e
trouble, he said:

"Then I assume that you will shelter me for the night, and, if I may, I
will go at once to my room."

Colonel Woodville lowered his head upon the pillow and laughed softly.

"A lad of spirit. A lad of spirit, I repeat," he said. "No, Margaret,
you and I could not have turned him from our earthen roof."

Dick bowed to Miss Woodville, and that little ghost of a tender smile
flitted about her thin lips. Then he lifted the blanket, stepped into
the dark, and let the curtain fall behind him.

He stood for a space until his eyes, used to the dusk, could see dimly.
It was a tiny room evidently used as a place of storage for clothing and
bedding, but there was space enough for him to lie down, if he bent his
knees a little.

The strain upon both muscle and nerve had been very great, and now came
collapse. Removing his shoes and outer clothing he dropped upon a
roll of bedding and closed his eyes. But he was grateful, deeply and
lastingly grateful. The bread that he had cast upon the waters was
returning to him fourfold.

He heard low voices beyond the blanket, and he did not doubt that they
were those of Colonel Woodville and his daughter. The woman in plain
black, with the basket on her arm, had seemed a pathetic figure to him.
He could not blame them for feeling such intense bitterness. What were
the causes of the war to people who had been driven from a luxurious
home to a hole in the side of a ravine?

He slept, and when he woke it seemed to be only a moment later, but he
knew from the slender edge of light appearing where the blanket just
failed to touch the floor that morning had come. He moved gently lest
he disturb his host in the larger room without, and then he heard the
distant thunder, which he knew was the booming of Grant's great guns.
And so the night had not stopped them! All through the hours that he
slept the cannon had rained steel and death on Vicksburg. Then came a
great explosion telling him that a shell had burst somewhere near. It
was followed by the voice of Colonel Woodville raised in high, indignant
tones:

"Can't they let a gentleman sleep? Must they wake him with one of their
infernal shells?"

He heard a slight rustling sound and he knew that it was the great bald
head moving impatiently on the pillows. Inferring that it was early, he
would have gone back to sleep himself, but slumber would not come. He
remained a while, thoughtful, for his future lay very heavy up