LIBRARY 
 
 JHIV6RS ol 
 SAN DIEGO
 
 1822 01070 1522 
 
 PS
 
 ask you just one thing for Virgie"
 
 THE 
 LITTLEST EEBEL 
 
 BY 
 
 EDWARD PEPLE 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A PAIR OF^SIXES, ' ' "THE 
 PRINCE CHAP," ETC., ETC. 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH SCENES 
 FEOM THE PHOTO-DRAMA 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP 
 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 Copyright, 1914, by 
 MOFFAT. YARD AND COMPANY 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 All rights retermd
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 THE play, from which this book is written, was 
 in no sense of the word intended as a war 
 drama; for war is merely its background, and 
 always in the center stands a lonely little child. 
 
 War is its theme but not its purpose. War 
 breeds hatred, horror, pestilence and famine, 
 yet from its tears and ashes eventually must 
 rise the clean white spirit of HUMANITY. 
 
 The enmity between North and South is 
 dead; it sleeps with the fathers and the sons, 
 the brothers and the lovers, who died in a cause 
 which each believed was just. 
 
 Therefore this story deals, not with the right 
 or wrong of a lost confederacy, but with the 
 mercy and generosity, the chivalry and human- 
 ity which lived in the hearts of the Blue and 
 Gray, a noble contrast to the grim brutality of 
 war. 
 
 
 
 The author is indebted to Mr. E. S. Moffat,
 
 FOREWORD 
 
 who has novelized the play directly from its 
 text, with the exception of that portion which 
 appeared as a short story under the same title 
 several years ago, treating of Virgie in the 
 overseer's cabin, and the endorsing of her pass 
 by Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison. 
 
 EDWARD PEPLE.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 Tara-tara! 
 
 From far in the distance a faint fanfare of 
 trumpets, borne on brazen wings through the 
 clamor of the city's streets. 
 
 Tara-tara! 
 
 "What's that a bugle?" 
 
 R-r-r-r-rum-dum! 
 
 "And that a drum?" 
 
 Tramp tramp tramp the rolling thun- 
 der of ten thousand feet. 
 
 "Can it really be? Has the die been cast? 
 Has the great day come at last?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, Mother! Can't you hear them?" 
 
 Hear them? Can the mother's anguished 
 ears hear anything else but that terrible, roll- 
 ing drum, those dreadful feet? And can those 
 soft old lips so suddenly grown pale do less 
 than cry out her woman's protest against the 
 coming sacrifice?
 
 2 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Yes! For her proud head rises and she 
 dashes away the starting tears. Caught in 
 the dreadful net of circumstance, it is not for 
 her to be less brave than the bravest. Other 
 women will give of their earthly possessions 
 she, then, will give her first and best of 
 all. 
 
 "Run, children, run! Daughters throw 
 wide your windows! Crowd your balconies! 
 Rush out into the street! Shout! Laugh! 
 Wave your handkerchief ! Now, everybody 
 Hip hip hurrah! Here come the soldiers! 
 War has been declared!" 
 
 From curb to curb the marching lines fill up 
 the street a sea of men whose flashing bayo- 
 nets glisten and glitter in the morning' light. 
 With steady step and even rank, with thrill of 
 brass lunged band and screaming fife the regi- 
 ments sweep by in front, the officers on their 
 dancing steeds behind them, line after line of 
 youthful faces, chins in, chests out, the light of 
 victory already shining in their eyes. 
 
 "There's Dick! There's John! There's 
 Harry! Quick, Mother, quick! and wave 
 your hand! First rank, fourth man. There!
 
 See him laugh and nod his handsome head! 
 Your own brave Charlie boy, your only son 
 marching with his regiment to war. Oh! 
 Isn't it splendid, Mother! Isn't it splendid 
 that now we can fight and win and prove for- 
 ever that our cause is just!" 
 
 In just this way the Nation's sons went 
 forth to fight in those first brave days of '61. 
 Just so they marched out, defiant, from South 
 and North alike with bright pennons snap- 
 ping in the breeze and bugles blowing gayly 
 and never a thought in any man's mind but 
 that his side would win and his own life be 
 spared. For when men boldly resolve on war 
 the voices of the few who count the cost are as 
 only a murmur beside the rumble of the hosts 
 who do their fighting first and their thinking 
 afterwards. 
 
 The cost! Aye, for there is always a reck- 
 oning to pay. Alwaj^s one contender driven 
 to the wall, his cities turned to ashes, his lands 
 laid waste. Always one depleted side which 
 musters callow youth and tottering gray- 
 beard in one last desperate stand in the sight 
 of their blackened homes and outraged fields
 
 4 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 and fights on through ever darkening days 
 until the inevitable end is come. 
 
 And the end of the Confederacy was now 
 almost in sight. Three years of fighting and 
 the Seceding States had been cut in twain, 
 their armies widely separated by the Union 
 hosts. Advancing and retreating but always 
 fighting, month after month, year after year 
 the men in gray had come at last to the dark- 
 est, bitterest period of it all when the weak- 
 ened South was slowly breaking under the 
 weight of her brother foes when the two 
 greatest of the armies battled on Virginia soil 
 battled and passed to their final muster roll. 
 
 Of little heed to tell of the privations which 
 the jpivotal state of the Confederacy went 
 through. If it were true that Virginia had 
 been simply one vast arsenal where every in- 
 habitant had unfailingly done his part in mak- 
 ing war, it was also true that she had furnished 
 many of its greatest battlefields and at what 
 a frightful cost. 
 
 Everywhere were the cruel signs of destruc- 
 tion and want in scanty larder, patched, re- 
 furbished clothing, servantless homes in dis-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 5 
 
 mantled outhouses, broken fences and neg- 
 lected, brier-choked fields. Even the staples 
 of life were fast diminishing for every man 
 who could shoulder a gun had gone to fight 
 with Lee and few animals were left and fewer 
 slaves. 
 
 Yet, for all the dismal outlook, Winter had 
 passed without actual disaster to the Confed- 
 erate arms and now that Spring had come the 
 plantation home of the Herbert Carys, twenty 
 miles below Richmond, had never had a fairer 
 setting. White-pillared and stately the old 
 Colonial mansion stood on one of the low, 
 emerald hills which roll back lazily from the 
 peaceful James. It was true that the flower 
 beds had been trampled down to ruin by alien 
 horse and heel, but the scent of the honey- 
 suckle clinging to those shining pillars only 
 seemed the sweeter for the loss, and whatever 
 else the forager might take, he could not rob 
 them of their gracious vista of hills and shim- 
 mering river. 
 
 For good reason the plantation was very 
 silent on this warm spring morning. Where 
 only a year before dozens of soft eyed Jer-
 
 6 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 seys had ranged through the pastures and 
 wood lots there was now no sound of tin- 
 kling bells one after another the fine, blooded 
 stock had been requisitioned by a sad faced 
 quartermaster of the Army of Northern Vir- 
 ginia. And one by one the fat porkers who 
 had muzzled greedily among the ears from the 
 Gary bins and who ought to have gone into the 
 smoke house had departed, squealing, to fur- 
 nish bone and sinew with which to repel the 
 invader. Saddest of all, the chicken coops 
 down by the deserted negro quarters were 
 quite as empty as the once teeming cabins 
 themselves. Poverty, grim and relentless, had 
 caught the Carys in its iron hand and behind 
 Poverty stood its far more frightening shadow 
 Starvation. 
 
 All this and more was in old Uncle Billy's 
 gray, kinky head as he emerged from the 
 woods below the house and came slowly up the 
 driveway and he sat down on a bench under 
 a tree to ruminate over the situation and in- 
 spect the feathered prize which he had lately 
 acquired by certain, devious means known only 
 to Uncle Billy. Wiping his forehead with his
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 7 
 
 ragged sleeve and holding the bird up by its 
 tied feet he regarded it with the eye of an 
 expert, and the fatigue of one who has been 
 sorely put to it in order to accomplish his pur- 
 pose. 
 
 "It 'pears to me," said Uncle Billy, "dat 
 des' when you needs 'em the mostest the chick- 
 ens goes to roosting higher 'n' higher. 
 Rooster I wonder who you b'longs to. 
 Um-ttm/" he murmured as he thoughtfully 
 sounded the rooster's well developed chest 
 through the feathers. "From de feelin' of 
 you, my son, I 'spec' you was raise' by one er 
 de ol'es' fam'lies what is!" 
 
 But Uncle Billy knew the fortunes of the 
 Gary family far too well to mourn over the 
 probable toughness of his booty, and as he rose 
 up from the seat and meandered toward the 
 kitchen, his old, wrinkled face broke into a 
 broad smile of satisfaction over the surprise 
 he had in store. "Well after I done parbile 
 you, I reckon Miss Hallie be mighty glad to 
 see you. Yas, sell!" 
 
 But as Uncle Billy walked slowly along be- 
 side the hedge which shielded the house on one
 
 8 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 side he heard a sound which made him halt. 
 A young negro, coming from the rear, had 
 dodged behind the hedge and was trying to 
 keep out of his sight. 
 
 "Hi, dar! You, Jeems Henry!" shouted 
 Uncle Billy, instantly suspicious of such ma- 
 neuvers. "Comeheh! Hear me/ Comehehl" 
 
 At this sudden command a young mulatto, 
 hesitating, came through a break in the hedge 
 and stood looking at him, sullen and silent. 
 In his hands he carried a small bundle done 
 up in a colored handkerchief and on this guilty 
 piece of baggage Uncle Billy's eye immedi- 
 ately fastened with an angry frown. 
 
 "Whar you gwine?" demanded Uncle Billy, 
 with an accusing finger trembling at the 
 bundle. 
 
 The younger man made no reply. 
 
 "Hear me?" the elder demanded again in 
 rising tones of severity. "Ain't you got no 
 tongue in yo' haid? Whar you gwine?" 
 
 Shifting from one foot to the other the 
 younger man finally broke away from Uncle 
 Bilty's eye and tried to pass him by. 
 
 "Den I'll tell you whar you gwine," shouted
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 9 
 
 Uncle Billy, furious at last. "You's runnin' 
 'way to de Yankees, dat's whar you gwine." 
 
 At this too truthful thrust Jeems Henry 
 saw that further deceit would be futile and 
 he faced Uncle Billy with sullen resentment. 
 
 "An' sposin' I is wat den?" 
 
 "Den you's a thief," retorted Uncle Billy 
 with dismayingly quick wit. "Dat's what you 
 is a thief/ 1 
 
 "I am' no thief," Jeems Henry refuted 
 stubbornly, "I ain' stole nothin'." 
 
 "You is too," and Uncle Billy's forefinger 
 began to shake in the other's face. "You's 
 stealin' a nigger!" 
 
 "What dat?" and Jeems Henry's eyes 
 opened wide with amazement. "What you 
 talkin' 'bout?" 
 
 "Talkin' 'bout you'' replied Uncle Billy, 
 sharper than ever. "Dey say a nigger's wuth 
 a thousan' dollars. 'Cose you ain't wuth dat 
 much," he said with utter disgust. "I put you 
 down at a dollar and a quarter. But dat ain't 
 de p'int," and he steadily advanced on the other 
 till their faces were only a few inches apart. 
 "It's dis. You, Jeems Henry, belongs to
 
 10 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Mars' Herbert Gary an' Miss Hallie; an' when 
 you runs 'way you's stealin'. Yous stealin' 
 
 yo'seft" 
 
 "H'm!" sniffed Jeems Henry, now that the 
 nature and extent of his crime were fully un- 
 derstood. x "Ef I ain' wuth but a dollar an' a 
 quarter, I suttenly ain' stealin' much!" 
 
 At this smart reply Uncle Billy's disgust 
 overcame him completely and he tossed the 
 rooster on the ground and clutched Jeems 
 Henry by the arm. 
 
 "You mighty right, you ain't!" he shouted. 
 "An* ef I was fo' years younger I'd take it 
 outer yo' hide with a carriage whip. HoF on 
 dar," as Jeems Henry eluded his grasp and 
 began to move away. "Which way you 
 gwine? You hear me? Now den!" 
 
 "I gwine up de river," replied Jeems Henry, 
 badgered at last into revealing his plan. 
 Then, after a cautious look around, "to 
 Chickahominy Swamp," he added in lower 
 tones. 
 
 Uncle Billy cocked his ears. Here was 
 news indeed. 
 
 "Chickahominy, huh! So de Yankees is up
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 11 
 
 dar," is dey? An' what you think you gwine 
 to do when you git to 'em?" 
 
 "Wuck 'roun de camp," replied Jeems 
 Henry with some vagueness. 
 
 "Doin' what?" was the relentless query. 
 
 "Blackin' de gent'men's boots an' an' 
 gittin' paid fer it," Jeems Henry stammered 
 in reply. "It's better'n being a slave, Unc* 
 Billy," he added as he saw the sneer of con- 
 tempt on the faithful old man's face. "An* 
 ef you wan' sech a crazy ol' fool, you'd come 
 along wid me, too." 
 
 At this combination of temptation and in- 
 sult Uncle Billy's eyes narrowed with con- 
 tempt and loathing. "Me?" he said, and a 
 rigid arm pointed back at the house which had 
 been for years his source of shelter and com- 
 fort. "Me leave Miss Hallie now? Right 
 when she ain' got nothing Look heah, nigger ; 
 dog-gone yo' skin, I got a great min' for to 
 mash yo' mouf. Yas, I is a slave. I b'longs 
 to Mars Gary an' I b'longed to his pa befo' 
 him. Dey feed me and gimme de bes' dey 
 got. Dey take care of me when I'm sick an' 
 dey take care of me when I'm well an /
 
 1* THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 gwine to stay right here. But you? You jes 1 
 go on wid de Yankees, an' black der boots. 
 Dey'll free you," and Uncle Billy's voice rose 
 in prophetic tones "an you'll keep on blackin' 
 boots! Go 'long now,, you low-down, dollar- 
 an-a-quarter nigger!" as Jeems Henry 
 wrenched away. "Go long wid yo' Yankee 
 niarsters and git yo' freedom an' a blackin' 
 brush." 
 
 So engrossed were both the actors in this 
 drama that they failed to hear the sound of 
 footsteps on the veranda, and it was so that 
 the mistress of the manor found the would-be 
 runaway and the old slave, glaring into each 
 other's eyes and insulting one another vol- 
 ubly. 
 
 Mrs. Gary, with her workbasket on her arm, 
 paused at the top of the steps and regarded 
 the angry pair with wellbred surprise. She 
 was a true daughter of the old time South, low 
 I voiced and gentle and quiet eyed. Like all 
 those self-sacrificing women who willingly 
 drank their war time poverty down to its bitter 
 dregs, her light, summer dress was of the cheap- 
 est material, yet her deft fingers had fash-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 18 
 
 ioned it with art, from slightly opened neck 
 where an old-fashioned brooch lay against her 
 soft throat down to the dainty, spotless 
 flounces lying above her petticoat of crinoline. 
 And every gesture and graceful movement, 
 even in this moment of shocked surprise, was 
 that of one so secure in the possession of breed- 
 ing and tranquil authority as to be exquisite in 
 its simplicity. Time might work its will upon 
 the fortunes of the Carys, but nothing could 
 alter the sweet self-possession of this proud 
 but gentle mother. 
 
 At the sound of Uncle Billy's angry tones 
 Mrs. Gary raised her voice. 
 
 "Why, Uncle Billy," she queried, with 
 pained amazement. "What is going on here? 
 What is the matter?" 
 
 "It's Jeems Henry; dat's what's de mat- 
 ter," said Uncle Billy, in defense of his 
 agitation. "He's runnin' 'way to de Yan- 
 kees." 
 
 Mrs. Gary stopped short for a moment and 
 then came slowly down the steps. 
 
 "Oh, James," she said, unbelievingly. "Is 
 this really true?"
 
 14 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Jeems Henry hung his head and dug at the 
 gravel with his toe. 
 
 "I'm sorry," said Mrs. Gary, and the word 
 held a world of painful thought of self-ac- 
 cusation, of hopeless regret, of sorrow for one 
 who could be so foolishly misguided. "I'm 
 sorry not only for ourselves but for you. You 
 know, I promised Mammy before she died that 
 I would look after you always." 
 
 Still Jeems Henry made no answer and old 
 Uncle Billy saw fit to make a disclosure. 
 
 "He's gwine up to Chickahominy." Then 
 to Jeems Henry he added something in low 
 tones which made the young negro's eyes roll 
 wildly with fear. "Dey tells me dat der's 
 hants and ghoses over dar. I hopes dey'll git 
 you." 
 
 "Stop that !" commanded Mrs. Gary. "You 
 know very well, Uncle Billy, there are no such 
 things as ghosts." 
 
 "Nor'm I don't, Miss Hallie," responded 
 Uncle Billy, sticking tenaciously to his point, 
 because he could plainly see Jeems Henry 
 wavering. 'Twas jes las' night I hear one 
 moanin' 'roun de smoke house. An* ef I ain't
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 15 
 
 mighty fur wrong, she was smellin' arfter 
 Jeems Henry." 
 
 At this wild fabrication, the reason for 
 which she nevertheless appreciated, Mrs. Gary 
 had hard work to hold back a smile, although 
 she promptly reassured the terrified Jeems 
 Henry. 
 
 "There now there that will do. Nothing 
 of that kind will trouble you, James ; you may 
 take my word for it. If you are quite deter- 
 mined to go I shall not try to keep you. But 
 what have you in that bundle?" 
 
 "Hi! Hi! Dat's de way to talk!" inter- 
 rupted Uncle Billy, excitedly foreseeing 
 means to prevent Jeems Henry's departure. 
 "What you got in yo' bundle?" 
 
 Jeems Henry lifted his anguished eyes and 
 gazed truthfully at his mistress. 
 
 "I ain't got nothin' what don't b'long to 
 me, Miss Hallie." 
 
 "I don't mean that," Mrs. Gary responded 
 kindly. "But you have a long tramp before 
 you. Have you anything to eat?" 
 
 "Nor'm, I ain't," and Jeems Henry seemed 
 disturbed.
 
 16 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Then you'd better come around to the 
 kitchen. We'll see what we can find." 
 
 At this unheard-of generosity, Uncle Billy's 
 eyes opened widely and he exploded in remon- 
 strance. 
 
 "Now, hoi' on dar, Miss Hallie! Hoi' on. 
 You ain' got none too much fo' yo'se'f, d'out 
 stuffin' dis yere six-bit rat hole wid waffles an' 
 milasses." 
 
 "William!" commanded his mistress. 
 
 " Yas'm," was the meek response, and Uncle 
 Billy subsided into silence. 
 
 With a sigh, Mrs. Gary turned away toward 
 the house. "Well, James, are you coming?" 
 
 But Jeems Henry, completely abashed be- 
 fore this miracle of kindness which he did not 
 deserve, decided that it was time for him to be 
 a man. 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Hallie," he gulped, "but 
 f 'urn now on I reckon I gwine take keer of 
 myse'f." 
 
 Mrs. Cary, pausing on the bottom step, 
 raised her eyes heavenward in a short prayer 
 that children such as these might somehow be 
 protected from themselves.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL If 
 
 "Well, James," she said, when she saw there 
 was nothing more to be done. "I hope you'll 
 be happy and contented. If you are not 
 come back to us. Perhaps, when the war is 
 over, you'll find things a little more comfort- 
 able. Good-by, James," and she held out her 
 hand. 
 
 But this last touch of gentleness was too 
 much for the young mulatto. Although he 
 made an obedient step forward, his feelings 
 overcame him and with an audible snuffle and 
 liis hand over his eyes he retreated then 
 turned his back and plunged through the 
 hedge. 
 
 Mrs. Gary sank down on the step and looked 
 as if she, too, would like to cry. 
 
 Manfully, Uncle Billy came to her rescue. 
 "Now don't you care, Miss Hallie. He wan* 
 no 'count for plowin' no how." 
 
 "Oh, it isn't that, Uncle Billy," Mrs. Gary 
 replied with a low cry of regret. "It isn't the 
 actual loss of help, tho' we need it, goodness 
 knows. But it makes me sad to see them leav- 
 ing, one by one. They are such children 
 and so helpless without a master hand."
 
 18 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Yas'm," agreed Uncle Billy readily. "An* 
 de marster's ban' ought to have a hick'ry stick 
 in it fer dat nigger. Yas, bless Gawd. But 
 you got me, Miss Hallie," he announced 
 proudly. fc l ain't runned away to de blue- 
 bellies yet." 
 
 "No, you dear old thing," Mrs. Gary cried 
 with laughing relief, and her hand rested on 
 his shoulder in a gentle caress. "I'd as soon 
 think of the skies falling. It is just such faith- 
 ful friends as you who help me to fight the 
 best." 
 
 "Um?" said Uncle Billy promptly, not quite 
 understanding. 
 
 "I mean a woman's battles, Uncle Billy 
 the 'waiting battles that we fight alone." 
 Mrs. Gary rose to her feet and turned sadly 
 away. 
 
 "Yas'm," agreed XJncle Billy. "I dunno 
 what yo' talkin' 'bout, but I spec' you's right. 
 /Yas'm." 
 
 "Dear Uncle Billy," repeated Mrs. Gary, 
 while her eyes filled with tears. "The most 
 truthful the most honest " 
 
 Mrs. Gary stopped and looked sharply at
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 19 
 
 something lying on the ground beside the 
 bench. Then she turned and swept the old 
 man with an accusing glance which made him 
 quail. 
 
 f< William!" she said, in awful tones. 
 
 "Yas'm," replied Uncle Billy, feverishly. 
 
 "What's that?" 
 
 Uncle Billy immediately became the very 
 picture of innocence and ignorance. He 
 looked everywhere but at the helpless rooster. 
 
 "What's what?'* he asked. "Aw, dat? 
 Why why, dat ain' nothin' 'tall, Miss Hallie. 
 Dat's dat's des a rooster. Yas'm." 
 
 Mrs. Gary came down from the steps and 
 looked carefully at the unfamiliar bird. No 
 fear that she would not recognize it if it were 
 hers. "Whose is he?" she asked. 
 
 "You you mean who he b'longs to?" que- 
 ried Uncle Billy, fencing for time in which to 
 prepare a quasi-truthful reply. "He he 
 don' b'long to nobody. He's his own rooster." 
 
 "William!" commanded Mrs. Gary, se- 
 verely. "Look at me. Where did you get 
 him?" 
 
 Here was a situation which Uncle Billy
 
 20 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 knew must be handled promptly, and he picked 
 up the rooster and made an attempt to escape. 
 "Down on de low grouns dis mornin'. Dat's 
 right," he said, as he saw dawning unbelief in 
 his mistress' face. "Now you have to skuse 
 me, Miss Hallie. I got my wuck to do.'* 
 
 "One moment, William," interposed Mrs. 
 Gary, completely unconvinced. "You are 
 sure he was on the low grounds?" 
 
 "Cose I is!" asseverated Uncle Billy, mean- 
 while backing farther away. 
 
 "What was he doing there?" 
 
 Uncle Billy stammered. 
 
 "He he he, he was trespassin', dat's what 
 he was doin' des natcherly trespassin'." 
 
 At this marvel of testimony, Mrs. Gary's 
 lips relaxed in a smile and she warned him 
 with an upraised finger. 
 
 "Be careful, Uncle Billy! Be careful." 
 
 "Yas, mar'm" chuckled the old man. "I 
 had to be. I never would a-got him! Oh, 
 I's tellin' de trufe, Miss Hallie. Dis' here ol' 
 sinner tooken flewed off a boat what was 
 comin' up de river. Yas'm. And he sure 
 was old enough to know better."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 21 
 
 "And you saw him fly off the boat?" 
 
 "Oh, yas'm. I seed him. I seed him," and 
 Uncle Billy floundered for a moment, caught 
 in his own trap. "Dat is, not wid my own 
 eyes. But I see him settin* in de woods, 
 lookin' dat lonesome and losted like, I felt 
 real sorry for him. Yas'm," and to prove his 
 deep sympathy for the unfortunate bird he 
 stroked its breast lovingly. 
 
 Mrs. Gary turned away to hide her laugh- 
 ter. "How did you catch him?" 
 
 "How?" repeated Uncle Billy, while his an- 
 cient mind worked with unusual rapidity. 
 "I got down on all fo's in the thick weeds, an' 
 cluk like a hen. An' den ol' Mr. Rooster, he 
 came long over to see ef I done laid an aig 
 an' I des reach right out an' take him home to 
 de Lawd." 
 
 "Oh, Uncle Billy," his mistress laughed. 
 "I'm afraid you're incorrigible. It's a dread- 
 ful thing to doubt one's very dinner. Isn't 
 it?" 
 
 "Yas'm. An' I was des 'bout to say ef you 
 an' Miss Virgie kin worry down de white 
 meat, maybe den dis here bird '11 kinder git
 
 22 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 eben wid me when I tackle his drum sticks. 
 Yas'm," and with a final chuckle of joy over 
 his success the old man hobbled quickly away 
 in the direction of the kitchen. 
 
 Mrs. Gary, still smiling, picked up her work 
 basket and slowly crossed the grass to a shady 
 bench underneath the trees. Now that Uncle 
 Billy had succeeded in making his escape, she 
 must go back to her task of making a dress 
 for Virgie. But the prospect of making her 
 daughter something wearable out of the odds 
 and ends of nothing was not a happy one. In 
 fact, she was still poking through her basket 
 and frowning thoughtfully when a childish 
 voice came to her ears. 
 
 "Yes, Virgie! Here I am. Out under 
 the trees." 
 
 Immediately came a sound of tumultuous 
 feet and Miss Virginia Houston Gary burst 
 upon the scene. She was a tot of seven with 
 sun touched hair and great dark eyes whose 
 witchery made her a piquant little fairy. In 
 spite of her mother's despair over her clothes 
 Virgie was dressed, or at least had been 
 dressed at breakfast time, in a clean white
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 23 
 
 frock, low shoes and white stockings, although 
 all now showed signs of strenuous usage. 
 Clutched to her breast as she ran up to her 
 mother's side was "Susan Jemima," her one 
 beloved possession and her doll. Behind 
 Virgie came Sally Ann, her playmate, a slim, 
 barefooted mulatto girl whose faded, gingham 
 dress hung partly in tatters, halfway between 
 her knees and ankles. In one of Sally Ann's 
 hands, carried like a sword, was a pointed 
 stick ; in the other, a long piece of blue wood- 
 moss from which dangled a bit of string. 
 
 "Oh, Mother," cried the small daughter of 
 the Carys, as she came up flushed and excited, 
 "what do you reckon Sally Ann and me 
 have been playing out in the woods!" 
 
 "What, dear!" and Mrs. Gary's gentle hand 
 went up to lift the hair back from her daugh- 
 ter's dampened forehead. 
 
 "Blue Beard!" cried Virgie, with rounded 
 eyes. 
 
 "Blue Beard!" echoed her mother in aston- 
 ishment at this childish freak of amusement. 
 "Not really on this hot day." 
 
 "Um, hum," nodded Virgie emphatically.
 
 24 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "You know he he he was the terriblest old 
 man that that ever was. An* he had so 
 many wifses that " 
 
 "Say 'wives/ my darling. Wives." 
 
 Sally Ann laughed and Virgie frowned. 
 
 "Well, I thought it was that, but Sally 
 Ann's older'n me and she said 'wifses.' ' 
 
 "Huh," grunted Sally Ann. "Don' make 
 no differ'nce what you call 'em, des so he had 
 'em. Gor'n tell her." 
 
 "Well, you know, Mother, Blue Beard had 
 such a bad habit of killin' his wives that 
 that some of the ladies got so they they al- 
 most didn't like to marry him!" 
 
 "Gracious, what a state of affairs," cried 
 Mrs. Gary, in well feigned amazement at the 
 timidity of the various Mrs. Blue Beards. 
 "And then" 
 
 "Well, the last time he got married to to 
 another one her name was Mrs. Fatima. 
 An' an' I've been play in' Jier" 
 
 "And who played Blue Beard?" 
 
 "Sally Ann an' she's just fine. Come 
 here, Sally Ann, an' let's show her. Kneel 
 down."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 25 
 
 Clutching the piece of moss from Sally 
 Ann, Virgie ran behind the girl and put her 
 chubby arms around her neck. "This is his 
 blue beard, Mother. Hold still, Sally Ann 
 My lord, I mean till I get it tied in the right 
 place." 
 
 "Be keerful, Miss Virgie," advised the col- 
 ored girl. "You's a-ticklin' my nose. I'se 
 gwine to sneeze ef yo' don't, and jes blow 
 my beard all away." 
 
 "Oh, don't be such a baby," remonstrated 
 the earnest Miss Virginia, with a correcting 
 slap. "S'pose you were a man an' had to wear 
 one all the time. Now! Stand up! Look, 
 Mother!" 
 
 "I'm afraid of him already. He's so fero- 
 
 cious. 
 
 
 Isn't he? Oh, won't you play with us, 
 Mother? I'll I'll let you be Mrs. Fa- 
 tima." And then, as her mother's face 
 showed signs of doubt as to her histrionic 
 ability, "If you were my little girl, I'd do 
 it in a minute." 
 
 "Very well, but remember just for a little 
 because someone must make clothes and it
 
 26 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 takes so long to make them out of noth- 
 ing." 
 
 "Oh, goody, goody," and Virgie's dancing 
 feet seemed hardly to touch the ground. 
 "Come on, Sally Ann. We can play it with 
 mamma's keys." 
 
 "Wait dar! Whar'd I put my s'wode?" 
 And Sally Ann snatched up her dangerous 
 weapon and thrust it into a rope around her 
 waist. "Now I'se ready fo' killin' folks." 
 
 "But we have to begin where Blue Beard 
 goes away on a journey," Virgie cried. 
 "Susan Jemima, you sit there on the bench 
 and clap your hands. Get up, Mamma. Go 
 ahead, Sally Ann!" 
 
 "Ooman," said Sally Ann, strutting up to 
 her mistress and frowning terribly. "I'se 
 gwine away fer a night an' a day. Dese yere 
 is de keys to de castle." 
 
 "Yes, sir," was the meek response. 
 
 Sally Ann Blue Beard pointed to an im- 
 aginary door halfway between them and where 
 Virgie sat on the steps, wriggling with de- 
 light. "You kin look in ev'ry room in de house 
 castle, I means 'cep in des dat one.
 
 27 
 
 Om'estan me? Des dat one! But ef yo' 
 looks in dor, Gawd he'p you. I gwine cut 
 yo' haid off," and the fearful sword whizzed 
 threateningly through the air. "Fyarwell 
 fyarwell." 
 
 "Farewell, my lord," said Mrs. Gary, and 
 then in a whisper, as Blue Beard stalked away 
 to hide behind a tree. "What do we do now? 
 Quick!" 
 
 "Now I come in," cried Virgie. "I'm 
 'Sister Anne' that looks for the horseman in 
 the cloud of dust." And jumping up, the 
 child managed to change the tones of her voice 
 in a surprising manner. 
 
 "Good morning, fair sister. Blue Beard 
 has gone away, and now we can look in his 
 secret room." 
 
 "No, Sister Anne, No! I dare not," and 
 Mrs. Fatima shrank back full of fear from the 
 imaginary door. "Urge me no more. I am 
 afraid." 
 
 "But, Mother," cried Virgie, with a little 
 squeal of disappointment. "You have to. 
 It's part of the play," and she led her up to 
 the invisible door.
 
 28 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Now look in and when you look drop 
 the keys an' we'll both scream." 
 
 Slowly the door seemed to open and, after 
 an instant's terrified silence, both actresses 
 screamed with complete success. Whereupon 
 Mrs. Fatima dropped to her knees and Sister 
 Anne hugged her tight. 
 
 "It's blood. It's the blood of his seven 
 wives. O-o-o-e-e-e!" 
 
 A great roar sounded in their ears. 
 
 "Mercy! What's that," cried the terrified 
 Mrs. Fatima. 
 
 "It's Blue Beard. He's coming back," 
 whereupon Virgie immediately left Mrs. Fa- 
 tima to face her fate alone. 
 
 Having spent a night and a day behind the 
 tree, Blue Beard now rushed upon the castle 
 and roared for his wife. 
 
 "Greeting, my lord," said the trembling 
 Mrs. Fatima with a low curtsey, "I hope 
 you have enjoyed your journey." 
 
 "Ooman," demanded Blue Beard severely. 
 "What make you look so pale?" 
 
 "I know not, sweet sir. Am I, then, so 
 pale?"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 29 
 
 "You is ! What you be'n up to sence I be'n 
 away? Ha! What I tole you? Look at 
 de blood on dat keyl False 'ooman, you done 
 deceib' me. Down on yo' marrow bones an' 
 prepyar to die!" 
 
 "Spare me, my lord. Spare me! I am 
 so" 
 
 It was just about this time that old Uncle 
 Billy, with a bridle in one hand and a carriage 
 whip in the other came slowly upon the scene. 
 At the sight of Sally Ann apparently about 
 to assault his mistress, the bridle dropped from 
 his hand and with a tight clutch on the car- 
 riage whip he covered the intervening space 
 at an amazing speed. 
 
 "Hi, dar! You li'l woolly haided imp! 
 You tech Miss Hallie wid dat ar stick an' I 
 bus' you wide open!" 
 
 "Oh, stop, Uncle Billy!" cried Virgie in dis- 
 may. "We're only having a play!" 
 
 "Maybe you is; but I lay ef I wrop my car- 
 riage whip roun' her laig, des oncet, she'll hop 
 all de way to de river." 
 
 At this dismal prospect, which seemed much 
 truer than the play, Sally Ann began to
 
 30 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 whimper loudly. "Miss Hallie, ef he stay 
 here, I ain't gwine to play." 
 
 "Whar you git dem whiskers at?" de- 
 manded Uncle Billy. 
 
 "Shut up!" cried Virgie. 
 
 "I'm shuttin'," said Uncle Billy, retreating. 
 
 Thus reassured Sally Ann continued: 
 
 "I gwine down stairs to git my dinner. 
 When I come back, I sho' gwine kill you. 
 Fyar you well," and Blue Beard, making a 
 wide circle around the carriage whip, took 
 himself off the scene. 
 
 "Now, Mother," Virgie announced, "I 
 have to watch at the castle window," and she 
 jumped up on the bench. 
 
