"I fell in with a young Confederate captain whose name was Paul,"
explained Deck, sadly. "He said he had a sister Rosebel living in
Chattanooga. He had quarrelled with that sister, and in anger had hidden
some money away so that she could not get it."

"It was Paul!" cried Rosebel Greene, for such was her full name. "Oh,
tell me about him, and how he came to tell you this. Is he well?"

The young major looked at her, then turned his face away.

"I am very sorry for you, Miss Rosebel, very sorry. He fought as only a
true soldier can fight--to the end."

"He is dead!" came with a moan. "Paul is dead, Aunt Clarissa! Oh, what
shall I do now?" And the girl sank into the elderly lady's arms.

It was a trying moment for Deck, especially so as he could do nothing,
in his present position, to aid the young lady. He waited and saw both
females leave the window. A minute after the front door was opened by
the elderly lady, and he was asked to enter.

"I hope you are not fooling my niece," she said. "What is your name?"

"A man would not be human to fool upon such a heartrending subject,"
answered Deck. "I am Major Dexter Lyon, of the Kentucky cavalry. May I
ask that young lady's name?"

"Rosebel Greene. I am Miss Clarissa Pomeroy, her aunt. Rosebel used to
live in Chattanooga, but when Paul went to the war and took all their
money with him, she came to live here with me."

"Paul did not take the money with him, Miss Pomeroy. He left it behind
him, in hiding. I was with him when he died, and I promised to find his
sister, if possible, and tell her where the money was secreted."

The two entered the little sitting room of the farmhouse, where Rosebel
had sank down in a rocking-chair, crying silently. In a broken voice she
asked to be told about Paul, and sitting beside her, Deck gave her the
particulars just as they had occurred, and told where the money was to
be found. The recital brought tears to Deck's eyes, also, which he
hastily brushed away, and Miss Pomeroy was likewise visibly affected.

"I am glad to know Paul wasn't so bad as to run off with the money," the
elderly lady observed, after a vigorous use of her handkerchief. "The
house in Chattanooga is shut up now, but even if it wasn't, it isn't
likely anybody would hunt down in the cellar for that money."

"I would rather have Paul back!" moaned Rosebel Greene. "Oh, Paul, Paul,
how much I shall miss you!" And unable to restrain her emotions, she
rushed from the