the old negro worked.
With the half-forgotten sound, Dan returned as if in a vision to his last
night at Chericoke, when he had run off in his boyish folly, with free
Levi's hammer beating in his ears. Then he had dreamed of coming back
again, but not like this. He had meant to ride proudly up the turnpike,
with his easily won honours on his head, and in his hands his magnanimous
forgiveness for all who had done him wrong. On that day he had pictured the
Governor hurrying to the turnpike as he passed, and he had seen his
grandfather, shy of apologies, eager to make amends.

That was his dream, and to-day he came back footsore, penniless, and in a
dead man's clothes--a beggar as he had been at his first home-coming, when
he had stood panting on the threshold and clutched his little bundle in his
arms.

Yet his pulses stirred, and he turned cheerfully to the negro at his side.

"Do you see it, Big Abel? Tell me when you see it."

"Dar's de cattle pastur'," cried Big Abel, "en dey's been a-fittin'
dar--des look."

"It must have been a skirmish," replied Dan, glancing down the slope. "The
wall is all down, and see here," his foot struck on something hard and he
stooped and picked up a horse's skull. "I dare say a squad of cavalry met
Mosby's rangers," he added. "It looks as if they'd had a little frolic."

He threw the skull into the pasture, and followed Big Abel, who was
hurrying along the road.

"We're moughty near dar," cried the negro, breaking into a run. "Des wait
twel we pass de aspens, Marse Dan, des wait twel we pass de aspens, den
we'll be right dar, suh."

Then, as Dan reached him, the aspens were passed, and where Chericoke had
stood they found a heap of ashes.

At their feet lay the relics of a hot skirmish, and the old elms were
perforated with rifle balls, but for these things Dan had neither eyes nor
thoughts. He was standing before the place that he called home, and where
the hospitable doors had opened he found only a cold mound of charred and
crumbled bricks.

For an instant the scene went black before his eyes, and as he staggered
forward, Big Abel caught his arm.

"I'se hyer, Marse Dan, I'se hyer," groaned the negro in his ear.

"But the others? Where are the others?" asked Dan, coming to himself. "Hold
me, Big Abel, I'm an utter fool. O Congo! Is that Congo?"

A negro, coming with his hoe from the corn field, ran over the desolated
lawn, and began shouting hoarsely to the hands behind