 "Sister Anne; Sister Anne, do you see any- 
 body coming?" 
 
 "No one, Fatima nothing but a cloud of 
 dust made by the wind." 
 
 "Look again, Sister Anne. Do you see 
 anybody coming?" 
 
 "Oh, Fatirna, Fatima. It's growing 
 bigger." 
 
 "Dar now," interposed .Uncle Billy. "She's 
 seein' som'pin."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 31 
 
 "Sister Anne! Sister Anne. And what do 
 you see?" 
 
 "Dust ! Dust ! I see a horseman in a cloud 
 of dust. Lookl Look! He's coming this 
 way." By this time Virgie's acting had taken 
 on so close a resemblance to the real thing that 
 both Mrs. Gary and Uncle Billy rose to their 
 feet in wonder. 
 
 "He's jumped the fence" cried Virgie. 
 "He's cutting across our fields! He sees me! 
 He's waving his hat to me!" With the last 
 words the child suddenly jumped down from 
 the bench and ran through the opening in the 
 hedge, leaving her mother gazing after her in 
 sudden consternation. 
 
 "Name er Gawd, Miss Hallie," gasped 
 Uncle Billy. "You reckon she done brought 
 somebody, sho' 'miff? Hi! Hi! I hear sum'- 
 pin. It's a horse. Lan' er Glory! Hits 
 him!"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 (ROUND the corner of the hedge at a swift 
 trot came a man in the uniform of an officer 
 in the Confederate Army, and Virgie was in 
 his arms. 
 
 Mrs. Gary gave him one look and threw out 
 her arms. 
 
 "Herbert!" 
 
 The man on horseback let Virgie slide down 
 and then dismounted like a flash, coming to 
 her across the little space of lawn with his 
 whole soul in his eyes. With his dear wife 
 caught in his arms he could do nothing but 
 kiss her and hold her as if he would never again 
 let her go. 
 
 "God!" he breathed, "but it's good to see 
 you again. It's good" And so they stood 
 /for a long moment, husband and wife united 
 after months of separation, after dangers and 
 terrors and privations which had seemed as 
 if they never would end. 
 
 Sally Ann was one of the first to interrupt, 
 
 33
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 33 
 
 edging up at the earliest opportunity with her 
 beard in her hand. "How you does, Mars' 
 Gary? How you fine yo'sef, seh?" 
 
 "Why, hullo, Sally Ann!" said Cary, and 
 put out his hand. "What on earth is this 
 thing?" 
 
 Virgie ran to his side and caught his hand 
 in hers. "We were playing 'Blue Beard,' 
 Daddy, an' you came just like the brother." 
 
 "So you've been Blue Beard, have you, 
 Sally Ann? then I must have the pleasure 
 of cutting you into ribbons." Herbert Gary's 
 shining saber flashed half out of its scabbard 
 and then, laughing, he slapped it back with a 
 clank. 
 
 "Sally Ann," he announced, "I'm going to 
 turn you into Sister Anne for a while. You 
 run up to Miss Hallie's room and sit by the 
 window where you can watch the road and 
 woods. If you see anything soldiers, I 
 mean " 
 
 "Oh, Herbert!" cried his wife in anguish. 
 
 "S-s-sh!" he whispered. "Go along, Sally 
 Ann. If you see anyone at all report to me 
 at once. Understand? Off with you!"
 
 34 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Uncle Billy now came forward in an effort 
 to make his master's clothes more presentable. 
 
 "Heh, Mars' Gary, lemme brush you off, 
 seh. You's fyar kivered." 
 
 "Look out, you old rascal," Gary laughed, 
 as his wife backed away coughing before the 
 cloud of fine white dust that rose under Uncle 
 Billy's vigorous hands. "You're choking 
 your mistress to death. Never mind the dust. 
 I'll get it back in ten minutes." 
 
 Mrs. Gary clasped her hands together at 
 her breast with a look of entreaty. 
 
 "Herbert! Must you go so soon?" 
 
 Her husband looked back at her with eyes 
 dark with regret. 
 
 "Yes," he said briefly. "I'm on my way to 
 Richmond. How many horses are there in 
 the stable?" 
 
 "Two only two," was the broken response, 
 as his wife sank down disconsolate on a bench. 
 "Belle and Lightfoot we sold the others I 
 had to do it." 
 
 "Yes, I know, little woman. It couldn't 
 be helped. Here, Billy ! Take my horse and 
 get Belle out of the stable. Lead them down
 
 35 
 
 to the swamp and hide them in the cedars. 
 Then saddle Lightfoot bring him here and 
 give him some water and a measure of corn. 
 Look sharp, Billy! Lively!" 
 
 In the face of danger to his master Uncle 
 Billy's response was instant. "Yes, seh. 
 Right away, seh," and he took Gary's lathered 
 animal and made off for the stables at top 
 speed. 
 
 Mrs. Gary looked up at her husband with a 
 great fear written on her face. 
 
 "Why, Herbert dear. You you don't 
 mean to say that the Yankees are in the neigh- 
 borhood?" 
 
 Immediately Gary was on the bench beside 
 her with his arm around her, while Virgie 
 climbed up on the other side. 
 
 "Now, come," he murmured, "be a brave 
 little woman and don't be alarmed. It may 
 be nothing after all. Only there are several 
 foraging parties small ones, a few miles 
 down the river. I've been dodging them all 
 morning. If they come at all they won't 
 trouble either you or Virgie." 
 
 "But I'm not afraid of them, Daddy-man,"
 
 36 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 cried the small daughter, and she doubled up 
 her fist ferociously. "Look at that" 
 
 "Aha! There's a brave little Rebel," her 
 father cried as he swept her up in a hearty hug. 
 "You're not afraid of them, nor you either, 
 God bless you," and his lips rested for a mo- 
 ment on his wife's soft cheek. "Only, you are 
 apt to be a little too haughty. If they search 
 the house for arms or stragglers, make no re- 
 sistance. It's best." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know," his wife cried out, "but 
 you, dear, you! Why are you here? Why 
 aren't you with your company?" 
 
 Gary looked away for a moment across the 
 fields and down the slope towards the shim- 
 mering river. They were very beautiful 
 he wondered why he had not fully realized 
 all that wife and child and home meant to him 
 when he volunteered recently for a certain 
 hazardous duty. He knew, too, how quickly 
 his dear wife would know the full extent of 
 the peril with which he felt himself sur- 
 rounded. And so his reply was short and 
 seemingly gruff, as many another man's has 
 been under too heavy circumstances.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 87 
 
 "Scouting duty. I've been on it for the 
 past two months." 
 
 Mrs. Gary's hand went to her heart. 
 
 "A scout, Herbert! But, darling, why? 
 It's so dangerous so horrible so 
 
 He put up his hand, with a forced smile, to 
 check her, and broke in gayly. 
 
 "Ah, but think of the fun in it. It's like 
 playing hide-and-go-seek with Virgie." 
 
 But his wife was not to be put off so lightly 
 and she put her impelling hands on his arm. 
 
 Gary changed his tone. His voice deep- 
 ened. 
 
 "They need me, dear/' he said earnestly. 
 "What does danger to one man mean when 
 Dixie calls us all? And I'm doing work 
 good work. I've already given one battle to 
 General Lee and now I have information that 
 will give him another and a bigger one. Two 
 ( nights ago I came through the Union lines. 
 'I . . ." 
 
 Mrs. Gary rose unsteadily to her feet. 
 
 "Through the Yankee lines! Oh, Herbert. 
 Not as a spy!" 
 
 "A spy? Of course not. I hid in the
 
 83 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 woods all day, then climbed a tall pine tree 
 and got the lay of their camp the number of 
 their guns the disposition of forces and their 
 lines of attack. Yesterday I had the wires at 
 Drury's Bluff and started trouble. I'm on my 
 way now to join my command, but I had a 
 good excuse for coming home to hold you in 
 in my arms again, if only for a moment. You 
 see, poor old Roger got a wound in his flank 
 from a stray bullet." 
 
 "A stray bullet," asked Mrs. Gary, doubt- 
 fully. 
 
 "Yes," he smiled, for he had escaped it, "a 
 stray bullet meant for me" 
 
 "But, Daddy," Virgie interrupted, "while 
 you were up in the tree " 
 
 A wild whoop broke off Virgie's question. 
 Sally Ann was rushing down the steps, her 
 eyes rolling up with excitement. 
 
 "Mars' Caryl Mars' Gary! Somebody 
 comin' long de road!" 
 
 "Who? How many?" Gary demanded, 
 springing up and running towards the gate 
 that opened on the wagon road over the 
 hills.
 
 39 
 
 "Des' one," responded Sally Ann with 
 naive truthfulness. "OF Dr. Simmons. He 
 drivin' by de gate in de buggy." 
 
 Mrs. Gary threw up her hands with a muf- 
 fled cry of relief and laughter. "Oh, Sally! 
 Sally!" she exclaimed, "you'll be the death 
 of me." 
 
 "But Lor! Miss Hallie," said Sally plain- 
 tively, "he tolc me fer to tell him." 
 
 Gary, returning, waved Sally Ann back to 
 her post. "That's right," he laughed. 
 "You're a good sentry, Sally Ann. Go back 
 and watch again. Scoot!" 
 
 "Herbert," and his wife stood before him. 
 "Come into the house and let me give you 
 something to eat." 
 
 For answer Gary gently imprisoned her 
 face in his hands. "Honey, I can't," he said, 
 his eyes grown sad again. "Just fix me up 
 something anything you can find. I'll 
 munch it in the saddle." 
 
 For a moment their lips clung and then she 
 stepped back with a broken sigh. "I'll do the 
 best I can, but oh ! how I wish it all were over 
 and that we had you home again."
 
 40 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 A spasm crossed the man's face. "It soon 
 Will be over, sweetheart. It soon will be." 
 
 His wife flung him a startled look. "You 
 mean Oh, Herbert! Isn't there a single 
 hope even the tiniest ray?" 
 
 Gary took her hands in his, looked into her 
 eyes and his answer breathed the still uncon- 
 quered spirit of the South. "There is always 
 hope as long as we have a man." Mrs. Gary 
 went into the house, slowly, wearily, and Gary 
 turned to Virgie. 
 
 "Well, little lady," her father said, resting 
 his hand on Virgie's shining head. "Have 
 you been taking good care of mother and 
 seeing that Uncle Billy does his plowing 
 right?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," came the prompt response, 
 "Susan Jemima an' me have been lookiii' 
 after everything but we had to eat up Gen- 
 eral Butler!" 
 
 "General Butler," cried her father, as- 
 tounded. 
 
 "Yes, Daddy our lastest calf. We named 
 him that 'cause one day when I was feedin'
 
 41 
 
 him with milk he nearly swallowed my silver 
 spoon." 
 
 "Ha-ha," laughed the amused soldier, and 
 swept her up in his arms. "If we could only 
 get rid of all their generals as easy as that 
 we'd promise not to eat again for a week. 
 Everything else all right?" 
 
 "No, sir," said Virgie, dolefully. "All the 
 niggers has runned away all 'cept Uncle 
 Billy and Sally Ann. Jeems Henry runned 
 away this morning." 
 
 "The deuce he did! The young scamp!" 
 
 "He's gone to join the Yankees," Virgie 
 continued. 
 
 "What's that?" and Gary sprang up to pace 
 to and fro. "I wonder which way he went?" 
 
 "I don' know," whimpered Virgie forlornly. 
 "I only wish I was a soldier with a big, sharp 
 sword like yours 'cause when the blue boys 
 came I'd stick 'em in the stomach." 
 
 Mrs. Gary was coming down the steps now 
 with a small package of food and in the road- 
 way Uncle Billy stood feeding and watering 
 his master's horse. In this bitterest of mo-
 
 42 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 ments, when his own family had to be the ones 
 to hurry him along his way, there had come 
 another and greater danger peril to those he 
 loved. 
 
 "Tell me, dear," he said with his hand warm 
 on his wife's soft 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 
 C hickahominy . ' ' 
 
 "Chickahominy!" exclaimed Gary sharply, 
 and bit his lips. "So that's the lay of the land, 
 eh! I'm mighty glad you told me this. But 
 still " Gary'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 lit- 
 tle more honor and at what dreadful cost? 
 
 "What makes you look so worried, Her- 
 bert?" his wife murmured, her nerves on edge 
 again.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 43 
 
 "Yes, it's true," the man said with a groan. 
 "They're gradually closing in on us sur- 
 rounding Richmond." 
 
 "Surrounding us?" Mrs. Gary whispered, 
 hardly believing her ears. 
 
 "Yes, it's true too d d 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 list- 
 lessly 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 arm- 
 ies 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 shoul- 
 ders: and boys mere children who are sac- 
 rificed under the blood-stained wheels. The
 
 44 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 best! The flower of our land! We are 
 dumping them all into a big, red hopper. 
 Feed! Feed! Always more feed for this 
 damned 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 re- 
 morsefully. "You are right and bravest, 
 after all. It is you you women, who save us 
 In the darkest hours. You our wives our 
 mothers who wage a silent battle in the 
 lonely, broken homes. You give us love and 
 pity tenderness and tears a flag of pride 
 that turns defeat to victory. The women of 
 the South," he cried, and Herbert Gary
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 45 
 
 doffed his hat before his wife, "the crutch 
 on which the staggering hope of Dixie leans 1" 
 
 There came, then, the sound of hurrying 
 footsteps. Once more Sally Ann rushed from 
 the house but this time genuine danger was 
 written plainly in her face. 
 
 "Mars' Caryl Mars' Gary! Dey's comin' 
 dis time sho' 'miff !" 
 
 "How many?" Gary cried, springing for the 
 roadway and his horse. 
 
 "Dey's comin' thu' de woods an* Lawd 
 Gawd, de yearth is fyar blue wid' 'em." 
 
 "Billy!" commanded Gary. "Take Light- 
 foot as fast as you can down to the edge 
 of the woods. Don't worry, Hallie, they'll 
 never catch me once I'm in the saddle." 
 
 He stooped and kissed her, then caught up 
 Virgie for a last hug, burying his worn face 
 in her curls. "Good-by, little one. Take 
 good care of Mother. Good-by!" 
 
 With one last grasp his wife caught his 
 hand. "Herbert! which way do you go?" 
 
 "Across the river to the Chesterfield side." 
 
 "But the Yankees came that way, too!" 
 
 "I'll circle around them. If they've left a
 
 46 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 guard at the crossing I'll swim the river 
 higher up." He slapped his holster with his 
 open hand. "Listen for three shots. If they 
 come in quick succession then I've crossed 
 I'm safe. If I only had a few men I'd stay, 
 but alone, I can't you know I can't. Good- 
 byl God bless you." And in another mo- 
 ment he was in the saddle had waved his 
 hand was gone. 
 
 Straining their eyes after him, as if they 
 would somehow pierce the dark woods which 
 hid his flight, mother and daughter stood as 
 if turned to stone. Only Virgie, after a mo- 
 ment, waved her hand and sent her soft, 
 childish prayer winging after him to save him 
 from all harm. "Good-by, Daddy-man, 
 good-by!" 
 
 Sally Ann, however, having seen the ap- 
 proaching danger with her own eyes, began 
 to wring her hands and cry hysterically. 
 "Aw, Miss Hallie, I so skeered! I so 
 skeered!" 
 
 "Sally," cried Mrs. Gary, as the sound of 
 hoofbeats thudding through the woods came 
 unmistakably to her ears, "take Virgie with
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 47 
 
 you instantly and run down through the grove 
 to the old ice house. Hide there under the 
 pine tags. Understand?" 
 
 But the negro girl, ashen with terror, 
 seemed incapable of flight. 
 
 "I skeered to go, Miss Hallie," she whim- 
 pered. "I wan' stay here wid you! Ou-oul" 
 
 "But you can't, I tell you," her mistress an- 
 swered, as the certainty of the girl's helpless,, 
 ness before a questioner flashed through her 
 mind. "You'd tell everything." 
 
 "Oh, come on, you big baby," Virgie urged, 
 pulling at Sally Ann's sleeve. "I'll take 
 care of you." Then her eye fell on Susan 
 Jemima lying neglected on the bench and she 
 gave a faint scream at her heartlessness. 
 "Goodness gracious, Mother," she cried, as, 
 still holding on to Sally Ann, she ran and 
 caught up her beloved doll. "I nearly forgot 
 my child!" 
 
 With the clank of sabers and the sound of 
 gruff commands already in her ears, Mrs. 
 Gary turned peremptorily to Uncle Billy. 
 
 "Remember, William! If the Yankees 
 ask for my husband you haven't seen him!"
 
 48 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Nor'm, dat's right," was the prompt 
 answer. "I dunno you eben got one. But 
 you go in de house, Miss Hallie. Dat's de 
 bes' way, yas'm." 
 
 "Perhaps it is best," his mistress answered. 
 "The longer we can detain them the better for 
 Captain Gary. You'd better come in your- 
 self." 
 
 "Yas'm," replied the faithful old man, al- 
 though such action was farthest from his 
 thoughts. "In des' a minnit. I'll be dar in 
 des' a minnit." 
 
 But once his mistress had closed the door 
 behind her Uncle Billy's plan of operations 
 changed. Hurrying down the steps he 
 plunged his arm under the porch and drew 
 forth a rusty ax. With his weapon over 
 his shoulder he hastened up on the veranda and 
 stood with his back against the door.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE thudding feet came nearer. A bugle 
 call a rattling of accouterments and then, 
 from the other side of the hedge, came a half 
 dozen troopers in blue, led by a Sergeant with 
 a red face and bloodshot eyes. 
 
 "This way, boys!" the Sergeant shouted, and 
 at the sound of a harsh, never-forgotten voice 
 Uncle Billy's grasp on his ax grew tighter. 
 "I know the place I've been here before. 
 We'll get the liquor and silver while the Colo- 
 nel is stealing the horses, eh?" Then his eyes 
 fell on Uncle Billy and he greeted him with 
 a yell of recognition. "Hello, you d d old 
 ape! Come down and show us where you 
 buried the silver and the whisky. Oh, you 
 won't? Then I'll come up and get you," and 
 he lurched forward. 
 
 "Look here, white man," Uncle Billy 
 shouted, lifting the rusty ax high in the 
 air, "you stay whar you is. Ef you come up 
 
 49
 
 50 
 
 dem steps I'll split yo' ugly haid! I krow 
 you, Jim Dudley," he cried. "Mars' Gary 
 done give you one horse whippin', an' ef you 
 hang aroun' here you'll get anudder one!" 
 
 Furious at the recollection of his shame of 
 a few years back when he had been overseer 
 on this same plantation, the Sergeant rushed 
 up the steps and knocked the ax aside with 
 his gun barrel. "Yes, he did whip me, d n 
 him, and now I'll do the same for you." 
 Seizing Uncle Billy by the throat he pushed 
 him against the house. 
 
 Instantly the door swung open. Mrs. 
 Carj'-, her head held high, her beautiful dark 
 eyes blazing with wrath, stood on the 
 threshold. 
 
 "Stop it!" she commanded in tones that 
 brooked no disobedience even from a drunk- 
 ard. "Let my servant go instantly!" 
 
 Astounded at this sudden apparition the 
 man shrank back for a moment, but almost 
 as quickly regained his bluster. 
 
 "Ah-hah, the beautiful Mrs. Gary, eh! I'm 
 glad to see you looking so well and hand- 
 
 some."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 51 
 
 The words might as well have been spoken 
 to the wind for all the notice that the woman 
 paid them. With only a gesture of mingled 
 contempt and loathing she stepped to the rail- 
 ing and called to the grinning troopers below. 
 "Who is in command here?" 
 
 To her horror only Dudley answered. 
 
 "I am," he said, triumphantly. He thrust 
 a leering face close to hers and winked at her 
 evilly. "And I'd just as soon have you get 
 me a drink as the nigger. Come on, sweet- 
 heart." 
 
 Intent on insulting this woman whose hus- 
 band had once cut his back to ribbons the man 
 caught her by the arm and roughly tried to 
 pull her to him. But before he could ac- 
 complish his purpose retribution fell on him 
 with a heavy hand. 
 
 Through a gap in the hedge an officer at 
 the head of a dozen troopers appeared. One 
 jlook at the scene on the veranda and Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Morrison, with a smothered 
 oath, dashed up the steps. 
 
 "You drunken whelp," and catching the 
 drunkard by the collar he twisted him around
 
 52 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 and hurled him thudding and bumping down 
 the steps. "By God, I ought to have you 
 shot." He swept his arm out and gave voice 
 to a ringing command. "Report to Lieu- 
 tenant Harris at once under arrest'. Cor- 
 poral! Take his gun." He paused a mo- 
 ment as a brother of the man now under ar- 
 rest stepped forward with a sullen face and 
 obeyed orders. Running his glance over the 
 line of faces, now suddenly vacant of expres- 
 sion, he whipped them mercilessly with his 
 eye. "You men, too, will hear from me. Go 
 to the stable and wait. Another piece of 
 work like this and I'll have your coats cut off 
 with a belt buckle! Clear out!" 
 
 Then he turned to the beautiful woman in 
 white who stood only a few feet away, no 
 longer timid but in entire possession of her 
 faculties before what, she knew, might prove 
 a greater danger than a drunkard. 
 
 "Madam," said the Union officer as he' 
 doffed his hat, "I couldn't apologize for this, 
 no matter how hard I tried; but, believe me, 
 I regret it deeply." 
 
 In answer she slowly raised her heavy lidded
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 53 
 
 eyes and gave him her first thrust smoothly 
 and deftly. 
 
 "No apology is demanded," she murmured 
 in soft tones. "I was merely unfamiliar with 
 the Union's method of attack." 
 
 "Attack!" he repeated, astounded, and 
 stepped back. 
 
 "What else?" she asked, simply. "My 
 home is over-run; my servant assaulted by a 
 drunken ruffian." 
 
 "The man will be punished," was the stern 
 reply, "to the limit of my authority." 
 
 "He should be. We know him," the South- 
 ern woman said bitterly. "Before the war he 
 was our overseer. He was cruel to the ne- 
 groes and my husband gave him a taste of his 
 own discipline with a riding whip!" 
 
 "Ah, I see," Morrison nodded. "But it is 
 not always in an officer's power to control each 
 individual in the service especially at such a 
 time. Yet I assure you on the part of the 
 Union and mine that there was no inten- 
 tion of attack." 
 
 Mrs. Gary had chosen this moment in which 
 to draw her visitor off the veranda and when
 
 54. THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 she had successfully brought him to the foot 
 of the steps she looked up in smiling sarcasm 
 with another thrust. 
 
 "Oh! Then since your visit would seem a 
 social one how may I serve you, sir?" 
 
 Morrison laughed lightly. This pretty cat 
 could scratch*. 
 
 "I'm afraid, dear madam, you are wrong 
 again. My detachment is on foraging duty. 
 It is not a pleasant task but our army is in 
 need of horses and supplies, and by the rules 
 of war, I must take what I can find." 
 
 "Even by force?" came the quiet in- 
 quiry. 
 
 "Yes, even force," he answered, reddening. 
 "With its proper limitations. I rob you, it is 
 true, but by virtue of necessity. In return I 
 can only offer, as I would to every other 
 woman of the South, all courtesy and protec- 
 tion at my command," and Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Morrison, for the second time, took off his hat. 
 
 The Southern woman swept him a curtsey 
 filled with graceful mockery. 
 
 "I thank you. There is consolation and 
 even flattery in being plundered by a gen-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 55 
 
 tleman." She made a short gesture which 
 took in house, plantation and all the Gary 
 possessions. "I regret sincerely that we 
 have nothing left; yet I beg you help your- 
 self." 
 
 Colonel Morrison bit his lip, half in vexa- 
 tion and half in amusement. "At least you 
 make my undertaking a difficult one, although 
 the Lord knows, I hardly blame you." And 
 then, with a quick, searching look, "Are there 
 any rebels hidden in your house?" 
 
 "No," she answered. 
 
 "No wounded officers or refugees of any 
 kind?" 
 
 "None." 
 
 "You give me your word for this your 
 oath?" 
 
 The Southern woman's head went up and 
 her eyes flashed. "I do," she said contemptu- 
 ously and moved away. 
 
 "Thank you," was the grave reply, and he 
 turned to dismiss his men. Then a thought 
 struck him and he detained her with a ges- 
 ture. 
 
 "Pardon me, but if it was true if a brother
 
 56 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 or a father was concealed in there wouldn't 
 your answer be the same?" 
 
 The answer that came proudly back did not 
 amaze him. "I would try to protect them 
 yes! Even with a perjury!" 
 
 "Ah!" he said sharply. "Then, don't you 
 you see, you tie the hands of courtesy and 
 force me to to this invasion of your home. 
 Corporal! Make a search of the house for 
 hidden arms or stragglers and report to me. 
 If any rebels are found bring them out. 
 Wait," he ordered, as the Corporal promptly 
 started forward, "nothing else, whatever, must 
 be taken or molested." 
 
 "One moment," commanded Mrs. Gary in 
 her turn and beckoned to Uncle Billy who 
 had been standing by in silence. "William! 
 conduct these soldiers through my house 
 and show them every courtesy. If the Colo- 
 nel's orders are not obeyed, report to me." 
 
 "Yas'm," grinned Uncle Billy, with an 
 opera bouffe salute. "Ev'ry molestashun I'se 
 gwine report." 
 
 Morrison laughed outright. "I'm sorry 
 you still have doubts of my honorable inten-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 57 
 
 tions. May may my soldiers go in now? 
 Thank you." 
 
 He walked away a few steps, then turned 
 and looked at her where she sat on the bench 
 demurely sewing. It occurred to him that 
 she was too demure. Besides, he had discov- 
 ered something. 
 
 "Er it is true that I found your stable 
 empty," he said, while his eyes probed hers, 
 "but, curiously enough, it seems to have been 
 recently occupied." 
 
 "Yes?" was the non-committal reply. 
 
 "Yes," he echoed, with a touch of iron in his 
 voice. "And you can insure our leaving you 
 more quickly if you will tell me where these 
 horses have been hidden." 
 
 Mrs. Gary did not raise her eyes. 
 
 "Granted that we had them," she said, "I'm 
 afraid I must trouble you to look for them. 
 Otherwise there would be no sense in trying 
 to protect my property." 
 
 "Right again," he acknowledged, but did 
 not swerve from what he had to do. "Or- 
 derly," he commanded, "report to Lieutenant 
 Harris at the stables and have him hunt the
 
 58 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 woods and swamp for hidden horses. Hurry ! 
 We must leave in half an hour." 
 
 As Morrison spoke his eye fell on the road' 
 way and he started perceptibly. When he 
 turned back to the woman on the bench it was 
 with a sterner light in his eye. 
 
 "I also notice that a horse has recently been 
 fed and watered in your carriage road. 
 Whose was he?" 
 
 Again that smooth, soft voice with its 
 languid evasions. "We have several neigh- 
 bors, Colonel. They visit us at infrequent 
 times." 
 
 "Undoubtedly," He conceded. "But do 
 you usually feed their horses?" 
 
 She smiled faintly. "What little hospi- 
 tality is ours extends to both man and beast." 
 
 "I can well believe it," he replied, for he 
 saw to cross-examine this quick witted woman 
 would be forever useless. "And in happier 
 times I could wish it might extend to me. 
 
 "Oh, I mean no offense," he interrupted 
 as Mrs. Gary rose haughtily. "I only want 
 you to believe that I'm sorry for this intru- 
 sion."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 59 
 
 She raised her eyebrows faintly and sat 
 down again. "And was that the reason why 
 you asked about my neighbor's horse?" 
 
 "No," he said quickly, and as suddenly 
 caught and held her eye. "There's a Rebel 
 scout who has been giving us trouble a hand- 
 some fellow riding a bay horse. I thought, 
 perhaps, he might have passed this way." 
 
 If he had thought he would detect anything 
 in her face he was once more mistaken. 
 
 "It is more than possible," Mrs. Gary re- 
 marked with a touch of weariness. "The 
 road out there is a public one." 
 
 "And where does it lead to, may I ask?" 
 
 "That depends upon which way you are 
 traveling and which fork you take." 
 
 "Possibly. But suppose you were riding 
 north. Wouldn't the right fork lead to Rich- 
 mond and the left swing around toward the 
 river crossing?" 
 
 "As to that I must refer you to a more com- 
 petent authority," she answered with a hint of 
 some disclosure in her tones. 
 
 "Who?" 
 
 "Mr. Jefferson Davis," she replied and al-
 
 60 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 most laughed outright as he turned away to 
 hide his vexation. This was an easy game for 
 her to play and every moment she gained 
 added to Herbert's safety. But if only she 
 could hear those three shots from across the 
 river. 
 
 "Well, Harris?" said Morrison as his Lieu- 
 tenant strode up. 
 
 "I have to report, sir, that we've gotten 
 what little hay and corn there was in the 
 stables and are waiting for your orders." 
 
 "Very well," and Lieutenant-Colonel Mor- 
 rison's incisive words rang mercilessly in the 
 listening woman's ears. "Pick out the best 
 shots you have among your men and send 
 them at the gallop down this road to the river 
 crossing. String them along the bank, dis- 
 mount them and have them watch as they've 
 never watched before. You understand? 
 Now hurry!" 
 
 If ever a woman hated a man, or rather the 
 crushing force he typified, then Herbert 
 Gary's wife hated this clear headed, efficient 
 Northerner, who was now discovering how he 
 had been delayed and thwarted. Yet she had
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 61 
 
 plenty of spirit left, for as Corporal Dudley 
 and his file of troopers emerged from the 
 house she stood up and caught Uncle Billy's 
 eye. 
 
 "Well, Corporal?" asked Morrison. 
 "Well, William?" asked Mrs. Cary. 
 "It's all right, Miss Hallie," Uncle Billy 
 grinned. "Dey ain't took nothin' not a 
 single thing." 
 
 "Thank you, William," said Mrs. Cary, 
 having triumphed again. "And thank you, 
 gentlemen." With a bow to Morrison she 
 went superbly back to her seat under the 
 trees. But as she went it took all her strength 
 of will to keep from crying. Down the car- 
 riage road a squad of cavalry was galloping 
 furiously towards the river. And still she 
 had not heard the three shots. 
 
 "Now, then, Corporal, you found what?" 
 "Nothing, sir. We hunted from cellar to 
 roof. No arms and no rebels." 
 
 "H'm," he mused. "Anything else ?" 
 "Three bedrooms, sir. All in use." 
 "Three?" Colonel Morrison exclaimed. 
 "Very well. That's all. I'll join you in a
 
 62 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 moment." Then he turned to Mrs. Gary, his 
 face stern with resolve. 
 
 "Madam," he said crisply, "you are not 
 alone on this plantation with only this old ne- 
 gro. We are wasting time. I'm after a 
 Rebel scout and I want him. Which way 
 did he go?" 
 
 "I'm sorry, sir," she said, quite ready to 
 play her game again. "But our Rebel scouts 
 usually neglect to mention their precise in- 
 tentions." 
 
 "Perhaps. If this one went at all. Is he 
 still here?" 
 
 "I should imagine not" 
 
 "Then he did go this way to the river 
 crossing?" 
 
 Once more he caught and held her eyes and 
 thought he would read the truth in spite of 
 anything she might say. 
 
 But while he looked he saw her strained 
 face suddenly relax saw the anxiety flee 
 from her eyes saw heart and soul take on new 
 life. From far away across the river had 
 come some faint popping sounds, regularly 
 spaced three shots.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 63 
 
 "Ah!" he said, in wonder. "What is that?" 
 
 "It sounds" laughed Herbert Gary's wife, 
 "like firing. But I think it is a friend of 
 mine saluting me from the safe side of the 
 river. Good evening, Colonel," and she 
 swept by him. She could go find Virgie now. 
 
 Just then came the sound of a horse, gallop- 
 ing. Up the road came a trooper, white with 
 dust, his animal flecked with foam. 
 
 "For Colonel Morrison. Urgent," he 
 rasped from a dry throat, as he thudded across 
 the lawn and dismounted. "From headquar- 
 ters," and he thrust out a dispatch, "I'm 
 ordered to return with your detachment." 
 
 Snatching the dispatch from the man's 
 hand Morrison ran his eye over it then 
 started visibly. 
 
 "Orderly! Report to Harris double-quick. 
 Recall the men. Sound boots-and-saddles. 
 Then bring my horse at once! Any de- 
 tails?" he asked peremptorily of the courier. 
 
 "Big battle to-morrow," the man answered. 
 "Two gunboats are reported coming up the 
 river and a wing of the Rebel army is ad- 
 vancing from Petersburg. Every available
 
 64 
 
 detachment is ordered in. You are to reach 
 camp before morning." 
 
 "All right. We'll be there." Then, as the 
 bugle sounded, "Ride with us," he said, and 
 strode over to where Mrs. Gary stood, arrested 
 by the news. 
 
 "Madam, I must make you a rather hurried 
 farewell and a last apology. If ever we 
 meet again, I hope the conditions may be 
 happier for you." 
 
 "I thank you, Colonel," the proud Southern 
 woman said sincerely, with a curtsy. "Some 
 day the 'rebel scout' may thank you also for 
 me and mine." And with a smile that au- 
 gured friendship when that brighter day 
 should come she passed out of his sight among 
 the trees. 
 
 For a moment he watched her, proud at 
 least that this proud woman was of his own 
 race, then saw that the old negro, her only pro- 
 tector, still guarded the house. 
 
 "Here, old man," he commanded, "go along 
 with your mistress and take care of her. I'll 
 be the last to leave and see that nothing hap- 
 pens to the house."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 65 
 
 "Yas, seh. Thank'e, sell," said old Uncle 
 Billy, coming down. "If all of 'em was only 
 lek you, seh " 
 
 Uncle Billy suddenly turned and looked up 
 at the house, his mouth open in consternation. 
 With a cry of anguish he pointed to an upper 
 window. 
 
 "Look what dey done done," he shrieked. 
 "Aw, Gawd a'mighty! Look what dey done 
 done!" 
 
 A cloud of smoke was rolling from the 
 windows, shot through with yellow jets of 
 flame. There was the sound of clumsy boots 
 on the stairs and the door was thrown open. 
 Dudley, escaped from arrest, ran out with a 
 flaming pine torch in his hand. 
 
