it, debating what she could do. She was rejoiced to
meet her teamster returning. He had viewed the occurence from a prudent
distance, and being kindly-natured had decided to return to her help, as
soon as it could be done without risk.

He told her that there was a wagon up the pike a little ways with a
woman in it, to which he would conduct her, and they would go back to
the army in front of Murfreesboro.

"It seems a case of 'twixt the devil and the deep sea," he said,
despairingly. "At any rate we can't stay out here, and my experience is
that it is always safest where there is the biggest crowd."

They found the wagon with the woman in it. Its driver had bolted
irrevocably, so Rachel's friend assumed the reins. It was slow work
making their way back through the confused mass, but Rachel was lucky
enough to sleep through most of it. When she awoke the next morning the
wagon was still on the pike, but in the center of the army, which filled
all the open space round-about.

Everywhere were evidences of the terrible work of the day before, and
of preparations for renewing it. The soldiers, utterly exhausted by
the previous days' frightful strain, lay around on the naked ground,
sleeping, or in a half-waking torpor.

An officer rode up to the wagon. "There seems to be some flour on this
wagon," said the voice of Dr. Denslow. "Well, that may stay the boys'
stomachs until we can get something better. Go on a little ways,
driver."

"O, Doctor Denslow," called out Rachel, as the wagon stopped again,
"what is the news?"

"You here again?" said the Doctor, recognizing the voice: "well that
is good news. When I heard about Wheeler's raid on our trains I was
terribly alarmed as to your fate. This relieves me much."

"But how about the army?"

"Well it seems to have been a case of hammer and anvil yesterday, in
which both suffered pretty badly, but the hammer go much the worst of
it. We are in good shape now to give them some more, if they want it,
which so far they have not indicated very strongly. Here, Sergeant
Glen, is a couple barrels of flour, which you can take to issue to your
regiment."

Had not the name been called Rachel could never have recognized her
former elegant lover in the stalwart man with tattered uniform, swollen
face, and head wrapped in a bloody bandage, who came to the wagon with a
squad to receive the flour.

A tumult of emotions swept over her, but superior to them all was the
feminine fe