t shoulder.
"Is it true that Jeems Henry ran away this morning?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I knew the poor boy meant to leave us sooner or
later, so I made no effort to detain him."

"You did right," was the answer. "But which way did he go?"

"Up the river. To a Union camp on the Chickahominy."

"Chickahominy!" exclaimed Cary sharply, and bit his lips. "So that's the
lay of the land, eh! I'm mighty glad you told me this. But still--"
Cary's voice faded away under the weight of a sudden despair. What was
the use of fighting forever against such fearful odds? What could they
ever gain--save a little more honor--and at what dreadful cost?

"What makes you look so worried, Herbert?" his wife murmured, her nerves
on edge again.

"Yes, it's true," the man said with a groan. "They're gradually closing
in on us--surrounding Richmond."

"_Surrounding us?_" Mrs. Cary whispered, hardly believing her ears.

"Yes, it's true--all too true," the man burst out bitterly. "We can
fight against thousands--and against tens of thousands but, darling, we
can't fight half the world."

He sank down on the bench, one elbow on his crossed knee, the other arm
hanging listlessly by his side. His face grew lined and haggard. All the
spirit, the indomitable courage of a moment ago had fled before the
revelation that, try as they might, they could never conquer in this
terribly unequal fight. Then he threw out his hand and began to speak,
half to her and half to the unseen armies of his fellows.

"Our armies are exhausted. Dwindling day by day. We are drawing from the
cradle and the grave. Old men--who can scarcely bear the weight of a
musket on their shoulders: and boys--mere children--who are sacrificed
under the blood-stained wheels. The best! The flower of our land! We
are dumping them all into a big, red hopper. Feed! Feed! Always more
feed for this greedy machine of war!"

Silently wife and daughter came to the man in his despair, as if to ward
off some dark shape which hovered over him with brushing wings. Their
arms went around him together.

"There, there, dear," he heard a soft voice whisper, "don't grow
despondent. _Think!_ Even though you've fought a losing fight it has
been a glorious one--and God will not forget the Stars and Bars!
Remember,--you still have us--who love you to the end--and fight your
battles--on our knees."

Slowly the man looked up.

"Forgive me, honey," he murmured remorsefully. "You are right--and
brave