r, but as Lee turned away he said that his men had eaten no food
for several days, except parched corn, and he would have to ask that
rations, and forage for their horses, be given to them.

"Certainly, general," replied Grant. "For how many men do you need them?"

"About twenty-five thousand," was Lee's reply.

Then General Grant requested him to send his own officers to Appomattox
Station for the food and forage. Lee thanked him. They bowed to each
other again, and the Southern leader who no longer had an army, but who
retained always the love and veneration of the South, left the McLean
house. Thus and in this simple fashion--the small detached fighting
elsewhere did not count--did the great civil war in America, which had
cost six or seven hundred thousand lives, and the temporary ruin of one
section, come to an end.

Dick saw Lee come out of the house, mount Traveler and, followed by
Colonel Marshall, ride back toward his own men who already had divined
the occurrences in the house. The army saluted him with undivided
affection, the troops crowding around him, cheering him, and, whenever
they had a chance, shaking his hand. The demonstration became so great
that Lee was moved deeply and showed it. The water rose in his eyes and
his voice trembled as he said, though with pride:

"My lads, we have fought through the war together. I have done the best
I could for you. My heart is too full to say more."

He could not be induced to speak further, although the great
demonstration continued, but rode in silence to his headquarters in a
wood, where he entered his tent and sat alone, no one ever knowing what
his thoughts were in that hour.

Twenty-six thousand men who were left of the Army of Northern Virginia
surrendered the next day, and the blue and the gray fraternized. The
Union soldiers did not wait for the rations ordered by Grant, but gave
of their own to the starved men who were so lately their foes. Dick and
his friends hastened at once to find Harry Kenton and his comrades, and
presently they saw them all sitting together on a log, thin and pale,
but with no abatement of pride. Harry rose nevertheless, and received
his cousin joyfully.

"Dick," he said as their hands met, "the war is over, and over forever.
But you and I were never enemies."

"That's so, Harry," said Dick Mason, "and the thing for us to do now is
to go back to Kentucky, and begin life where we left it off."

"But you don't