes, and his tragic end roused all their
sympathy.

"Yes, I shot him, and put him out of his misery. I patted him fust, and
said, 'Good-by;' then I laid his head easy on the grass, give a last
look into his lovin' eyes, and sent a bullet through his head. He hardly
stirred, I aimed so true, and when I seen him quite still, with no more
moanin' and pain, I was glad, and yet wal, I don't know as I need by
ashamed on't I jest put my arms raound his neck and boo-hooed like a
great baby. Sho! I didn't know I was sech a fool;" and Silas drew his
sleeve across his eyes, as much touched by Daisy's sob, as by the memory
of faithful Major.

No one spoke for a minute, because the boys were as quick to feel the
pathos of the little story as tender-hearted Daisy, though they did not
show it by crying.

"I'd like a horse like that," said Dan, half-aloud.

"Did the rebel man die, too?" asked Nan, anxiously.

"Not then. We laid there all day, and at night some of our fellers came
to look after the missing ones. They nat'rally wanted to take me fust,
but I knew I could wait, and the rebel had but one chance, maybe, so I
made them carry him off right away. He had jest strength enough to hold
out his hand to me and say, 'Thanky, comrade!' and them was the last
words he spoke, for he died an hour after he got to the hospital-tent."

"How glad you must have been that you were kind to him!" said Demi, who
was deeply impressed by this story.

"Wal, I did take comfort thinkin' of it, as I laid there alone for a
number of hours with my head on Major's neck, and see the moon come up.
I'd like to have buried the poor beast decent, but it warn't possible;
so I cut off a bit of his mane, and I've kep it ever sence. Want to see
it, sissy?"

"Oh, yes, please," answered Daisy, wiping away her tears to look.

Silas took out an old "wallet" as he called his pocket-book, and
produced from an inner fold a bit of brown paper, in which was a rough
lock of white horse-hair. The children looked at it silently, as it lay
in the broad palm, and no one found any thing to ridicule in the love
Silas bore his good horse Major.

"That is a sweet sto