ttles of his country.

For two years and more there was not a break in this correspondence.
Dawson must have been a good soldier, for, though he enlisted as a
private, he was soon promoted, and before the close of the two years,
was a full fledged captain, with the brevet of major. It was about
this time that one of his letters gave the story of Gettysburg. In the
hell-blast of Pickett's charge two of his old friends, who had left
New Constantinople to fight for the South, were riddled, and another,
marching at the captain's side, had his head blown off by an exploding
shell. Thus in one engagement three of the old residents of the mining
settlement were wiped out.

Only once or twice was any news received of Al Bidwell. It was known
that Ruggles was with the Army of Northern Virginia, but no tidings
came of Budge Isham and Ike Hoe. The continued silence was accepted as
almost certain proof of their death, and yet both were well and
unharmed.

One day in early summer, two sunburned, shaggy men rode down the
mountain side and drew up their horses in front of the Heavenly Bower.
They had ridden from the East and had come through many hardships and
dangers. One of them wore a partial uniform of blue, while the other
was of a faded, butternut tinge. The two had been engaged for years in
trying to slay each other, inclusive of their respective friends, but
failing in the effort, gave it up when the final surrender took place
at Appomattox. Both were from New Constantinople, and they now turned
their faces in that direction. Starting from widely separated points
their lines of travel converged and finally joined. When they met,
there was a moment of mutual sharp scrutiny, then an exclamation of
delight, a fervent handclasp and a moistening of the eyes, as both
exclaimed:

"God bless you, old boy! There's no one in the world I would rather
meet than you! Shake again!"

And they did, and henceforward they followed the same trail and "drank
from the same canteen." They shared their rations with each other, and
in the regions of the West, where danger lurked in the air, one
watched while the other slept, ready to interpose his body as a shield
between peril and his comrade.

And what splendid soldiers the Civil War made! How those veterans
could fight! What pluck, what coolness, what nerve, what daring they
displayed! There was one stormy night beyond the Mississippi, when a
band of jayhawkers, believing the two men carri