that this was no transient
feeling. In the course of the evening Jim Fortner came back in, with
Kent Edwards and Abe Bolton. After they had all satisfied their hunger,
Fortner informed Harry and Aunt Debby that the enemy had fallen back to
London, from which point he was sending out wagons into the surrounding
country, to gather up food, forage, arms, clothing, ammunition, etc.,
with the double object of depriving the Union men of them, and adding
the same to the Rebel resources. A long train had also been sent out to
the Goose Creek Salt Works--twenty-five miles northeast of London--to
bring away a lot of salt stored there, of which the Rebels had even more
need than of food.

Fortner proposed to go out in the morning, and endeavor to capture
some of these wagons. It seemed altogether probably that a few might be
caught in such a position that their guards could be killed or driven
off.

All readily agreed to this plan, Aunt Debby leading off by volunteering
to ride ahead on her mare, as a scout.

Harry suddenly remembered that he was weaponless. "What shall I do for a
gun?" he asked, anxiously.

"I declar, I done forgot all 'bout gittin' ye a gun," said Fortner with
real concern. "My mind was disturbed by other things," he added with a
suspicion of a grin at Edwards and Bolton; but they were leaning back
in their chairs fast asleep. Apple jack, fatigue and a hearty supper
together made a narcotic too potent to resist.

Fortner rose, spread a few blankets on the floor, added a sack of bran
for a pillow, and with some difficulty induced the two sleepers to lie
down and take their slumbers in a more natural position.

"I'll find ye a gun," said Aunt Debby, as this operation was finished,
and walking to a farther corner of the room, she came back bearing in
her hand a rifle very similar to the one Fortner carried.

"Thar," she said, setting the delicately-curved brazen heel down upon
the hearth, and holding the muzzle at arm's length while she gazed at
the gun with the admiration one can not help feeling for a magnificent
weapon, "is ez true a rifle ez ever a man put to his shoulder. Ef I
didn't b'lave ye ter be ez true ez steel ye shouldn't tech hit, fur hit
b'longed ter the truest man in this livin' world."

"Hit wuz her husband's," explained Fortner, as her lips met firmly, as
if choking down bitter memories.

"I'm givin' hit ter ye ter use ez he'd a-used hit ef he war a-livin',"
she said, steadying her ton