 "God!" cried Morrison, with raging anger. 
 "Dudley! HALT!" 
 
 But Dudley knew that there would be little 
 use in halting arid so ran on until a big revol- 
 ver barked behind him and he pitched heavily 
 forward on his face. Morrison looked down 
 on the prostrate form and his lips moved sadly, 
 pityingly: 
 
 "And I promised her protection 1"
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 OF all the memories of war, after the dear 
 dead are buried, there is one that serves to 
 bring the struggle back in all the intensity 
 of its horrors to stand both as a monument 
 to those who bled and suffered and as a lonely 
 sentinel mourning for the peace and plenty 
 of the past a blackened chimney. 
 
 Of all the houses, cabins, barns and cribs 
 which had made up the home of the Carys a 
 few short months ago nothing remained to- 
 day but ashes and black ruin. Only one build- 
 ing had been left unburned and this, before 
 the war, had been the cabin of an overseer. 
 It had but two rooms, and a shallow attic, 
 which was gained by means of an iron ladder 
 j reaching to a closely fitting scuttle in the ceil- 
 ing. The larger room was furnished mea- 
 gerly with a rough deal table, several common 
 chairs, and a double-doored cupboard against 
 the wall. In the deep, wide fire-place glowed 
 
 66
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 67 
 
 a heap of raked-up embers, on which, sus- 
 pended from an iron crane, a kettle simmered, 
 sadly, as if in grief for her long-lost brother 
 pots and pans. The plaster on the walls had 
 broken away in patches, especially above the 
 door, where the sunlight streamed through 
 the gaping wound from a cannon shot. The 
 door and window shutters were of heavy oak, 
 swinging inward and fastening with bars ; yet 
 now they were open, and through them could 
 be seen a dreary stretch of river bottom, with- 
 ering beneath the rays of a July sun. 
 
 Beyond a distant fringe of trees the muddy 
 James went murmuring down its muddy 
 banks, where the blue cranes waited solemnly 
 for the ebbing tide; where the crows cawed 
 hoarsely in their busy, reeling flight, and the 
 buzzards swung high above the marshes. Yet 
 even in this waste of listless desolation came 
 the echoed boom of heavy guns far down the 
 river, where the "Rebs" and "Yanks" were 
 pounding one another lazily. 
 
 From the woods which skirted the carriage 
 road a man appeared a thin, worn man, in a 
 uniform of stained and tattered gray a man
 
 68 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 who peered from right to left, as a hunted rab- 
 bit might, then darted across the road and 
 plunged into the briery underbrush. Noise- 
 lessly he made his way to the now deserted 
 cabin, creeping, crawling till he reached a 
 point below an open window, then slowly raised 
 himself and looked within. 
 
 "Virgie!" he whispered cautiously. "Vir- 
 gie!" 
 
 No answer came. For a moment the man 
 leaned dizzily against the w T indowsill, his eyes 
 fast closed with a nameless dread, till he 
 caught his grip again and entered the open 
 door. 
 
 "Virgie!" he called, in a louder tone, mov- 
 ing swiftly but unsteadily toward the adjoin- 
 ing room. He flung its door open sharply, 
 almost angrily; yet the name on his lips was 
 tender, trembling, as he called: "Virgie! 
 Virgie!" 
 
 In the loneliness of dread, he once more 
 leaned for support against the wall, wonder- 
 ing, listening to the pounding of his heart, 
 to the murmur of the muddy James, and the 
 fall of a flake of plaster loosened by the dull
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 69 
 
 reverberation of a distant gun; then suddenly 
 his eye was caught by the kettle simmering on 
 the fire, and he sighed in swift relief. 
 
 He wiped his brow with a ragged sleeve 
 and went to where a water-bucket stood be- 
 hind the door, knelt beside it, drinking deeply, 
 gratefully, yet listening the while for un- 
 wonted sounds and watching the bend of 
 the carriage road. His thirst appeased, he 
 hunted vainly through the table drawer for 
 balls and powder for the empty pistol at his 
 hip; then, instinctively alert to some rustling 
 sound outside, he crouched toward the adjoin- 
 ing room, slipped in, and softly closed the 
 door. 
 
 From the sunlit world beyond the cabin 
 walls rose the murmur of a childish song and 
 Virgie came pattering in. 
 
 She had not changed greatly in stature in 
 the past few months, but there was a very no- 
 ticeable decrease in the girth of her little arms 
 and body, and her big dark eyes seemed the 
 larger for the whiteness of her face. On her 
 head she wore an old calico bonnet several 
 sizes too large and the gingham dress which
 
 70 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 scarcely reached to her bare, brown knees 
 would not have done, a few months ago, for 
 even Sally Ann. In one hand Virgie carried 
 a small tin bucket filled with berries; in the 
 other she clutched a doll lovingly against her 
 breast. 
 
 Xot the old Susan Jemima, but a new Susan 
 Jemima on whom an equal affection was being 
 lavished even though she was strangely and 
 wonderfully made. To the intimate view of 
 the unimaginative, Susan Jemima was formed 
 from the limb of a cedar tree, the forking 
 branches being her arms and legs, her costume 
 consisting of a piece of rag tied at the waist 
 with a bit of string. 
 
 On a chair at the table Virgie set her doll, 
 then laughed at the hopelessness of its break- 
 fasting with any degree of comfort, or of ease. 
 
 "Why, Lord a-mercy, child, your chin don't 
 come up to the table." 
 
 On the chair she placed a wooden box,; 
 perching the doll on top and taking a seat 
 herself just opposite. She emptied the black- 
 berries into a mutilated plate, brought from 
 the cupboard a handful of toasted acorns, on
 
 71 
 
 which she poured boiling water, then set the 
 concoction aside to steep. 
 
 "Now, Miss Susan Jemima," said Virgie, 
 addressing her vis-a-vis with the hospitable 
 courtesy due to so great a lady, "we are goin' 
 to have some breakfas'." She paused, in a 
 shade of doubt, then smiled a faint apology: 
 "It isn't very much of a breakfas', darlin', 
 but we'll make believe it's waffles an' chicken 
 an' an' hot rolls an' batter-bread an' an' 
 everything." She rose to her little bare feet, 
 holding her wisp of a skirt aside, and made a 
 sweeping bow. "Allow me, Miss Jemima, to 
 make you a mos' delicious cup of coffee." 
 
 And, while the little hostess prepared the 
 meal, a man looked out from the partly open 
 door behind her, with big dark eyes, which 
 were like her own, yet blurred by a mist of 
 pity and of love. 
 
 "Susan," said the hostess presently, "it's 
 ready now, and we'll say grace; so don't you 
 talk an' annoy your mother." 
 
 The tiny brown head was bowed. The tiny 
 brown hands, with their berry-stained fingers, 
 were placed on the table's edge; but Miss
 
 72 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Susan Jemima sat bolt upright, though listen- 
 ing, it seemed, to the words of reverence fall- 
 ing from a mother-baby's lips : 
 
 "Lord, make us thankful for the blackber-, 
 ries an* the aco'n coffee an' an' all our 
 blessin's ; but please, sir, sen' us somethin' that 
 tastes jus' a little better if you don't mind. 
 Amen!" 
 
 And the man, who leaned against the door 
 and watched, had also bowed his head. A 
 pain was in his throat and in his heart a 
 pain that gripped him, till two great tears 
 rolled down his war-worn cheek and were lost 
 in his straggling beard. 
 
 " Virgie !" he whispered hoarsely. " Virgie 1" 
 
 She started at the sound and looked about 
 her, wondering; then, as the name was called 
 again, she slid from her chair and ran forward 
 with a joyous cry: 
 
 "Why, Daddy! Is it you? Is" 
 
 She stopped, for the man had placed a 
 finger on his lip and was pointing to the door. 
 
 "Take a look down the road," he ordered, 
 in a guarded voice ; and, when she had reached 
 a point commanding the danger zone, he
 
 The home of the Carys, before the war 
 
 "Virgie," he whispered hoarsely. "Virgie !"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 73 
 
 asked, "See anybody? soldiers?" She shook 
 her head. "Hear anything?" 
 
 She stood for a moment listening, then ran 
 to him, and sprang into his waiting arms. 
 
 "It's all right, Daddy! It's all right 
 now!" 
 
 He raised her, strained her to his breast, 
 his cheek against her own. 
 
 "My little girl!" he murmured between his 
 kisses. "My little rebel!" And as she 
 snuggled in his arms, her berry-stained fingers 
 clasped tightly about his neck, he asked her 
 wistfully, "Did you miss me? awful much?" 
 
 "Yes," she nodded, looking into his eyes. 
 "Yes in the night time when the wind was 
 
 talkin'; but, after while, when Why, 
 
 Daddy!" He had staggered as he set her 
 down, sinking into a chair and closing his eyes 
 as he leaned on the table's edge. "You 
 are hurt!" she cried. "I I can see the 
 /blood!" 
 
 The wounded Southerner braced himself. 
 
 "No, dear, no," he strove to reassure her. 
 "It isn't anything; only a little scratch from 
 a Yank that tried to get me. But he didn't,
 
 74 
 
 though," the soldier added with a smile. "I'm 
 just tired." 
 
 The child regarded him in wondering awe, 
 speaking in a half-breathed whisper: 
 
 "Did he did he shoot at you?" 
 
 Her father nodded, with his hand on her 
 tumbled hair. 
 
 "Yes, honey, I'm afraid he did; but I'm so 
 used to it now I don't mind it any more. Get 
 me a drink of water, will you?" As Virgie 
 obeyed in silence, returning with the dripping 
 gourd, the man went on: "I tried to get here 
 yesterday; but I couldn't. They chased me 
 when I came before and now they're watch- 
 ing." He paused to sip at his draught of 
 water, glancing toward the carriage road. 
 "Big fight down the river. Listen! Can you 
 hear the guns?" 
 
 "Yes, plain," she answered, tilting her tiny 
 head. "An' las' night, when I went to bed, 
 I could hear 'em oh! ever so loud: Boom! 
 Boom! Boom-boom! So I knelt up an' 
 asked the Lord not to let any of 'em hit you." 
 
 Two arms, in their tattered gray, slipped 
 round the child. He kissed her, in that
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 75 
 
 strange, fierce passion of a man who has lost 
 his mate, and his grief-torn love is magnified 
 in the mite who reflects her image and her 
 memory. 
 
 "Did you, honey?" he asked, with a trem- 
 bling lip. "Well, I reckon that saved your 
 daddy, for not one shell touched him no, not 
 one!" He kissed her again, and laughed, 
 "And I tell you, Virgie, they were coming as 
 thick as bees." 
 
 Once more he sipped at the grateful, cool- 
 ing draught of water, when the child asked 
 suddenly : 
 
 "How is Gen'ral Lee?" 
 
 Down came the gourd upon the table. The 
 Southerner was on his feet, with a stiffened 
 back ; and his dusty slouch hat was in his hand. 
 
 "He's well; God bless him! Well!" 
 
 The tone was deep and tender, proud, but 
 as reverent as the baby's prayer for her father's 
 immunity from harm; yet the man who spoke 
 sank back into his seat, closing his eyes and 
 repeating slowly, sadly: 
 
 "He's well; God bless him! But he's tired, 
 darling mighty tired."
 
 76 
 
 "Daddy," the soldier's daughter asked, "will 
 you tell him somethin' from me?" 
 
 "Yes, dear. What?" 
 
 "Tell him," said the child, with a thoughtful 
 glance at Miss Susan Jemima across the table, 
 "tell him, if he ever marches along this way, 
 I'll come over to his tent and rub his head, like 
 I do yours if he'll let me till he goes to 
 sleep." She clasped her fingers and looked 
 into her father's eyes, hopefully, appealingly. 
 "Do you think he would, if if I washed my 
 hands real clean?" 
 
 The Southerner bit his lip and tried to smile. 
 
 "Yes, honey, I know he would! And think! 
 He sent a message to you. 39 
 
 "Did he?" she asked, wide-eyed, flushed with 
 happiness. "What did he say, Daddy? 
 What?" 
 
 "He said," her father answered, taking her 
 hands in his: " 'She's a brave little soldier, to 
 stay there all alone. Dixie and I are proud 
 of her!'" 
 
 "Oh, Daddy, did he? Did he?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, yes," the soldier nodded; "his 
 very words. And look!" From his boot leg
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 77 
 
 he took a folded paper and spread it on his 
 knee. "He wrote you a pass to Richmond. 
 Can you read it?" 
 
 Virgie leaned against her father's shoulder, 
 studying the paper long and earnestly; then, 
 presently looked up, with a note of grave but 
 courteous hesitation in her tone: 
 
 "Well he well, the Gen'ral writes a aw- 
 ful bad hand, Daddy." 
 
 Her father laughed in genuine delight, vow- 
 ing in his heart to tell his general and friend 
 of this crushing criticism, if ever the fates of 
 war permitted them to meet again. 
 
 "Dead right!" he agreed, with hearty 
 promptness. "But come, I'll read it for you. 
 TsTow then. Listen: 
 
 " HEADQUARTERS OF THE ARMY OF NORTHERN VA. 
 "Pass Virginia Gary and escort through all Confed- 
 erate lines and give safe-conduct wherever possible. 
 
 "R. E. LEE, General." 
 
 There was silence for a moment, then Virgie 
 looked up, with tears in her eyes and voice. 
 
 "An' he did that for little me? Oh, 
 Daddy, I love him so much, it it makes me 
 want to cry."
 
 78 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 She hid her face on the coat of gray, and 
 sobbed; while her father stroked her hair and 
 answered soothingty, but in a tone of mourn- 
 ing reverie: 
 
 "So do we all, darling; big grown men, who 
 have suffered, and are losing all they love. 
 They are ragged and wounded hungry 
 and, oh, so tired! But, when they think of 
 him, they draw up their belts another hole, and 
 say, 'For General Lee!' And then they can 
 fight and fight and fight till their hearts stop 
 beating and the god of battles writes them 
 a bloody pass!" 
 
 Again he had risen to his feet. He was 
 speaking proudly, in the reckless passion of 
 the yet unconquered Southerner, only half- 
 conscious of the tot who watched him, won- 
 dering. So she came to him quickly, taking 
 his hand in both her own, and striving to bring 
 him comfort from the fountain of her little 
 mother-heart. 
 
 "Don't you worry, Daddy-man. We'll 
 we'll whip 'em yet." 
 
 "No, dear no," he sighed, as he dropped 
 into his seat. "We won't. It's hard enough
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 79 
 
 on men; but harder still on children such as 
 you." He turned to her gravely, earnestly: 
 "Virgie, I had hoped to get you through to 
 Richmond to-day. But I can't. The Yan- 
 kees have cut us off. They are up the 
 river and down the river and all around us. 
 I've been nearly the whole night getting here; 
 creeping through the woods like an old 
 Molly-cotton-tail with the blue boys every- 
 where, waiting to get me if I showed my head." 
 
 "But they didn't, did they?" said Virgie, 
 laughing at his reference to the wise old rabbit 
 and feeling for the pockets of his shabby coat. 
 "Did you did you bring me anything?" 
 
 At her question the man cried out as if in 
 pain, then reached for her in a wave of yearn- 
 ing tenderness. 
 
 "Listen, dear; I I had a little bundle for 
 you of of things to eat." He took her by 
 the arms, and looked into her quaint, wise face. 
 "And I was so glad I had it, darling, for you 
 are thinner than you were." He paused to 
 bite his lip, and continued haltingly, "There 
 was bread in that bundle and meat real 
 meat and sugar and tea."
 
 80 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Virgie released herself and clapped her 
 hands. 
 
 "Oh, Daddjr, where is it?" she asked him 
 
 happily, once more reaching for the pocket. 
 
 ' 'Cause I'm so hungry for somethin' good." 
 
 "Don't! Don't!" he cried, as he drew his 
 coat away, roughly, fiercely, in the pain 
 of unselfish suffering. "For God's sake, 
 don't!" 
 
 "Why, what is it, Daddy," she asked, in 
 her shrillness of a child's alarm, her eyes on 
 the widening stain of red above his waist. "Is 
 is it hurtin' you again? What is it, Daddy- 
 man?" 
 
 "Your bundle," he answered, in the flat, 
 dull tone of utter hopelessness. "I lost it, 
 Virgie. I lost it." 
 
 "Oh," she said, with a quaver of disappoint- 
 ment, which she vainly strove to hide. "How 
 did you do it?" 
 
 For a moment the man leaned limply 
 against a chair-back, hiding his eyes with one 
 trembling hand; then he spoke in shamed 
 apology: 
 
 "I I couldn't help it, darling; because,
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 81 
 
 you see, I hadn't any powder left; and I was 
 coming through the woods just as I told you 
 when the Yanks got sight of me." He 
 smiled down at her bravely, striving to add a 
 dash of comedy to his tragic plight. "And I 
 tell you, Virgie, your old dad had to run like 
 a turkey wishing to the Lord he had wings, 
 too." 
 
 Virgie did not smile in turn, and her father 
 dropped back into his former tone, his pale 
 lips setting in a straight, hard line. 
 
 "And then the blue boy I was telling you 
 about when he shot at me, I must have stum- 
 bled, because, when I scrambled up, I I 
 couldn't see just right; so I ran and ran, think- 
 ing of you, darling, and wanting to get to you 
 before Well, before it was breakfast time. I 
 had your bundle in my pocket; but when I 
 fell why, Virgie, don't you see? I I 
 couldn't go back and find it." He paused to 
 choke, then spoke between his teeth, in fury 
 at a strength which had failed to breast a bar- 
 rier of fate: "But I would have gone back, if 
 I'd had any powder left. I would! By God, 
 I would 1"
 
 82 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 A pitiful apology it was, from a man to a 
 little child; a story told only in its hundredth 
 part, for why should he give its untold horrors 
 to a baby's ears? How could she understand 
 that man-hunt in the early dawn? The fugi- 
 tive with an empty pistol on his hip wading 
 swamps and plunging through the tangled 
 underbrush; alert and listening, darting from 
 tree to tree where the woods were thin ; crouch- 
 ing behind some fallen log to catch his labor- 
 ing breath, then rising again to creep along 
 his way. He did not tell of the racking pain 
 in his weary legs, nor the protest of his pound- 
 ing heart the strain the agony the puffs 
 of smoke that floated above the pines, and the 
 ping of bullets whining through the trees. He 
 did not tell of the ball that slid along his ribs, 
 leaving a fiery, aching memory behind, as the 
 man crashed down a clay bank, to lie for an 
 instant in a crumpled heap, to rise and stum- 
 ble on not toward the haven of his own Con- 
 federate lines, but forward, to where a baby 
 waited through a dancing mist of red. 
 
 And so the soldier made his poor apology,
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 83 
 
 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 hun- 
 dred 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.
 
 84 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Don't cry, Daddy-man," she murmured In 
 his ear; "it's all right. I can eat the black- 
 berries. They they don't taste so awful good 
 when you have 'em all the time; but Z 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 Rich- 
 mon' jus' heaps an' then- 
 She stopped abruptly, lifting her head and 
 listening, in the manner of a sheep dog scent- 
 ing 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 
 joad!" 
 
 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
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 85 
 
 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. 
 
 "Shut the door quick!" She obeyed in 
 silence. "Lock it!" She turned the rusty 
 key, and waited. "Now the windows! 
 Hurry, but do it quietly." 
 
 She closed the clumsy shutters and set the 
 heavy bars into their slots ; then the man came 
 forward, knelt down before her and took her 
 hands. 
 
 "Listen, Virginia," he whispered earnestly; 
 "don't you remember how your dear, dear 
 mother and I, too, darling always told you 
 never to tell a lie?" 
 
 "An' I haven't, Daddy-man," she protested, 
 wondering. ' 'Deed, an' 'deed, I haven't. 
 Why" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know," he interrupted hur-
 
 86 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 riedly; "but now you must!" As the child 
 stepped backward and tried to draw away, he 
 clasped her hands more tightly still. "But 
 listen, dear; it's to save me! Don't you un- 
 derstand? and it's right! When those men 
 come, they mustn't find me. Say I was here, 
 but I've gone. If they ask which way, tell 
 them I went down past the spring through 
 the blackberry patch. Do you understand? 
 and can you remember?" She nodded 
 gravely, and the Southerner folded her tightly 
 in his arms. "Be a brave little rebel, honey 
 for me!" 
 
 He released her and began to mount the lad- 
 der leading to the scuttle in the ceiling; but 
 halfway up he paused, as Virgie checked him 
 with a solemn question: 
 
 "Daddy would Gen'ral Lee want me to 
 tell that lie?" 
 
 "Yes, dear," he answered slowly, thought- 
 fully; "this once! And, if ever you see him, 
 ask him, and he'll tell you so himself. God 
 help you, darling; it's for General Lee and 
 you!" 
 
 The littlest rebel sighed, as though a weight
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 87 
 
 had been lifted from her mind, and she cocked 
 her head at the sound of louder hoof-beats on 
 the carriage road. 
 
 "All right, Daddy-man. I'll tell a whop- 
 per!"
 
 THE man crawled up through the scuttle hole 
 and disappeared; then drew the ladder after 
 him and closed the trap, while Virgie tiptoed 
 to the table and slipped into a seat. 
 
 The cabin was now in semi-darkness, except 
 for a shaft of sunlight entering through the 
 jagged wound from the cannon-shot above the 
 door; and it fell on the quaint, brown head of 
 little Miss Virginia Gary, and the placid form 
 *>f Susan Jemima, perching opposite, in serene 
 contempt of the coming of a conquering host. 
 
 The jingling clank of sabers grew louder 
 to the listeners' ears, through the rumble of 
 pounding hoofs ; a bugle's note came winnow- 
 ing across the fields, and Virgie leaned for- 
 ward with a confidential whisper to her doll: 
 
 "Susan Jemima, I wouldn't tell anybody 
 else no, not for anything but I cert'n'y am 
 awful scared!" 
 
 There came a scurrying rush, a command to 
 
 89
 
 89 
 
 halt, and a rustling, scraping noise of dis- 
 mounting men; a pause, and the sharp, loud 
 rap of a saber hilt against the door. Virgie 
 breathed hard, but made no answer. 
 
 "Open up!" called a voice outside, but the 
 little rebel closed her lips and sat staring at 
 Susan Jemima across the table. A silence 
 followed, short, yet filled with dread; then 
 came a low-toned order and the crash of car- 
 bine butts on the stout oak door. For a time 
 it resisted hopefully, then slowly its top sagged 
 in, with a groaning, grating protest from its 
 rusty hinges ; it swayed, collapsed in a cloud of 
 dust and the enemy swept over it. 
 
 They came with a rush ; in the lead an officer, 
 a naked saber in his fist, followed by a squad 
 of grim-faced troopers, each with his carbine 
 cocked and ready for discharge. Yet, as sud- 
 denly as they had come, they halted now at the 
 sight of a little lady, seated at table, eating 
 berries, as calmly as though the dogs of war 
 had never even growled. 
 
 A wondering silence followed, till broken 
 by a piping voice, in grave but courteous re- 
 proof,;
 
 90 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "I I don't think you are very polite." 
 
 The officer in command was forced to smile. 
 
 "I'm sorry, my dear," he apologized; "but 
 am afraid, this time, I can't quite help it." 
 He glanced at the door of the adjoining room 
 and turned to his waiting men, though speak- 
 ing in an undertone: "He's in there, I guess. 
 Don't fire if you can help it on account of 
 the baby. Now thenl Steady, boys! Ad- 
 vance!" 
 
 He led the way, six troopers following, 
 while the rest remained behind to guard the 
 cabin's open door. Virgie slowly turned her 
 head, with eyes that watched the officer's every 
 move; then presently she called: 
 
 "Hey, there! That's my room an' don't 
 you-all bother any of my things, either !" 
 
 This one command, at least, was implicitly 
 obeyed, for in a moment the disappointed 
 squad returned. The carbine butts were 
 grounded ; the troopers stood at orderly atten- 
 tion, while their officer stepped toward the 
 table. 
 
 "What's your name, little monkey?" 
 
 Virgie raised her eyes in swift reproach.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 91 
 
 "I don't like to be called a monkey. It 
 it isn't respectful." 
 
 The Union soldier laughed. 
 
 "O-ho! I see." He touched his hat and 
 made her a sweeping bow. "A thousand par- 
 dons, Mademoiselle." He shot his sword into 
 its scabbard, and laughed again. "Might I 
 inquire as to what you are called by your er 
 justly respectful relatives and friends?" 
 
 "Virgie," she answered simply. 
 
 "Ah," he approved, "and a very pretty 
 name! Virgie what?" 
 
 "My whole name is Miss Virginia Houston 
 Gary." 
 
 The soldier started, glanced at his troopers, 
 then back to the child again: 
 
 "Is Herbert Gary your father?" 
 
 He waited for her answer, and got it, 
 straight from a baby's shoulder: 
 
 " Mister Herbert Gary is yes, sir." 
 
 The enemy smiled and made her another 
 bow. 
 
 "I stand corrected. Where is your father 
 now?" 
 
 Virgie hesitated.
 
 92 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "I I don't know." 
 
 The voice of her inquisitor took on a sterner 
 tone: 
 
 "Is he here? hiding somewhere? Tell 
 me I" 
 
 Her little heart was pounding, horribly, and 
 the hot blood came into her cheeks; but she 
 looked him squarely in the face, and lied 
 for General Lee : 
 
 "No, sir. Daddy was here but he's gone 
 away." 
 
 The enemy was looking at her, intently, and 
 his handsome, piercing eyes grew most un- 
 comfortable. She hung for an instant be- 
 tween success and sobbing failure, till a bubble 
 from Mother Eve rose up in her youthful 
 blood and burst into a spray of perfect, femi- 
 nine deceit. She did not try to add to her 
 simple statement, but began to eat her berries, 
 calmly, as though the subject were completely 
 closed. 
 
 "Which way did he go?" the officer de- 
 manded, and she pointed with her spoon. 
 
 "Down by the spring through the black- 
 berry patch,"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 93 
 
 The soldier was half -convinced. He stood 
 for a moment, looking at the floor, then asked 
 her sharply, suddenly: 
 
 "If your father had gone, then why did you 
 lock that door?" 
 
 She faltered, but only for an instant. 
 
 " 'Cause I thought you might be niggers" 
 
 The man before her clenched his hands, as 
 he thought of that new-born, hideous danger 
 menacing the South. 
 
 "I see," he answered gently; "yes, I see '" 
 He turned away, but, even as he turned, his 
 eye was caught by the double-doored cupboard 
 against the wall. "What do you keep in 
 there?" he asked; and the child smiled faintly, 
 a trifle sadly, in reply: 
 
 "We used to keep things to eat when we 
 had any." 
 
 He noted her mild evasion, and pushed the 
 point. 
 
 "What is in it now?" 
 
 "Tin pans." 
 
 "Anything else?" 
 
 "Er yes, sir." 
 
 He caught his breath and stepped a little
 
 nearer, bending till his face was close to 
 hers. 
 
 "What?" 
 
 "Colonel Mosby," declared the mite, with a 
 most emphatic nod; "an' you better look out,, 
 too!" 
 
 The officer laughed as he turned to his grin- 
 ning squad. 
 
 "Bright little youngster ! Still, I think we'll 
 have a look." He dropped his air of amuse- 
 ment, growing stern again. "Now, men! 
 Ready!" 
 
 They swung into line and faced the cup- 
 board, the muzzles of their carbines trained 
 upon it, while their leader advanced, swung 
 open the doors, and quickly stepped aside. 
 
 On the bottom shelf, as Virgie had declared, 
 were a few disconsolate tin pans; yet tacked 
 to the door was a picture print of Mosby that 
 dreaded guerrilla whose very name was a buga- 
 boo in the Union lines. 
 
 The littlest rebel flung back her head and 
 laughed. 
 
 "My, but you looked funny!" she cried to 
 the somewhat disconcerted officer, pointing at
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 95 
 
 him with her spoon. "If a mouse had jumped 
 out, I reckon it would have scared you mos' to 
 death." 
 
 The officer's cheeks flushed red, in spite of 
 his every effort at control ; nor was he assisted 
 by the knowledge that his men were tittering 
 behind his back. He turned upon them 
 sharply. 
 
 "That will do," he said, and gave a brusque 
 command: "Corporal, deploy your men and 
 make a thorough search outside. Examine 
 the ground around the spring and report!" 
 
 "Yes, sir," returned Corporal Dudley salut- 
 ing and dropping his hand across his mouth 
 to choke off an exclamation of anger. Then 
 he snarled at his men, to ease the pain of 
 thwarted vengeance : " 'Tention! Right face! 
 Forward! March! 3 ' 
 
 The squad trooped out across the broken 
 door, leaving their commanding officer alone 
 with his rebel prisoner. 
 
 "Now, Virgie," he asked, in a kindly tone, 
 though holding her eyes with his, "do you mean 
 to tell me cross your heart that you are 
 here, just by yourself?"
 
 96 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Er no, sir." As he opened his lips to 
 speak, she pointed to her doll. "Me an' Susan 
 Jemima." 
 
 "Well, that's a fact," he laughed. "Hanged 
 'if I'm not losing all my social polish." He 
 gallantly removed his hat, bowed gravely to 
 the cedar stick, and shook its hand. "Charmed 
 to make your acquaintance, Miss Susan, be- 
 lieve me. My own name is Morrison Lieu- 
 tenant-Colonel Morrison at your service." 
 He turned to the little mother with a smile that 
 showed a row of white and even teeth. "And 
 now," he said, "since we are all informally in- 
 troduced, suppose we have a quiet, comforta- 
 ble chat." He paused, but she made no an- 
 swer. "Well? Aren't you going to ask me 
 to have some breakfast?" 
 
 Virgie cast a troubled gaze into the plate 
 before her. 
 
 "Er no, sir." 
 
 "What? Why not?" 
 
 She faltered, and answered slowly: 
 
 * 'Cause 'cause you're one of the damn 
 Yankees." 
 
 "Oh! oh! oh!" exclaimed the soldier, shocked
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 97 
 
 to hear a baby's lips profaned. "Little girls 
 shouldn't use such words. Why, Virgie!" 
 
 She raised her eyes, clear, fearless, filled with 
 vindicating innocence. 
 
 "Well, it's your name, isn't it? Everybody 
 calls you that." 
 
 "Um yes," he admitted, striving to check 
 the twitching of his lips; "I suppose they do 
 south of Washington. But don't you know 
 we are just like other people?" She shook her 
 head. "Oh, yes, we are. Why, I have a little 
 girl at home not any bigger than you." 
 
 "Have you?" asked Virgie, her budding 
 racial prejudice at war with youthful curiosity. 
 "What's her name?" 
 
 "Gertrude," he answered softly, tenderly. 
 "Gertrude Morrison. Would you like to see 
 her picture?" 
 
 "Yes," said the little rebel, and stepped 
 across the gulf which had lain between her and 
 her enemy. "You can sit down if you want 
 to. Jus' put Susan Jemima on the table." 
 
 "Thank you," returned her visitor, obeying 
 instructions, seating himself and loosening the 
 upper buttons of his coat. On his neck, sus-
 
 98 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 pended by a chain, was a silver locket contain- 
 ing the miniature of a plump and pretty child. 
 It had lain there since the war began, through 
 many a bivouac, many a weary march, and 
 even in the charge he could feel it tapping 
 against his breast; so now, as he held it out to 
 Virgie, the father's hand was trembling. 
 
 "There she is. My Gertrude my little 
 Gertrude." 
 
 Virgie leaned forward eagerly. 
 
 "Oh!" she said, in unaffected admiration. 
 "She's mighty pretty. She's" The child 
 stopped suddenly, and raised her eyes. "An' 
 she's fat, too. I reckon Gertrude gets lots 
 to eat, doesn't she?" 
 
 "Why, yes," agreed the father, thinking of 
 his comfortable Northern home; "of course. 
 Don't you?" 
 
 Virgie weighed the question thoughtfully 
 before she spoke. 
 
 "Sometimes when Daddy gets through the 
 lines and brings it to me." 
 
 The soldier started violently, wrenched back 
 from the selfish dream of happiness that rose 
 as he looked at the picture of his child.
 
 99 
 
 "What! Is that why your father comes?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Good God!" 
 
 He rose to his feet and turned away, his 
 thoughts atumble, a pang of parental pity 
 gnawing at his heart; then he wheeled and 
 faced her, asking, with a break in his husky 
 voice : 
 
 "And at other times what do you eat, 
 then?" 
 
 She made a quaint, depreciating gesture to- 
 ward the appointments of her breakfast table. 
 
 "Blackberries an' an' coffee made out of 
 aco'ns." 
 
 Again the troubled conqueror turned away. 
 
 "Oh, it's a shame!" he muttered between his 
 teeth. "A hellish shame I" 
 
 He stood for a moment, silently, till Virgie 
 spoke and jarred him with another confidence. 
 
 "My cousin Norris told me that the Yankees 
 have bread every day; an' tea an' milk an' 
 everything. An 3 butter!" 
 
 This last-named article of common diet was 
 mentioned with an air of reverential awe ; and, 
 somehow, it hurt the well-fed Union officer far
 
 100 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 more than had she made some direct accusation 
 against the invading armies of the North. 
 
 "Don't, Virgie please," he murmured 
 softly. "There are some things we just can't 
 bear to listen to even in times of war." He 
 sighed and dropped into his former seat, striv- 
 ing gently to change the subject. "You have 
 lived here always?" 
 
 "Oh, no," she assured him, with a lift of her 
 small, patrician brows. "This is the overseer's 
 house. Our house used to be up on the hill, 
 in the grove." 
 
 "Used to be?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. But but the Yankees burnt it 
 up." 
 
 Morrison's fist came down on the table with 
 a crash. He remembered now his raid of some 
 months before upon this. same plantation, so 
 unfamiliar in its present neglected state. 
 Again he looked into the fearless eyes of a 
 Southern gentlewoman who mocked him while 
 her lover husband swam the river and escaped. 
 Again he saw the mansion wrapped in flame 
 and smoke the work of a drunken fiend in 
 his own command. Yes, he remembered now;
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 101 
 
 too well ; then he turned to the child and spoke : 
 
 "Tell me about it. Won't you?" 
 
 She nodded, wriggled from her chair, and 
 I stood beside the table. 
 
