not the worst of things as they are. I have put the war and
all its issues completely behind me. For half a century to come the men
on either side will organize themselves, I suppose, into societies whose
purpose will be to cherish and perpetuate the memory of the war, and to
make it a source of antagonism and bitterness. Their work will hinder
progress. I will have nothing to do with it. I am no longer a
Confederate soldier. I am an American citizen. I shall endeavor to do my
duty as such, wholly uninfluenced and unbiased by what has gone before.

"Surely there can be no abandonment of truth or justice or principle in
that! It is the obvious dictate of common sense and patriotism. During
the war I freely offered my life to our cause. The cause is dead, but I
live. I have youth and strength. I have brains, I think, and I have
education. These I shall devote to such work as I can find to do, such
help as I can render in that upbuilding of my native land which must be
the work of all Americans during the next decade or longer!

"Good-bye, Confederacy! Good-bye, Army! Good-bye, Lost Cause! I am
young. I must 'look forward and not backward--up and not down.'
Henceforth I shall live and breathe and act for the future, not for the
past! Repining is about the most senseless and profitless occupation
that the human mind can conceive."

At that moment the young man's horse encountered a huge boulder that had
rolled down from the mountain side, completely blockading the path. With
the spirit and the training that war service had given him, the animal
stopped not nor stayed. He approached the obstacle with a leap or two,
and then, with mighty effort, vaulted over it.

"Good for you, Bob!" cried the young man. "That's the way to meet
obstacles, and that's the way I am resolved to meet them."

But the poor horse did not respond. He hobbled on three legs for a
space. His master, dismounting, found that he had torn loose a tendon of
one leg in the leap.

There was no choice but to drive a bullet into the poor beast's brain by
way of putting him out of his agony.

Thus was Guilford Duncan left upon the mountain side, more desolate and
helpless than before, with no possessions in all the world except a pair
of pistols, a saddle, a bridle, a side of bacon, a peck of corn meal,
and a few ounces of salt.

The Valley lay before him in all its barrenness. Beyond that lay
hundreds of miles of Allegheny mountains and the region farther