ard an old
home.

"And here is where he fell," said Alf. "I am tempted to get down and
pray. Bill, you don't know what it is to be freed from the conviction
that you have killed a man. He might not have died then if it had not
been for me, but, thank God, I didn't kill him. Yes, here is where I
eased him down. I remembered afterward that I had not seen a drop of his
blood and I was deeply thankful for it. We can almost see the General's
house from here. You saw the old man to-day when he came up and shook
hands with me. He hardly knew what he was about, and he said, 'Alf,
what's your father doing?' But his eyes were full of tears and he had to
wipe them when I told him that I was going to buy the old Morton place.
He thinks you are a great man, Bill, and I honor him for it. To-night we
will sleep in our room and early to-morrow morning I'm going over to see
Millie. Do you think I ought to go to-night? No, I will wait and dream
over it."

In the old room we sat and peacefully smoked our pipes. And after I had
gone to bed, and when I thought Alf was asleep, I heard him talking to
himself. No, it was not talk, it was a chant, and it reminded me of his
mother. I said nothing and I sank to sleep, and strange, mystic words
were in my ears, soothing me down to forgetful slumber.

We were aroused early at morning by the rattle of a wagon at the door.
The old people--Guinea had come back. Alf dressed quickly and ran down
stairs, and I stuffed my ears that I might hear no sound from below.
After a long time, and while I sat looking out of the window, the old
man came up.

"By jings, I must have got that dispatch of yourn before you sent it.
Mighty glad to see you again. But don't go down stairs yet. Everybody
down there is as foolish as a chicken with his neck wrung. I tell you
the Lord works things out in his own way. Sometimes we may think that we
could run things better, but I don't believe we could! and, thurfore, I
say, kiver to kiver. Ah, Lord, what a time we have had. Yes, sir, a time
if there ever was one. Alf has jest told me what you intend to do, but
if you think that you are goin' to crowd a lot of money off on me you
are wrong. Give us this old house and see that we don't need
nothin'--but, of course, you'll do that. I thought I'd let 'em fight to
a finish up yander, but I didn't. They looked at me so pitiful that I
called an old feller that happened to be passin' along and told him
that he might have 'em. I've