little things;
for, after all, the flag still stands for what we ought to be--you and I
and those who misuse us, wittingly or otherwise.... Where are the
papers you took?"

He pressed his feverish face closer to her shoulder and fumbled at the
buttons of his jacket.

"Here?" she asked softly, aiding him with deft fingers; and in a moment
she had secured them.

For a while she held him there, cradling him; and his dry, burning face
seemed to scorch her shoulder.

Dawn was in the sky when she unclosed her eyes--a cool, gray dawn,
hinting of rain.

She looked down at the boy. His head lay across her lap; he slept,
motionless as the dead.

The sun rose, a pale spot on the gray horizon.

"Come," she said gently. And again, "Come; I want you to take me across
the ferry."

He rose and stood swaying on his feet, rubbing both eyes with briar-torn
fists.

"You will take me, won't you, Roy?"

"Where?"

"Back to your regiment."

"Yes--I'll take you."

For a few moments she was busy gathering up her spools and linen.

"You carry my saddlebags," she said, "and I'll take the kitten. Isn't it
cunning, Roy? Do look at the poor little thing! We can't leave it here."

Following, laden with her saddlebags, he stammered:

"Do--d-do you think they'll shoot me?"

"No," she said, smiling. "Be careful of the ferry steps; they are
dreadfully shaky."

She began the descent, clasping the kitten in both arms; the boy
followed. Seated in the punt, they stowed away the saddlebags and the
kitten, then he picked up the pole, looked at her, hesitated. She
waited.

"I guess the old man will have me shot.... But--I am going back," he
said, as though to himself.

She watched him; he looked up.

"You're right, ma'am. I must have been crazy. Everybody reads about
traitors--in school.... Nobody ever forgets their names.... I don't want
my name in school books."

"Like Benedict Arnold's," she said; and he quivered from head to foot.

"Oh, cricky!" he burst out, horrified; "how close I came to it! Have you
got those papers safe?"

"Yes, Roy."

"Then I'll go. I don't care what they do to me."

As he rose with the pole, far away in the woods across the river a
cavalry band began to play. Faint and clear the strains of the
Star-Spangled Banner rose from among the trees and floated over the
water; the boy stood spellbound, mouth open; then, as the far music died
away, he sank back into the boat, deathly pale.

"I--I ought to