now yo', sah."

"I suppose I am changed, Ben. Is my aunt at home?"

"Yes, sah."

"Good. I want very much to see her."

Old Ben shook his head dubiously.

"Massah Harry, yo' aint gwine an' joined de Yanks, hab yo'?" he
questioned.

"Yes, Ben; I am fighting for the old flag."

"Yo' aunt an' Miss Marion will be wery sorry to heah dat, sah."

"I presume so. But that cannot be helped. I did as my heart dictated,
Ben. I want to see all colored folks free, as you are."

"Dat would be wery nice certainly, sah, but--but----"

"It was too bad we had to fight, you mean." Harry Powell looked up. "Who
is that coming?"

"Dat am Massah Jack, sah?"

"Oh! Why, when I was here before he was nothing but a little shaver."
The young surgeon raised his voice. "Hullo, Jack! come here."

Wondering who it was who was calling him so familiarly, Jack came
forward. He started back upon seeing Harry Powell, and in a Federal
uniform.

"You!" he cried.

"Yes, Jack. Come, won't you shake hands with me?" and the young surgeon
smiled good-naturedly.

"Well--that is--I don't like to shake hands with a--a Yankee," stammered
Jack.

"Oh, so you object to my uniform?"

"I do, Harry. Why did you join the Yankees?"

"Because I thought it best. If you won't shake hands with me as a
Yankee, won't you shake hands as a cousin?"

At this our hero's face relaxed, for he had always liked Harry Powell
immensely.

"Yes, I'll do that," he said, and they shook hands warmly.

"And how is your mother these days, Jack?"

"Quite well, but a good deal alarmed."

"She need not be alarmed because of us, Jack. Is that not so, Colonel
Stanton?"

The colonel bowed. His manner was so pleasant that Jack felt more drawn
to him than ever.

"You are kind," he said. "I thought all Yankees were brutes."

"They are far from that, Jack. But I was going to ask, can I see my
aunt?"

"I suppose so. But she'll be hurt to see you in that uniform."

"Never mind, I'll risk that," rejoined Harry Powell.

Old Ben continued on his way, and Jack and the others walked toward the
Ruthven plantation. Then our hero ran ahead, to tell Mrs. Ruthven of the
visitors.

"A fine, manly young fellow, Powell," remarked Colonel Stanton, when he
and the young surgeon were left alone.

"Yes, he has turned out a first-rate lad, colonel."

"I presume, were he older, he would be at the head of a regular
Confederate command, instead of being at the head of this boyish Home