iah was eager to question some one and was aware of the value of
tobacco as a social solvent. He said, "I've got some baccy, corporal."

The men in front of him turned. "For sale--how much?"

"No," said Josiah. "My pouch is full. Help yourselves."

This liberal contribution was warmly appreciated, and the private, who
was the son of a New York banker, interested in the black man, asked,
"What are you doing in this big circus?" It was the opening for which
Josiah waited.

"Looking for an engineer-captain."

The corporal said, "Well, like enough he'll be at the bridge of the North
Anna--but the engineers are here, there and anywhere. What is his name?"

"Thank you, sir. My master is Captain Penhallow."

"Well, good luck to you."

"Take another pipe load," returned Josiah, grateful for the unusual
interest.

"Thank you," said the private, "with pleasure. Tobacco is as scarce as
hen's teeth."

"That's so. Who's that officer on the big horse? He's a rider whoever he
is."

"That's the ring-master of this show," laughed the private.

"Not General Grant!"

"Yes." Josiah considered him with interest.

There was of a sudden some disturbance about the larger of the more
remote cabins; a soldier ran out followed by a screaming young woman.
Her wild cries attracted attention to the man, who was at once caught
and held while he vainly protested. The men about Josiah sat up or got
on their feet. The young woman ran here and there among the groups of
soldiers like one distracted. At last, near the larger house at the
roadside she fell on her knees and rocked backwards and forwards sobbing.
Josiah at a distance saw only that a soldier had been caught trying to
escape notice as a young woman followed him out of the house. It was too
well understood by the angry men who crowded around the captive.

The general said to his staff, "Wait here, gentlemen." He rode through
the crowd of soldiers, saying, "Keep back, my men; keep away--all of
you." Then he dismounted and walked to where the girl--she was hardly
more--still knelt wailing and beating the air with uplifted hands. "Stand
up, my good girl, and tell me what is wrong."

The voice was low and of a certain gentleness, rarely rising even in
moments of peril. She stood up, "I can't--I can't--let me go--I want to
die!"

The figure, still slight of build in those days, bent over her pitiful.
"I am General Grant. Look up at me. There shall be justice done, but I
must kno