at General Morgan says about that."

A dust was even then arising ahead, and in a few moments a squad of
Confederates dashed up. The foremost one, a soldierly looking-man, with a
pair of keen, humorous eyes, halted beside the group on the hill-side.

"What are you detaining this gentleman for?" he asked, in a clear,
ringing voice; "we are not making war on citizens."

"Well; but, General, just see this circular," handing him one.

General Morgan took it, glanced over it, then with a shrug of his
shoulders and a "pshaw!" dropped it to the ground, and rode on. The
vidette followed him.

"Well; but, General, what must we do with the prisoner?"

"Do?" responded the General, "Do? Why, turn him loose. He is nothing but a
little constable."

Up to the moment Roberta heard the circular read, her sympathies were all
with Mr. Shanks, the poor man looked so terribly frightened. He had
started out with his circulars, not knowing the Confederates were within a
hundred miles; and he expected every moment to have a bullet put through
his brain, or be swung up to the nearest limb. When she heard the circular
read, the wind veered from another quarter altogether.

As the soldiers rode off, the released prisoner came swiftly towards
Squire and the children.

"I wish you would let me empty these drotted things under them 'taters an'
apples, thar," he said.

Roberta came forward before Squire could reply.

"No, indeed, you can't put those dreadful things in our wagon. No, indeed.
I heard what you said about my Uncle Charlie, just the dearest and best
man on this earth."

"I never said nothing about your Uncle Charlie," said Mr. Shanks,
recognizing the child.

"Well, you said it about General Morgan, and that's the same thing. My
Uncle Charlie is one of his captains, and I think General Morgan is the
bestest man that ever lived not to do something awful to you. If I was
you, I would turn over a new leaf, and stop writing bad things about
people, your neighbors, too; and the Bible says, 'Love your neighbors as
yourself.' Mamma read it to me last night."

Who was that dashing towards them in a cloud of dust? Dust whitening his
long, unkempt beard; whitening his brown, curly locks; belted all around
with pistols and knives; teeth glistening through his tawny mustache;
radiant, positively radiant with joy, as he leaped from his panting horse,
and fairly crushed the startled child in his arms? She screamed aloud in
nervous terro