ve failed. But my prisoner still lives! I could _not_ accept the
confidence of his child--the trust of innocence--a baby's kiss--with the
blood of her father on my hands!" He dropped his hands and half turned
away.

The General turned, a little at a time--first his head and then his
shoulders.

"A very pretty sentiment," he remarked dryly. "But you seem to forget
that we are not making love but _war_."

With a supreme burst of anger at his helplessness before the brute
forces which would presently send him forth to the firing squad,
Morrison wheeled on his commanding general and flared forth with his
last reply.

"Yes, _war_! And the hellish laws that govern it. But there is another
law--_Humanity_! Through a trooper in my command the home of an enemy
was turned to ashes--his loved ones flung out to starve. When a helpless
tot had lost its mother and a father would protect it, then _war_
demands that I smash a baby's one last hope--in the name of the Stars
and Stripes. And then--to march back home, to a happy, triumphant
North--and meet _my_ baby--with the memory of a butcher in my heart--_By
Heaven, sir! I'd rather hang!_"

For a moment General and Colonel regarded each other fixedly and then
the General turned away to pace the floor. Presently he came to his
decision and walked slowly back to his desk.

"Lieutenant Harris," he said in tones whose significance could not be
misunderstood, "I was right. You have wasted your time--and mine."

Then he sighed wearily and made a last gesture to Forbes.

"_The guard_" he said.

It was all over.

And then, to the ears of the two prisoners who stood looking at one
another with sad eyes, came a sound which made both men start and look
again with apprehension written on their faces--the shrill scream of a
child who is being kept from something she has set her heart upon.
Another moment and there was a rush of tiny feet in the hall, whereupon
the two sentries crossed their rifles across the doorway. But what
might have proved a serious obstruction for a man was only an absurdity
to a child's quick wit and Virgie, with a little duck of her sunny head,
dodged quickly under the muskets and charged, flushed and panting, on
the General's desk.

"You shan't shoot Colonel Morrison," cried this astonishing new comer in
tones of shrill command as she stamped her little foot: "I won't let
you! You shan't! You shan't!"

A moment of displeased surprise on the part of the Gener