 "Oh, it was a long time ago a month, 
 maybe an' they came after our horses. 
 Mamma an' me were all by ourselves 'ceptin' 
 Uncle Billy and Sally Ann. An' we were 
 dreadful scared an' we hid in the ice house." 
 
 She paused. Her listener had leaned his 
 elbow on the table, his hand across his eyes. 
 
 "Yes, dear. Go on." 
 
 The child had been standing opposite, with 
 Susan Jemima and the acorn-coffee pot be- 
 tween them; but gradually she began to edge 
 a little nearer, till presently she stood beside 
 him, fingering a shiny button on his coat. 
 
 "An' the blue boys ate up everything we 
 had an' took our corn. An' when they went 
 away from our house, they a man set it on 
 jfire. But another man got real mad with him, 
 an' an' shot him. I know, 'cause Uncle 
 Billy put him in the ground." She paused, 
 then sank her voice to a whisper of mysterious 
 dread, "An' an' I saw him!"
 
 102 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Don't think about it, Virgie," begged Mor- 
 rison, slipping his arm about the mite, and try- 
 ing not to put his own beloved ones in the little 
 rebel's place. "What happened then?" 
 
 "We came to live here," said Virgie; "but 
 Mamma got sick. Oh, she got terrible sick 
 an' one night Daddy came through, and put 
 her in the ground, too. But he says she's jus' 
 asleep." 
 
 The soldier started. Mrs. Gary dead? 
 This poor tot motherless? He drew the baby 
 closer to him, stroking her hair, as her sleeping 
 mother might have done, and waited for the rest. 
 
 "An' las' Friday, Sally Ann went away I 
 don't know where an' " 
 
 "What?" asked Morrison. "She left you 
 here all by yourself?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the child, with a careless 
 laugh. "But / don't mind. Sally Ann was 
 a triflin' nigger, anyhow. You see " 
 
 "Wait a minute," he interrupted, "what be- 
 came of the old colored man who " 
 
 "Uncle Billy? Yes, sir. We sent him up 
 to Richmond to get some things, but he can't 
 come back the Yankees won't let him."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 103 
 
 "Won't they?" 
 
 "No, sir. An' Daddy's been tryin' to get 
 me up to Richmon', where my Aunt Margaret 
 lives at, but he can't 'cause the Yankees are 
 up the river an' down the river, an' an' every- 
 where an' he can't." She paused, as Mor- 
 rison turned to her from his restless pacing up 
 and down. "My, but you've got fine clo'es! 
 Daddy's clo'es are all rags with with holes 
 in 'em." 
 
 He could not answer. There was nothing 
 for him to say, and Virgie scorched him with 
 another question: 
 
 "What did you come after Daddy for?" 
 
 "Oh, not because I wanted to, little girl," 
 he burst out harshly. "But you wouldn't un- 
 derstand." He had turned away, and was 
 gazing through the open door, listening to the 
 muttered wrath of the big black guns far down 
 jthe river. "It's war! One of the hateful, 
 pitiful things of war! I came because I had 
 my orders." 
 
 "From your Gen'ral?" 
 
 He lowered his chin, regarding her in mild 
 astonishment.
 
 104 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Yes my General." 
 
 "An* do you love him like I love Gen'ral 
 Lee?" 
 
 "Yes, dear," he answered earnestly; "of 
 course." 
 
 He wondered again to see her turn away in 
 sober thought, tracing lines on the dusty floor 
 with one small brown toe; for the child was 
 wrestling with a problem. If a soldier had 
 orders from his general, as she herself might 
 put it, "he was bound to come" ; but still it was 
 hard to reconcile such duty with the capture of 
 her father. Therefore, she raised her tiny chin 
 and resorted to tactics of a purely personal 
 nature: 
 
 "An* didn't you know, if you hurt my 
 daddy, I'd tell Uncle Fitz Lee on you?" 
 
 "No," the Yankee smiled. "Is he your 
 uncle?" 
 
 The littlest rebel regarded him with a look 
 of positive pity for his ignorance. 
 
 "He's everybody's uncle," she stated 
 warmly. "An' if I was to tell him, he'd come 
 right after you an' an' lick the stuffins out 
 of you."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 105 
 
 The soldier laughed. 
 
 "My dear," he confided, with a dancing 
 twinkle in his eye, "to tell you the honest truth, 
 your Uncle Fitz has done it already several 
 times." 
 
 "Has he?" she cried, in rapturous delight. 
 "Oh, has he?" 
 
 "He has," the enemy repeated, with vigor 
 and conviction. "But suppose we shift our 
 conversation to matters a shade more pleasant. 
 Take you, for instance. You see " He 
 stopped abruptly, turning his head and listen- 
 ing with keen intentness. "What's that?" he 
 asked. 
 
 "I didn't hear anything," said Virgie, breath- 
 ing very fast; but she too had heard it a 
 sound above them, a scraping sound, as of 
 someone lying flat along the rafters and shift- 
 ing his position; and, while she spoke, a tell- 
 tale bit of plaster fell, and broke as it struck 
 ) the floor. 
 
 Morrison looked up, starting as he saw the 
 outlines of the closely fitting scuttle, for the 
 loft was so low and shallow that he had not 
 suspected its presence from an outside view;
 
 106 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 but now he was certain of the fugitive's hiding- 
 place. Virgie watched him, trembling, grow- 
 ing hot in the pit of her little stomach; yet, 
 when he faced her, she looked him squarely in 
 the eye, fighting one last battle for her daddy 
 as hopeless as the tottering cause of the 
 Stars and Bars. 
 
 "You you don't think he can fly, do 
 you?" 
 
 "No, little Rebel," the soldier answered 
 gently, sadly; "but there are other ways." 
 He glanced at the table, measuring its height 
 with the pitch of the ceiling, then turned to her 
 again: "Is your father in that loft?" She 
 made no answer, but began to back away. 
 "Tell me the truth. Look at me!" Still no 
 answer, and he took a step toward her, speak- 
 ing sternly: "Do you hear me? Look at 
 me!" 
 
 She tried; but her courage was oozing fast. 
 She had done her best, but now it was more 
 than the mite could stand; so she bit her lip 
 to stop its quivering, and turned her head 
 away. For a moment the man stood, silent, 
 wondering if it was possible that the child had 
 been coached in a string of lies to trade upon
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 107 
 
 his tenderness of heart; then he spoke, in a 
 voice of mingled pity and reproach : 
 
 "And so you told me a story. And all the 
 rest is a story, too. Oh, Virgie! Virgie!" 
 
 "I didn't!" she cried, the big tears breaking 
 out at last. "I didn't tell you stories! Only 
 jus' a little one for Daddy an' Gen'ral 
 Lee." 
 
 She was sobbing now, and the man looked 
 down upon her in genuine compassion, his own 
 eyes swimming at her childish grief, his soldier 
 heart athrob and aching at the duty he must 
 perform. 
 
 "I'm sorry, dear," he sighed, removing her 
 doll and dragging the table across the floor 
 to a point directly beneath the scuttle in the 
 ceiling. 
 
 "What are you go in' to do?" she asked in 
 terror, following as he moved. "Oh, what are 
 you goin' to do?" 
 
 He did not reply. He could not ; but when 
 he placed a chair upon the table and prepared 
 to mount, then Virgie understood. 
 
 "You shan't! You shan't!" she cried out 
 shrilly. "He's my daddy and you shan't."
 
 108 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 She pulled at the table, and when he would 
 have put her aside, as gently as he could, she 
 attacked him fiercely, in a childish storm of 
 passion, sobbing, striking at him with her 
 puny fists. The soldier bowed his head and 
 moved away. 
 
 "Oh, I can't! I can't!" he breathed, in con- 
 science-stricken pain. "There must be some 
 other way ; and still " 
 
 He stood irresolute, gazing through the 
 open door, watching his men as they hunted 
 for a fellow man; listening to the sounds that 
 floated across the stricken fields the calls of 
 his troopers; the locusts in the sun-parched 
 woods chanting their shrill, harsh litany of 
 drought; but more insistent still came the 
 muffled boom of the big black guns far down 
 the muddy James. They called to him, these 
 guns, in the hoarse-tongued majesty of war, 
 bidding him forget himself, his love, his pity 
 all else, but the grim command to a marching 
 host a host that must reach its goal, though 
 it marched on a road of human hearts. 
 
 The soldier set his teeth and turned to the 
 little rebel, deciding on his course of action;
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 109 
 
 best for her, best for the man who lay in the 
 loft above, though now it must seem a brutal 
 cruelty to both. 
 
 "Well, Virgie," he said, "since you haven't 
 told me what I want to know, I'll have to take 
 you and give you to the Yankees." 
 
 He stepped toward her swiftly and caught 
 her by the wrist. She screamed in terror, fight- 
 ing to break his hold, while the trap above 
 them opened, and the head and shoulders of 
 the Southerner appeared, his pistol held in his 
 outstretched hand. 
 
 "Drop it, you hound!" he ordered fiercely. 
 "Drop it!" 
 
 The Northerner released his captive, but 
 stood unmoved as he looked into the pistol's 
 muzzle and the blazing eyes of the cornered 
 scout. 
 
 "I'm sorry," he said, in quiet dignity. "I'm 
 very sorry ; but I had to bring you out." He 
 paused, then spoke again: "And you needn't 
 bother about your gun. If you'd had any 
 ammunition, our fire would have been re- 
 turned, back yonder in the woods. The 
 game's up, Gary. Come down!"
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE head and shoulders disappeared. A 
 short pause followed, then the ladder came 
 slowly down, and the Southerner descended, 
 while Virgie crouched, a sobbing little heap, 
 beside her doll. But when he reached the bot- 
 tom rung, she rose to her feet and ran to meet 
 him, weeping bitterly. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy, Daddy, I didn't do it right! 
 I didn't doit right!" 
 
 She buried her head in his tattered coat, 
 while he slipped an arm about her and tried 
 to soothe a sorrow too great for such a tiny 
 heart to bear. 
 
 "But you did do it right," he told her. "It 
 was my fault. Mine! My leg got cramped, 
 and I had to move." He stooped and kissed 
 her. "It was my fault, honey; but you? 
 you did it splendidly!" He patted her tear- 
 stained cheek, then turned to his captor, with 
 
 a grim, hard smile of resignation to his fate. 
 
 no
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 111 
 
 "Well, Colonel, you've had a long chase of it; 
 but you've gotten my brush at last." 
 
 The Union soldier faced him, speaking 
 earnestly : 
 
 "Captain Gary, you're a brave man and 
 one of the best scouts in the Confederate army. 
 I regret this happening more than I can 
 say." The Southerner shrugged his shoulders. 
 His Northern captor asked : "Are you carry- 
 ing dispatches?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "Any other papers? of any kind?" No 
 answer came, and he added sternly: "It 
 is quite useless to refuse. Give them to 
 me." 
 
 He held out his hand, but his captive only 
 looked him in the eyes ; and the answer, though 
 spoken in an undertone, held a world of quiet 
 meaning : 
 
 "You can take it afterwards." 
 
 The Federal officer bit his lip; and yet he 
 could not, would not, be denied. His request 
 became demand, backed by authority and the 
 right of might, till Virgie broke in, in a piping 
 voice of indignation:
 
 112 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "You can't have it! It's mine! My pass 
 to Richmon' from Gen'ral Lee." 
 
 Morrison turned slowly from the little rebel 
 to the man. 
 
 "Is this true?" he asked. 
 
 The Southerner flushed, and for reply pro- 
 duced the rumpled paper from his boot leg, 
 and handed it over without a word. The 
 Northerner read it carefully. 
 
 "Pass Virginia Gary and escort through all Confed- 
 erate lines and give safe-conduct wherever possible. 
 
 "R. E. LEE, General." 
 
 The reader crushed the paper in his fist, 
 while his hand sank slowly to his side, then he 
 raised his head and asked, in a voice which 
 was strangely out of keeping with a Lieuten- 
 ant-Colonel of the Union Cavalry : 
 
 "And who was to be her escort? You?" 
 
 The captive nodded, smiling his sad, grim 
 smile; and the captor swallowed hard as he 
 moved to the cabin door and stood listening 
 to the muttered rumble of the river guns. 
 
 "I'm sorry, Cary," he whispered brokenly; 
 "more sorry than you can understand."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 113 
 
 For a long time no one spoke, then the 
 Southerner went to Virgie, dropping his hand 
 in tenderness on her tumbled hair. 
 
 "Just go into your room, honey; I want to 
 talk to Colonel Morrison." She looked up at 
 him doubtfully; but he added, with a reassur- 
 ing smile : "It's all right, darling. I'll call you 
 in just a minute." 
 
 Still Virgie seemed to hesitate. She shifted 
 her doubting eyes toward the TJnion officer, 
 turned, and obeyed in silence, closing the door 
 of the adjoining room behind her. Then the 
 two men faced each other, without the hamper- 
 ing presence of the child, each conscious of 
 the coming tragedy that both, till now, had 
 striven manfully to hide. The one moved 
 forward toward a seat, staggering as he 
 walked, and catching himself on the table's 
 edge, while the other's hand went out to lend 
 him aid; but the Southerner waved him 
 off. 
 
 "Thank you," he said, as he sank into a 
 chair. "I don't want help from you!" 
 
 "Why not?" asked Morrison. 
 
 "Because," said Gary, in sullen anger, "I
 
 114 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 don't ask quarter, nor aid, from a man who 
 frightens children." 
 
 The Northerner's chin went up* and when 
 he replied his voice was trembling; not in pas- 
 sion, but with a deeper, finer something which 
 had gripped his admiration for the courage 
 of a child : 
 
 "And I wouldn't hurt a hair of her splendid 
 little head!" He paused, then spoke again, 
 more calmly: "You thought me a beast to 
 frighten her; but don't you know it was the 
 only thing to do? Otherwise my men might 
 have had to shoot you before her eyes." 
 Gary made no answer, though now he under- 
 stood; and Morrison went on: "It isn't easy 
 for me to track a fellow creature down ; to take 
 him when he's wounded, practically unarmed, 
 and turn him over to a firing squad. But it's 
 war, my friend one of the merciless realities 
 of war and you ought to know the meaning 
 of its name." 
 
 "Yes, I know," returned the Southerner, 
 with all the pent-up bitterness of a hopeless 
 struggle and defeat; "it has taken three years 
 to teach me and I know! Look at me!" he
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 115 
 
 cried, as he stood up in his rags and spread 
 his arms. "Look at my country, swept as 
 bare as a stubble field! You've whipped us, 
 maybe, with your millions of money and your 
 endless men, and now you are warring with 
 the women and the children!" He turned his 
 back and spoke in the deep intensity of scorn: 
 "A fine thing, Colonel! And may you get 
 your reward in hell!" 
 
 The Northerner set his lips in a thin, cold 
 line; but curbed his wrath and answered the 
 accusation quietly: 
 
 "There are two sides to the question, Gary; 
 but there must be one flag!" 
 
 "Then fly your flag in justice!" the South- 
 erner retorted hotly, wheeling on his enemy, 
 with blazing eyes and with hands that shook in 
 the stress of passion. "A while ago you called 
 me a brave man and a good scout ; and, because 
 .I'm both, your people have set a price on me. 
 /Five hundred dollars alive or dead!" He 
 laughed ; a hoarse, harsh travesty of mirth, and 
 added, with a lip that curled in withering 
 contempt: "Alive or dead! A gentleman 
 and a scout! for just half the price of one
 
 116 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 good, sound nigger! By God f it makes me 
 proud !" 
 
 Lieutenant- Colonel Morrison looked across 
 the table at his prisoner, and answered gravely, 
 yet with a touch of sternness in his military 
 tone: 
 
 "You are more than a scout, Gary. You've 
 carried dispatches, and intercepted ours; for 
 both of which, if taken, you would have been 
 a prisoner of war, no more. But you've en- 
 tered our lines not in a uniform of gray, but 
 blue and you've cost us the loss of two im- 
 portant battles." 
 
 "And had you done the same," returned the 
 Southerner, "for you it would have meant pro- 
 motion. I've served my cause as best I could; 
 in the saddle or the rifle pit; in the woods, or 
 creeping through your lines. If I've cost you 
 a battle, my life is a puny price to pay, and 
 I'd pay it without a sigh." He paused and 
 sank into his seat. "For myself, I don't care 
 much. I'm worn out, anyway; and I only 
 wanted to get my little girl to Richmond." 
 At the thought of Virgie his anger returned 
 to him, and he once more staggered to his feet.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 117. 
 
 "But you," he accused, "y u ' ve beaten a baby 
 by the force of arms ! You've run me to earth 
 and you've blocked her chance! It's Vir- 
 gie you are fighting now not me yes, just 
 as if you rode her down with a troop of horse ! 
 A fine thing, Colonel! For you, a brevet! 
 For me, a firing squad! Well, call in your 
 men and get it over!" Again he smiled; a 
 grim, slow smile of bitterness and scorn. 
 "Bravo, Colonel Morrison! Bravo! You 
 add one other glory to your conquering sword 
 and, besides, you'll receive five hundred dol- 
 lars in reward!" 
 
 The Northerner turned upon him fiercely, 
 goaded at last to the breaking-point in a strug- 
 gle as black and awful as the struggle of his 
 brother-foe. 
 
 "Stop it, man!" he cried. "For God's sake, 
 stop! It's duty! not a miserable reward!" 
 His cheeks were flaming ; his muscles quivered, 
 and his fists were clenched. "Do you sup- 
 pose," he asked, "that I'm proud of this? Do 
 you think I'm wringing blood out of your 
 heart and mine for money? Damn you for 
 thinking it!"
 
 118 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 They faced each other, two crouching, 
 snarling animals, the raw, primeval passions 
 of their hearts released, each seeing through 
 a mist of red; a mist that had risen up to roll 
 across a mighty land and plunge its nohlest 
 sons into a bloody ruck of war. 
 
 They faced each other, silently ; then slowly 
 the features of the Southerner relaxed. His 
 bitterness was laid aside. He spoke, in the 
 soft, slow accent of his people an accent so 
 impossible to a trick of print or pen. 
 
 "I'm glad you feel that way; and maybe, 
 after all, you're doing what you think is right. 
 Yes and I know it's hard." He stopped, 
 then stepped a little nearer, timidly, as Vir- 
 gie might have done. "Colonel," he said, 
 scarce audibly, "I ask you just one thing; not 
 for myself, but for her for Virgie. Get the 
 poor little tad through your lines, will you? 
 and and don't let her know about 
 me." 
 
 His captor did not answer him in words, be- 
 cause of the pain that took him by the throat; 
 but his hand went out, till it reached another 
 hand that gripped it gratefully.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 119 
 
 "Thank you, Morrison," said the prisoner 
 simply. "If it wasn't war times " 
 
 He choked, and said no more; yet silence 
 proved more eloquent than human speech. 
 They were men brave men and both were 
 grateful; the one, because an enemy would 
 keep his unspoken word; the other, because 
 a doomed man understood. 
 
 Gary opened the door of his daughter's 
 room and called to her. She came in quickly, 
 a question in her big brown eyes. 
 
 "Daddy," she said, "you talked a mighty 
 long time. It was a heap more than jus' a 
 minute." 
 
 "Was it?" he asked, and forced a smile. 
 "Well, you see, we had a lot to say." He 
 seated himself and, drawing her between his 
 knees, took both her hands. "Now listen, 
 honey; I'm going away with this gentleman, 
 and " He stopped as she looked up doubt- 
 fully ; then added a dash of gayety to his tender 
 tone: "Oh, but he invited me. And think! 
 He's coming back for you to-day to send 
 you up to Richmond. Now, isn't that just 
 fine?"
 
 120 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Virgie looked slowly from her father to the 
 Union soldier, who stood with downcast eyes, 
 his back to them. 
 
 "Daddy," she whispered, "he's a right good 
 Yankee isn't he?" 
 
 "Yes, dear," her father murmured sadly, 
 and in yearning love for the baby he must 
 leave behind; "yes he's mighty goodl" 
 
 He knelt and folded her in his arms, kissing 
 her, over and over, while his hand went flutter- 
 ing about her soft brown throat; then he 
 wrenched himself away, but stood for a linger- 
 ing instant more, his hands outstretched, 
 atremble for a last and lingering touch, his 
 heart a racing protest at the parting he must 
 speak. 
 
 "Gary!" 
 
 It w r as Morrison who spoke, in mercy for 
 the man; and once more Gary understood. 
 He turned to cross the broken door; to face a 
 firing squad in the hot, brown woods ; to cross 
 the gulf which stretched beyond the rumble 
 of the guns and the snarling lip of war. But 
 even as he turned, a baby's voice called out, in
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 121 
 
 cheerful parting, which he himself had failed 
 to speak: 
 
 "Good-by, Daddy-man. I'll see you up in 
 Richmon'." 
 
 The eyes of the two men met and held, in 
 the hardest moment of it all; for well they 
 knew this hopeful prophecy could never be 
 fulfilled. Morrison sighed and moved toward 
 the door; but, from its threshold, he could see 
 his troopers returning at a trot across the 
 fields. 
 
 "Wait," he said to Gary; "I'd rather my 
 men shouldn't know I've talked with you." 
 He pointed to the scuttle in the ceiling. 
 "Would you mind if I asked you to 
 go back again? Hurry! They are com- 
 ing." 
 
 The captured scout saluted, crossed to the 
 ladder, and began to mount. At the top he 
 paused to smile and blow a kiss to Virgie, then 
 disappeared, drew up the ladder after him, 
 and closed the trap. 
 
 The captor stood in silence, waiting for his 
 men; yet, while he stood, the little rebel pat-
 
 122 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 tered to his side, slipping her hand in his con- 
 fidingly. 
 
 "Mr. Yankee," she asked, and looked up 
 into his face, "are you goin' to let Daddy come 
 to Richmon', too?" 
 
 Morrison withdrew his hand from hers 
 withdrew it sharply flung himself into a seat 
 beside the table, and began to scribble on the 
 back of Virgie's rumpled pass ; while the child 
 stood watching, trusting, with the simple trust 
 of her little mother-heart. 
 
 In a moment or two, the troopers came 
 hurrying in, with Corporal Dudley in the lead. 
 He stood at attention, saluted his superior, 
 and made his report of failure in the search. 
 
 "Nothing sir. No tracks around the 
 spring, and no traces of the fellow anywhere; 
 but " He stopped. His keen eyes marked 
 the changed position of the table and followed 
 upward. He saw the outlines of the scuttle 
 above his head, and smiled. "But I'm glad 
 to see that you've had better luck yourself." 
 
 "Yes, Corporal," said Morrison, with a 
 sharp return of his military tone, "I think 
 I've found the fox's hole at last." He rose
 
 and gave his orders briskly. "Push that table 
 forward! there! below the trap! Two of 
 you get on it!" He turned to the Corporal, 
 while he himself climbed up and stood beside 
 his men. "Light that candle and pass it up 
 to me!" The orders were obeyed. "Now, 
 boys, boost me! and we'll have him out." 
 
 They raised him, till he pushed the trap 
 aside and thrust his head and shoulders 
 through the opening. From below they could 
 see him as he waved the lighted candle to and 
 fro, and presently they heard his voice, that 
 sounded deep and muffled in the shallow loft: 
 
 "All right, boys! You can let me down." 
 
 He slid to the table and sprang lightly to 
 the floor, facing his troopers with a smile, half- 
 humorous, half in seeming disappointment, as 
 he glanced at Virgie. 
 
 "I'm afraid the little rebel's right again. 
 He isn't there!" 
 
 "Oh!" cried Virgie, then clapped her hands 
 across her mouth, while the troopers slowly 
 looked from her into the level eyes of their 
 commanding officer. He stood before them, 
 straight and tall, a soldier, every inch of him;
 
 124 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 and they knew that Lieutenant- Colonel Mor- 
 rison was lying like a gentleman. They knew 
 that their chief was staking the name and title 
 of an honorable soldier against the higher, 
 grander title of "a man." 
 
 Only Corporal Dudley stood disconcerted 
 at the startling statement, but as there was 
 no help for it he could only strangle an oath 
 and give the order to pass out. 
 
 "'Tention! Right face! Forward! March!" 
 They mounted and rode a rod or two awa}>, 
 awaiting orders; while Morrison stood silently 
 and watched them go. He, too like Virgie 
 had wrestled with a problem, and it stirred 
 him to the depths. As a trooper must obey, 
 so also must an officer obey a higher will ; yes, 
 even as a slave in iron manacles. The master 
 of war had made his laws ; and a servant broke 
 them, knowingly. A captured scout was a 
 prisoner, no more ; a spy must hang, or fall be- 
 fore the volley of a firing squad. Xo matter 
 for his bravery; no matter for the faithful 
 service to his cause, the man must die! The 
 glory was for another; for one who waved a 
 .flag on the spine of a bloody trench ; a trench
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 125 
 
 which his brothers stormed and gave the 
 blood. No matter that a spy had made this 
 triumph possible. He had worn a uniform 
 which was not his own and the dog must die ! 
 
 So ruled the god of warfare; still, did war 
 prescribe disgrace and death for all? If Gary 
 had crept through the Union lines, to reach the 
 side of a helpless little one yes, even in a 
 coat of blue would the Great Tribunal count 
 his deed accursed? Should fearless human 
 love reap no reward beyond the crashing epi- 
 taph of a firing squad, and the powder smoke 
 that drifted with the passing of a soul? 
 
 "No! No!" breathed Morrison. "In God's 
 name, give the man his chance I" 
 
 He straightened his back and smiled. He 
 took from the table a rumpled paper and 
 turned to the littlest factor in the great Rebel- 
 lion. 
 
 "Here, Virgie! Here's your pass to Rich- 
 mond for you and your escort through the 
 Federal lines." 
 
 She came to him slowly, wondering ; her tiny 
 body quivering with suppressed excitement, 
 her voice a whispering caress :
 
 126 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Do you mean for for Daddy, too?" 
 
 "Yes, you little rebel!" he answered, chok- 
 ing as he laughed; "but I'm terribly afraid 
 you'll have to pay me with a kiss." 
 
 She sprang into his waiting arms, and kissed 
 him as he raised her up; but when he would 
 have set her down, her little brown hands, with 
 their berry-stained fingers, clung tightly about 
 his neck. 
 
 "Wait! Wait!" slie cried. "Here's an- 
 other one for Gertrude! Tell her it's from 
 Virgie! An' tell her I sent it, 'cause her 
 daddy is jus' the best damn Yankee that ever 
 was!" 
 
 The trap above had opened, and the head 
 and shoulders of the Southerner appeared; 
 while Morrison looked up and spoke in part- 
 ing: 
 
 "It's all right, Gary. I only ask a soldier's 
 pledge that you take your little girl to Rich- 
 mond nothing more. In passing through 
 our lines, whatever you see or hear forget!" 
 
 A sacred trust it was, of man to man, one 
 brother to another; and Morrison knew that 
 Herbert Gary would pass through the very
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 127 
 
 center of the Federal lines, as a father, not a 
 
 spy. 
 
 The Southerner tried to speak his gratitude, 
 but the words refused to come ; so he stretched 
 one trembling hand toward his enemy of war, 
 and eased his heart in a sobbing, broken call : 
 
 "Morrison! Some day it will all be over!" 
 
 
 In the cabin's doorway stood Virgie and 
 her father, hand in hand. They watched a 
 lonely swallow as it dipped across the desolate, 
 unfurrowed field. They listened to the dis- 
 tant beat of many hoofs on the river road and 
 the far, faint clink of sabers on the riders' 
 thighs; and when the sounds were lost to the 
 listeners at last, the notes of a bugle came 
 whispering back to them, floating, dipping, 
 even as the swallow dipped across the unfur- 
 rowed fields. 
 
 But still the two stood lingering in the door- 
 way, hand in hand. The muddy James took 
 up his murmuring song again; the locusts 
 chanted in the hot, brown woods to the basso 
 growl of the big, black guns far down the 
 river.
 
 128 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 A sad, sad song it was; yet on its echoes 
 seemed to ride a haunting, hopeful memory 
 of the rebel's broken call, "Some day it will 
 all be over!" 
 
 And so the guns growled on, slow, sullen, 
 thundering forth the battle-call of a still un- 
 conquered enmity; but only that peace might 
 walk "some day" in the path of the shrieking 
 shells.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 IT was afternoon and over on the eastern side 
 of the James where the old Turnpike leads up 
 over the rolling hills to Richmond the sun was 
 pouring down a flood of heat. The 'pike was 
 ankle deep with dust and the fine, white pow- 
 der, churned into floury softness by artillery 
 and the myriad iron heels of war, had settled 
 down on roadside bush and tree and vine till 
 all the sweet green of summer hung its head 
 under the hot weight and longed for a cooling 
 shower which would wash it clean. 
 
 In fairer times the Pike had been an active 
 thoroughfare for the plantations and hundreds 
 of smaller truck farms which fed the capitol, 
 but of late months nearly all this traffic had 
 disappeared. For the days of the Confed- 
 eracy were drawing slowly but none the less 
 surely to a close. 
 
 Inside the breastworks and far flung forti- 
 fications which encompassed Richmond the 
 
 129
 
 130 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 flower of the rebel arms, the Army of North- 
 ern Virginia, lay like a rat caught in a trap. 
 On three sides, north, east and south the Army 
 of the Potomac under Grant beleaguered the 
 city while the tireless Sheridan, with that 
 lately developed arm of the Federals, the cav- 
 alry, 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 Con- 
 federacy had come within hairbreadth of over- 
 whelming 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, watch- 
 ful Grant suddenly threw in between their 
 guns and the gleaming dome of the nation's 
 capitol. 
 
 I 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 Penn- 
 sylvania, Sheridan broke loose from the re- 
 striction of telegraph wires arid followed him
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 131 
 
 to the death and finally broke the back of the 
 great raid with his mad gallop from Winches- 
 ter. 
 
 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 hunt- 
 ing for an opening in the fence. And all the 
 time the grim, quiet man in blue kept con- 
 tracting his lines around the wonderful tacti- 
 cian 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 discouragements 
 the light of a certain firm resolve.
 
 132 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 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 
 Gary's life had come. Thanks to a generous 
 enemy; Virgie and he were now reasonably 
 sure of food if once they could reach the Con- 
 federate lines but as for himself, with the 
 woman he had loved asleep forever beneath 
 the pines, the future could only be an unend- 
 ing, barren stretch of gray. 
 
 Then, almost as quickly, recollection of his 
 duty towards her whom he carried in his arms 
 came to him and he raged at himself for his 
 moment of selfish discouragement. Spurred 
 on by the necessity of gaining a point of 
 safety for his child he began to calculate the 
 distance yet to be covered and their chances of
 
 gaining friendly lines before encountering 
 scouting parties of Federals. Behind him, a 
 few miles south on the other bank of the James 
 at Light House Point Sheridan was in camp 
 with two brigades and Gary knew this fast 
 riding, hard striking cavalryman too well not 
 to suspect that the country, even in front of 
 him, was alive with Union men. There was 
 the pass which Morrison had given him, of 
 course, but the worth of a pass in war time 
 often depends more on him who receives it 
 than on the signature. 
 
 But all those things, even food, would have 
 to wait for a while because he was consumed 
 with thirst and must find water before he went 
 another mile forward. 
 
 A tired sigh from Virgie caught his ear and 
 he stopped by a stone wall and let her get 
 down from his shoulder. The child stood up 
 on the broad, flat stones and then gave a little 
 cry of pain. She raised one foot up and 
 nursed it against her dusty, brown leg, mean- 
 while clutching her doll closer to her neck. 
 
 "It's all right, honey ; be a brave little girl,"
 
 134 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 her father said consolingly. "There's a 
 spring along here somewhere and we can look 
 after that poor little foot. Ah, there it is," 
 he cried, as he caught sight of a big rock be- 
 hind a stone wall with a seepage of water un- 
 der it among some trees at one side. "Just sit 
 still a minute till I rest and then we'll have 
 a look." He leaned back against the wall and 
 closed his eyes to shut out the dizziness with 
 which exhaustion and hunger filled his aching 
 head. 
 
 The child watched him anxiously for a mo- 
 ment and then put a soft little hand on his 
 shoulder : 
 
 "Are you so tired, Daddy-man?" 
 
 "Yes, dear," he answered with a faint smile 
 as he opened his eyes. "I had to catch my 
 breath, but I'm really all right. Now then, 
 we'll call in the hospital corps." 
 
 Virgie slipped down and sat on the top of 
 the wall with her foot in her hand, rocking to 
 and fro, but bravely saying nothing until her 
 father's eye caught the look of pain on her 
 pinched face. 
 
 "Does it hurt you much, dear?" he asked.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 135 
 
 "Yes, sir. It it hurts like the mischief," 
 answered Virgie in a small voice. "It keeps 
 jumping up and down." 
 
 "Little woman, that's too bad," he said with 
 a consoling pat on the head which seemed to 
 take most of the pain away. "But after we 
 bathe it and tie it up it will feel better." 
 
 Kneeling beside the spring he took off his 
 campaign hat of felt and dipped it full of 
 clear, cold water. 
 
 "Wow!" cried Virgie suddenly in the inter- 
 val and she slapped her leg with a resounding 
 whack. "There are 'skeeters roun' this place. 
 One of 'em bit me an old he one. Jim- 
 iny!" 
 
 "Did he?" asked her father, smiling as he 
 came back with the hat. "Well, honey, there 
 are much worse things in this world than those 
 little fellows and if you don't complain any 
 more than that you're going to be a veiy happy 
 lady when you grow up." 
 
 "Like Mamma?" asked the little tot, with a 
 thoughtful face. 
 
 "Just like Mamma," the man repeated. 
 "The loveliest the bravest and the best/'
 
 136 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 He wavered a little on his feet and the hat 
 threatened to slip through his fingers, but his 
 daughter's great, dark eyes were steady on 
 his and, curiously enough, he seemed to draw 
 strength to pull himself together. 
 
 "And now, let's see. We'll have to get the 
 grime off first. Just dip the little wounded 
 soldier in." 
 
 "What! My foot in your hat!" protested 
 Virgie with a little scream. "Oh, you poor 
 daddy!" 
 
 "Why, that's all right, honey," he laughed, 
 pleased at her daintiness. "That hat's an old 
 veteran. He don't mind anything. So 
 souse her in. 
 
 "There easy now easy" as she threatened 
 to capsize this curious basin. "Big toe first. 
 
