th, or the
preparation for death--every road and footpath crammed with it, every
field trampled by it, every woodland shattered by it, every stream
running thick with its pollution. The sour smell of marching men, the
stale taint of unclean fires, the stench of beasts--the acrid,
indescribable odor that hangs on the sweating flanks of armies seemed to
infect sky and earth.

A trooper, munching an apple and carrying a truss of hay, passed, cap
cocked rakishly, sabre banging at his heels; and she called to him and
he came up, easily respectful under the grin of bodily well being.

"How long have you served in this regiment?" she asked.

He swallowed the bite of apple which crowded out his freckled cheeks:
"Three years, sir."

[Illustration: "'We was there--I know that, yes, an' we had a fight.'"]

She drew involuntarily nearer the tent door.

"Then--you were at Sandy River--three years ago?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do you remember the battle there?"

The soldier looked doubtful. "We was there--I know that; yes, an' we had
a fight----"

"Yes--near a big white house."

The soldier nodded. "I guess so; I don't seem to place no big white
house----"

She asked calmly: "Your regiment had a mounted band once?"

He brightened.

"Yes, sir-ee! They played us in at Sandy River--and they got into it,
too, and was cut all to pieces!"

She motioned assent wearily; then, with an effort: "You don't know,
perhaps, where he--where their bandmaster was buried?"

"Sir?"

"The bandmaster of the Fourth Missouri? You remember him--that tall,
thin young officer who led them with his sabre--who sat his horse like a
colonel of regulars--and wore a cap of fur like--like a hussar of some
militia State guard----"

"Well, you must mean Captain Stanley, who was at that time bandmaster of
our regiment. He went in that day at Sandy River when our mounted band
was cut to pieces. Orders was to play us in, an' he done it."

There was a silence.

"Where is he--buried?" she asked calmly.

"Buried? Why, _he_ ain't dead, is he?"

"He died at Sandy River--that day," she said gently. "Don't you
remember?"

"No, sir; our bandmaster wasn't killed at Sandy River."

She looked at him amazed, almost frightened.

"What do you mean? He is dead. I--saw him die."

"It must have been some other bandmaster--not Captain Stanley."

"I saw the bandmaster of your regiment, the Fourth Missouri Cavalry,
brought into that big white house and laid on my-