e
tireless Sheridan, with that lately developed arm of the Federals, the
cavalry, raided right and left and struck hard blows at the crumbling
cause where they were least expected. Yet in this same dark hour there
had been a ray of light. Once the Confederacy had come within
hairbreadth of overwhelming success, for Early's hard riding troopers
had made a dash for Washington but a few weeks before and, with the
prize almost in their grasp, had only been turned back by a great force
which the grim, watchful Grant suddenly threw in between their guns and
the gleaming dome of the nation's capitol.

But even this small success was not for long for when Early, crossing
over into the luscious valley of the Shenandoah, began to scourge it
with his hosts and threaten a raid into Pennsylvania, Sheridan broke
loose from the restriction of telegraph wires and followed him to the
death and finally broke the back of the great raid with his mad gallop
from Winchester.

Meanwhile around Richmond, Lee and Grant, a circle within a circle, were
constantly feeling each other out, shifting their troops from point to
point in attack and defense,--for all the world like two fighting dogs
hunting for an opening in the fence. And all the time the grim, quiet
man in blue kept contracting his lines around the wonderful tactician in
gray until the whole world came to know that unless Lee could break
through the gap to the southwest the end of the war was plainly in
sight.

And so it happened that on this hot July day the only sign of life on
the 'pike was a small cloud of dust which drifted lazily in the wake of
two people who passed along the road on foot.

One of the two was a tired, gaunt man in a ragged uniform of gray who
stared up the long, hot road ahead of him with eyes in which there was,
in spite of every discouragement the light of a certain firm resolve.

The other of the two was a child with bare, brown legs and tattered
gingham dress who limped painfully along beside the man, her sunny hair
in a tangle half across her pinched and weary little face.

At a faint sigh of exhaustion from the child the man looked down,
gathered her up in his arms and perched her on his shoulder. Then he
plodded on again, a prey to weariness and hunger. The turning point in
Herbert Cary's life had come. Thanks to a generous enemy; Virgie and he
were now reasonably sure of food if once they could reach the
Confederate lines but as for himself, with t