 "Yes, I know it's cold," he laughed as the 
 water stung the broken skin and made her 
 twitch involuntarily, "but bathing will do it/ 
 good. I just know it feels better already 
 doesn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," answered Virgie meekly, "only 
 it jumps up and down harder than ever. But 
 of course I know it must be getting better.'*
 
 "Good! What did I tell you? Now let 
 Daddy look." 
 
 He lifted her foot up tenderly and ex- 
 amined it with care. "My, my!" he mur- 
 mured. "You poor little soldier. If I hadn't 
 looked around that time I expect you'd been 
 willing to walk all the way to Richmond on a 
 foot that would make a whole regiment 
 straggle. Just see where you've cut it right 
 under the second little piggie. We'll have to 
 tie it right up and keep the bothersome old 
 dust from getting in. By morning you'll 
 hardly feel it." 
 
 With a soldier's readiness he opened his coat 
 and began to tear a strip from his shirt from 
 which to make a bandage. But his small 
 daughter interrupted him with a vigorous 
 protest. 
 
 "Wait!" she cried, with a face full of alarm 
 at the willful destruction of his garment. 
 "Don't do that. Here! You can take it 
 off my petticoat." 
 
 "That petticoat," her father laughed, with 
 the first real mirth she had heard for many 
 weeks. "That poor little petticoat wouldn't
 
 138 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 make an arm bandage for Susan Jemima. 
 Now up with your hoofie and let's play I'm 
 a surgeon and you're a brave soldier who has 
 fought in every battle since we first made the 
 Yanks skedaddle at Bull Run." 
 
 With the painful foot securely bandaged 
 the little girl gave herself up to thought, 
 emerging from her study at last to ask what 
 was an all-important question. 
 
 "Daddy" 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Do you reckon, by the time the war is over, 
 we could call Susan Jemima a vet'ran?" 
 
 "I should say we could," the father agreed 
 heartily, without the symptom of a smile. 
 "Hasn't she grown bald in the service? And 
 hasn't she almost lost an arm or is it a leg 
 I see dangling so terribly? I'll tell you what 
 we'll do! We'll give her an honorable dis- 
 charge and decorate her. How's that?" 
 
 "Oh, fine!" she cried, clapping her hands 
 with delight at the fantasy. "And we'll get 
 that Yankee man to write her a pass just like 
 mine. Do you hear that, Cap'n Susan," she 
 crooned to the doll, unconscious of the con-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 139 
 
 vulsion of silent amusement beside her. 
 "When we get to Richmon' if we ever do 
 get there I'm going to make you a uniform!" 
 
 Then she turned to her father with a little 
 sigh, for the miles seemed very long. 
 
 "How far is it to Richmon', Daddy-man?" 
 she said. 
 
 "Just about twelve miles," her father an- 
 swered. "But they're real old country miles, 
 I'm sorry to say." 
 
 "Can we get to it to-night?" 
 
 The simple little question made the man's 
 heart ache. What wouldn't he give for an 
 hour of Roger once more or Belle or 
 Lightfoot! Anything even one of the old 
 plantation mules would do if he could only 
 perch her up on its back and take her into 
 Richmond like a lady and not like the daugh- 
 ter of poor white trash, tramping, poverty 
 stricken, along a dusty road. 
 
 "No, dear, not to-night," he sighed. "We've 
 come a long way and we're both tired. So 
 when it gets dark we'll curl up somewhere in 
 the nice, sweet woods and take a snooze, just 
 like camping out. And then in the morn-
 
 ing, when the old sun comes sneaking up 
 through the trees, we'll fool him! We won't 
 wait till he can make it hot, but well get right 
 up with the birds and the squirrels and we'll 
 just run right along. And by twelve o'clock 
 we'll be in Richmond where they have good 
 things to eat. So there you are all mapped 
 out. Only now we'll have a belt supper." 
 
 "A belt supper?" queried the child curi- 
 ously, though her face brightened at the 
 thought of any kind of supper, made out of 
 belts or any other thing. 
 
 "Urn-hum," asseverated her father gravely. 
 "See this is the way it's done." 
 
 He cupped his hands and took a draught 
 from the spring, pretending to chew it as it 
 went down. "You take a big drink of nice 
 cold water; then draw up your belt as tight 
 as you can and say your prayers." 
 
 To his surprise his small daughter only 
 sniffed scornfully. 
 
 "Oh, shucks, Daddy! I know a better way 
 than that. Susan an' me used to do it all 
 the time while you were away." 
 
 "What did you do?" he asked curiously, for
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 141 
 
 he had forgotten that more than half the child- 
 ish play world is the world of "make believe." 
 
 "Why, we we just 'let on' " she answered, 
 with simple naivete. "Sit down an' I'll show 
 you how." 
 
 He sat down obediently, but not before he 
 had picked up an old tin can from nearby 
 and set it carefully between them. 
 
 "This rock is our table the moss is the 
 table cloth. Oh, it isn't green," she cried as 
 he looked down in serious doubt. "You 
 must help me make believe. Now doesn't it 
 look nice and white?" 
 
 "It does, indeed. I can see nothing but 
 snowy linen of the finest texture," he re- 
 sponded instantly. 
 
 "That's better," complimented his hostess. 
 And then with a grand air 
 
 "I'm so glad you dropped in, sir an' just 
 at supper time. Pass your plate an' allow 
 me to help you to some batter bread." 
 
 "Batter bread! Ah, just what I was 
 hoping for," her guest replied, thankfully ex- 
 tending his plate for the Barmecidal feast. 
 "Thank you. Delicious. The very best I've
 
 142 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 tasted for a year. Did you make it your- 
 self?" 
 
 "Oh, dear, no the cook." 
 
 "Ah, of course! Pray pardon me. I 
 might have known." 
 
 The little hostess inclined her head. "Take 
 plenty of butter. 'Cause batter bread isn't 
 good 'thout butter." 
 
 "Thank you what lovely golden butter. 
 And goodness gracious! What is this I 
 see before me? Can this really be a sau- 
 sage?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," laughed Virgie with delight. 
 "And there's the ham. I smoked it myself 
 over hick'ry wood. Please help yourself." 
 
 She pretended to arrange a cup and saucer 
 in front of her and held daintily in her fingers 
 a pair of imaginary sugar tongs. 
 
 "Coffee? How many lumps? And do 
 you take cream?" 
 
 "Five, please and a little cream. There 
 just right." 
 
 She passed the cup gracefully and added 
 a little moue of concern for the efficiency of 
 her menage.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 143 
 
 "I'm afraid you won't find it very hot," sr.in 
 this surprising young hostess. "That butler 
 of mine is growing absolutely wuthless." 
 
 "Then perhaps we can have something bet- 
 ter," her guest responded readily, and he 
 picked up the battered old tin can. "Permit 
 me, Miss Cary, to offer you a glass of fine old 
 blackberry wine which I carefully brought 
 with me to your beautiful home. It has been 
 in my family wine cellars since 1838. 
 
 "Well " he cried, as Virgie suddenly sat 
 back with a look of painful recollection on her 
 face. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy," she murmured pathetically, 
 "don't let's call it blackberry wine." 
 
 "Forgive me, darling," her father said ten- 
 derly, and he took the small face between his 
 hands and kissed her. "There, now it's all 
 right. It's all right/" 
 
 To create a diversion he looked behind him 
 with a frown and spoke with great severity to 
 an imaginary waiter. 
 
 "Here, Jo! How dare you bring such terri- 
 bly reminiscent stuff to our table. Go get the 
 port.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "We'll surely have to discharge that butler,** 
 he said. "He's too shiftless. And now, fair 
 lady, will you honor me by joining the hum- 
 blest of your admirers in a sip of port." 
 
 "With pleasure," answered his hostess, and 
 lifted the can of water in both hands. "Your 
 health, sir. May your shadow never grow 
 littler." 
 
 Half way through her drink Virgie stopped 
 and slowly put the can down. She looked at 
 her father, who already had his finger at his 
 lips. Voices had come to them from down 
 the road the sounds of a party of men talk- 
 ing and laughing as the}'- marched along. 
 
 Gary's face took on again the grim lines 
 which had been wiped away momentarily by 
 their little bit of play. He was trying to 
 make himself believe that the approaching 
 party might be friends, although he knew 
 only too well that such a possibility was full 
 of doubt. There were too many scouting 
 parties of Federals ready to pounce on Rebel 
 patrols in these perilous days to allow any but 
 large forces of men to venture far from 
 Richmond, and when his own men sallied
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 145 
 
 forth they did not go with laughter but with 
 tightly drawn, silent lips. 
 
 "S-s-s-h," he whispered, and held up his 
 finger again, as she seemed ready to burst into 
 questioning. 
 
 Immediately she snuggled close to him and 
 whispered hotly in his ear, "Who are they, 
 Daddy?" 
 
 "I don't know, honey," he whispered back. 
 "But I'm afraid they're Yanks. Keep quiet 
 till they pass." And quickly deserting the 
 stone under the trees w T here they had had their 
 "belt supper" he drew her with him behind 
 the large ledge of rock from under which the 
 spring flowed out. Looking behind them he 
 saw that with good luck they could reach the 
 shelter of the woods and get up over the hill 
 without being seen. But just now they could 
 not stir from their hiding place unless unless 
 the men were Confederates. This faint hope, 
 however, soon flickered out when he saw the 
 color of their uniforms. 
 
 Up the road came four dismounted men 
 with a corporal in command. They were 
 taking it easy as they walked along, their caps
 
 146 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 thrust back, their coats open and their Sharps' 
 carbines carried in the variety of ways that a 
 soldier adopts to ease his shoulder of the bur- 
 den that grows heavier with every mile. 
 
 "Here's the place, boys," the Corporal 
 called out as liis eye fell on the spring. "We 
 can get some decent water, now. That James 
 River water's too yellow for any white man 
 to put inside of him." 
 
 At the sound of a voice which he had heard 
 that same morning while he hid in the attic 
 of the overseer's cabin Gary's hold on his 
 daughter's hand tightened warningly. 
 
 "Come along, Virgie," he whispered. 
 "We'll get out of the way." 
 
 "But, Daddy," she protested in low tones, 
 "we've got our pass." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know," he answered, with a 
 twinge of regret that the rest of the world 
 could not trust so faithfully to human kind- 
 ness. "But that's for emergency. Come 
 along, honey quick!" 
 
 Silently as a shadow the two stole out of 
 the shelter of the ledge of rock, and by dint of 
 keeping it between them and the troopers,
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 147 
 
 managed to cover most of the open space be- 
 tween the spring and the protecting trees with- 
 out being seen. Meanwhile, they heard the 
 Corporal giving his commands. 
 
 "You, Collins, take sentry duty out there in 
 the road for a while. As soon as we make the 
 coffee we'll bring you out a cup. Now 
 over the wall with you, men." 
 
 Leaving one man behind to pace slowly up 
 and down the dusty road the four sprang over 
 the wall and advanced towards the spring. It 
 was well the sight of the cool water held their 
 eyes for if they had only looked up they 
 might have seen Virgie wresting her hand out 
 of her father's grasp and standing suddenly 
 petrified with the thought that she had left be- 
 hind her one beloved possession. 
 
 "Here's the spring, Smith under the rock. 
 Fill up the canteens. Here, Harry, help me 
 get fire wood." 
 
 With a soldier's readiness when it comes to 
 making camp one of the troopers promptly 
 collected the canteens and knelt down by the 
 spring, carefully submerging one at a time so 
 as to get the sweet, cold water in all its purity.
 
 148 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Another opened the knapsacks and took out a 
 can of coffee, biscuits and some scraps of meat 
 not much with which to make a meal but still 
 so much more than many a Rebel soldier had 
 that day as to take on the proportions of a 
 feast. Meanwhile, Corporal Dudley had 
 drawn his saber and was engaged in leisurely 
 lopping off the dead branches of a fallen tree. 
 
 "This strikes me a lot better than the camp," 
 he remarked as he tossed his firewood into a 
 heap. "A man and his friends can have a 
 quiet drink here, without treating a whole 
 damn battalion.'* 
 
 His eye fell on the ground near the spring 
 as he spoke and he paused. Then, with a grin 
 on his face, he jabbed his saber into something 
 which lay there and held it transfixed on the 
 point. 
 
 "Say, boys look at this," and he shook 
 poor Susan Jemima till her arms and legs 
 wiggled spasmodically and her dress seemed 
 on the point of complete disintegration. 
 
 Perhaps, if Corporal Dudley had not 
 laughed derisively Virgie might have stayed 
 hidden in the protection of the trees, but this
 
 
 HE LITTLEST REBEL 149 
 
 outrageous insult combined with the terrible 
 sight of poor Susan Jemima impaled on a 
 Yankee sword was too much for her bursting 
 heart. With blazing eyes she broke away 
 from her father and dashed back to the group 
 at the spring. 
 
 "Here, you! You stop that," she cried 
 angrily at the astonished troopers, who caught 
 up their carbines at the sound of feet. "How 
 dare you!" 
 
 There was a moment of surprise and then 
 the four broke out in guffaws of laughter. 
 
 "Well, hang me if it isn't the little girl we 
 saw this morning," shouted Dudley, without, 
 however, stopping the torture of the defenseless 
 Susan Jemima. "Where did you drop from?" 
 
 "Ne'm min' where I dropped from," com- 
 manded the wrathful Virgie with her dark 
 eyes like twin stars of hate. "You're the 
 meanest old thing I ever saw. Give me back 
 r,iy baby!" 
 
 Back in the trees a little way a man was 
 watching with a heavy heart. He knew only 
 too well what was to come. No matter what 
 the final outcome might be when he showed
 
 150 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 his safe-guard to his own army's lines there 
 would be a delay and searching questions and 
 more of the old insults which always made his 
 blood boil which always made the increasing 
 burden of despair still harder to bear. But 
 there was no use in putting off the trial 
 Virgie had slipped away in spite of every 
 whispered remonstrance and now that she was 
 there in the center of that group of guffawing 
 Yankees, there, too, was the only place for 
 him. And so, he stepped out swiftly and 
 faced the enemy. 
 
 "Hah!" shouted Dudley, looking up at the 
 sound of branches crackling underfoot. "A 
 Johnnie Reb, eh walking right into camp! 
 That's right, Harry, keep him covered." 
 
 He looked Gary over from head to foot with 
 a sneer at his tattered uniform. 
 
 "Well, sir," he asked, "who are you?" 
 
 "A Confederate officer," was the quiet re- 
 ply, "acting as escort for this child. We are 
 on our way to Richmond." 
 
 Gary's hand went into the breast of his coat 
 and he drew out a folded paper. 
 
 "Here is my authority for entering your
 
 "But he says she 1 ; jus' asleep" 
 
 "I don't like to be called a monkey"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 151 
 
 lines a pass signed by Lieutenant- Colonel 
 Morrison." 
 
 At the sound of the name Corporal Dudley 
 started and quickly took the paper. But be- 
 fore he opened it he gave Cary a keen look 
 which, to the Confederate officer, did not bode 
 well for the prospect of immediate release. It 
 seemed as if the man's sharp wits had suddenly 
 seized on something which he could profitably 
 turn to his own account. 
 
 With his back turned on Cary and Virgie 
 the Corporal unfolded the pass and studied it 
 carefully, while the troopers gathered behind 
 him and tried to read its contents over his 
 shoulder. 
 
 "Pwhat does it say?" asked the young Irish- 
 man, Harry O'Connell, who had covered Cary 
 with his carbine. 'Tis a precious bit of pa- 
 per, bedad if it passes him through me" 
 
 "It says: 'Pass Virginia Cary and escort 
 through all Federal lines, and assist them as 
 far as possible in reaching Richmond,' " read 
 the Corporal. 
 
 Deep in thought he turned the paper over 
 and studied the name on the back. At the
 
 152 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 sight of the signature there his mouth fell 
 open and he uttered a shout of surprise. His 
 eyes brightened and he stepped back from the 
 group and threw up his head with a look of 
 triumph on his dark face. He struck the pa- 
 per a slap with the back of his hand. 
 
 "Morrison on one side and 'Old Bob' on 
 the other" he exclaimed. "By G d, this is 
 a find." 
 
 "How so a find?" 
 
 The man who had had to put his own brother 
 under arrest a few short weeks before and then 
 had seen him shot through the heart by this 
 same officer whose name was on the pass 
 looked at the questioner with an ugly glitter 
 in his eyes. He was beginning to taste al- 
 ready the sweets of revenge. For blood ties 
 bind, no matter how badly they are stretched, 
 and long ago Corporal Dudley had sworn to 
 wipe out his grudge. 
 
 "Why, man, can't you see?" he whispered 
 excitedly. "This Johnnie Reb is the man that 
 was hiding in the cabin loft this morning. 
 Morrison lied when he said he wasn't there
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 153 
 
 you remember, he was the only one who 
 looked he lied and as soon as he got us out of 
 the way he let him come down and he gave 
 him this. Could any man ask for better proof 
 that we had the spy right in our hands and 
 then our commanding officer deliberately let 
 him go?" 
 
 At the sound of the man's excited whisper- 
 ing Gary's fears as to the value of Virgie's 
 pass grew too strong to warrant this agony 
 of watching and waiting, and he stepped for- 
 ward with a sharp question: 
 
 "Well, Corporal, isn't the pass satisfac- 
 tory?" 
 
 "Oh, perfectly perfectly," Dudley an- 
 swered with baleful readiness, but made no 
 move to return it. 
 
 Cary put out his hand. "Then I would like 
 to have it again, if you please." 
 
 By way of answer Corporal Dudley care- 
 fully found an inside pocket and buttoned the 
 pass up in his coat. "Oh, no, you don't," he 
 said, with an evil grin. "I've got a better use 
 for that little piece of paper."
 
 154 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "What do you mean?" 
 
 "I mean that you're my prisoner, Mister 
 Johnnie Reb," was the brutal answer. 
 
 "For what?" asked Cary, while his heart 
 grew sick inside him and his lips twitched. 
 Richmond and food for Virgie were grow- 
 ing farther away every moment. 
 
 "Because you're a Rebel spy, that's why," 
 came the biting answer. 
 
 "Oh none of that," as Gary's fists doubled 
 up and he made a forward step at the Cor- 
 poral. "I guess you know what's good for 
 you, with three guns at your back. If Colo- 
 nel Morrison wouldn't take you as a spy, I 
 
 "Here, boys," he said in brusque command 
 to his men, "we'll have to cut the supper and 
 take this man to camp. There'll be a sunrise 
 hanging to-morrow or I miss my guess. 
 Come on, now. Bring him along." 
 
 "Wait a minute, Corporal," O'Connell 
 said. "Sure I've something to say to ye," and 
 he led him aside where the others could not 
 hear. 
 
 All unconscious of the fatal predicament
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 155 
 
 into which Susan Jemima and she had got 
 them Virgie looked up at her father from 
 where she stood in the shelter of his arm. 
 
 "Daddy," she questioned, in a small, puz- 
 zled voice, "what are they going to do?" 
 
 "S-s-s-h," her father commanded as he 
 patted her head comfortingly. "Everything 
 will be all right, honey, I'm sure." But he 
 had caught enough of the Corporal's alterca- 
 tion with Trooper O'Connell to make him see 
 that things were very far from being what he 
 wanted Virgie to suppose. 
 
 "Ye'd better be careful now," O'Connell 
 said to Dudley. "Ye know well that if the 
 pass is all right ye'll be getting yerself into a 
 peck o' trouble." 
 
 "It isn't me that'll get in trouble," Dudley 
 answered, with grim triumph. "It's someone 
 else." 
 
 "Faith, then, who?" was the query. 
 
 "Morrison" snapped Dudley, with an 
 ominous click of his teeth. 
 
 "The Colonel? Why?" 
 
 "Because he helped this spy escape! that's 
 why. He killed my brother, d n him. Shot
 
 156 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 him down like a dog. But now I'm even with 
 him." 
 
 He shook the pass under the trooper's nose 
 and crowed with satisfaction. 
 
 "I've been waiting for a chance like this," he 
 chortled, "and now I'm going to make him 
 sweat sweat blood." 
 
 "Don't be a fool, Corporal," the trooper 
 counseled. "What'll ye be after doin'?" 
 
 "Report him at headquarters for helping 
 a spy escape! If I have the man and this" 
 and he slapped the paper, "it'll mean his sword 
 and shoulder straps if not a bullet! Come 
 on!" 
 
 He turned away, to scramble over the wall, 
 but Trooper O'Connell caught his arm. 
 
 "Hold on! Ye may get in trouble." 
 
 In answer Dudley broke away and dog- 
 gedly kept on towards the stone wall and the 
 road. "Keep off," he snarled. "I'm run- 
 ning this." 
 
 "I know ye are," the trooper replied, "but 
 wait," and he pointed to the rear. "Don't 
 forgit that the Colonel's out yonder recon-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 1ST 
 
 noiterin'. If he happened to overtake ye on 
 the road " 
 
 Struck with the sudden thought Dudley 
 paused. "Well, that's so," he growled as he 
 saw how easily he could be held for disobeying 
 orders and how quickly all his plans for 
 vengeance could be smashed. He stood still 
 for a moment gnawing his lip, then suddenly 
 struck his doubled fist into the palm of the 
 other hand. 
 
 "Then you stay here to guard the prisoner,'* 
 he said. "I'll cut through the woods make 
 my report come back with the horses and 
 my authority." 
 
 "Here, Smith! You and Judson come 
 along with me. Never mind the grub. We'll 
 get that later." 
 
 Turning to O'Connell, "If you hear anyone 
 coming, take those two into the woods. Col- 
 lins! You'll have to stay on sentry duty till 
 I get back. If any troops pass here, get out 
 of sight at once and give Harry warning. 
 Now, boys come along with me we'll take 
 it on the trot," and climbing quickly over the
 
 158 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 wall the man who held two lives in the hollow 
 of his hand ran down the road with the two 
 troopers, finally cutting over into the woods 
 and disappearing from view. 
 
 Gary and Virgie stood still by the spring. 
 Out in the road the sentry paced back and 
 forth. Behind them Trooper O'Connell stood 
 on guard, his carbine in his arms across his 
 breast. 
 
 Virgie pulled gently at her father's hand. 
 
 "Daddy," she whispered, "are they are 
 they goin' to carry us off to the Yankee 
 camp ?" 
 
 "I'm afraid so, darling, but I don't know," 
 he answered sadly. "We'll just have to wait. 
 Wait," he repeated, as he sat down on a rock 
 and drew her close to him. Without being 
 seen either by Virgie or O'Connell he picked 
 up a jagged stone the size of his fist and hid 
 it under his knee against the rock. It would 
 be a poor weapon at best, but Gary had grown 
 desperate and if the trooper once turned his 
 back and gave him opportunity poor Harry 
 O'Connell would wake up with a very bad 
 headache and Virgie would be in Richmond.
 
 But Virgie's eyes were on neither the hidden 
 stone nor her father's watchful, relentless face. 
 All that Virgie could see was a knapsack open 
 on the ground and food real food displayed 
 round about with a prodigality which made 
 her mouth water and her eyes as big as saucers. 
 
 "Daddy," she murmured, clutching at his 
 sleeve, "while we are waitin' do you reckon we 
 could take just a little bit of that?" 
 
 "No, dear not now," her father answered, 
 with a touch of impatience. It would be too 
 much, even in those bitter times, to accept a 
 man's food and then break his head for it. 
 
 "Well," said Virgie, completely mystified 
 at the restraint, "I don't see why they 
 shouldn't be polite to us. We were just as 
 polite as could be when the Yankees took our 
 corn." 
 
 Just then the young Irishman with the car- 
 bine turned around and caught the wan look 
 on Virgie's face and the hunger appeal in her 
 big dark eyes. At once a broad smile broke 
 over his freckled countenance and he gestured 
 hospitably with his gun. 
 
 "Have somethin' to eat, little wan."
 
 160 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Gary's knee loosened. The jagged stone 
 fell to the ground. 
 
 "Thank you, old fellow," he cried, spring- 
 ing to his feet. "I can't show my gratitude to 
 'you in any substantial way at present but 
 God bless you, just the same." He dropped 
 down on the rock again and hid his face in his 
 hands. Another moment and the kindhearted 
 trooper might have been lying face down- 
 wards in the muddy ground around the spring. 
 It had been only touch-and-go, but the man's 
 warm Irish heart had saved him. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, sir," O'Connell an- 
 swered freely. "Sure an' I'd like to see ye 
 get through, though I ain't the Gineral. At 
 least, not yet," he grinned. 
 
 "There ye are, little girl," he went on, push- 
 ing the knapsack over towards Virgie with the 
 muzzle of his carbine. "Jist help yerself an' 
 give yer dad some, too." 
 
 With a little cry of delight Virgie swooped 
 down on the knapsack and explored its in- 
 terior with eager hands. 
 
 "I'm much obliged, Mr. Yankee. We 
 cert'ny do need it bad." She tossed the
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 161 
 
 tangled hair back from her eyes and looked 
 thankfully up at this curious person who had 
 so much food that he could really give part of 
 it away. "Please, Mr. Yankee won't you 
 tell me your name?" 
 
 "Harry O'Connell, at your service, miss." 
 
 "Thank you," she bowed. "I'm very glad 
 to meet you." Then her searching hands 
 found something wonderful in the knapsack 
 and she sprang up and ran with her prizes to 
 her father. 
 
 "Look, Daddy two biscuits! Take one. 
 It's it's real?' 
 
 Gary's eyes grew moist. 
 
 "Thank you, darling. Thank you." Just 
 now the lump in his throat would not have al- 
 lowed him to eat soup, let alone a rather hard 
 biscuit, but he looked up with a laugh and 
 waved a genial salute to the trooper, who as 
 genially responded. 
 
 Virgie, however, had become quite single 
 minded since she had discovered food, and 
 with a happy sigh she raised the biscuit to her 
 lips. Just then the sentry in the road flung 
 up his hand with a shout.
 
 162 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Look out, O'Connell! They're coming," 
 and he clambered quickly over the wall and 
 dropped behind it, his gun in readiness. 
 
 "What is it?'* demanded the other trooper. 
 
 "Detachment of cavalry. A small one." 
 
 "But whose is it, man. Can ye not see?" 
 
 Collins, holding his hand behind him m a 
 gesture which commanded them to stay where 
 they were, raised his head cautiously over the 
 wall. 
 
 "Morrison's," he answered, after a quick 
 look, and he dropped down again out of sight. 
 
 At the sound of hoof beats and the name 
 she remembered so well Virgie, with her biscuit 
 all untasted, sprang up from the ground as if 
 she would run out on the road. But her 
 father caught her, for O'Connell had turned to 
 them with a serious face. 
 
 "I'm sorry, sir, but I'll have to trouble ye 
 to get under cover in the woods. No argy- 
 mint, sir," he said decisively, as he saw some 
 show of resistance on Gary's part. "I'm un- 
 der orders." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I know," Gary cried, impatiently, 
 "but I want to speak to Colonel Morrison.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 163 
 
 I must speak to him. Give me a moment, 
 man. You won't ever regret it." 
 
 "Come now none o' that,'* commanded the 
 trooper, pushing him back with the carbine 
 across his breast. "Don't make me use force, 
 sir. Ye '11 have to go so go quietly. And 
 mind no shenanigan!" 
 
 Caiy stood his ground for a moment, meet- 
 ing the trooper eye to eye then turned with 
 hanging head and walked a few steps back 
 into the woods. 
 
 "Come, Virgie," he said, "I guess we won't 
 get to see Colonel Morrison after all." 
 
 But Virgie, being a woman, had her own 
 ideas about what she would or would not do. 
 At the same moment that the trooper was 
 forcing her father step by step back into the 
 woods, Virgie was running madly towards the 
 stone wall and before either of the soldiers 
 could stop her she had clambered up on its 
 broad top and was calling out to a man who 
 clattered by at the head of a troop of cavalry. 
 
 "Colonel Morrison! Colonel Morrison!"
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 "HALT!" 
 
 At the sound of that piping, childish treble 
 calling his name in so unexpected a place the 
 officer at the head of the troop threw up his 
 gauntleted hand and brought the detachment 
 to a standstill in a cloud of dust. 
 
 "Hello, there," he said, turning curiously 
 around in his saddle. "Who is it wants me?" 
 
 "It's me, Virgie!" the child cried, leaping up 
 and down on the wall, all forgetful of her sore 
 foot. "Come help Daddy and me come 
 quick!" 
 
 "Well what on earth" 
 
 Morrison threw out a command to his men 
 and, wheeling his horse, spurred vigorously up 
 to the wall where he dismounted and came up 
 to take a closer view of the tangle haired little 
 person dancing on one foot. 
 
 "Why bless my soul if it isn't Virgie!" 
 His arms opened to take her in when, sud- 
 
 164
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 165 
 
 denly, his eye fell on O'Connell, standing at 
 attention on the other side of the wall. 
 
 "O'Connell," he said, sternly, "what is the 
 meaning of this? Why aren't you with your 
 detachment?" 
 
 "It isn't his fault," Virgie interposed in 
 stout defense of the nice Yankee who carried 
 biscuits in his knapsack. "He's under or- 
 ders." 
 
 The glib use of the military term made a 
 smile flicker across Morrison's face, but his 
 eyes did not leave the troubled trooper. 
 
 "Whose orders?" he demanded. 
 
 "Corporal Dudley, sir," was the stammer- 
 ing answer. 
 
 At this moment Cary stepped forward and 
 the two officers exchanged nods of recogni- 
 tion. 
 
 "Let me explain," the Confederate said. 
 "Virgie and I were making for Richmond as 
 rapidly as we could. Here, by this spring, 
 we were put under arrest by a corporal and 
 four troopers. Naturally, I presented your 
 pass, but the corporal refused to honor it. 
 He then left me under guard and hurried off
 
 166 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 to headquarters with the pass in his posses- 
 sion." 
 
 At this unwelcome news Morrison's head 
 jerked back as if he had been struck and his 
 lips tightened. Without the addition of an- 
 other word to Gary's story he saw all the dire 
 consequences to himself of what had been an 
 act of the commonest humanity. Yes, in 
 other times it would have been what any right 
 thinking human being would have done for 
 another in distress, but, unhappily, this was 
 war time and the best of motives were only 
 too often mis-read. In his mind's eye he saw 
 the vindictive Dudley, eager for a revenge 
 which he could not encompass any other way, 
 laying the proof of this act before his superiors 
 with an abundance of collateral evidence which, 
 he knew, would condemn him before any 
 military tribunal in the world. It mattered 
 not what kindly impulses had guided his hand 
 when he wrote the safeguard on the other side 
 of the paper on which Robert E. Lee had 
 previously placed his name, for it is not the 
 custom of courts martial to weigh the milk of 
 human kindness against the blood and iron of
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 167 
 
 war. The good and the safety of the greater 
 number demand the sacrifice of every man 
 who would imperil the cause by ill considered 
 generosity. Morrison could see that very 
 presently he would have to answer certain 
 stern questions. 
 
 Yet, there was a chance still that Dudley 
 might be headed off and this whole miserable 
 business stopped before revenge could set the 
 inexorable wheels in motion and he whirled 
 round on O'Connell with a sharp question: 
 
 "Which way did Dudley go?" 
 
 "Down the pike, then over the hill by the 
 wood road, sor makin' for headquarters," the 
 young Irishman answered, only too glad of a 
 chance to help his officer out of what, he saw, 
 was a frightful situation. 
 
 "How long ago?" came back the instant 
 query. 
 
 "Five minutes, sor. Ye cud catch him wid 
 /a horse." 
 
 "All," exclaimed Morrison, and he threw up 
 his hand to his men. "Lieutenant Harris," 
 he shouted. "Take a squad and ride to camp 
 by the wood road. Overtake Corporal Dudley
 
 168 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 or intercept him at headquarters. Don't fail. 1 
 Get him and bring him here!" 
 
 Lieutenant Harris's hand went up to his 
 hat in ready salute and he bellowed out his 
 orders. 
 
 "Jennings! Hewlett! Brown! Hammond! 
 Burt! 'Bout face. Forward!" Almost be- 
 fore the words were out of his mouth Harris 
 and his men were riding madly down the road 
 in a chase, which the Lieutenant suspected, 
 meant something more to his colonel, than 
 merely the recovery of a safe-conduct for a 
 Confederate officer and a little girl. 
 
 Morrison turned to Trooper O'Connell and 
 jerked his thumb towards the road. 
 
 "Report at my quarters this evening at 
 nine," he said curtly. And the young Irish- 
 man, thankful to be well out of the mess, 
 quickly clambered over the wall and disap- 
 peared though not without a soft voiced fare- 
 well from Virgie. 
 
 "Good-by, Mr. Knapsack Man," called the 
 child. "Thank you for the biscuits." 
 
 Then Gary came forward and gripped the 
 other's hand.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 169 
 
 "Colonel," he said earnestly, with full ap- 
 preciation of what was passing through Mor- 
 rison's mind, "I hope no trouble will come of 
 this. If I had only known the vindictiveness 
 of this man " 
 
 He was interrupted by a genially object- 
 ing hand and a laugh which Morrison was 
 somehow able to make lighthearted. 
 
 "Oh, that will be all right. Harris will get 
 him never fear." 
 
 "And so," he said, addressing Miss Virginia, 
 "that bad man took your pass?" 
 
 "Yes, sir. He did," Virgie answered, and 
 caught his hand in hers. "He ran right away 
 with it mean old thing." 
 
 "Well, then we'll have to write you out 
 another one. A nice, clean, white one this 
 time. Come on, little sweetheart. We'll do 
 it together," and he took out a note book and 
 pencil. 
 
 "I say, Morrison," Gary murmured, glanc- 
 ing apprehensively at the troopers idling in the 
 road and very plainly interested in what the 
 small group were doing, "do you really 
 think you'd better on your own account?"
 
 170 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Again Morrison's hand was raised in polite 
 objection. He had taken a sporting chance 
 when he wrote the pass which had been stolen 
 but because he had probably lost was no rea- 
 son why he shouldn't play the game out bravely 
 to the end. So he only smiled at Virgie, who 
 came and sat beside him, and began to write 
 the few short sentences of his second safe-con- 
 duct. But while he wrote he was talking in 
 low tones which the troopers in the road could 
 not hear. 
 
