he excitement of it--the rush--the
battles--and we think that ours is the harder part when, in reality, we
make our loved ones' lives a deeper, blacker hell than our own. Theirs
to watch and listen with the love hunger in their hearts, month in,
month out and often without a word! Theirs to starve on the crusts of
hope! Waiting--always waiting! Hunting the papers for the thing they
dread to find; a name among the missing. A name among the dead! Good
Heaven! When I think of it sometimes--" Morrison dropped his head
between his clenched fists and groaned.

"Yes, yes, old fellow, I know," the other man answered, for in truth he
_did_ know, "but I want you to remember that for you the crusts of hope
will some day be the bread of life--and love."

Slowly the Northerner's face came up out of his hands and he seemed to
take heart again. After all, he had led a charmed life so far--perhaps
the God of Battles had written his name among those who would some day
go back to live the life for which the Almighty made them. God grant
then that he might have for his friend this man who, in the time of his
own greater grief, was unselfish enough to console him. Ah! If God would
only grant that from this day on there would be no more of this hideous
fighting. Morrison's eyes met the other's and he put out his hand.

Suddenly there came the sound of a shot. Another and another--then a
volley, which almost at once became a continuous rattle of musketry.

The Northerner sprang to his feet. "Look! there go your pickets."

Struck dumb by this sudden return to the actualities of life the two men
stood motionless, listening for every sound which might tell them what
it meant. For a little while they had dreamed the dream of peace only to
have it rudely shattered.

But Virgie had not followed them in their dreams, for she was an
extremely practical young lady. Having seen food, real food, vanish
away before her very eyes several times already she was quite prepared
to see it happen again.

"There!" she said, in tones in which prophecy and resignation were oddly
mingled. "Didn't I jus' _know_ somethin' was goin' to happen!"

By this time Morrison had run to the stone wall and sprung to its top.
Out in the road the troopers had mounted without waiting for command and
with one accord had faced towards the firing.

"Can you see anything?" Cary called.

"Not yet," said Morrison. "I guess we came too close to your nest--and
the hornets are