hing to appear in a false light to either
brother or sister.

"Slow praise is worth the most," he replied ambiguously. Harley showed
disappointment. He craved a compliment and he expected it.

While they talked Prescott was watching Helen Harley out of the corner
of his eye. Outside were the wild soldiers and war; here, between these
narrow log walls, he beheld woman and peace. He was seized with a sudden
sick distaste of the war, its endless battles, its terrible slaughter,
and the doubt of what was to come after.

Harley claimed his attention, for he could not bear to be ignored.
Moreover, he was wounded, and with all due deference to his sister, the
visit was to him.

"Does either army mean to move?" he asked.

"I think so; I came to tell you about it," replied Prescott.

Harley at once was full of eagerness. This touched him on his strongest
side. He was a warrior by instinct, and his interest in the affairs of
the army could never be languid.

"Why, what news have you?" he asked quickly.

"Grant has come!"

He uttered an exclamation, but for a little while made no further
comment. Like all the others, he seemed to accept the arrival of the new
Northern leader as the signal for immediate action, and he wished to
think over it.

"Grant," he said presently, "will attack us, and you don't know what it
costs me to be lying here. I must be up and I will. Don't you see what
is coming? Don't you see it, I say?"

"What is it that you see?" asked Prescott.

"Why, General Lee is going to win the greatest victory of the age. He
will beat their biggest army, led by their best General. Why, I see it
now! It will be the tactics of Chancellorsville over again. What a pity
Jackson is gone! But there's Wood. He'll make a circuit with ten
thousand men and hit 'em on the right flank, and at the same time I'll
go around with my cavalry and dig into 'em on the left. The Yankees
won't be dreaming of it, for Bobby Lee will be pounding 'em in front and
they'll have eyes only for him. Won't it be grand, magnificent!"

There was a flash in his eye now and he was no longer irritable or
impatient.

"Isn't war a glorious game?" he said. "Of course it is best not to have
war, but if we must have it, it draws out of a man the best that is in
him, if he's any good at all."

There was a light knock at the door, and Prescott, who was contrasting
brother and sister, noticed their countenances change oddly and in a
manner as differ