some money. The Johnnies aren't averse to taking our money
for all their devotion to their cause. It would help us wonderfully."

"See here, Dick!" Jeanne took a roll of bills from her dress. "Will this
be enough?"

"Where did you get it?" cried Dick in delight. "Why, this is fine!"

"Father gave it to me just before I left," answered Jeanne. "He little
thought that it would help us both to get back to him. I know Aunt
Clarisse would have taken it if she had remembered telling me to hide it."

"Father will have a settling with Uncle Ben and his wife," cried the boy,
his eyes flashing. "I'd just like to meet the lady myself. I don't think
she'd like what she would hear!"

"I know it," and the girl looked at him admiringly. "I just feel as if my
troubles were all over. What a soldier you are, Dick!"

"You are a pretty good one yourself," answered Dick. "I had no idea,
Jeanne, that you could stand fire as you did on that transport. Why, I
have known big men to be afraid in a battle."

"It's the blood," observed the girl, sagely. "How could we be other than
brave, when our ancestors fought in the Revolution? We just can't help it."

Dick laughed.

"Ancestors don't seem to help some fellows I know," he said. "You'd be
surprised at some of the things they do. They play sick, fall in behind
the rest of us, or do anything in the world to get out of the way of
the bullets. The queer part of the whole thing is that those who expose
themselves the most rarely get hurt while the shots seek the cowards."

Thus conversing the two pursued their journey. Darkness came on, and Dick
proposed a halt and rest for the night.

"There are so many swamps," he said, "and so many of those things they
call bayous that I like to see where I am going. You won't be afraid to
stay out all night, will you? There isn't a house in sight, and it might
not be safe for us to go to it if there were."

"I am not afraid with you, Dick. But it does look rather ghost-like,
doesn't it, with all that moss hanging from the trees?"

"Yes; the forest is not so fine as our own Adirondacks. I don't like this
country anyway. There are cypress swamps and malaria every time you turn
round. Malaria has killed more of the boys than all the shots the rebs
ever fired. You won't get sick, will you?"

"I stood New Orleans in the summertime," said the girl, "and they said
down there that anybody who could live there through the summer could live
anywhere. But yo