neath. As yet the flames of war had not blown over this quiet
spot; in the early morning dew it lay as fresh as the world in its
beginning.

At the end of the lane, when they came out upon the turnpike, they met an
old farmer riding a mule home from the market.

"Can you tell me if McClellan has crossed the Potomac?" asked Dan, as he
came up with him. "I was in the hospital at Shepherdstown, and I left it
for fear of capture. No news has reached me, but I am on my way to rejoin
the army."

"Naw, suh, you might as well have stayed whar you were," responded the old
man, eying him with the suspicion which always met a soldier out of ranks.
"McClellan didn't do no harm on this side of the river--he jest set up a
battery on Douglas hill and scolded General Lee for leaving Maryland so
soon. You needn't worry no mo' 'bout the Yankees gittin' on this side--thar
ain't none of 'em left to come, they're all dead. Why, General Lee cut 'em
all up into little pieces, that's what he did. Hooray! it was jest like
Bible times come back agin."

Then, as Dan moved on, the farmer raised himself in his stirrups and called
loudly after him. "Keep to the Scriptures, young man, and remember Joshua,
Smite them hip an' thigh, as the Bible says."

All day in the bright sunshine they crept slowly onward, halting at brief
intervals to rest in the short grass by the roadside, and stopping to ask
information of the countrymen or stragglers whom they met. At last in the
red glow of the sunset they entered a strip of thin woodland, and found an
old negro gathering resinous knots from the bodies of fallen pines.

"Bless de Lawd!" he exclaimed as he faced them. "Is you done come fer de
sick sodger at my cabin?"

"A sick soldier? Why, we are all sick soldiers," answered Dan. "Where did
he come from?" The old man shook his head, as he placed his heavy split
basket on the ground at his feet.

"I dunno, marster, he ain' come, he des drapped. 'Twuz yestiddy en I 'uz
out hyer pickin' up dis yer lightwood des like I is doin' dis minute, w'en
I heah 'a-bookerty! bookerty! bookerty!' out dar in de road 'en a w'ite
hoss tu'n right inter de woods wid a sick sodger a-hangin' ter de saddle.
Yes, suh, de hoss he come right in des like he knowed me, en w'en I helt
out my han' he poke his nose spang inter it en w'innied like he moughty
glad ter see me--en he wuz, too, dat's sho'. Well, I ketch holt er his
bridle en lead 'im thoo de woods up ter my do' whar he tu