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The three of us pattered out of the stream abreast. "No trouble," replied the sergeant, "it wouldn't take half a minute."

when, just as our last note died among the trees one of us cried, "Listen!" and through the stillness there came from far away on our right the last three measures of a bugle sounding The March.

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"Well, I reckon I'll stop all night." I began to move on. His eyes followed greedily.

Thence he pointed out a distant sycamore looming high against the soft dawn. There was the fence-corner at which the bridle-path left the road. He icily declined pay for my lodging. "We never charge a Confederate soldier for anything; that's not our way."

"Whose hand was it; that fellow's, yonder?" Oliver was several paces away.

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