ng a tree in
the woods of the district, and when he had cut one side, he turned as
deliberately and cut the other; then placing his hand high up, he flung
his weight against the post and it went down. A great cheer went up and
the axeman swung back across the road just as two batteries of artillery
tore through the opening he had made.

Few men outside of his company knew who the man was, and few had time to
ask; for the battle was on again and the infantry pushed forward. As for
Little Darby himself, the only thing he said was, "I knowed I could cut
it down in ten minutes." He had nine bullet holes through his clothes
that night, but Little Darby thought nothing of it, and neither did
others; many others had bullet holes through their bodies that night. It
happened not long afterward that the general was talking of the battle
to an English gentleman who had come over to see something of the war
and was visiting him in his camp, and he mentioned the incident of a
battle won by an axeman's coolness, but did not know the name of the
man who cut the post away; the captain of the company, however, was the
general's cousin and was dining with his guest that day, and he said
with pride that he knew the man, that he was in his company, and he gave
the name.

"It is a fine old name," said the visitor.

"And he is a fine man," said the captain; but none of this was ever
known by Darby. He was not mentioned in the gazette, because there was
no gazette. The confederate soldiery had no honors save the approval of
their own consciences and the love of their own people. It was not even
mentioned in the district; or, if it was, it was only that he had cut
down a post; other men were being shot to pieces all the time and the
district had other things to think of.

Poor at all times, the people of the district were now absolutely
without means of subsistence. Fortunately for them, they were inured to
hardship; and their men being all gone to the war, the women made such
shift as they could and lived as they might. They hoed their little
patches, fished the streams, and trapped in the woods. But it was poor
enough at best, and the weak went down and only the strong survived.
Mrs. Mills was better off than most, she had a cow--at first, and she
had Vashti. Vashti turned out to be a tower of strength. She trapped
more game than anyone in the district; caught more fish with lines and
traps--she went miles to fish below the forks where t