He
tapped the newspaper as he spoke.

"I should think it would not," replied Winthrop with an ironical laugh.
"At least, it was not intended that way. But does our Government expect
to make itself an oligarchy or despotism? If that is so, I should like
to know what we are fighting for?"

Mr. Sefton left these questions unanswered, but continued to express
sorrow over the incident. He did not mean to interfere, he said; he had
come with the best purpose in the world. He thought that at this stage
of the war all influences ought to combine for the public good, and
also he did not wish his young friends to suffer any personal
inconvenience. Then bowing, he went out, but he took with him a copy of
the paper.

"That visit, Winthrop, was meant for a threat, and nothing else," said
Raymond, when he was sure the Secretary was safely in the street.

"No doubt of it," said Winthrop, "but I don't take back a word."

They speculated on the result, until General Wood, putting up his knife
and throwing down his pine stick, drew an old pack of cards from an
inside pocket of his coat.

"Let's play poker a little while," he said. "It'll make us think of
somethin' else and steady our nerves. Besides, it's mighty good trainin'
for a soldier. Poker's just like war--half the cards you've got, an'
half bluff. Lee and Jackson are such mighty good gen'rals 'cause they
always make the other fellow think they've got twice as many soldiers as
they really have."

Raymond, an inveterate gambler, at once acceded to the proposition;
Winthrop and one of the soldiers did likewise, and they sat down to
play. The others looked on.

"Shall we make the limit ten cents in coin or ten dollars Confederate
money?" asked Winthrop.

"Better make it ten dollars Confederate; we don't want to risk too
much," replied Raymond.

Soon they were deep in the mysteries and fascinations of the game. Wood
proved himself a consummate player, a master of "raise" and "bluff," but
for awhile the luck ran against him, and he made this brief comment:

"Things always run in streaks; don't matter whether it's politics, love,
farmin' or war. They don't travel alone. At Antietam nearly half the
Yankee soldiers we killed were red-headed. Fact, sure; but at
Chancellorsville I never saw a single dead Yankee with a red head."

The luck turned by and by toward the General, but Prescott thought it
was time for him to be seeking home and he bade good-night. Colonel
Stormont