.

Behind, at Appomattox, Chad was with Grant. He saw the surrender--saw
Lee look toward his army, when he came down the steps after he had
given up, saw him strike his hands together three times and ride
Traveller away through the profound and silent respect of his enemies
and the tearful worship of his own men. And Chad got permission
straightway to go back to Ohio, and he mustered out with his old
regiment, and he, too, started back through Virginia.

Meanwhile, Dan was drawing near the mountains. He was worn out when he
reached Abingdon. The wound in his shoulder was festering and he was in
a high fever. At the camp of Morgan's Men he found only a hospital
left--for General Hunt had gone southward--and a hospital was what he
most needed now. As he lay, unconscious with fever, next day, a giant
figure, lying near, turned his head and stared at the boy. It was Rebel
Jerry Dillon, helpless from a sabre cut and frightfully scarred by the
fearful wounds his brother, Yankee Jake, had given him. And thus,
Chadwick Buford, making for the Ohio, saw the two strange messmates, a
few days later, when he rode into the deserted rebel camp.

All was over. Red Mars had passed beyond the horizon and the white Star
of Peace already shone faintly on the ravaged South. The shattered
remnants of Morgan's cavalry, pall-bearers of the Lost Cause--had gone
South--bare-footed and in rags--to guard Jefferson Davis to safety, and
Chad's heart was wrung when he stepped into the little hospital they
had left behind--a space cleared into a thicket of rhododendron. There
was not a tent--there was little medicine--little food. The drizzling
rain dropped on the group of ragged sick men from the branches above
them. Nearly all were youthful, and the youngest was a mere boy, who
lay delirious with his head on the root of a tree. As Chad stood
looking, the boy opened his eyes and his mouth twitched with pain.

"Hello, you damned Yankee." Again his mouth twitched and again the old
dare-devil light that Chad knew so well kindled in his hazy eyes.

"I said," he repeated, distinctly, "Hello, you damned Yank. DAMNED Yank
I said." Chad beckoned to two men.

"Go bring a stretcher."

The men shook their heads with a grim smile--they had no stretcher.

The boy talked dreamily.

"Say, Yank, didn't we give you hell in--oh, well, in lots o' places.
But you've got me." The two soldiers were lifting him in their arms.
"Goin' to take me to prison? Goin' to