stumble
on--not toward the haven of his own Confederate lines, but forward, to
where a baby waited--through a dancing mist of red.

And so the soldier made his poor apology, turning his head away to
avoid a dreaded look in Virgie's big, reproachful eyes; then he added
one more lashwelt to his shame:

"And now your poor old daddy is no more use to you. I come to my little
girl with empty hands--with an empty gun--and an empty heart!"

He said it bitterly, in the self-accusing sorrow of his soul; and his
courage, which had borne him through a hell of suffering, now broke; but
only when a helper of the helpless failed. He laid his outflung arms
across the table. He bowed his beaten head upon them and sobbed aloud,
with sobs that shook him to his heels.

It was then that Virgie came to him again, a little daughter of the
South, who, like a hundred thousand of her sisters, brought comfort in
the blackest hours.

One tiny, weak arm was slipped about his neck. One tiny brown hand, with
its berry-stained fingers, was run through his tangled hair, softly,
tenderly, even as she longed to soothe the weary head of General Lee.

"Don't cry, Daddy-man," she murmured in his ear; "it's all right. _I_
can eat the blackberries. They--they don't taste so _awful_ good when
you have 'em _all_ the time; but _I_ don't mind." She paused to kiss
him, then tried once more to buoy his hope and hers. "We'll have jus'
heaps of things when we get to Richmon'--jus' heaps--an' then--"

She stopped abruptly, lifting her head and listening, in the manner of a
sheep dog scenting danger from afar. Her father looked up sharply and
gripped her hands.

"Virgie! You hear--_what_?"

"Horses! Oh, a lot of 'em! On the big road!"

It was true, for down the breeze came the faintly echoed thud of many
hoofs and the clinking jingle of sabers against the riders' thighs.
Virgie turned back from the open door.

"Why--why, they've turned into _our_ road!" Her breath came fast, as she
sank her voice to a faint, awed whisper, "Daddy--do you reckon
it's--_Yankees_?"

"Yes," said her father, who had risen to his feet. "Morrison's cavalry!
They won't hurt _you_; but I'll have to get to the woods again! Good-by,
honey! Good-by!"

He kissed her hurriedly and started for the door, but shrank into the
shadow at sight of a blue-clothed watcher sharply outlined on the crest
of a distant rise. Escape was cut off, and the hunted soldier turned to
Virgie in his need