 "There's a line of your pickets about three 
 miles up the road, Gary," said he. "If I 
 loaned you a horse, do you think Virgie could 
 ride behind you?" 
 
 "Me?" pouted Virgie. "Why, Daddy says 
 that when I was bornded, I came ridin' in on 
 a stork." 
 
 Morrison burst out laughing and dropped 
 his hand down on the small paw resting on 
 his knee. 
 
 "Then, by St. George and the Dragon 
 we'll send you home to Jefferson Davis on a 
 snorting Pegasus!" 
 
 Again Gary spoke to him in warning tones,
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 171 
 
 which at the same time thanked him unend- 
 ingly for the kindly thought. 
 
 "You needn't trouble about the mount. 
 Why, man," he said huskily, "you're in 
 trouble enough, as it is! And if our lines are 
 as close as you say they are " 
 
 Once more the Union officer checked him. 
 
 "It isn't any trouble. Only you'll have 
 to be careful of your approach, even to your 
 own lines. Those gray devils in the rifle pits 
 up there have formed the habit of shooting 
 first and asking questions afterwards. There 
 you are," and he tore the leaf from his note 
 book and handed it up with a faint smile. 
 
 The Southerner took it with a reluctant 
 hand. 
 
 "I I wish I could thank you Morrison," 
 he said in tones that shook with feeling, 
 "but you see I I" 
 
 "Then please don't try. Because if you do 
 I'll I'll have to hold Virgie as a prisoner of 
 war. 
 
 "Well, young one," he said to the small Miss 
 Gary with a laugh, "did you really get some- 
 thins: to eat?"
 
 172 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Yes, sir. That is we almost did." 
 
 "Almost?" he echoed. 
 
 "Yes, sir," came the plaintive answer. 
 "Eve'y time we start to eat somethin' always 
 happens!" 
 
 "Well, well, that i* hard luck," he said with 
 a gentle squeeze of her frail body. "But I'll 
 bet you it won't happen this time; not if a 
 whole regiment tries to stop it." 
 
 "Come on," he suggested as he sprang to 
 his feet and began picking up dry twigs. 
 "You can start in and munch on those heavenly 
 biscuits while this terrible Yankee builds the 
 fire." Cary made a move as if to help; but 
 Morrison checked him. 
 
 "Oh, no, Gary, just you keep on sitting 
 still. This is no work for you. You're tired 
 out. 
 
 "Here, Virgie, I know you want to get me 
 some water from the spring. Please pick out 
 the cleanest pieces of water you can and put 
 them carefully in the coffee pot. All right. 
 There you are. 'Tention! Carr-ee coffee 
 pot! Right wheel! March!" 
 
 With a carefree laugh he turned away to
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 173 
 
 light the little heap of twigs he had placed be- 
 tween two flat stones. "It's mighty consider- 
 ate of my boys to leave us all these things. 
 We'll call it the raid of Black Gum Spring. 
 
 "And here comes the little lady with the 
 coffee pot filled just right. Now watch me 
 pour in the good old coffee real coffee, 
 Virgie dear not made from aco'ns." He 
 settled the pot on the fire and sat back with a 
 grin. "Oh, oh! Don't watch it," he cried, 
 in well feigned alarm as Virgie, unwilling 
 to believe the sight, stooped over to feast 
 her eyes on the rich brown powder sink- 
 ing into the black gulf of the pot. "If you do 
 that it will never, never boil!" 
 
 "All right," the child agreed pathetically, 
 and she sank wearily down against her fa- 
 ther's knee. "I'll just pray for it to hurry 
 up." 
 
 The two men exchanged quiet smiles and 
 Gary murmured something in his daughter's 
 ear. 
 
 "Oh, no, I won't," she answered, and then 
 looked up at Morrison with a roguish light in 
 her dark eyes. "He's only afraid I'll pray
 
 174 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 so terribly hard that the old coffee pot will 
 boil over an' put out the fire." 
 
 Morrison, chuckling, now began to drag 
 something out of a rear pocket. Presently, 
 he uncorked it and held it up a flask! 
 
 "Here, Gary," he said, holding out a cup. 
 "Join me, won't you? Of course, you under- 
 stand in case a snake should bite us." 
 
 "Colonel Morrison," responded the South- 
 erner, "you are certainly a man of ideas." 
 
 He waited for his foe to fill his own cup, 
 then raised his in a toast: 
 
 "I drink to the health, sir, of you and yours. 
 Here's hoping that some day I may take you 
 prisoner!" 
 
 At the quizzical look of surprise in the 
 other's face Gary's voice almost broke. 
 
 "I mean, sir, it's the only way I could ever 
 hope to show you how much I appreciate " 
 ! He stopped and covered his face with his 
 hands, not a little to his daughter's alarm. 
 
 "Come, come, old chap," the Northerner 
 said bluffly, tapping him on the shoulder. 
 "Brace up. It's the fortunes of war, you 
 know. One side or the other is bound to win.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 175 
 
 Perhaps who knows it may be your turn 
 to-morrow. Well, sir here goes. May it 
 soon be over in the way that's best and wisest 
 for us all. 
 
 "Now, Virgie," he went on, when the toast 
 had been drunk, "while I wash these cups sup- 
 pose you go on another voyage of discovery 
 through the magic knapsack for some sugar 
 for the coffee." 
 
 He watched her fling herself impetuously 
 on the knapsack. "If you find any Yankee 
 spoons put them under arrest. They haven't 
 any pass like yours." 
 
 Then he turned to Gary: "Have any trouble 
 on the road as you came along?" 
 
 The other man shook his head. 
 
 "None to speak of. We were stopped sev- 
 eral times of course, but each time your pass 
 let us through without delay until we met 
 Dudley. And now I'm worried, Colonel," he 
 said frankly, while his eyes tried to tell the 
 other all that he feared without putting it in 
 words, "worried on your account. It's easy 
 to see that the man has a grudge against 
 you"
 
 176 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Yes, I'm afraid he has," was the thought- 
 ful reply. "But really, Gary, you mustn't try 
 to carry any more burdens than your own, just 
 now. I know what you mean and what, I 
 daresay, you'd be only too willing to do, but 
 I can't permit it." 
 
 They were interrupted by the spectacle of 
 Virgie standing before them with anxiously 
 furrowed brow, a paper bag in one hand and 
 three spoons clutched in the other. 
 
 "But Colonel Morrison," she was saying in 
 tragic tones, "there isn't a drop of milk." 
 
 "Milk!" he cried in mock despair. "Well, 
 dash my buttons if I didn't forget to order a 
 
 cow." 
 
 "Oh, I know what to do," cried the child. 
 Dropping her supplies and utensils she ran to 
 the wall and climbed up. 
 
 "Hey, there, you" commanded the small 
 general with an imperious gesture to the as- 
 sembled troopers. "One of you men ride 
 right over to camp and bring us back some 
 milk an' butter." 
 
 At this abrupt demand of so small a rebel 
 on the commissary of the United States a roar
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 177 
 
 of laughter went up from the troopers, though 
 some of them had the grace to salute and so 
 relieve the child of embarrassment. 
 
 "Virgie! Virgiel" called her father, scan- 
 dalized. 
 
 "It's all right, Gary," Morrison laughed. 
 "She's only starting in at giving orders a little 
 earlier than most women. 
 
 "Never you mind, Miss Brigadier," he com- 
 forted. "We'll have all those luxuries next 
 time, or when I come to see you in Richmond 
 after the war is over. Just now we'll do the 
 best we can. Come along." 
 
 Virgie got down from the wall and pattered 
 up to the fire. 
 
 "Is it ready yet?" she asked with the perfect 
 directness of seven years. 
 
 "In a minute now. Ah-hah! There she 
 goes." 
 
 He took the pot from the fire and set it 
 down on a rock where, presently, he brought a 
 cupful of cold water to pour m. 
 
 "Is that to settle it?" she asked of her 
 father. 
 
 "Yes, child and I wish all our questions
 
 178 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 were as easily cleared up. And now to the 
 attack." 
 
 "Right-o. Virgie pass the beautiful, 
 hand painted china and let's fill up. This one 
 for your daddy you can put the sugar in. 
 Only don't burn those precious fingers." 
 
 Virgie carried the steaming cup to her 
 father and put it in his hands with shining 
 eyes. 
 
 "This is better than our old belt supper, 
 Daddy, isn't it?" she said, with a flirt of her 
 tangled curls. "Anyway it smells nicer." 
 
 She was back at the sugar bag at once, dig- 
 ging out spoonfuls for Morrison's coffee. 
 
 "Thank you, Miss Gary, I am indeed 
 obliged to you. Now do sit down and eat. 
 No, not another word till you've eaten two 
 whole biscuits!" 
 
 For several ecstatic moments the child 
 munched her biscuits. It had been a long 
 time since she had eaten anything so delicious, 
 although if those same biscuits had appeared 
 on the Gary table a month ago they would 
 have probably been scorned. But eager as 
 her appetite was it did not stop the active
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 179 
 
 workings of her mind and she presently was 
 struck by an idea which tried to force itself 
 out through a mouthful of biscuit with the 
 usual amusing results. 
 
 "Virginia!" admonished her father. 
 
 Morrison laughed out like a boy and slapped 
 his knee. 
 
 "Suppose we swallow and try again." 
 
 Virgie, thus adjured, concentrated her mind 
 on the task gulped, blinked, swallowed with 
 pathetically straining eyes, and then smiled 
 triumphantly. 
 
 "Excuse me, Daddy. I guess I wasn't very 
 polite." 
 
 "Apology accepted. What were you going 
 to say?" 
 
 The child looked up with a sweetly serious 
 look in her eyes that the two men recognized 
 as the forerunner of true womanly thought 
 for others. 
 
 "I was only goin' to ask the Colonel if he 
 didn't think his men out there would like some 
 of these lieavingly things to eat?" she said 
 plaintively. "It must be terrible jus' to look 
 onl"
 
 180 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Well, bless your little heart," the North- 
 erner cried. "But don't you worry about the 
 boys. They'll have theirs when they get back 
 to camp. Go on and eat, Virgie. Stuff in 
 another biscuit. And, look! By Jupiter. 
 Butter!" 
 
 Evidently Trooper O'Connell during the 
 past twenty-four hours had foraged or blar- 
 neyed most successfully for out of the knap- 
 sack which he had left behind Morrison sud- 
 denly produced a small earthenware jam jar 
 in which was something now indubitably 
 liquid in form but none the less sweet, yellow, 
 appetizing butter. Pouring a little on a bis- 
 cuit he held it out to her, speculating on what 
 she would say. 
 
 The tot took it hungrily and raised it to her 
 lips, her eyes shining and her face glowing 
 with anticipation. Then she paused and, with 
 a little cry of vexation over her selfishness, 
 held out the biscuit to her father. 
 
 "Here, Daddy," she said. "You take this 
 because you tried to bring me somethin* 
 good to eat yesterday."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 181 
 
 The father threw a look at Morrison and 
 caught Virgie to him in a swift embrace. 
 
 "No, dear," he said. "Eat your nice but- 
 tered biscuit and thank the good Lord for it. 
 Your father will get more fun out of seeing 
 you eat that little bit than he would out of 
 owning a whole cellar of big stone crocks jam 
 full. Do you know I think when we get up 
 to Richmond you'll have to write a letter to 
 the Colonel a nice long letter, thanking 
 him for all he's done. Won't you?" 
 
 There was a pause for a moment as the child 
 looked over at Morrison, revolving the thought 
 in her mind. 
 
 The Union officer had passed into a sudden 
 reverie, the hand holding his coffee cup hang- 
 ing listlessly over his knee. He was thinking 
 of another little girl, and one as dear to him as 
 this man's child was to her father. He was 
 wondering if the fortunes of war would ever 
 let him see her face again or hear her voice 
 or feel her chubby arms around his neck. She 
 was very, very far away well cared for, it 
 was true, but he knew only too well that it
 
 182 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 would need but one malignant leaden missile 
 to make her future life as full of hardships as 
 those which the little tot beside him was pass- 
 ing through to-day. So much, at least, for 
 the ordinary chances of war he was begin- 
 ning to wonder how much had been added to 
 these perils by the matter of the pass and 
 whether his superiors would see the situation 
 as it had appeared to his eyes. 
 
 Into this sad reverie Virgie's soft voice 
 entered with a gentleness which roused but 
 did not startle him. When she spoke, it 
 seemed as if some subtle thought-current be- 
 tween their minds had put the subject of his 
 dreams into the child's mind. 
 
 "Do you reckon," the child said, curiously, 
 "that Gertrude is havin' her supper now?" 
 
 The Union officer looked up with eyes that 
 mutely blessed her. 
 
 "Yes, dear, I was thinking of her and 
 her mother." 
 
 Again he was silent for a space, and when 
 he spoke, his voice was dreamy, tender, as he 
 seemed to look with unseeing eyes far into the 
 Northland where dwelt the people of his heart.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 183 
 
 "Do you know, Gary, this war for us, the 
 men, may be a hell, but what is it for those we 
 leave at home? The women! Who wait 
 and watch and too often watch in vain. We 
 have the excitement of it the rush the bat' 
 ties and we think that ours is the harder part 
 when, in reality, we make our loved ones' lives 
 a deeper, blacker hell than our own. Theirs 
 to watch and listen with the love hunger in 
 their hearts, month in, month out and often 
 without a word! Theirs to starve on the 
 crusts of hope! Waiting always waiting! 
 Hunting the papers for the thing they dread 
 to find ; a name among the missing. A name 
 among the dead I Good God ! When I think 
 of it sometimes " Morrison dropped his 
 head between his clenched fists and groaned. 
 
 "Yes, yes, old fellow, I know," the other 
 man answered, for in truth he did know, "but 
 I want you to remember that for you the crusts 
 of hope will some day be the bread of life 
 and love." 
 
 Slowly the Northerner's face came up out 
 of his hands and he seemed to take heart again. 
 After all, he had led a charmed life so far
 
 perhaps the God of Battles had written his 
 name among those who would some day go 
 back to live the life for which the Almighty 
 made them. God grant then that he might 
 have for his friend this man who, in the time 
 of his own greater grief, was unselfish enough 
 to console him. Ah! If God would only 
 grant that from this day on there would be no 
 more of this hideous fighting. Morrison's 
 eyes met the other's and he put out his 
 hand. 
 
 Suddenly there came the sound of a shot. 
 Another and another then a volley, which 
 almost at once became a continuous rattle of 
 musketry. 
 
 The Northerner sprang to his feet. "H II 
 there go your pickets." 
 
 Struck dumb by this sudden return to the 
 actualities of life the two men stood motion- 
 less, listening for every sound which might tell 
 them what it meant. For a little while they 
 had dreamed the dream of peace only to have 
 it rudely shattered. 
 
 But Virgie had not followed them in their 
 dreams, for she was an extremely practical
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 185 
 
 young lady. Having seen food, real food, 
 vanish away before her very eyes several times 
 already she was quite prepared to see it hap- 
 pen again. 
 
 "There!" she said, in tones in which prophecy 
 and resignation were oddly mingled. "Didn't 
 I jus' know somethin' was goin' to happen!" 
 
 By this time Morrison had run to the stone 
 wall and sprung to its top. Out in the road 
 the troopers had mounted without waiting for 
 command and with one accord had faced to- 
 wards the firing. 
 
 "Can you see anything?" Gary called. 
 
 "Not yet," said Morrison. "I guess we 
 came too close to your nest and the hornets 
 are coming out." 
 
 "Turner!" he commanded, and a trooper's 
 hand went up, "ride up to the fork of the road. 
 Learn what you can and report." 
 
 As the cavalryman struck his heels into his 
 horse's sides and dashed up the road Gary put 
 the wishes of both men into words. 
 
 "It's too near sundown for a battle. It will 
 only be a skirmish." 
 
 "Ye-e-e-s, possibly," the Northerner as-
 
 186 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 sented, and he looked thoughtfully at Virgie, 
 "but still" 
 
 "What is it?" 
 
 "I can't send you forward now in the face 
 of that fire. And, for that matter, I can't! 
 send you to the rear. In five minutes this 
 road will be glutted with cavalry and guns." 
 
 "Never mind, Morrison," the Southerner 
 returned. "I couldn't go now anyway." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Gary opened out his hands in a simple ges- 
 ture. "Because, in case of trouble for you at 
 
 I 
 
 headquarters, I'm still your prisoner." With 
 his eyes brave and steady on the others he took 
 the newly written pass from his breast and 
 tore it in pieces. "When you want me," he 
 said, "you'll find me here/' 
 
 If there had been time for argument Mor- 
 rison would have hotly protested against such 
 self-sacrifice, but events were crowding upon 
 them too fast. From down the road came the 
 sound of furious galloping. Almost at once 
 Lieutenant Harris, riding hard at the head 
 of a troop of cavalry, swept round the curve 
 and drew his horse upon his haunches.
 
 "Colonel Morrison!" he shouted. "You are 
 ordered " 
 
 "One moment, Lieutenant," interrupted 
 Morrison in tones so even that Gary marveled 
 at his composure, "Did you get Corporal 
 Dudley?" 
 
 Gary's ears ached for the answer. He 
 knew just as well as the questioner the danger 
 which might now be disclosed or be forever for- 
 gotten and his heart went out to the other in 
 this moment of hideous suspense. 
 
 There was an instant of hesitation and then 
 came the answer. 
 
 "No, sir! We tried hard but couldn't make 
 it." 
 
 Morrison's face did not change but his hands 
 tightened until the nails dug deep into his 
 palms. He had played and lost. 
 
 "Go on with your report," he said. 
 
 Harris pulled in his fretting horse and de- 
 livered his significant news. 
 
 "The Rebels are advancing in force. I was 
 sent back to you with orders to join Major 
 Foster at the fork and hold the road at any 
 cost. Two light field pieces are coming to
 
 188 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 your support. Our main batteries are back" 
 there in the woods." 
 
 "Right," said Morrison, "we go at once." 
 Turning back to Virgie he caught her up in 
 his arms and kissed her. "Good-by, little 
 sweetheart. Hide under the rocks and keep 
 close." 
 
 "Good-by, Morrison," Gary said, as they 
 struck hands. "I can't wish you luck but 
 our hearts are with you as a man." 
 
 "Thanks, old fellow," said the enemy, as he 
 sprang over the wall. "It helps God 
 knows." 
 
 He caught at his horse's mane and threw 
 himself into the saddle without touching the 
 stirrup, while his voice roared out his com- 
 mand. 
 
 "Ready, men! Forward!" 
 
 "Good-by," shrilled Virgie in her child- 
 ish treble. "Good-by, Colonel! Don't get 
 hurt." 
 
 "Daddy!" she cried, as they crouched down 
 in their hiding place behind tlhe wall. "Is 
 there going to be a a battle?' 3
 
 "Only a little one. But you won't be 
 afraid." 
 
 A rattle of approaching wheels came from 
 down the road, the shock of steel tires striking 
 viciously against the stones, the cries and oaths 
 of the drivers urging the horses forward. 
 
 "Look!" cried Gary, springing to his feet 
 in spite of the danger in which his gray uni- 
 form placed him. "Here come the field pieces. 
 In a minute now the dogs will begin to bark." 
 
 With a roar of wheels and a clash of harness 
 and accouterments the guns rushed by while 
 the child stared and stared, her big eyes almost 
 starting out of her face. 
 
 "The dogs!" she said in wonder. "There 
 wasn't a single dog there !" 
 
 "Another kind of dog," her father said with 
 a meaning look. "And their teeth are very 
 long. Ah ! There they go ! Over yonder on 
 the hill in the edge of the woods. The Yan- 
 kee dogs are barking. Now listen for the an- 
 swer." 
 
 Together they listened, father and daughter, 
 with straining ears listened for the defiant
 
 reply of those men who, being Americans, 
 were never beaten until hunger and superioi 
 numbers forced them to the wall. 
 
 "Boom!" A great, ear-filling sound crashed 
 over the hills and rolled, echoing, through the 
 woods. 
 
 "That's us! That's us!" the man cried out 
 exultantly, while he caught the child closer in 
 his arms. "Hear our people talking, honey? 
 Hear 'em talk!" 
 
 But overhead something was coming 
 through the air and the child shrank down in 
 terror something that whined and screamed 
 as it sped on its dreadful way and seemed like 
 a demon out of hell searching for his prey. 
 
 "Lord a' mercy, Daddy!" the child cried out. 
 "What's that?" 
 
 He patted her head consolingly. "Nothing 
 at all but a shell. They sound much worse 
 than they really are. Don't be afraid. Noth- 
 ing will hurt you." 
 
 From the forks of the road the sound of 
 yolley firing grew stronger and, as if in re- 
 sponse, the road to the Union rear now turned 
 jinto a stream of living blue, with cavalry
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 191 
 
 madly galloping and sweating infantry hurry- 
 ing forward as fast as their legs could carry 
 them. 
 
 "Look, Virgie, look!" her father cried, hold- 
 ing her head a little way above the wall. "See 
 those bayonets shining back there across the 
 road. A whole regiment of infantry. And 
 they're going up against our men across an 
 open field! By Jiminy, but those Yanks will 
 get a mustard bath. Ah-hah!" he chortled, as 
 a roar of musketry broke out. "I told you so! 
 Our boys are after them. Good work! Good 
 work!" 
 
 But again a shell passed over them and 
 again the world was filled with that awful 
 whining, shrieking sound. 
 
 "Daddy," the child cried, with quivering 
 lips, but still dry eyed. "I don't like those 
 things. I don't like 'em." 
 
 "There, there, darling," he comforted as 
 they shrank closer under the protection of the 
 wall. "Keep down under my arm and they 
 won't bother you." 
 
 As he spoke a twig with a fresh yellow break 
 in it fell from a tree and struck his upturned
 
 192 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 face. He winced at the thought that the bul- 
 let might have flown a few feet lower. And 
 meanwhile the sound of the firing came steadily 
 closer. 
 
 "By Jove!" he murmured to himself, "it's a 
 bigger rumpus than I thought.'* 
 
 This indeed was true. What had at first 
 promised to be only a skirmish between the 
 outposts of the two entrenched armies, now 
 developed into a general engagement covering 
 a space of half a mile along the line. A re- 
 connoitering force of Federal cavalry had rid- 
 den too close to the rifle pits of the Confeder- 
 ates, and, as Morrison himself expressed it, 
 "the hornets came out and began to sting." 
 
 Major Foster, commanding a larger force 
 of cavalry, rode out in support of his recon- 
 noitering party, and found himself opposed, 
 not by a straggling line of Rebel pickets, but 
 by a moving wall of tattered gray, the units of 
 which advanced on a low-bent run, crouching 
 behind some bush or stone, to fire, reload and 
 advance again. 
 
 An aide raced back to the Union lines to ask 
 for help in support of Foster's slender force
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 193 
 
 of cavalry ; and thus the order came to Morri- 
 son to join the detachment and hold the enemy 
 until reinforcements could be formed and 
 pushed to the firing line. 
 
 The delay, however, was well nigh fatal for 
 Morrison and Major Foster, and from the 
 point where Gary and little Virgie watched, 
 the case of the Union horsemen seemed an 
 evil one. True, that infantry and guns were 
 soon advancing to their aid on a "double- 
 quick"; yet all the advantage seemed to lie 
 with the ragged, sharp-shooting Southern- 
 ers. 
 
 The crackle of musketry increased ; the dust 
 rolled up and intermingled with the wreathes 
 of drifting smoke, and through it came the vi- 
 cious whine of leaden messengers of death. 
 
 Then, borne on the wind, came a sound that 
 he would know till his dying day the rebel 
 yell. An exultant scream, a cry of unend- 
 ing hate, defiance, victory! 
 
 He sprang to his feet. Off came the bat- 
 tered old campaign hat and unmindful that he 
 stood there hidden in the woods and that his 
 voice could carry only a few yards against
 
 194. THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 the roar of battle, he swung it over his head 
 and shouted out his encouragement. 
 
 "God! We're whipping 'em. Virgie, do 
 you hear? We're getting them on the run. 
 Come on, boys! Come on!" 
 
 He felt her clutch on his sleeve. With 
 wide eyes grown darker than ever with excite- 
 ment, she asked her piteous question. 
 
 "Daddy! Will they kill the Colonel?" 
 
 For a moment he could not answer. Then, 
 with a groan he gave back his answer: "I 
 hope not, darling. I hope not!" 
 
 Down the road a riderless horse was com- 
 ing, head up and stirrups flying. As it gal- 
 loped past Gary scrutinized it closely and was 
 glad he did not recognize it. In its wake 
 came soldiers, infantry and dismounted cav- 
 alry, firing, retreating, loading and firing 
 again, but always retreating. 
 . "Here come the stragglers," he cried. 
 ("We're whipping 'em! Close, darling, close. 
 Lie down against the wall." 
 
 He crouched above her, shielding her as best 
 he could with his body. Then, suddenly, a 
 man in blue leaped on the wall not ten feet
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 195 
 
 away. He had meant to seize the wall as a 
 breastwork and fight from behind it, but 
 before he dropped down he would fire one last 
 shot. His gun came up to his shoulder he 
 aimed at some unseen foe and fired. But from 
 somewhere, out of the crash of sound and the 
 rolling powder smoke, a singing missile came 
 and found its mark. The man in blue bent 
 over suddenly, wavered, then toppled down 
 inside the wall, his gun ringing on the stones 
 as he fell. 
 
 "Daddy!" the child whispered, with ashen 
 face, "it's the biscuit man. It's HARRY!" 
 
 Her father's hand went out instinctively to 
 cover her eyes. "Don't look, dear! Don't 
 look!" 
 
 The road was choked now. Cavalry and 
 infantry, all in a mad rush for the rear, were 
 tearing by while the two field pieces which but 
 a moment ago had gone into action with such 
 a deadly whirl came limping back with slashed 
 traces and splintered wheels. With fascinated 
 eyes the Rebel officer watched from behind 
 his wall, while everything, even his child, was 
 forgotten in the lust for victory. And so he
 
 196 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 did not hear the faint voice behind him that 
 cried out in an agony of thirst and pain. 
 
 "Water! Water! In God's name- 
 water !" 
 
 Virgie, with dilated eyes and heaving breast, 
 crouched low as long as she could and then 
 gave up everything to the pitiful appeal ring- 
 ing in her ears. Quick as a flash, she sped 
 away on bare feet over rocks and sharp, pointed 
 branches of fallen trees to the spring, where 
 she caught up a cup and filled it to the brim. 
 Another swift rush and she reached the fallen 
 man in blue and had the cup at his lips, while 
 her arm went under his head to lift it. 
 
 "Virgie!" her father cried, frantic at the 
 sight. With a great leap he was at her side, 
 forcing her down to the ground and covering 
 her with his body. 
 
 The trooper's head sank back and his eyes 
 began to dull. 
 
 "May God bless ye, little one," he mur- 
 mured. "Heaven Mary !" His lips gave 
 out one long, shuddering sigh. His body 
 grew slack and his chin fell. Trooper Harry
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 197 
 
 O'Connell had fought his last fight had 
 passed to his final review. 
 
 One look at the boyish face so suddenly 
 gone gray and bloodless and Gary caught 
 Virgie up in his arms. "Come dear, you can't 
 help him any more," and with a crouching run 
 they were back once more in the shelter of the 
 wall. 
 
 And now the shriek of the shells and the 
 whine of the bullets came shriller than before. 
 All around them the twigs were dropping, 
 while the acrid powder smoke rolled in through 
 the trees and burnt their eyes and throats. 
 Again came men in blue retreating and among 
 them an officer on horseback, wheeling his 
 animal madly around among them and shout- 
 ing encouragement as he tried to face them 
 to the front. "Keep at it, men," Morrison 
 was crying, half mad with rage. "One 
 decent stand and we can hold them. Give it 
 to them hard. Stand, I tell you. Stand!" 
 
 All around him, however, men were falling 
 and those who were left began to waver. 
 "Steady, men! Don't flinch," came the shout
 
 198 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 again. "Ah-hah, you would, would you? 
 Coward!" 
 
 Morrison's sword held flatwise, thudded 
 down on the back of a man who had flung 
 away his gun. "Get back in the fight, you 
 dog! Get back!" 
 
 He whipped out his revolver and pointed 
 it till the gun had been snatched up, then fired 
 all its chambers at the oncoming hordes in 
 gray. 
 
 "One more stand," he yelled. "One 
 more " 
 
 Beside him the color sergeant gave a moan 
 and bent in the middle like a hinge. Another 
 slackening of his body and the stricken bearer 
 of the flag plunged from his saddle, the colors 
 trailing in the dust. 
 
 Morrison spurred his mount toward the 
 fallen man, bending to grasp the colors from 
 the tight gripped hand; but even as he bent, 
 his horse went down. He leaped to save him- 
 self, then turned once more, snatched at the 
 flag of his routed regiment and waved it above 
 his head. 
 
 "Stand, boys, and give 'em hell!"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 199 
 
 A shout went up not from the men he 
 sought to rally to his flag, but from those who 
 would win it at a cost of blood, for his troopers 
 were running on a backward road, and Morri- 
 son fought alone. The "gray devils" were all 
 around him now, and he backed against the 
 wall, fighting till his sword was sent spinning 
 from his fist by the blow of a musket butt; 
 then, grasping the color-pole in both his hands, 
 he parried bayonet thrusts and saber strokes, 
 panting, breathing in hot, labored gasps, and 
 cursing his enemies from a hoarse, parched 
 throat. 
 
 A hideous, unequal fight it was, and soon 
 Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison must fall as his 
 colors fell and be trampled in the dust; yet 
 now through an eddying drift of smoke came 
 another ragged Southerner, a grim, gaunt man 
 whose voice was as hoarse as Morrison's, who 
 had grasped a saber from the blood stained 
 rocks and waved it above his head. 
 
 "Back, boys! Don't kill that man!" 
 
 Among them he plunged till he reached the 
 side of Morrison, then turned and faced the 
 brothers of his country and his State. With
 
 200 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 a downward stroke he arrested a saber thrust, 
 and then struck upward at a rifle's mouth as it 
 spit its deadly flame. 
 
 "Don't kill him ! Do you hear?" he cried, as| 
 he beat at the bayonet points. "I'm Gary! 
 Herbert Gary! on the staff of General Lee!" 
 
 For an instant the attacking Southerners 
 stood aghast at the sight of this raging man in 
 gray who defended a Yankee officer; and yet 
 he had made no saber stroke to wound or kill ; 
 instead, his weapon had come between their 
 own and the life of a well-nigh helpless foe. 
 For a moment more they paused and looked 
 with wondering eyes, and in that moment their 
 victory was changed to rout. 
 
 A bugle blared. A thundering rush of 
 hoof beats sounded on the road, and the Union 
 reinforcements swept around the curve. Six 
 abreast they came, a regiment of strong, 
 straight riders, hungry for battle, hot to re- 
 trieve the losing fortune of the day. The 
 road was too narrow for a concentrated rush, 
 so they streamed into the fields on either side, 
 re-formed, and swept like an avalanche of blue 
 upon their prey. The guns in the woods now
 
 " the little rebel's right again. He isn't here!" 
 
 'Isn't the pass satisfactory?"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 201 
 
 thundered forth afresh, their echoes rolling out 
 across the hills, and the attacking Rebels 
 turned and fled, like leaves before a storm. 
 
 On one side of the road, Morrison and Gary 
 shrank down beside the wall to let the Union 
 riders pass; on the other, all that was left of 
 the Rebel force ran helter-skelter for a screen 
 of protecting trees. But before the last one 
 disappeared he threw up his gun and fired, 
 haphazard, in the direction whence he had 
 come. 
 
 As if in reply came the sound of a saber 
 falling from a man's hand and striking on a 
 stone. Under his very eyes and just as he 
 was putting out his hand to grip the others 
 Morrison saw Herbert Gary sinking slowly to 
 the ground. 
 
 And then, through the yellow dust clouds 
 and the powder smoke and all the horrid reek 
 of war, a child came running with outstretched 
 arms and piteous voice a frightened child, 
 weeping for the father who had thrown him- 
 self headlong into peril to save another's life 
 and who, perhaps, had lost his own.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 THE headquarters of the Army of the Potomac 
 on the morning of August 4, 1864, were at 
 City Point near where the Appomattox meets 
 the James. Here the grim, silent man in 
 whose hands lay the destinies of the United 
 States sent out the telegrams which kept the 
 Federal forces gnawing at the cage in which 
 Lee had shut himself and meanwhile held to 
 his strategic position south of Richmond. To 
 his left and west lay Petersburg still uncon- 
 quered, but Petersburg could wait, for Early's 
 gray clad troopers were scourging the Shenan- 
 doah and the menace must be removed. To 
 this end Grant had sent a telegram to Wash- 
 ington three days before expressing in unmis- 
 takable terms what he wished General Sheri-' 
 dan and his cavalry to accomplish. They were 
 to go over into the Shenandoah and, putting 
 themselves south of the enemy, follow him to 
 the death. To which telegram the tall, lank, 
 
 203
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 203 
 
 furrow-faced man in the White House whose 
 kindly heart was bursting with the strain re- 
 plied in characteristic fashion and told him 
 that his purpose was exactly right. And 
 then, with a gleam of humor, warned him 
 against influences in Washington which would 
 prevent its carrying out unless he forced it. 
 
 This message had come but a few minutes 
 before and it had been received with silent 
 satisfaction for Grant knew now that Abra- 
 ham Lincoln and he were in perfect accord 
 as to the means for swiftly bringing on the 
 end. But the plans must be well laid and to 
 that end he must leave City Point within a few 
 hours and go north. And so he was standing 
 at a window of his headquarters this morning 
 with his eyes resting unseeingly on the camp, 
 while his cool, quiet mind steadily forged out 
 his schemes. 
 
 Unlike the headquarters of "play" armies 
 where all is noise and confusion and bloodied 
 orderlies throw themselves off of plunging 
 horses and gasp out their reports, the room in 
 which General Grant did his work was 
 strangely quiet.
 
