Going into the regular army?"

"No," said Chad, decisively. About his own future Dan volunteered
nothing--he only turned his head quickly to the passing woods, as
though in fear that Chad might ask some similar question, but Chad was
silent. And thus they glided between high cliffs and down into the
lowlands until at last, through a little gorge between two swelling
river hills, Dan's eye caught sight of an orchard, a leafy woodland,
and a pasture of bluegrass. With a cry he raised himself on one elbow.

"Home! I tell you, Chad, we're getting home!" He closed his eyes and
drew the sweet air in as though he were drinking it down like wine. His
eyes were sparkling when he opened them again and there was a new color
in his face. On they drifted until, toward noon, the black column of
smoke that meant the capital loomed against the horizon. There Mrs.
Dean was waiting for them, and Chad turned his face aside when the
mother took her son in her arms. With a sad smile she held out her hand
to Chad.

"You must come home with us," Mrs. Dean said, with quiet decision.

"Where is Margaret, mother?" Chad almost trembled when he heard the
name.

"Margaret couldn't come. She is not very well and she is taking care of
Harry."

The very station had tragic memories to Chad. There was the long hill
which he had twice climbed--once on a lame foot and once on flying
Dixie--past the armory and the graveyard. He had seen enough dead since
he peered through those iron gates to fill a dozen graveyards the like
in size. Going up in the train, he could see the barn where he had
slept in the hayloft the first time he came to the Bluegrass, and the
creek-bridge where Major Buford had taken him into his carriage. Major
Buford was dead. He had almost died in prison, Mrs. Dean said, and Chad
choked and could say nothing. Once, Dan began a series of eager
questions about the house and farm, and the servants and the neighbors,
but his mother's answers were hesitant and he stopped short. She, too,
asked but few questions, and the three were quiet while the train
rolled on with little more speed than Chad and Dixie had made on that
long ago night-ride to save Dan and Rebel Jerry. About that ride Chad
had kept Harry's lips and his own closed, for he wished no such appeal
as that to go to Margaret Dean. Margaret was not at the station in
Lexington. She was not well Rufus said; so Chad would not go with them
that night, but would come out next day