inging mud
around their feet, with the dumb, stolid discontent characteristic of
seasoned veterans. When mules and horses went by they seemed poor and
shrunken. They drew their limbs and bodies together, as if to present
the least surface to the inclement showers, and their labored, toilsome
motion contrasted painfully with their strong, free movement on brighter
days. Everything and everybody in sight added something to increase
the dismalness of the view, and as Rachel continued to gaze upon it the
"horrors" took possession of her. She began to brood wretchedly over
her position as a spy inside the enemy's lines, and upon all the
consequences of that position.

It was late that night when Fortner came in. As he entered the two
expectant women saw, by the ruddy light of the fire, that his face was
set and his eyes flashing. He hung his dripping hat on a peg in the
chimney, and kicked the blazing logs with his wet boots until a flood
of meteor sparks flew up the throat of the fireplace. Turning, he said,
without waiting to be questioned:

"Well, the hunt's begun at last. Our folks came out'n Nashville this
morning in three big armies, marchin' on different roads, an they begun
slashin' at the Rebels wherever they could find 'em. Thar's been fouten
at Triune an' Lavergne, an' all along the line. They histed the Rebels
out'n ther holes everywhar, an' druv' em back on the jump. Wagon load
arter wagon load o' wounded's comin' back. I come in ahead of a long
train agwine ter the hospital. Hark! ye kin heah 'em now."

The women listened.

They heard the ceaseless patter and swish of the gloomy rain--the gusty
sighs of the wind through the shade-trees' naked branches--louder still
the rolling of heavy wheels over the rough streets; and all these were
torn and rent by the shrieks of men in agony.

"Poor fellows," said Rachel, "how they are suffering!"

"Think ruther," said Aunt Debby calmly, "of how they've made others
suffer. Hit's God's judgement on 'em."

Rachel turned to Fortner. "What will come next? Will this end it? Will
the Rebels fall back and leave this place?"

"Hardly. This's on'y like the fust slap in the face in a fight atween
two big savage men, who've locked horns ter see which is the best man.
Hit's on'y a sorter limberin' the jints fur the death rassel."

"Yes; and what next?"

"Well, Rosy's started fur this 'ere place, an' he's bound ter come
heah. Bragg's bound he sha'n't come heah, an' is gittin