and to everybody else. He was the fust soldier that
'listed, and he's account to everybody."

The old woman had raised her head in astonishment at her daughter's
first outbreak, and was evidently about to reply sharply; but the girl's
flushed face and flashing eyes awed and silenced her.

"Well, well, I ain't sayin' nothin' against him," she said, presently.

"Yes, you air--you're always sayin' somethin' against him--and so is
everybody else--and they ain't fitten to tie his shoes. Why don't they
say it to his face! There ain't one of 'em as dares it, and he's the
best soldier in the comp'ny, an' I'm jest as proud of it as if he was my
own."

The old woman was evidently bound to defend herself. She said:

"It don't lay in your mouth to take up for him, Vashti Mills; for you're
the one as has gone up and down and abused him scandalous."

"Yes, and I know I did," said the girl, springing up excitedly and
tossing her arms and tearing at her ribbons. "An' I told him to his face
too, and that's the only good thing about it. I knowed it was a lie when
I told him, and he knowed it was a lie too, and he knowed I knowed it
was a lie--what's more--and I'm glad he did--fo' God I'm glad he did.
He could 'a' whipped the whole company an' he jest wouldn't--an' that's
God's truth--God's fatal truth."

The next instant she was on her knees hunting for something on the
floor, in an agony of tears; and as her father, aroused by the noise,
rose and asked a question, she sprang up and rushed out of the door.

The sound of an axe was already coming through the darkness across the
gum thickets from Mrs. Stanley's, telling that preparation was being
made for Darby's last breakfast. It might have told more, however, by
its long continuance; for it meant that Little Darby was cutting his
mother a supply of wood to last till his return. Inside, the old woman,
thin and faded, was rubbing his musket.

*****

The sun was just rising above the pines, filling the little bottom
between the cabins with a sort of rosy light, and making the dewy bushes
and weeds sparkle with jewel-strung gossamer webs, when Little Darby,
with his musket in his hand, stepped for the last time out of the low
door. He had been the first soldier in the district to enlist, he must
be on time. He paused just long enough to give one swift glance around
the little clearing, and then set out along the path at his old swinging
pace. At the edge of the pines he turned a