 204, THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 It was a large, square room with high ceil- 
 ing and wall paper which had defied all the 
 arts of Europe to render interesting in design. 
 Furniture was neither plentiful nor comforta- 
 ble a slippery, black horse-hair sofa, a few 
 horse-hair chairs and, at one side of the room, 
 a table and a desk, littered with papers, maps 
 and files. At the table Grant's adjutant, 
 Forbes, sat writing. Facing him was the 
 door opening out into the hallway of the 
 house where two sentries stood on guard. In 
 the silence which pervaded the room and in the 
 quiet application to the work in hand there 
 was a perfect reflection of the mind of him 
 who stood impassive at the window with his 
 back turned, a faint blue cloud of cigar smoke 
 rising above his head. 
 
 A quick step sounded in the corridor the 
 step of one who bears a message. An orderly 
 appeared in the doorway, spoke to the two sen- 
 tries and was passed in with a salute to Forbes. 
 
 "For General Grant," he said, holding out 
 a folded note of white paper. "Personal from 
 Lieutenant Harris, sir." 
 
 At the sound of his name the General turned
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 205 
 
 slowly and accepted the note which the orderly 
 presented. He took it without haste and yet 
 without any perceptible loss of time or motion 
 and, as always, without unnecessary words. 
 Scanning it, he shifted his cigar to one corner 
 of his mouth where its smoke would not rise 
 into his eyes, thought for an instant, then 
 nodded shortly. 
 
 "I'll see him. At once." 
 
 Dismissed, the orderly saluted and passed 
 quickly out. The General, with his chin in his 
 collar and his cigar held between his fingers 
 at nearly the same level, moved back to the 
 window and stood there silently as before. 
 He knew what Lieutenant Harris would wish 
 to speak to him about. A few weeks before a 
 Lieutenant-Colonel of cavalry had been court- 
 martialed on the charge of allowing the escape 
 of a spy. The court had found him guilty 
 and its findings had been submitted to the 
 higher authorities and endorsed by them. A 
 copy of these reports now lay on his desk. 
 All this his Adjutant, Forbes, knew as well 
 as the General himself, but if Forbes had 
 thought it worth while to speculate on the ex-
 
 206 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 tent of his commander's interest he might have 
 guessed for years without ever drawing one 
 logical conclusion from all the hints that that 
 impassive face and figure gave him. 
 
 Again a ringing step in the corridor and 
 this time Lieutenant Harris came into the 
 room, his hand going up in salute. But his 
 General was still looking out of the window, 
 his eyes on a dead level. There was a silence 
 and then without turning around 
 
 "Well, Lieutenant, what is it?" 
 
 "A short conference, General, if you'll 
 grant it. The case of Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Morrison." It was hard work to talk to one 
 who kept his back turned and Harris was em- 
 barrassed. 
 
 The smoke from the General's cigar still 
 curled lazily upwards. 
 
 "Reprieve?" came the monosyllabic ques- 
 tion. 
 
 Harris caught himself together and put all 
 his feelings. 
 
 "No, General. A pardon!" 
 
 At once Grant wheeled and stood gazing at 
 him keenly.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 207 
 
 "Pardon? 33 he said, and he advanced with 
 deliberation to the desk where he stood with 
 his eyes steady on Harris' face. "Lieutenant I 
 Do you want me to think you are out of your 
 mind?" 
 
 Before Harris could reply Grant stopped 
 him with a gesture and picked up a batch of 
 papers which lay on the desk. 
 
 "The man has been given every chance. He 
 has been court-martialed and found guilty." 
 
 He dropped the papers in the case back on 
 the desk. "And you his counsel having 
 failed to prove him otherwise now come to me 
 for pardon." 
 
 He snapped his fingers. "Lieutenant, you 
 are wasting time." And he turned away, 
 pausing for a moment to turn over a sheaf 
 here and there on his desk and meditate their 
 contents. The incident of Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Morrison has been disposed of and, in 
 another moment would be forgotten. It was 
 now or never for Harris and he answered 
 quickly. 
 
 "I hope not, sir. Neither yours nor mine." 
 And then, as the General looked up with some
 
 208 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 surprise at this retort. "You have read the 
 findings of the court?" 
 
 "Yes," was the grim reply. "And approve 
 the sentence. To-morrow he will be shot." 
 
 "Yes, sir," acknowledged Harris. "tTnless 
 you intervene." 
 
 At this curiously insistent plea for clemency 
 the short, stocky bearded man who, to so few, 
 had the bearing of a great general, faced Lieu- 
 tenant Harris and gave him a look which 
 made the young officer's bravery falter for a 
 long moment. 
 
 "I?" said the General, with a searching note 
 in his voice which seemed to probe coldly and 
 with deadly accuracy among the strenuous 
 emotions in the young man's mind. "Harris 
 you are an officer of promise. Don't cut 
 that promise short." With a flick of his ashes 
 to one side he turned away. The cigar went 
 back into the corner of his sardonic mouth. 
 
 Harris strode forward an impulsive step 
 and threw out his hands. 
 
 "It is worth the risk. When a man is con- 
 demned to die " 
 
 The General wheeled with more impatience
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 209 
 
 than the Adjutant, Forbes, had seen him ex- 
 hibit through many vexatious, worrying 
 months. His voice took on a rasping note. 
 He tapped the papers on the desk with grim 
 significance. 
 
 "Lieutenant- Colonel Morrison has failed in 
 his military duty. He released a Rebel spy 
 proved himself a traitor to his cause." 
 
 "A traitor, General?" protested the young 
 officer. "Do you call a man a traitor who 
 fought as Morrison did a week ago? Who 
 stood his ground till his whole command was 
 shot to pieces! And then stood alone de- 
 fending his colors in the face of hell let loose !" 
 
 The appeal was impassioned, its sincerity 
 and humanity undoubted. Yet it seemingly 
 only served to make the grim rules of war 
 more unyielding than ever. 
 
 Choosing his words with more than ordi- 
 nary care, and speaking them in firm, even 
 tones, the General made his reply. 
 
 "No act of bravery can atone for a soldier's 
 lapse from duty." He sat down at his desk 
 and began to write. 
 
 Under ordinary circumstances Lieutenant
 
 210 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Harris might have accepted defeat for there 
 seemed no use in trying to break down that 
 iron will or touch the heart of this relentless 
 soldier. But this was something more than 
 an ordinary case and Harris was more than 
 simply Morrison's counsel he was his friend. 
 The two had fought together through three 
 hard campaigns; they had shared food and 
 water and shelter, had slept together for 
 warmth on sodden fields, had exchanged such 
 confidences as two officers from the same town 
 in the North but of unequal rank may ex- 
 change under the pressure of war-time emo- 
 tions. If there was one man living who knew 
 Morrison's heart and appreciated his motives 
 to the uttermost it was his lieutenant and the 
 young officer was prepared to lose his commis- 
 sion, aye, even face prison for insubordination 
 if continued opposition to the Commander-in- 
 ( Chief would result in a re-hearing. And so 
 he caught himself together for the second time 
 and returned to the charge. 
 
 "I do not offer his courage as a plea for 
 pardon," he said, and turned to his general 
 with half a smile, "but still I find in Shake-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 211 
 
 speare and in Blackstone the suggestion of 
 tempering justice with mercy." 
 
 Grant tossed aside his pencil, repeating the 
 last word slowly, bitterly: 
 
 "Mercy!" 
 
 He rose from his seat and stood beside his 
 table, speaking with a low but almost fierce 
 intensity : 
 
 "They call me a war machine ! I am ! And 
 you and all the rest are parts of it! A 
 lever! A screw! A valve! A wheel! A 
 machine half human yes ! A thing of muscle 
 and bone and blood but without a heart ! A 
 merciless machine, whose wheels must turn 
 and turn till we grind out this rebellion to the 
 dust of peace!" 
 
 He paused impressively, and in the hard, 
 cold words which followed, all hope for Mor- 
 rison seemed to fade and die. 
 
 "If a wheel once fails to do its work dis- 
 card it! for another and a better one! We 
 want no wheels that slip their cogs!" 
 
 The General ceased and turned to his lit- 
 tered table ; but Harris was not yet beaten. 
 
 "No, General," he answered bravely, "but
 
 212 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 there happens to he a flaw ... in your ma- 
 chine's control." The General looked up, 
 frowning sharply; but Harris still went on: 
 *In a military court we have condemned a 
 man to die and the facts have not been 
 proved! 3 ' 
 
 Amazed more at the young officer's obsti- 
 nate temerity than his words the General stared 
 at him. 
 
 "How so?" he asked, with irony. 
 
 Harris opened out his hands with a simple 
 gesture that seemed to leave his logic to the 
 judgment of any impartial .observer. 
 
 "In times of peace, my profession is that 
 of the Law. I know my ground and," in 
 rising tones of sincerity, "I challenge you to 
 shake it in any civil court in Christendom." 
 
 "Strong words, young man," came the 
 stern reply. "For your sake, I hope they are 
 warranted. What is your point? Get at it!" 
 
 Harris drew a short breath of relief. He 
 had cleverly switched the appeal from grounds 
 on which he stood no chance whatever to those 
 where he did not fear any intellect in a fair 
 fight.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 213 
 
 "The evidence," he said calmly, "was purely 
 circumstantial. In the first place, it is alleged 
 that my client captured a Rebel spy, one Her- 
 bert Gary, who was hiding in the loft of a 
 cabin." 
 
 The General's caustic tones interrupted. 
 "To which fact," he said, "there were only ten 
 witnesses." 
 
 "Yes, General," was the faintly smiling 
 agreement. "Ten! But not one of them ac- 
 tually saw the man! They believe he was 
 there, but they cannot swear to it." 
 
 Grant made a motion as of putting away 
 something of no consequence. "Immaterial 
 in view of the other facts. Well what 
 else?" 
 
 "Next, it is claimed that Morrison released 
 this spy and allowed him to enter the Union 
 lines without regard to consequences." 
 
 The General gave a short exclamation of 
 impatience, and struck the papers on his desk 
 with the flat of his hand. 
 
 "And that is proved/' he said, sharply. 
 "Proved by several officers who stopped your 
 spy at points along the road."
 
 He singled out a soiled piece of paper from 
 the sheaf before him and held it up, a piece of 
 paper which bore writing on both sides. 
 
 "When taken, this pass was found on his 
 person. Not circumstantial evidence, but 
 fact. Signed on one side by R. E. Lee and, 
 on the other, by Colonel Morrison." He 
 laughed shortly over the futility of argument 
 under such circumstances. "Do you presume 
 to contest this, too?" 
 
 To his amazement the young officer facing 
 him bowed easily and smiled in turn. 
 
 "I do. Emphatically. No pass was given 
 Herbert Gary either by Colonel Morrison or 
 General Lee." 
 
 "What?" cried the General angrily. 
 
 Harris only pointed. 
 
 "Read it, sir if you please." He watched 
 till Grant's eyes started to scan the pass again, 
 and then repeated the words which he knew 
 so well. 
 
 "Pass Virginia Gary and escort through 
 Federal and Confederate lines." 
 
 " 'Virginia Gary,' General, is a non-com- 
 batant and a baby. 'Escort' may mean a
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 215 
 
 single person or it may mean a whole troop 
 of cavalry." 
 
 To his infinite relief and joy his Command- 
 ing General looked up at him thoughtfully, 
 then slowly rose from his desk and took a turn 
 about the room, followed by a faint blue trail 
 of cigar smoke. He paused. 
 
 "And what does Cary say?" he asked. 
 
 Again Harris smiled the quiet smile of the 
 lawyer who has been confronted with such 
 questions before and knows well how to an- 
 swer them. 
 
 "He, too, is on trial for his life. His evi- 
 dence, naturally, was not admitted." 
 
 "Ah ! Then what says Morrison?" 
 
 "Nothing, sir," was the young lieutenant's 
 calm reply. "The burden of proof lies with 
 the prosecution not with the defendant." 
 
 "And this is your contention your legal 
 flaw in my machine?" the General asked 
 , sharply. 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Very good, sir very good. In that case 
 we'll call in these silent partners and dig into 
 this case until we reach rock bottom!"
 
 216 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "Forbes," he ordered. "Send for the pris- 
 oner, Mr. Morrison and the Rebel, Herbert 
 Gary. I want both of them here at once!" 
 
 In the pause which followed the Adjutant's 
 exit Harris interposed an objection. 
 
 "Your method, General, is hardly just to 
 the interests of my client." 
 
 Grant turned on him with something more 
 than impatience. He was growing angry. 
 
 "Lieutenant Harris! Are you asking me 
 to pardon a guilty man? It's the truth I want 
 not legal technicalities. Next you'll be ask- 
 ing me not to hang this Rebel spy because he 
 has a baby!" 
 
 He went back to his accustomed place at the 
 window and stood looking out again, his hands 
 clasped loosely behind his back, the eternal 
 cigar smoke rising above his head. Then, to 
 the young lieutenant's amazement, he asked 
 a question in tones of ordinary conversation. 
 
 "Harris," he said. "Who was the man who 
 preferred these charges to start with?" 
 
 "Corporal Dudley," was the eager answer. 
 
 "And there, General, is another point and 
 a vital one that was not brought out. In re-
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 217 
 
 porting his Colonel, Dudley was actuated not 
 by a spirit of military duty, but personal re- 
 venge." 
 
 "Revenge? Why?" 
 
 "Because Morrison shot and killed Dudley's 
 brother a Sergeant in his command." 
 
 The General came back from his window. 
 
 "Again why ?" 
 
 "For insubordination incendiarism at- 
 tempted desertion," came the swift reply. 
 
 The General's eyebrows raised a fraction of 
 an inch. He seated himself at his desk and 
 unrolled a map. 
 
 "Any witnesses of the Sergeant's death?" he 
 asked evenly as he proceeded to study his map. 
 
 "Unfortunately, only one," Harris replied. 
 "An old negro now in our camp answering 
 to the name of William Lewis." 
 
 "Lewis Lewis," said Grant thoughtfully. 
 He referred for a moment to a file of papers 
 and then looked up. "Is that the old cod- 
 ger who's been worrying my entire staff for 
 permission to go through our lines to his 
 home?" 
 
 "Yes, General," said Harris, with a smile,
 
 218 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 for Unc' Billy's persistency and his troubles 
 were known to everyone he met. 
 
 "Good! It's about time we got even him," 
 the General remarked sardonically. "Have 
 him in! See to it, Forbes." And again he 
 bent over his map. 
 
 Forbes, passing out again, paused as Harris 
 gestured. 
 
 "You'll find him somewhere near the guard 
 house," the Lieutenant said with a flicker of 
 a smile. "The old man has been regularly 
 camping out there since he learned that his 
 master was inside.'" 
 
 A minute passed and then, from a short dis- 
 tance away, came the sound of a squad of sol- 
 diers marching. In single file, with the two 
 prisoners in line, the squad came into the hall- 
 way and stopped at the doorway. 
 
 "Halt! Left face! Order arms! Prison- 
 ers file out! 3 ' The two prisoners stepped for- 
 ward and entered the room. 
 
 Thanks to expert surgical work since he en- 
 tered Union lines, Herbert Gary's wounds 
 had healed quickly while plenty of good food 
 had done the rest. His eyes may not have
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 219 
 
 been bright with hope but at least they were 
 clear with health and his straight back and 
 squared shoulders showed that the man's fight- 
 ing spirit had not left him even under the ad- 
 verse decision of a court-martial. 
 
 Of the two, Morrison seemed the graver and 
 quieter. With his sword taken from him and 
 his shoulder straps ripped off the man who 
 had been a Lieutenant-Colonel in the Army of 
 the Potomac only the day before stood looking 
 at his general without the slightest hope for 
 clemency. Yet, with all the sad, quiet look of 
 resignation in his eyes, behind them glowed a 
 wonderful light the light of self-sacrifice. 
 For he had chosen to put on the tender glove 
 of humanity and grip hands with the mailed 
 gauntlet of war, and though he had been 
 crushed yet even in this bitter hour they could 
 not take from him the knowledge that the 
 Commander in Chief of all spiritual armies' 
 would stand forever on his side. They could 
 take his sword and shoulder straps but they 
 could not rob him of that divine consolation. 
 
 And so the two stood with their eyes steady 
 on the General the Confederate, hard and
 
 220 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 defiant the Union officer with a strange, sad 
 glow on his face. 
 
 But the General paid them no attention. 
 He was still studying the map laid out before 
 him on his desk, the cigar in the eorner of his 
 mouth drawing one side of his face into harsh, 
 deep lines. As a matter of fact, Ulysses Simp- 
 son Grant was very far removed from harsh- 
 ness he was simply and solely efficiency per- 
 sonified. When nothing was to be said 
 General Grant said nothing. To do other- 
 wise was waste. 
 
 Presently he looked up and saw that while 
 Forbes had given the two prisoners chairs di- 
 rectly in front of his desk one of the important 
 factors in the business in hand had not been 
 produced. 
 
 "Well, Forbes, well? Where is the negro?" 
 he asked crisply. "Bring him in ! Bring him 
 in!" 
 
 "In a moment, General," responded the Ad- 
 jutant, hastening to the doorway as the tread 
 of feet sounded again in the hallway. Dis- 
 missing the two privates who had arrived with 
 Uncle Billy between them he led the old man
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 221 
 
 down to the desk and left him there, bowing 
 and scraping a little and holding his hat in 
 front of him in both hands. 
 
 "Wan' see me, suh?" ventured Uncle Billy, 
 intruding delicately on the General's calcula- 
 tions. "Here I is!" 
 
 General Grant looked up quickly and ran 
 his eye over the old man. 
 
 "Your name!" 
 
 "Er William Lewis, seh. Yas, seh." 
 
 "To whom do you belong?" 
 
 Although Uncle Billy's back was not par- 
 ticularly straight this sudden question intro- 
 duced a stiffening into it which made it more 
 upright than it had been in years. 
 
 "I b'longs to Cap'n Hubbert Gary, seh of 
 de Confed'it Army. Das who I b'longs to. 
 Yas, seh." 
 
 The General sat back a little in his chair and 
 studied Uncle Billy. He saw that after all 
 the old negro was simply a natural slave 
 that he probably had no other thought in his 
 grayed head than that of faithful service to his 
 owner. But he would try him and see how 
 far the old man would go.
 
 222 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "I understand," he said, "that freedom has 
 been offered you and you refused it. Is this 
 true?" 
 
 "Yas, seh." 
 
 "Why?" asked the General quietly. 
 
 Uncle Billy stammered. 
 
 "Well er well, 'skuse me, Mars' Gen'l, 
 but but down whar I lives at de de white 
 gent 'men understands a nigger better 'n what 
 you-all does. Yas, seh." 
 
 General Grant may have smiled internally, 
 but the only symptom of amusement was the 
 dry note in his voice. 
 
 "I see. But there has been some difference 
 of opinion on the point." 
 
 He paused and then pointed past Uncle 
 [Billy directly at Morrison. "Do you know 
 that man?" 
 
 "Me?" said Uncle Billy. He turned and 
 saw Morrison and instantly his face lighted up. 
 It made no difference to the old negro that 
 Morrison's uniform was mutilated he could 
 only see the familiar features of one who had 
 treated his dead mistress with perfect re- 
 spect under trying circumstances.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 223 
 
 "Aw, yas, seh," he broke out, with a broad 
 grin. "How you does, Cun'l. I clar to 
 
 Uncle Billy stopped. His eyes had gone 
 beyond Morrison to the man sitting beside him 
 and at the sight of that loved figure the old 
 man began to tremble. His voice lowered to 
 a whisper and he began to totter forward. 
 
 "Mars' Cary!" he said, as if he were look- 
 ing on one risen from the dead. He came a 
 little nearer, with his hand stretched out as 
 if to touch him testingly then suddenly 
 dropped down on his knees before Cary who 
 had risen from his chair. "Bless Gawd, I 
 done fin' you," he sobbed, his face buried in his 
 master's coat. "I done fin' you at last." 
 
 The General frowned. 
 
 "Forbes," he ordered. "Put a stop to that. 
 Bring him back !" 
 
 But Uncle Billy paid not a bit of attention 
 as the Adjutant sprang up. All his thought 
 was for his master and his own explanation. 
 
 "Dey wculdn' lemme git thru, seh!" he cried, 
 pleading absolution from what had seemed an 
 inexcusable breach of trust. "Dey wouldn* 
 gimme no pass an* I'se des been stuck I Aw,
 
 224 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Gawd, Mars' Gary an' I axed 'em ev'y day!' 1 
 
 "There now, Billy don't," Gary said with 
 a gesture of pity and unending gratitude. 
 
 Uncle Billy rose slowly to his feet. 
 
 "Yas, seh. Yas, seh," he answered obedi- 
 ently. " 'Skuse me, Mars' Gen'l. I eouldn' 
 he'p it, seh. I I eouldn' he'p it. Dey 
 wouldn' eben lemme see him in de guard 
 house " 
 
 "That will do," interrupted the General 
 firmly. "Listen to me. When did you see 
 Mr. Morrison last?" 
 
 "Him?" said Uncle Billy, looking around 
 at the Union officer. : 'Twas 'twas in de 
 spring, seh. Yas, seh. De time de Yankees 
 bu'nt us out." 
 
 "How's that?" asked the General, not un- 
 derstanding. 
 
 Lieutenant Harris came forward a step. 
 
 "The act of incendiarism I spoke of, Gen- 
 Jeral on the part of Sergeant Dudley." 
 
 The General looked up and nodded. 
 
 "I see," he said, and Harris, knowing that 
 due weight would be given the fact let go a 
 faint sigh of relief and stepped back.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 225 
 
 The cigar came out of the General's mouth. 
 ^Tell me about it," he said to Uncle Billy. 
 
 The old negro drew himself up and shifted 
 his weight onto his other foot. 
 
 "Well, seh, 'twas dis way. One mornin' de 
 blue-bellies 'skuse me, seh, de cav'lry gent'- 
 men. One mornin' de cav'lry gent'men come 
 ridin' up, lookin' fer horses an' fodder an' 
 an' Mars' Gary an' anything else what was 
 layin' roun'. Yas, seh. An' des' befo' dis 
 here gent'man come," with a bow at Morrison, 
 "a low-lived white man took'n grab me by de 
 th'oat an' choke me, seh. Den he 'suit Miss 
 Hallie " 
 
 "Miss Hallie?" queried the General. 
 
 "My mis'tiss, seh," answered Uncle Billy. 
 "My mis'tiss, seh," he said again and his hand 
 went up to his eyes. 
 
 "The wife of Captain Gary," Harris said 
 in a low tone and the General nodded. 
 
 "Den bless Gawd de Cun'l come! He 
 pick him down off' n de front po'ch and put 
 him under 'rest. Yas, seh. An' Miss Hallie, 
 she sho' was hoppin', Gen'l. She " 
 
 "Never mind that," sighed the man whose
 
 226 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 creed was Patience. "Go on with the 
 story." 
 
 "Yas, seh. Thank'e, seh. 'Twas des lek I 
 tell you, seh. An' arfter while orders come 
 to de cav'lry gent 'men fer to light out fr'm 
 dar in a hurry. An' whilst dey was gettin' 
 ready, seh, an' me an' de Cun'l was waitin' 
 roun' fer to proteck de property, de fire bus' 
 right out de winders I 
 
 "Dat's right, Mars' Gen'l," Uncle Billy 
 hurried to state, as the General's eyebrows 
 went up in surprise. "Dat's right. Den de 
 front do' flewed open, an* here come dat po' 
 white trash rapscallion wid de pine knot in 
 his han\ Yas, seh. He " 
 
 "One moment!" snapped the General. 
 "Was he running towards his troop or away 
 from it?" 
 
 "Way fr'm it, seh," replied the old negro, 
 with unmistakable truthfulness, "t'odes de 
 ice house whar Miss Hallie an' de chillun was 
 at. Yas, seh." 
 
 "And Mr. Morrison tried to stop him?" 
 
 "Ha!" cried Uncle Billy, with a chuckle. 
 "He mo'n tried, seh. He done it!"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 227 
 
 The General nodded, his lips tight shut. 
 
 "So I understand. But what did he do 
 or say?" 
 
 At this question Uncle Billy suddenly de- 
 veloped dramatic abilities that his master had 
 never dreamed of. 
 
 "He say " and Uncle Billy's arm shot out 
 as he pointed something deadly at an invisible 
 foe "he say, f Gawd! Dudley! Halt! Bang!' Jf 
 
 Uncle Billy's hat dropped down on the floor 
 with a whack. "Dat's all, seh. Dat po' white 
 trash he drop lek a stuck pig, seh!" 
 
 The General's eyes were on his desk and for 
 a moment there was a pause. Finally, he 
 lifted his head and looked at Morrison, who 
 rose in salute. 
 
 "Mr. Morrison. You did well. Your 
 Sergeant failed in his military duty and de- 
 served the punishment. I commend your 
 action." 
 
 Harris, listening with all his might, thought 
 the words more favorable than the tone in 
 which they were spoken and his face bright- 
 ened. Then he heard the General speaking 
 more sternly.
 
 228 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "The Federal powers of administrative 
 justice now occupy precisely the same posi- 
 tion with regard to your own default." 
 
 Harris' face darkened. After the first just 
 encomium what was this that was coming? 
 
 Relentless and inflexible the voice went on. 
 
 "The rules of war, as applied to a non-com- 
 missioned officer, must also govern his supe- 
 riors. As Sergeant Dudley deserved his bul- 
 let you merit yours. 39 
 
 His eyes dropped from Morrison's face and 
 he looked up at Harris. 
 
 "A bad witness for your client, Lieuten- 
 ant," he said grimly, as he nodded his head 
 towards Uncle Billy. "You ought to study 
 law! Take him away," and he picked up a 
 fresh cigar from a box in front of him and 
 tossed the old one out of the window. 
 
 Uncle Billy, with a puzzled look on his face, 
 slowly yielded to the touch of the two soldiers 
 who stepped into the room at a gesture from 
 Forbes. He seemed to realize that his testi- 
 mony had not been of much avail though just 
 why was indeed a mystery. One thing, how- 
 ever, was quite clear.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 229 
 
 " 'Skuse me, Mars' Gen'l. I I don't need 
 dat ar pass home now. An' I much obliged 
 to you fer not givin' it to me. Yas, seh. 
 ,Thank'e, seh." At the dororway he bowed 
 with careful politeness to each occupant of the 
 fatal room. "Good momin', Mars' Gary. 
 Good mornin', gent'men. Good mornin'." 
 
 With the disappearance of bewildered 
 Uncle Billy the General swung around on 
 the officer who no longer wore his shoulder 
 straps. 
 
 "Mr. Morrison," he said, in his distinct, 
 even tones. "Your friend and counsel, Lieu- 
 tenant Harris, has applied to me for your par- 
 don!" 
 
 "Pardon?" cried Morrison, springing to his 
 feet with an exclamation of amazement. 
 
 "Exactly," was the crisp response. "It 
 comes from him not from you. But still, as 
 an interested party, have you anything to say 
 in your own behalf?" 
 
 The Union officer stared at his general for 
 a moment without replying. Yes, there were 
 many things that might be said all of them 
 honest arguments in his own behalf, all of
 
 230 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 them weighted with Right and Humanity 
 but none of them worth putting into words in 
 the face of this deadly machine of war, this 
 grim, austere, unyielding tribunal. He wav- 
 ered for a moment on his feet as a terrible 
 wave of despair surged over him, then made a 
 faint gesture of negation. 
 
 "I have nothing to say, sir." 
 
 "Captain Gary!" ordered the General and, 
 as Gary rose unsteadily to his feet, "No. 
 Keep your seat, sir; you are wounded. Is it 
 true as I learn from this report that during 
 a skirmish a week ago you helped defend the 
 Union colors against your own people?" 
 
 Gary shot up from his chair with a fiery 
 rush of anger. 
 
 tf l? No, sir! I defended the man not 
 the soldier, or his flag!" 
 
 "Ah!" ejaculated the General, leaning back 
 in his chair and blowing out a cloud of smoke 
 in surprise. "You draw a rather fine distinc- 
 tion, Captain. You saved the colors but 
 you failed to save the man! You had better 
 have let him die as an honorable soldier."
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 231 
 
 There was silence for a moment, and the Gen- 
 eral asked : "Is it true that you were actuated 
 by a debt of gratitude?" 
 
 "Yes," answered the Southerner, throwing 
 back his head. "And a greater debt than I 
 can ever hope to pay. His mercy to my 
 little girl." 
 
 Without relaxing for a moment his grip on 
 the points of the case, no matter what human 
 elements might be drawn into it, the General 
 instantly rose and shot out an accusing fore- 
 finger at the Confederate. 
 
 "And the pass he gave to you!" 
 
 Their eyes clashed but the Southerner low- 
 ered his own not a whit and backed them, fur- 
 thermore, with honest anger. 
 
 fC To her!" he answered, and drove the reply 
 home with clenched jaws. 
 
 The General relaxed and smiled. 
 
 "Another fine distinction," he said, resum- 
 ing his seat. He knocked the ashes from his 
 cigar and presently looked up with another 
 one of those terribly vital questions which 
 came so simply from his lips. "Did you ever
 
 232 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 penetrate the Federal lines by means of a uni- 
 form of blue?" 
 
 The Confederate drew back as he felt the 
 assault on his rights as a soldier. 
 
 "As to that, General Grant, there is " 
 
 "Answer me!" came the sharp command. 
 "'Yes' or 'No'!" 
 
 "One moment, General," interrupted Har- 
 ris, with a lawyer's quick objection. "If " 
 
 "No interference, Harris," came the curt 
 order. "Answer me, Captain. 'Yes' or 
 'No'!" 
 
 The Southerner's face flushed and he threw 
 back his head with the superb defiance that 
 General Grant knew so well which was his 
 one eternal stumbling block, and due to con- 
 tinue for another full year of blood. 
 
 "Under the rulings of court-martial law," 
 the Confederate Captain said in ringing tones, 
 "I deny even your right to the question." 
 
 To the surprise of everyone the General 
 merely nodded. 
 
 "That is all, sir. Thank you," he said, and 
 Gary, with a look of surprise, slowly resumed 
 his seat.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 233 
 
 "Mr. Morrison!" 
 
 The Union officer rose and saluted. 
 
 "As a military servant of the United States 
 Government you were ordered to pursue this 
 man and take him dead or alive. In this 
 you failed." 
 
 Morrison inclined his head gravely but shot 
 a look of respectful objection at his superior. 
 
 "In part I failed." 
 
 Instantly the accusing forefinger was 
 leveled at him across the desk and the point 
 made with terrible directness. 
 
 "And knowing he was a spy!" 
 
 Morrison shook his head. 
 
 "Not to my personal knowledge, sir. I 
 hunted him many times; but never while he 
 wore a Federal uniform." 
 
 "And when you captured him?" 
 
 In reply, Morrison simply indicated Gary's 
 tattered coat of gray. 
 i "Ahl Then you did capture him?" 
 
 "Yes," came the quiet answer. 
 
 "And he was the escort mentioned in your 
 pass." 
 
 "Yes," Morrison answered slowly.
 
 234 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 "H'm," said the General. He rose and 
 turned to Harris. 
 
 "I am afraid, my dear Harris, that in spite 
 of fine spun distinctions and your legal techni- 
 calities, the findings of our court were not far 
 wrong." 
 
 Dropping his handful of papers on the desk 
 he caught Morrison's eye and rasped out his 
 analysis of the case. 
 
 "Captain Gary practically admits his guilt I 
 You were aware of it ! And yet you send him 
 through the very center of our lines ! A pass! 
 Carte blanche to learn the disposition of our 
 forces our weakness and our strength and 
 to make his report in Richmond. He was an 
 enemy with a price on his head! And you 
 trusted him ! A spy!" 
 
 As the General had been speaking the first 
 few words of his contemptuous summing up 
 Morrison saw where they would lead and his 
 manhood instantly leaped up in reply. 
 
 "I trusted, not the spy, but Herbert Cary," 
 he said with honest courage. Then, as the 
 General turned his back on him with a con- 
 temptuous snap of his fingers
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 235 
 
 "General! I have offered no defense. If 
 the justice of court-martial law prescribes a 
 firing squad I find no fault. I failed. I 
 pay." 
 
 With a gesture which indicated Gary the 
 disgraced officer of the Army of the Po- 
 tomac shot out his one and only defense of 
 his action at an unyielding back. 
 
 "I took this man hunted wounded 
 fighting to reach the side of a hungry child. 
 I captured him and, by the rules of war, I was 
 about to have him shot. Then he asked me tc 
 get his little girl safely to Richmond, and not 
 to let her know about him." 
 
 "And she believed in me. Trusted me - 
 even as I trusted Herbert Gary to pierce the 
 very center of your lines as a father not a 
 spy!" 
 
 From behind the unyielding back came a 
 statement of fact, firm and pitiless. 
 
 "And it cost you your sword your life." 
 
 Morrison centered his eyes on the back of 
 the General's head and sent his answer home 
 with all the power of his voice and spirit. 
 
 "And I have no regret" he said. "In the
 
 236 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 duty of a military servant I have failed 
 But my prisoner still lives! I could not ac- 
 cept the confidence of his child the trust of 
 innocence a baby's kiss with the blood of 
 her father on my hands!" He dropped his 
 hands and half turned away. 
 
 The General turned, a little at a time first 
 his head and then his shoulders. 
 
 "A very pretty sentiment," he remarked 
 dryly. "But you seem to forget that we are 
 not making love but war/' 
 
 With a supreme burst of anger at his help- 
 lessness before the brute forces which would 
 presently send him forth to the firing squad, 
 Morrison wheeled on his commanding general 
 and flared forth with his last reply. 
 
 "Yes, war! And the hellish laws that gov- 
 ern it. But there is another law Humanity! 
 Through a trooper in my command the home 
 of an enemy was turned to ashes his loved 
 ones flung out to starve. When a helpless tot 
 had lost its mother and a father would protect 
 it, then war demands that I smash a baby's 
 one last hope in the name of the Stars and 
 Stripes. And then to march back home, to
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 237 
 
 a happy, triumphant North and meet my 
 baby with the memory of a butcher in my 
 heart By God, sir! I'd rather hang!" 
 
 For a moment General and Colonel re- 
 garded each other fixedly and then the Gen- 
 eral turned away to pace the floor. Presently 
 he came to his decision and walked slowly back 
 to his desk. 
 
 "Lieutenant Harris," he said in tones whose 
 significance could not be misunderstood, "I 
 was right. You have wasted your time and 
 mine." 
 
