or the next hour, she strolled into the woods behind
the house. She had intended to go but a short distance, but, led on by
her own restlessness and the dull pain in her heart, she wandered
farther than she knew.

Jacob Redd's little farm was on the northern edge of the valley; its
fields and wood-lot ascended the side of the mountain. Anne, reaching
the end of the wood-lot, opened the gate, and went on up the hill. She
followed a little trail. The trees were larger than those through which
she had travelled on the opposite side of the valley; it was a wood, not
a thicket; the sunshine was hot, the green silent shade pleasant. She
went on, although now the trail was climbing upward steeply, and rocks
appeared. She had been ascending for half an hour, when she came
suddenly upon a narrow, deep ravine, crossing from left to right; the
trail turned and followed its edge; but as its depths looked cool and
inviting, and as she thought she heard the sound of a brook below, she
left the little path, and went downward into the glen. When she reached
the bottom she found herself beside a brook, flowing along over white
pebbles; it was not more than a foot wide, but full of life and
merriment, going no one knew whither, and in a great hurry about it. A
little brook is a fascinating object to persons unaccustomed to its
coaxing, vagrant witcheries. There were no brooks on the island, only
springs that trickled down from the cliffs into the lake in tiny silver
water-falls. Anne followed the brook. Absorbed in her own thoughts, and
naturally fearless, it did not occur to her that there might be danger
even in this quiet forest. She went round a curve, then round another,
when--what was that? She paused. Could he have seen her? Was he asleep?
Or--dead?

It was a common sight enough, a dead soldier in the uniform of the
United States infantry. He was young, and his face, turned toward her,
was as peaceful as if he was sleeping; there was almost a smile on his
cold lips. With beating heart she looked around. There were twisted
broken branches above on the steep side of the ravine; he had either
fallen over, or else had dragged himself down to be out of danger, or
perhaps to get water from the brook. The death-wound was in his breast;
she could see traces of blood. But he could not have been long dead. It
had been said that there was no danger in that neighborhood at present;
then what was this? Only one of the chances of war, and a co