hills. While she was still wistfully gazing, a soldier on horseback rode
up to the door and dismounted; it was a messenger from Number Two,
urgently asking for help.

"Under the circumstances, I do not see how I can refuse," said the
surgeon of Number One, with some annoyance in his tone, "because none of
my men are wounded. People never stop to think that fever is equally
dangerous. I was just congratulating myself upon a little satisfactory
work. However, I shall have to yield, I suppose. I can not send you all;
but I ought to spare two, at least for some days. Mary Crane of course
can do the most good; and as Miss Douglas can not be left here alone,
perhaps it would be best that she should go with Mary."

"You retain Mrs. Barstow here?" asked Anne.

"Yes; I have, indeed, no choice. _You_ are too young to be retained
alone. I suppose you are willing? (Women always are wild for a change!)
Make ready, then; I shall send you forward to-night." The surgeon of
Number One was a cynic.

At nine o'clock they started. The crescent of a young moon showed itself
through the light clouds, which, low as mist, hung over the valley.
Nothing stirred; each leaf hung motionless from its branchlet as they
passed. Even the penetrating sing-song chant of the summer insects was
hushed, and the smooth river as they followed its windings made no
murmur. They were in a light wagon, with an escort of two mounted men.

"If you go beyond Number Two, you'll have to take to horseback, I
reckon," said their driver, a countryman, who, without partisan feeling
as to the two sides of the contest, held on with a tight grip to his
horses, and impartially "did teaming" for both.

"Is there still another hospital beyond?" inquired Anne.

"Yes, there's Peterson's, a sorter hospital; it's up in the mountains.
And heaps of sick fellers there too, the last time I was up."

"It does not belong to this department," said Mary Crane.

"I reckon they suffer pooty much the same, no matter where they belong,"
replied the driver, flicking the wheel reflectively with his whip-lash.
"There was a feller up at Number Two the other day as hadn't any face
left to speak of; yet he was alive, and quite peart."

Anne shuddered.

"There now, hold up, won't you?" said Mary Crane. "This young lady ain't
a real nurse, as I am, and such stories make her feel faint."

"If she ain't a real nurse, what made her come?" said the man, glancing
at Anne with dull curiosity.