closely. The youth of General Wood and himself had been so
different that he had never before recognized what there was in this
illiterate man to attract a cultivated woman.

The crude mountaineer had seemed to him hitherto to be a soldier and
nothing else; and soldiership alone, in Prescott's opinion, was very far
from making up the full complement of a man. The General sitting there
on his horse in the darkness was so strong, so masterful, so deeply
touched with what appeared to be the romantic spirit, that Prescott
could readily understand his attraction for a woman of a position
originally different in life. His feeling of sympathy grew stronger.
Here at least was a man direct and honest, not evasive and doubtful.

"General," he said with abrupt frankness, "you have come to Richmond to
see Miss Harley and I want to tell you that I wish you the utmost
success."

He held out his hand and the great mountaineer enclosed it in an iron
grasp. Then Wood dismounted, threw his bridle over his arm and said:

"S'pose we go along together for awhile?"

They walked a minute or two in silence, the General running his fingers
nervously through his thick black beard.

"See here, Prescott," he said at last, "you've spoke plain to me an'
I'll do the same to you. You wished me success with Miss Harley. Why, I
thought once that you stood in the way of me or any other man."

"Not so, General; you credit me with far more attractions than I have,"
replied Prescott deliberately. "Miss Harley and I were children together
and you know that is a tie. She likes me, I am sure, but nothing more.
And I--well I admire her tremendously, but----"

He hesitated and then stopped. The mountaineer gave him a sudden keen
glance and laughed softly.

"There's somebody else?" he said.

Prescott was silent but the mountaineer was satisfied.

"See here, Prescott," he exclaimed with great heartiness. "Let's wish
each other success."

Their hands closed again in a firm grasp.

"There's that man Sefton," resumed the mountaineer, "but I'm not so much
afraid of him as I was of you. He's cunnin' and powerful, but I don't
think he's the kind of man women like. He kinder gets their teeth on
edge. They're afraid of him without admirin' his strength. There's two
kinds of strong men: the kind that women are afraid of an' like and the
kind that they're afraid of an' don't like; an' I think Sefton falls
into the last class."

Prescott's liking for his com