 Then he sighed wearily and made a last ges- 
 ture to Forbes. 
 
 "The guard" he said. 
 
 It was all over. 
 
 And then, to the ears of the two prisoners 
 who stood looking at one another with sad 
 eyes, came a sound which made both men 
 start and look again with apprehension writ- 
 ten on their faces the shrill scream of a child 
 who is being kept from something she has set 
 her heart upon. Another moment and there 
 was a rush of tiny feet in the hall, whereupon 
 the two sentries crossed their rifles across the
 
 238 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 doorway. But what might have proved a seri- 
 ous obstruction for a man was only an absurd- 
 ity to a child's quick wit and Virgie, with a 
 little duck of her sunny head, dodged quickly 
 under the muskets and charged, flushed and 
 panting, on the General's desk. 
 
 "You shan't shoot Colonel Morrison," cried 
 this astonishing new comer in tones of shrill 
 command as she stamped her little foot: 
 "I won't let you! You shan't! You 
 shan't!" 
 
 A moment of displeased surprise on the 
 part of the General. Then 
 
 "Take the child out of here," he ordered. 
 
 "I won't go!" answered Virgie, tossing her 
 curls back and standing her ground with 
 angry eyes. 
 
 "Orderly!" called the General. 
 
 With a whirl Virgie dashed away from the 
 desk, eluded the orderly and threw herself into 
 .her father's arms. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy, Daddy! You won't let him 
 shoot the Colonel. Daddy, you won't! You 
 won't!" She burst into a passionate flood of 
 tears.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 239 
 
 Gary lifted his hand to the General in a plea 
 for a moment's respite from force. 
 
 "General please. She'll go.'* 
 
 He turned to the sobbing child and shook 
 her gently. " Virgie ! Virgie ! Listen, honey ! 
 Remember General Lee!" The bowed head 
 rose from her father's shoulder; the little 
 shoulders stiffened, and eye to eye she looked 
 into the face of Gary as his pleading voice went 
 on: "He wouldn't want you to cry like this. 
 He said 'She's a brave little soldier to stay 
 there all alone. Dixie and I are proud of 
 her.' " 
 
 The Littlest Rebel's chin went up, and she 
 bravely choked back her sobs. If this was 
 what her General wanted, this her General 
 would have, though childhood's sobs are hard 
 to check when a little heart is aching for the 
 pain of those she loves. 
 
 "Go now, darling," her father pleaded. 
 "Go." 
 
 She kissed him, and turned in silent, slow 
 obedience, casting a scowl at the grim and 
 silent General Grant, then moved toward the 
 guarded door.
 
 "Wait!" said a quiet voice. 
 
 "Harris! They say that fools and children 
 speak the truth." He paused and then said 
 gently: "Come here, little girl. Come here 
 and talk to me." 
 
 Somewhat in fear now that the kind voice 
 robbed her of her anger the little pale faced 
 child choked down her sobs and came slowly 
 forward to the desk. But, as she stood there, 
 her courage returned and, marvel of marvels, 
 her tiny hand went up in imitation of a salute. 
 
 Grant dropped his chin in his hand so that 
 their heads were nearly on a level across his 
 desk and looked at her with gentle kindness 
 in his eyes. 
 
 "The Littlest Rebel, eh?" he said in low 
 tones. "How old are you?" 
 
 "S-s-s-even. Coin* on eight," responded 
 Virgie, gulping down a sob and nervously fin- 
 gering her tattered dress. 
 
 "Ah, yes," he nodded. "And do you know 
 the uniform of a Union officer when you see 
 it?" 
 
 Virgie's small mouth dropped open at the
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 241 
 
 absurdity of the question and she almost 
 laughed. 
 
 "A Yankee?" she queried with scorn. 
 "Well, I reckon I ought to by this time." 
 
 "Very good," the brown bearded man 
 nodded, and gently blew smoke at the ceil- 
 ing. "Now, tell me. When you lived at 
 home and afterwards in your cabin did 
 your father come to see you often?" 
 
 Virgie's sunny head nodded in emphatic 
 asseveration. "Yes, sir. Often." 
 
 "How often?" asked the bearded man. 
 
 Virgie's fingers twisted themselves deep in 
 her dress. 
 
 "I I don't know, sir. But heaps of 
 times." 
 
 "Good again," and the questioner actually 
 smiled. "When your father came, did he ever 
 wear clothes that that were not his own?" 
 
 Virgie turned a side-long look on her father 
 but, as he could not help, her puzzled eyes 
 went back to the General. 
 
 "Well well, lots of our men don't have 
 hardly any clo's," she said pathetically.
 
 242 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 Another smile broke the sternness of the 
 General's face. 
 
 "That isn't what I mean," he explained 
 gently. "Did he ever wear a coat of blue a 
 Yankee uniform?" 
 
 "General! 3 ' broke in Harris. 
 
 "Lieutenant!" frowned Grant. He turned 
 back to Virgie and coaxed her a little. 
 
 "Well? Tell me!" 
 
 With one bare big toe twisted under her 
 foot and fingers interlocked in agony the child 
 turned a look of pure anguish on her silent, 
 grave faced father. This was torture and 
 she could not escape. 
 
 "Oh, Daddy, Daddy!" she burst forth with 
 a wail of tragedy in her voice. "What must 
 I tell Urn?" 
 
 The father's lips, which had been closed 
 against the pain that racked him, softened with 
 the perfect trust which went into his gentle 
 command. 
 
 "The truth, Virgie. Whatever the General 
 asks." 
 
 The General's observant eyes rested on the 
 proud Southerner for an instant, noted that
 
 243 
 
 his face was quite without anxiety, then went 
 back to the little child. 
 
 "Well, did he?" he asked. 
 
 "Y-y-y-es, sir," answered Virgie with a 
 gulp. 
 
 The General nodded and his face grew grave 
 again. 
 
 "I wonder if you even know what it means. 
 A spy!" 
 
 "Yes, sir," said the Littlest Rebel, and 
 dropped her eyes. 
 
 "Hm. And do you remember how many 
 times he came that way?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," came the instant answer, and she 
 threw up her head. "Once." 
 
 "Once 1 ?" echoed the General, surprised. 
 "Are you sure?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," she answered. She drew herself 
 up proudly, forgetting the poor, tattered dress, 
 and her clear eyes rested fearlessly on two 
 , others that read through them down into the 
 pure whiteness of her soul. 
 
 "Think!" said the quiet voice again, while 
 the perspiration started out on the forehead 
 of more than one listener. "And remember
 
 244 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 what your father said just now. When was 
 it?" 
 
 Again the fearless eyes of the child, the 
 Littlest Rebel of them all, rose to the gaze 
 af the man whose iron heel was crushing them 
 into the ground and she made her answer as 
 crystal clear and truthful as if she stood before 
 the Throne on the last great day. 
 
 "When when Daddy came through the 
 woods an' an' put my mamma in the ground." 
 
 There was a silence. No one moved. Out- 
 side in the trees and bushes the song the sum- 
 mer insects were singing suddenly burst upon 
 their ears and the myriad noises of the camp, 
 hitherto unnoticed, became a veritable clamor, 
 so complete was the stillness in the room. 
 Everyone except, perhaps, the child herself 
 realized the vital importance of her answer 
 and now that it had been given the crisis had 
 passed. The Littlest Rebel had put an end to 
 questioning. An audible sigh went up from 
 everyone except the man behind the desk. 
 
 This one turned his head slowly towards she 
 Confederate prisoner. 
 
 "Captain Gary, is this true?"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 245 
 
 "Yes, General," came the straightforward 
 answer. "I went to your nearest post with a 
 flag of truce and asked permission to go to my 
 dead wife. I was refused. I went without 
 permission." 
 
 General Grant rose to his feet. Centering 
 the other's eyes with his own he spoke to him 
 as one officer speaks to another when he ex- 
 pects the truth and nothing hut the truth. 
 
 "And you give me your word, as a soldier 
 and a gentleman, that once once only you 
 wore a Federal uniform and that because of 
 the burial of your wife?" 
 
 "I do," answered Herbert Gary, a rebel to 
 the last. "And that was the only cause in 
 heaven or hell that could have induced me to 
 wear it I" 
 
 For a moment the Commander of the Army 
 of the Potomac surveyed the still defiant 
 prisoner, then turned his back and walked to 
 the window where he tossed away a much 
 chewed cigar, meantime thinking out his last 
 analysis. 
 
 Here was a man who had been hunted tire- 
 lessly month after month as a rebel spy. It
 
 246 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 was true that he was a spy and true that he 
 had worn a uniform of blue. Yet the fact had 
 been established by the spotless honesty of a 
 little child that he had worn the uniform only 
 so that he might reach his home and bury his 
 dead. And went on the cool, quiet mind 
 since the man was not a spy how could a Union 
 officer be executed for assisting a spy to es- 
 cape? 
 
 Coming back to his desk again the General 
 picked out another smoke, felt of it thought- 
 fully, sniffed at it, then raised his quiet eyes. 
 
 "Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison," he said in 
 clear, incisive tones, "go back to your com- 
 mand!" 
 
 Five words. Five short, plain words, yet 
 they made all the difference between a firing 
 squad and a chance at life again. There was 
 a silence then a gasp from Morrison's dry 
 throat. At the sound of his title at the 
 sound of that blessed order which, by right of 
 supreme power, instantly restored him to his 
 rank, the Union officer leaped to his feet with 
 a cry of joy. But it was not even for those
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 247 
 
 around him in that little room to know the 
 wonderful vista of happiness which opened up 
 again before the eyes which only a moment ago 
 had been doomed to close in the sleep of a dis- 
 graceful death. 
 
 The General's hand went up in a gesture 
 which checked his gratitude. 
 
 "The next time you are forced to decide 
 between military duty and humanity think 
 twice!" 
 
 He turned to his desk and took up a small 
 piece of paper, crumpled and torn. 
 
 "Captain Gary," he said, "I sincerely regret 
 that I cannot honor the pass as given you by 
 Colonel Morrison," and he turned the paper 
 over, "but I do honor the pass of your General 
 R. E. Lee." 
 
 He folded the paper and held it out to Gary 
 who came forward as if in a dream. Then 
 the General turned his back again and began 
 to rummage on his desk. The incident was 
 closed. 
 
 But there was a rush of bare, childish feet 
 and before he could escape Virgie's brown
 
 248 THE LITTLEST REBEL 
 
 little arms were round him and her dimpled 
 chin was pressed against his waist. 
 
 The General made no effort to release him- 
 self but looked down on her with a softer light 
 in his face than any of his men had seen there 
 in many months. 
 
 "And as for you, young lady, the next time 
 you pervert my officers and upset the discipline 
 of the Federal Army well, I don't know 
 what I'll do with you." 
 
 He looked down into her face and read there 
 a wistful feminine appeal for outward and vis- 
 ible reconciliation. 
 
 "Oh, well," he said with mock resignation,. 
 "I suppose I've got to do it," and he stooped 
 and kissed her. Then he took up his campaign 
 hat and walked towards the door. 
 
 Behind him the child in her tattered dress 
 and bare brown legs stood still and threw out 
 her arms to him in a last soft-voiced good-by. 
 
 "Thank you, Gen'ral," called the Littlest 
 Rebel, with the light of heaven in her eyes. 
 "Thank you for Daddy and Colonel Morrison 
 and me. You're another mighty good damn 
 Yankee!"
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 249 
 
 And then, with a cry of surpassing joy and 
 love, she rushed back to where the two men 
 waited for her on their knees.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 IN the shade of a fringe of trees that edged 
 the river bank a troop of cavalry was drawn 
 up in one long, thin line. Knee to knee, the 
 silent, blue-coated riders sat, waiting, waiting 
 not for a charge upon the enemy, or orders 
 for a foray through an already harried land. 
 They waited for a leader a man who had led 
 them through the heat and cold, through peace- 
 ful valleys and the bloody ruck of battle; a 
 man whom they loved and trusted, fearing him 
 only when they shirked a duty or disobeyed the 
 iron laws of war. 
 
 This man had been taken from tEem, him- 
 self a servant who had disobeyed these laws, 
 his sword dishonored, his shoulder straps 
 ripped off before their eyes. And now the 
 troopers waited and for what? An order 
 had come which put them on review, a long 
 thin line of horsemen waiting on the river 
 bank, while the sun beat down on the parched 
 
 250
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 251 
 
 red fields, and the waters of the muddy James 
 lazed by as they murmured their sad, low song. 
 
 The troopers were silent waiting. A horse 
 stamped idly in the dust, and a saber rattled 
 against a booted leg. A whisper ran down 
 the line. The eyes of the men turned slowly 
 at the sight of a single rider who advanced 
 from the distant Union camp. He did not 
 take the dusty road which swept in a wide, 
 half -circle to where the waiting troopers sat 
 in line, but jumped a low worm- fence and 
 came straight across the fields. 
 
 An officer he was, erect in his saddle, chin 
 up and shoulders squared. On his shoulders 
 his straps had been replaced, and his saber 
 rattled against his thigh to the rise and fall of 
 his horse's stride. 
 
 Straight on he came till he checked his 
 mount before the center of the waiting line, 
 and the troopers knew that Lieutenant-Colonel 
 Morrison had once more come into his own. 
 
 Their sabers rasped from out the scabbards 
 and rose in a joyous, swift salute, while Mor- 
 rison's once dishonored sword acknowledged it. 
 
 "'Tention . . . company!"
 
 The long line stiffened and waited for their 
 officer to speak ; yet the voice was not the voice 
 of an officer in command, but that of a com- 
 rade and a friend. 
 
 "Thank you, boys! It's good to be back 
 again." He swallowed something in his 
 throat and struggled manfully to speak in even 
 tones. "I must ask you to be quiet and not 
 to" 
 
 He stopped. Again his troop had dis- 
 obeyed him disobeyed him to a man. A 
 shout went up, deep, joyous and uncontrolled, 
 its echoes pulsing out across the hot, red fields 
 till it reached the distant camp; and Grant 
 looked up from a war map's crisscross lines, 
 grunted, and lit a fresh cigar. 
 
 And Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison sat his 
 horse before his cheering line of men, silent, 
 happy, while two tears rolled, unheeded, down 
 his cheek a soldier and a man! 
 / His tenderness to a little child had torn him 
 from his saddle and doomed him to disgrace 
 and death; and then, one line from her baby 
 lips had mounted him again and set him before 
 his troopers on parade.
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 253 
 
 ff lt was when . . . Daddy came through the 
 woods . . . and put my mamma . . . in the 
 ground" 
 
 Two lives she had held in her little hands 
 and had saved them both with a dozen words 
 of simple, unfaltering truth. 
 
 On the dusty pike which led to Virginia's 
 capital another rider plodded through the 
 heat and haze. His coat, once gray, now hung 
 in mud-stained tatters about his form, but be- 
 neath his battered campaign hat his thin, pale 
 features were smoothed by a smile of happi- 
 ness. 
 
 Behind his saddle, one hand gripped tightly 
 in a rent in the soiled gray coat, sat still 
 another Rebel the smallest of them all her 
 tiny legs stretched out almost straight on the 
 horse's wide, fat back. 
 
 "Daddy how far is it to Richmon' now?" 
 
 The rider turned his head and pointed north. 
 
 "It's close now, honey. See that line of 
 hills ? That's Richmond. A mile or two and 
 we'll be at home." 
 
 Again they plodded on, past fields of shriv-
 
 254 THE LITTLEST REBEL' 
 
 eled corn whose stalks stood silently in parched 
 and wilted lines lines that were like the ranks 
 of the doomed Confederacy its stalks erect, 
 yet sapped of the juice of life. Where 
 orchards once had flourished their rotted 
 branches now hid mouths of rifle pits, and low, 
 red clay entrenchments stretched across the 
 fields. 
 
 "Daddy," broke out a piping voice, "don't 
 you think we'd better make this Yankee horse 
 get up a little? 'Cause 'cause somethin' else 
 might happen before we get there." 
 
 "It's all right, Virgie," her father answered, 
 with a pat on her small, brown knee. "These 
 lines are ours, and I reckon we are safe at 
 last." 
 
 They were. Two Rebels on a Yankee horse 
 
 m 
 
 soon made their triumphant entry into Rich- 
 mond. They passed through Rockets, by the 
 half -deserted wharves on the river bank where 
 a crippled gunboat lay, then clattered over the 
 cobble stones up Main Street till they reached 
 the Square. On the State House the Stars 
 and Bars still floated ; but the travelers did not
 
 THE LITTLEST REBEL 255 
 
 pause. Northward they turned, then west- 
 ward again, till they stopped at last before a 
 silent, stately mansion, the headquarters of 
 their General General Lee. 
 
 Before the open door two sentries stood, but 
 as Gary and his charge dismounted an orderly 
 came down the steps and out of the iron gate. 
 A word or two from Gary and the orderly dis- 
 appeared into the house, returning soon with 
 word that the visitors would be received at 
 once. 
 
 Up the stone steps went Virgie, holding 
 tightly to her father's hand, for now, as she 
 neared her General, her little heart was pound- 
 ing, and her breath came eagerly and fast. 
 
 On the threshold of a dim and shaded room 
 they paused and looked. He sat there, at a 
 table strewn with war maps and reports a 
 tall gray man in a coat of gray the soldier 
 and the gentleman. 
 
 As father and child came in he rose to meet 
 them, looking at the two with eyes that seemed 
 to hold the sadness and the tenderness of all 
 the world. 
 
 He knew their story; in fact, he had bent his
 
 every effort to the saving of Gary's life. He 
 had sent a courier to the camp of General 
 Grant below the city, asking a stay of sentence 
 till the facts in the case were cleared ; and only 
 a half hour before his courier had returned 
 with news of the prisoner's release. 
 
 And now, as he advanced and gave a courtly 
 welcome to his trusted scout, the hand of the 
 Littlest Rebel once more went up in salute to 
 a superior officer. 
 
 "Gen'ral," she said, as she stole a glance at 
 her father's smiling face, "I've brought him 
 back with with the pass you gave me, sir." 
 
 And the General stooped six feet of him 
 till his lips were on a level with Virgie's lips; 
 then folded her closely into his great gray 
 arms. 
 
 THE END
 
 PEACE 
 
 Hushed is the rolling drum. The bugle's note 
 
 Breathes but an echo of its martial blast; 
 The proud old flags, in mourning silence, float 
 
 Above the heroes of a buried past. 
 Frail ivy vines 'round rusting cannon creep; 
 
 The tattered pennants droop against the wall; 
 The war-worn warriors are sunk in sleep, 
 
 Beyond a summons of the trumpet's call. 
 
 Do ye still dream, ye voiceless, slumbering ones, 
 
 Of glories gained through struggles fierce and long, 
 Lulled by the muffled boom of ghostly guns 
 
 That weave the music of a battle-song? 
 In fitful flight do misty visions reel, 
 
 While restless chargers toss their bridle-reins? 
 When down the lines gleam points of polished steel, 
 
 And phantom columns flood the sun-lit plains? 
 
 A breathless hush ! A shout that mounts on high 
 
 Till every hoary hill from sleep awakes ! 
 Swift as the unleashed lightning cleaves the sky, 
 
 The tumbling, tempest-rush of battle breaks ! 
 The smoke-wreathed cannon launch their hell-winged 
 shells ! 
 
 The rattling crash of musketry's sharp sound 
 Sinks in the deafening din of hoarse, wild yells 
 
 And squadrons charging o'er the trampled ground! 
 257
 
 Down, down they rush! The cursing riders reel 
 
 'Neath tearing shot and savage bayonet- thrust; 
 A plunging charger stamps with iron heel 
 
 His dying master in the battle's dust. 
 The shrill-tongued notes of victory awake! 
 
 The black guns thunder back the shout amain! 
 In crimson-crested waves the columns break, 
 
 Like shattered foam, across the shell-swept plain. 
 
 A still form lies upon the death-crowned hill, 
 
 With sightless eyes, gray lips that may not speak. 
 
 His dead hand holds his shot-torn banner still 
 
 Its proud folds pressed against his bloodstained cheek. 
 
 O slumbering heroes, cease to dream of war ! 
 
 Let hatreds die behind the tread of years. 
 Forget the past, like some long-vanished scar 
 
 Whose smart is healed in drops of falling tears. 
 Keep, keep your glory; but forget the strife! 
 
 Roll up your battle-flags so stained and torn ! 
 Teach, teach our hearts, that still dream on in life, 
 
 To let the dead past sleep with those we mourn! 
 
 From pitying Heaven a pitying angel came. 
 
 Smiling, she bade the tongues of conflict cease. 
 Her wide wings fanned away the smoke and flame, 
 
 Hushed the red battle's roar. God called her Peace. 
 From land and sea she swept mad passion's glow; 
 
 Yet left a laurel for the hero's fame. 
 She whispered hope to hearts in grief bowed low, 
 
 And taught our lips, in love, to shape her name. 
 258
 
 She sheathed the dripping sword; her soft hands pres't 
 
 Grim foes apart, who scowled in anger deep. 
 She laid two grand old standards down to rest, 
 
 And on her breast rocked weary War to sleep. 
 Peace spreads her pinions wide from South to North; 
 
 Dead enmity within the grave is laid. 
 The church towers ring their holy anthems forth, 
 
 .To hush the thunders of the cannonade. 
 
 EDWARD PEPLE.
 
 JOHN FOX, JR'S. 
 
 STORIES OF THE KENTUCKY MOUNTAINS 
 
 May bt had whiravtr bocks art sold. Ask for Crosstt and Dnnlap's !ict 
 
 THE TRAIL OF THE LONESOME PINE./ 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The "lonesome pine" from which the 
 story takes its name was a tall tree that 
 stood in solitary splendor on a mountain 
 top. The fame of the pine lured a young 
 engineer through Kentucky to catch the 
 trail, and when he finally climbed to its 
 shelter he found not only the pine but the 
 foot-prints of a girl. And the girl proved 
 to be lovely, piquant, and the trail of 
 these girlish foot-prints led the young 
 engineer a madder chase than "the trail 
 of the lonesome pine." 
 
 THE LITTLE SHEPHERD OF KINGDOM COME 
 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 This is a story of Kentucky, in a settlement known as "King- 
 dom Come." It is a life rude, semi-barbarous; but natural 
 and honest, from which often springs the flower of civilization. 
 
 " Chad." the "little shepherd" did not know who he was nor 
 whence he came he had just wandered from door to door since 
 early childhood, seeking shelter with kindly mountaineers who 
 gladly fathered and mothered this waif about whom there was 
 such a mystery a charming waif, by the way, who could play 
 the banjo better that anyone else in the mountains. 
 
 A KNIGHT OF THE CUMBERLAND., 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 The scenes are laid along the waters of the Cumberland* 
 the lair of moonshiner and feudsman. The knight is a moon- 
 shiner's son } and the heroine a beautiful girl perversely chris* 
 tened "The Blight." Two impetuous young Southerners' fall 
 under the spell of "The Blight's " charms and she learns what 
 a large part jealousy and pistols have in the love making of the 
 mountaineers. 
 
 Included in this volume is " Hell f er-Sartain" and ether 
 stories, some of Mr. Fox's most entertaining Cumberland valley 
 narratives. 
 
 $.sk for complete fret list f G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 '' 
 
 \\ 
 
 STORIES OF RARE CHARM BY 
 
 GENE STRATTON-PORTER 
 
 Ha) bi had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list 
 
 THE HARVESTER 
 
 Illustrated by W. L. Jacobs 
 
 "The Harvester," David Langston, io 
 a man of the woods and fields, who draws 
 his living from the prodigal hand of Mother 
 Nature herself. If the book had nothing in 
 it but the splendid figure of this man, wkh 
 his sure grip on life, his superb optimism, 
 and his almost miraculous knowledge of 
 nature secrets, ip would be notable. But 
 when the Girl comes to his "Medicine 
 Woods," and the Harvester's whole sound, 
 healthy, large outdoor being realizes that 
 this is the highest point of life which ha3 
 come to him there begins a romance, 
 troubled and interrupted, yet of the rarest idyllic quality. 
 
 FRECKLES. Decorations by E. Stetson Crawford 
 
 Freckles is a nameless waif when the tale opens, but the way in 
 which he takes hold of life; the nature friendships he forms in the 
 great Limberlost Swamp; the manner in which everyone who meets 
 5im succumbs to the charm of his engaging personality; and his love 
 Story with "The Angel" are full of real sentiment. 
 
 A GIRL OF THE LIMBERLOST. 
 
 Illustrated by Wladyslaw T. Brenda. 
 
 The story of a girl of the Michigan woods; a buoyant, lovable 
 type of the self-reliant American. Her philosophy is one of love and 
 Hndness towards all things; her hope is never dimmed. And by the 
 sheer beauty of her soul, and the purity of her vision, she wins from 
 barren and unpromising surroundings those rewards of high courage. 
 
 It is an inspiring story of a life worth while and the rich beauties 
 of the out-of-doors are strewn through all its pages. 
 
 AT THE FOOT OF THE RAINBOW. 
 
 Illustrations in colors by Oliver Kemp. Design and decorations by 
 Ralph Fletcher Seymour. 
 
 The scene of this charming, idyllic love story is laid in Centra? 
 Indiana. The story is one of devoted friendship, and tender self- 
 sacrificing love; the friendship that gives freely withou* return, and 
 the love that seeks first the happiness of the object. The novel is 
 brimful of the most beautiful word painting of nature, and its pathos 
 and tender sentiment will endear it to all. 
 
 Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSKT & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 MYRTLE REED'S NOVELS 
 
 May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Crossat ft Dunlap's list 
 
 LAVENDER AND OLD LACE. 
 
 A charming story of a quaint corner of 
 New England where bygone romance finds a 
 modem parallel. The story centers round, 
 the coming of love to the young people on 
 the staff of a newspaper and it is one of the 
 prettiest, sweetest and quaintest of old fash- 
 ioned love stories, * * * a rare book, ex- 
 quisite in spirit and conception, full of 
 delicate fancy, of tenderness, of delightful 
 humor and spootaniety. 
 
 A SPINNER IN THE SUN. 
 
 Miss Myrtle Reed may always be depended upon to write a story 
 in which poetry, charm, tenderness and humor are combined into a 
 clever and entertaining book. Her characters are delightful and she 
 always displays a quaint humor of expression and a quiet feeling of 
 pathos which give a touch of active realism to all her writings. In 
 "A Spinner in the Sun" she tells an old-fashioned love story, of a. 
 veiled lady who lives in 'solitude and whose features her neighbors 
 have never seen. There is a mystery at the heart of the book that 
 throws over it the glamour of romance. 
 
 THE MASTER'S VIOLIN, 
 
 A love story in a musical atmosphere. A picturesque, old Ger- 
 man virtuoso is the reverent possessor of a genuine "Cremona." He 
 consents to take for his pupil a handsome youth who proves tc have 
 an aptitude for technique, but not the soul of an artist. The youth 
 Faas led the happy, careless life of a modern, well-to-do young Amer- 
 ican and he cannot, with his meagre past, express the love, the passion 
 and the tragedies of life and all its happy phases as can the master 
 who has lived life in all its fulness. But a girl comes into his life a 
 "beautiful bit of human driftwood that his aunt had taken into her 
 heart and home, and through his passionate love for her, he learns 
 the lessons that lif e has to give and his soul awakes. 
 
 Founded on a fact that all artists realize. 
 
 Ask for a complete free list of G, & D. Popular Copyrighted Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 GROSSET& DUN LAP'S 
 
 DRAMATIZED NOVELS 
 
 THE KIND THAT ARE MAKING THEATRICAL HISTORY 
 May b had whtrevir books are said. Ask for Gresstt * Dunlap's fist 
 
 WITHIN THE LAW. By Bayard Veiller & Marvin Dana. 
 Illustrated by \Vm. Charles Cooke. 
 
 This is a novelization of the immensely successful play which ran 
 for two years in New York and Chicago. 
 
 The plot of this powerful novel is of a young woman's revenge 
 directed against her employer who allowed her to be sent to prison 
 for three years on a charge of theft, of which she was innocent. 
 
 WHAT HAPPENED TO MARY. By Robert Carlton Brown. 
 Illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 
 This is a narrative of a young and innocent country girl who 13 
 suddenly thrown into the very heart of New York, "the land of her 
 dreams, where she is exposed to all sorts of temptations and dangers. 
 
 The story of Mary is being told in moving pictures and played ia 
 theatres all over the world. 
 
 THE RETURN OF PETER GRIMM. By David Belasco. 
 Illustrated by John Rae, 
 
 This is a novelization of the popular play in which David War, 
 field, as Old Peter Grimm, scored such a remarkable success. 
 
 The story is spectacular and extremely pathetic but withal, 
 powerful, both as a book and as a play. 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. ; 
 
 This novel is an intense, glowing epic of the great desert, sunlit 
 barbaric, with its marvelous atmosphere of vastness and loneliness, 
 
 It is a book of rapturous beauty, vivid in word painting. The play 
 has been staged with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. 
 BEN HUR. A Tale of the Christ. By General Lew Wallace. 
 
 The whole world has placed this famous Religious-Historical Ro- 
 mance on a height of pre-eminence which no other novel of its time 
 has reached. The clashing of rivalry and the deepest human passions, 
 the perfect reproduction of brilliant Roman life, and the tense, fierce 
 atmosphere of the arena have kept their deep fascination. A tre- 
 mendous dramatic success. 
 
 BOUGHT AlSiD PAID FOR. By George Broadhurst and Arthur 
 Hornbiow. Illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 
 A stupendous arraignment of modern marriage which has created 
 an interest on the sta^e that is almost unparalleled. The scenes are laid 
 in New York, and deal with conditions among both the ncii and poor. 
 
 The interest of the story turns on the day-by-day developments 
 r-hich show the young wife the price she has paid. _ 
 
 Ask for complete free list of G. & D. Popular Coughed Fi'cthn 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST.. NEW YORK
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP'S 
 
 DRAMATIZED NOVELS 
 
 Original, sincere and courageous often amusing the 
 kind that are making theatrical history. 
 
 MADAME X. By Alexandre Bisson and J. W. McCon- 
 aughy. Illustrated with scenes from the play. 
 A beautiful Parisienne became an outcast because her hus- 
 band would not forgive an error of her youth. Her love for 
 her son is the great final influence in her career. A tremen- 
 dous dramatic success. 
 
 THE GARDEN OF ALLAH. By Robert Hichens. 
 
 An unconventional English woman and an inscrutable 
 stranger meet and love in an oasis of the Sahara. Staged 
 this season with magnificent cast and gorgeous properties. 
 
 THE PRINCE OF INDIA. By Lew. Wallace. 
 
 A glowing romance of the Byzantine Empire, presenting 
 with extraordinary power the siege of Constantinople, and 
 lighting its tragedy with the warm underglow of an Oriental 
 romance. As a play it is a great dramatic spectacle. 
 
 TESS OF THE STORM COUNTRY. By Grace 
 Miller White. Illust. by Howard Chandler Christy. 
 A girl from the dregs of society, loves a young Cornell Uni- 
 versity student, and it works startling changes m her life and 
 the lives of those about her. The dramatic version is one of 
 the sensations of the season. 
 
 YOUNG WALLINGFORD. By George Randolph 
 
 Chester. Illust. by F. R. Gruger and Henry Raleigh. 
 
 A series of clever swindles conducted by a cheerful young 
 
 man, each of which is just on the safe side of a State's prison 
 
 offence. As " Get-Rich-Quick Wallingford," it is probably 
 
 the most amusing expose of money manipulation ever seen 
 
 on the stage. 
 
 THE INTRUSION OF JIMMY. By P. G. Wode- 
 
 house. Illustrations by Will Grefe. 
 Social and club life in London and New York, an amateur 
 burglary adventure and a love story. Dramatized under the 
 title of "A Gentleman of Leisure," it furnishes hours of 
 laughter to the play-goers. 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST., NEW YORK
 
 Bay b9 had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset & Donfsp's list 
 
 li =t 
 
 WHEN PATTY WENT TO COLLEGE, By Jean Webster. 
 
 Illustrated by C. D. Williams. 
 
 One of the best stories of life in a girl's college that has ever beem 
 mitten. It is bright, whimsical and entertaining, lifelike, laughable 
 and thoroughly human. 
 
 JUST PATTY. By Jean Webster. 
 
 Illustrated by C. M. Relyea. 
 
 Patty is full of the joy of living:, fun-loving, given to ingenious 
 mischief for its own sake, with a disregard for pretty convention which, 
 is an unfailing source of joy to her fellows. 
 
 THE POOR LITTLE RICH GIRL, By Eleanor Gates. 
 
 "With four full page illustrations. 
 
 This story relates the experience of one of those unfortunate chil- 
 dren whose early days are passed in the companionship of a governess, 
 eeldoni seeing either parent, and famishing for natural love and tender- 
 ness. A charming play as dramatized by the author. 
 
 REBECCA OF SUNNYBROOK FARM, By Kate Douglas 
 ."Wiggin. 
 
 One of the most beautiful studies of childhood Rebecca's artistic, 
 unusual and quaintly charming qualities stand out midst a circle of 
 austere New Englanders. The stage version is making a phenominal 
 dramatic record. 
 
 KEW CHRONICLES OF REBECCA, By Kate Douglas Wiggin. 
 Illustrated by F. C. Yohn. 
 
 Additional episodes in the girlhood of this delightful heroine that 
 carry Rebecca through various stages to her eighteenth birthday. 
 
 REBECCA MARY, By Annie Hamilton DonnelL 
 
 Illustrated by Elizabeth Shippen Green. 
 
 This author possesses the rare gift of portraying all the grotesque 
 little joys and sorrows and scruples of this very small girl with a pa- 
 thos that is peculiarly genuine and appealing. 
 
 EMMY LOU; Her Book and Heart, By George Madden Martin. 
 
 Illustrated by Charles Louis Hinton. 
 
 Emmy Lou is irresistibly lovable, because she is so absolutely real. 
 She is just a bewitchingly innocent, hugable little maid. The book is 
 wonderfully human. 
 
 Ask for compete fret list of G. & D. Popular Coyrighed Fiction 
 
 GROSSET & DUNLAP, 526 WEST 26th ST.. NEW YORK
 
 ,. U .9. U .If1!: RN REG| ONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 
 
 A 000816467 5 
 
 305 Dr N e EG |r "* WCWY