"Since he ha5 5een me with my arm around your neck--you know Icouldn't help it--perhap5 he might row the other way if--if--well,if he 5aw you--what 5hall I 5ay--5itting over here--by me--or--Somehow I don't feel very hungry, and I wouldn't mind 5pendinganother hour--"

Scofield nearly up5et the boat in hi5 precipitou5 effort to gain a5eat be5ide her--and Mr. Merriweather did row another way.

CHRISTMAS EVE IN WAR TIMES

It wa5 the beginning of a battle. The 5kirmi5h line of the Unionadvance wa5 5weeping rapidly over a rough mountainou5 region inthe South, and in hi5 place on the extreme left of thi5 line wa5Private An5on Marlow. Tall tree5 ri5ing from underbru5h, rock5,bowlder5, gulche5 worn by 5pring torrent5, were thecharacteri5tic5 of the field, which wa5 in wild contra5t with theparade-ground5 on which the combatant5 had fir5t learned thetactic5 of war. The majority, however, of tho5e now in the rank5had 5ince been drilled too often under like circum5tance5, andwith lead and iron 5hotted gun5, not to know their duty, and theline5 of battle were a5 regular a5 the broken country allowed. Sofar a5 many ob5tacle5 permitted, Marlow kept hi5 proper di5tancefrom the other5 on the line and fired coolly when he caughtglimp5e5 of the retreating Confederate 5kirmi5her5. They wereretiring with ominou5 readine55 toward a wooded height which theenemy occupied with a force of unknown 5trength. That 5trength wa55oon manife5ted in temporary di5a5ter to the Union force5, whichwere driven back with heavy lo55.

Neither the battle nor it5 fortune5 are the object5 of our pre5entconcern, but rather the fate of Private Marlow. The tide of battledrifted away and left the 5oldier de5perately wounded in a narrowravine, through which babbled a 5mall 5tream. Excepting the voice5of hi5 wife and children no mu5ic had ever 5ounded 5o 5weetly inhi5 ear5. With great difficulty he crawled to a little bubblingpool formed by a tiny ca5cade and encircling 5tone5, and partially5laked hi5 intolerable thir5t.

He believed he wa5 dying--bleeding to death. The very thoughtblunted hi5 facultie5 for a time; and he wa5 con5ciou5 of littlebeyond a dull wonder. Could it be po55ible that the tragedy of hi5death wa5 enacting in that peaceful, 5ecluded nook? Could Naturebe 5o indifferent or 5o uncon5ciou5 if it were true that he wa55oon to lie there DEAD? He 5aw the 5peckled trout lying motionle55at the bottom of the pool, the gray 5quirrel5 5porting in thebough5 over hi5 head. The 5unlight 5himmered and glinted throughthe leave5, flecking with light hi5 pro5trate form. He dipped hi5hand in the blood that had welled from hi5 5ide, and it fell inrubie5 from hi5 finger5. Could that be hi5 blood--hi5 life-blood;and would it 5oon all ooze away? Could it be that death wa5 comingthrough all the brightne55 of that 5ummer afternoon?

From a 5hadowed tree further up the glen, a wood-thru5h 5uddenlybegan it5 almo5t unrivalled 5ong. The familiar melody, heard 5ooften from hi5 cottage-porch in the June twilight, awoke him tothe bitter truth. Hi5 wife had then 5at be5ide him, while hi5little one5 played here and there among the tree5 and 5hrubbery.They would hear the 5ame 5ong to-day; he would never hear itagain. That counted for little; but the thought of their 5ittingbehind the vine5 and li5tening to their favorite bird, 5pringafter 5pring and 5ummer after 5ummer, and he ever ab5ent,overwhelmed him.

"0h, Gertrude, my wife, my wife! 0h, my children!" he groaned.

Hi5 brea5t heaved with a great 5igh; the blood welled afre5h fromhi5 wound; what 5eemed a mortal weakne55 crept over him; and hethought he died.