'n right in en
begin ter nibble in de patch er kebbage. All dis time I 'uz 'lowin' dat de
sodger wuz stone dead, but w'en I took 'im down he opened his eyes en axed
fur water. Den I gun 'im a drink outer de goa'd en laid 'im flat on my bed,
en in a little w'ile a nigger come by dat sez he b'longed ter 'im, but
befo' day de nigger gone agin en de hoss he gone, too."

"Well, we'll see about him, uncle, go ahead," said Dan, and as the old
negro went up the path among the trees, he followed closely on his
footsteps. When they had gone a little way the woods opened suddenly and
they came upon a small log cabin, with a yellow dog lying before the door.
The dog barked shrilly as they approached, and a voice from the dim room
beyond called out:--

"Hosea! Are you back so soon, Hosea?"

At the words Dan stopped as if struck by lightning, midway of the vegetable
garden; then breaking from Big Abel, he ran forward and into the little
cabin.

"Is the hurt bad, Governor?" he asked in a trembling voice.

The Governor smiled and held out a steady hand above the ragged patchwork
quilt. His neat gray coat lay over him and as Dan caught the glitter and
the collar he remembered the promotion after Seven Pines.

"Let me help you, General," he implored. "What is it that we can do?"

"I have come to the end, my boy," replied the Governor, his rich voice
unshaken. "I have seen men struck like this before and I have lived twelve
hours longer than the strongest of them. When I could go no farther I sent
Hosea ahead to make things ready--and now I am keeping alive to hear from
home. Give me water."

Dan held the glass to his lips, and looking up, the Governor thanked him
with his old warm glance that was so like Betty's. "There are some things
that are worth fighting for," said the older man as he fell back, "and the
sight of home is one of them. It was a hard ride, but every stab of pain
carried me nearer to Uplands--and there are poor fellows who endure worse
things and yet die in a strange land among strangers." He was silent a
moment and then spoke slowly, smiling a little sadly.

"My memory has failed me," he said, "and when I lay here last night and
tried to recall the look of the lawn at home, I couldn't remember--I
couldn't remember. Are there elms or maples at the front, Dan?"

"Maples, sir," replied Dan, with the deference of a boy. "The long walk
bordered by lilacs goes up from the road to the portico with the Doric
columns