ggage-room did not answer. Chad's
eyes flashed and he caught the man by the coat-tail.

"Has that enJINE gone?" he cried.

The man looked over his shoulder.

"Leggo my coat, you little devil. Yes, that enJINE'S gone," he added,
mimicking. Then he saw the boy's unhappy face and he dropped the trunk
and turned to him.

"What's the matter?" he asked, kindly.

Chad had turned away with a sob.

"They've lef' me--they've lef' me," he said, and then, controlling
himself:

"Is thar another goin'?"

"Not till to-morrow mornin'."

Another sob came, and Chad turned away--he did not want anybody to see
him cry. And this was no time for crying, for Chad's prayer back at the
grave under the poplar flashed suddenly back to him.

"I got to ack like a man now." And, sobered at once, he walked on up
the hill--thinking. He could not know that the school-master was back
in the town, looking for him. If he waited until the next morning, the
Turners would probably have gone on; whereas, if he started out now on
foot, and walked all night, he might catch them before they left
Lexington next morning. And if he missed the Squire and the Turner
boys, he could certainly find the school-master there. And if not, he
could go on to the mountains alone. Or he might stay in the
"settlemints"--what had he come for? He might--he would--oh, he'd get
along somehow, he said to himself, wagging his head--he always had and
he always would. He could always go back to the mountains. If he only
had Jack--if he only had Jack! Nothing would make any difference then,
and he would never be lonely, if he only had Jack. But, cheered with
his determination, he rubbed the tears from his eyes with his
coat-sleeve and climbed the long hill. There was the Armory, which,
years later, was to harbor Union troops in the great war, and beyond it
was the little city of the dead that sits on top of the hill far above
the shining river. At the great iron gates he stopped a moment, peering
through. He saw a wilderness of white slabs and, not until he made his
way across the thick green turf and spelled out the names carved on
them, could he make out what they were for. How he wondered when he saw
the innumerable green mounds, for he hardly knew there were as many
people in the world living as he saw there must be in that place, dead.
But he had no time to spare and he turned quickly back to the
pike--saddened--for his heart went back, as his faithful heart was
always