nd one of the General's stories made a good combination.

His manner had a quality uncommon to storytellers; he spoke as if what
he told had occurred not in times gone by, but perhaps last week; it was
more gossip than history. Probably the sharp, full years had been so
short to him that the interval between twenty and seventy was no great
matter; things looked as clear and his interest was as lively as a
half-century ago. This trick of mind made a narrative of his vivid. With
eyes on the fire, with his dominant voice absorbing the crisp sound of
the crackling wood, he began to talk.

"It was down in Virginia in--let me see--why, certainly, it was in
'63--right away after the battle of Chancellorsville, you know." I kept
still and hoped the General thought I knew the date of the battle of
Chancellorsville. "I was part of a cavalry command that was sent from
the Army of the Potomac under General Stoneman--I was his aide. Well,
we did a lot of things--knocked out bridges and railroads, and all that;
our object was, you see, to destroy communication between Lee's army and
Richmond. We even got into Richmond--we thought every Confederate
soldier was with Lee at the front, and we had a scheme to free the
prisoners in Libby, and perhaps capture Jefferson Davis--but we counted
wrong. The defence was too strong, and our force too small; we had to
skedaddle, or we'd have seen Libby in a way we didn't like. We found a
negro who could pilot us, and we slipped out through fields and swamps
beyond the reach of the enemy. Then the return march began. Let me put
that log on."

"No. Talk," I protested; but the General had the wood in his vigorous
left hand--where a big scar cut across the back.

"You needn't be so independent," he threw at me. "Now you've got a
splinter in your finger--serves you right." I laughed at the savage
tone, and his eyes flashed fiercely--and he laughed back.

"What was I talking about--you interrupted. Oh, that march. Well, we'd
had a pretty rough time when the march back began. For nine days we
hadn't had a real meal--just eaten standing up, whatever we could get
cooked--or uncooked. We hadn't changed our clothes, and we'd slept on
the ground every night."

"Goodness!" I interjected with amateur vagueness. "What about the
horses?"

"Oh, they got it, too," the General said carelessly. "We seldom
unsaddled them at all, and when we did it was just to give them a
rub-down and saddle again. We'd made one