never once lifted his face during the recital, but the rest
listened with keen interest.

"The fellow richly deserves lynching," was the unanimous verdict, "but, as
you say, is already suffering a far worse fate."

"And yet no worse than that of thousands of innocent men," remarked Jones
bitterly. "Where's the justice of it?"

"Do you expect even-handed justice here?" inquired another.

"Perhaps he may be no worse in the sight of God, than some of the rest of
us," said Harold, in low, grave tones; "we do not know what evil
influences may have surrounded him from his very birth, or whether,
exposed to the same, we would have turned out any better."

"I'm perishing with thirst," said Jones, "and must try pushing through
that crowd about the spring."

He wandered off and the group scattered, leaving Harold and Duncan alone
together.

The two had a long talk: of home, common friends and acquaintance; of the
war, what this or that Federal force was probably now attempting; what
future movements were likely to be made, and how the contest would end;
neither doubting the final triumph of the government.

"And that triumph can't be very far off either," concluded Harry. "I think
the struggle will be over before this time next year, and I hope you and I
may have a hand in the winding up."

"Perhaps you may," Allison rejoined a little sadly; "but I, I fear, have
struck my last blow for my native land."

"You are not strong now, but good nursing may do wonders for you,"
answered Harry cheerily. "Once within the Union lines, and you will feel
like another man."

"Ah, but how to get me there? that's the tug of war," said Harold, but
with a smile and in tones more hopeful than his words. "Duncan, you are a
Christian?"

"Yes, Allison; Jesus Christ is the Captain of my salvation; in whom I
trust, and in whose service I desire to live and die."

"Then are we brothers indeed!" and with the words their right hands joined
in a more cordial grasp than before.

The sun was nearing the western horizon when at length Harold was left
alone. He bowed his head upon his knees in thought and prayer, remaining
thus for many minutes, striving for a spirit of forgiveness and compassion
towards the coward wretch who would have slain one dearer to him than
life.

At last, as the shadows of evening were gathering over the place, he
lifted a pale, patient face; and rising, made his way slowly and with
difficulty towards the spot where J