d Polly to understand that I never forget such faithfulness
as you are now showing, and when I come back--but now is the best time.
Here are ten dollars apiece for you and you must remember that as long
as I live you shall never want for anything."

Fifty men arrived before the east was flushed with the sun. It was
decided that ten of these, including Wash Sanders, should be left to
protect the women and children. The least active were chosen. All but
the younger ones had followed Lee through the dark days of his last
campaign. The Major took command and martial law prevailed. He buckled
on no sword but he looked like a soldier; and short, sharp sentences
that he had forgotten at the close of the war now came back to him.

"Make ready, men. Time passes. Mount."

There were pale faces in the hall and at the gate where the men sat
their horses, ready to ride, but there was bravery and no tears. The
command was drawn up; the Major, not yet mounted, stood talking to Wash
Sanders, when suddenly down the road a chant arose. All eyes were turned
that way, and strange to them was the sight they beheld--the Catholic
priest, with slow and solemn pace, treading the middle of the road,
holding high aloft a black crucifix; and behind him followed the negro
members of his church, men, women and children. He was leading his
people to the hills--out of danger. As the head of this weird procession
came opposite the gate, where now the Major stood with folded arms, the
priest gravely smiled and higher held his crucifix. And then, silently,
and looking neither to the right nor to the left, came out the three
negroes who had remained at home; and taking up the chant they joined
their brothers and sisters. They marched solemnly onward, turned into a
road that led to the hills, the wind hushing their chant, but the black
cross still seen high above their dusky, upturned faces. For full five
minutes the Major stood in silence, gazing, and then hastily mounting,
he shouted: "Forward!" and his troop swept down the road. He chose the
nearest course and it lay by the old house wherein Louise had lived; and
again he heard the wind moaning in the ragged plum thicket.

Along the road the scattered houses were deserted, and in many a cabin
the fire-place was cold, and many a door stood open. Not a negro was
seen--yes, one, an old man drawn with rheumatism, sitting on a bench,
waiting for the sun to warm his joints.

When the Major and his troop r