"You foolish girl," he said, laying his hand tenderly upon her shoulder! "Philip is safe enough; he went away to Winder with the volunteers yesterday afternoon, he and Willie McLeod. A precious pair of scamps! Mrs. McLeod was nearly as bad as yourself, but then he is the only child she has; I sent her word at once. Only heard it about ten minutes ago."

The return to hope almost proved too much for Mrs. Blair's strength; but after the first shock she rapidly recovered something of her former spirits.

"Mr. Corbel was in about an hour since and told me of the accident to the boat."

"Mr. Corbel," growled her brother, " is an old-" here his voice became indistinet, but I am inclined to think his language was strong, very strong, in reference to that old gentleman, who would hardly have felt flattered had he heard all that was said.

When Mr. Morel had recovered his usual voice, he was saying that 66 some men were old women." Whether this Hibernicism was strictly in accordance with his convictions, or only a metaphor, I will not endeavor to decide, but that he thought that Mr. Corbel was not very wise we may safely infer.

"He only did it out of kindness," returned his sister. "The news you have brought is so cheering, I have not the heart to find fault with him."

"That is all very well; but to think of what you have suffered because people will gossip," returned her brother savagely. "That is something that we cannot expect to enjoy in this world."

Mrs. Blair looked up inquiringly at the last remark, “what is that?"

"The privilege of attending to your own business without the interference of the world. But I must go and dress, and get a bite of breakfast. I want to catch the half-past nine o'clock train,--just an hour," he added, looking at his watch.

"Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes; better wait and get your's with us, or with mother and the children rather, as I must lie down."

"Can't wait; must go to the office a moment before I go; leave me little time enough; good bye; I will send you a telegram when I see him."

Mrs. Blair thoroughly exhausted went to her chamber to get a little sleep if possible.

CHAPTER V.

THE day broke bright and clear over the encampment at Winder; the white tents that dotted the valley looked like pyramids of snow in the brilliant sunlight; the grass, with beads of dew still glittering on each blade, seemed to have put on its freshest green in honor of the occasion; to the left lay the river, broad and silvery, its placid surface now and then broken into ripples that danced and twinkled like jewels giving back the sunlight from their numberless surfaces, as a gust from the morning breeze swept down the valley.

All along the banks the citizen soldiers were busily intent on their morning ablutions in all variety of costumes, some Adamic in their simplicity. Barely a mile from the camp up the river lay the town with its clean white houses, snug fences, wide streets and spreading trees, showing clear and bold in the pure morning air; while further down the valley nestled a pretty cottage, or trim farm house, looking but half awake as the blue smoke curled lazily upwards from its chimneys in the early morning.

The boys were awakened by the roll of the drum beating the reveille: springing from their homely beds, bewildered by the strange sights that surrounded them, it was several moments before they fully comprehended their situation; they soon remembered, however, the occurrences of the previous day.

Phil, with a terrific yawn that threatened to dislocate his jaws, announced his intention to have a dip; McLeod agreeing, they at once proceeded to the river. After a refreshing bath in the clear, cool waters, their inner man protested in terms unmistakable against fasting any longer.

"Let us find Tom Delwyn," suggested McLeod; "he'll get us something to eat. Don't you know what he said, hey?" and he looked at Phil, who was standing gazing vaguely out over the river. "Say!" he continued, impatiently, "are you coming? I am so precious hungry."

"I'd like to know which way to look in such a place as this," replied Phil.

"Ask that volunteer," said his companion.

Phil did so. "The Guards," replied the volunteer, "let me think. They are from the other county; you will find them over in

that direction," pointing to a hillock that rose to the left of where they stood. "That is the best I can do for you.

"Thank you; come on Phil;" and McLeod started off; "if we can't find them now," he continued, as Phil came up beside him, "I am off for town to get my breakfast; I have money enough for that and to take me back in the cars, you can stop at your aunt's, you know," he added, maliciously, quite convinced from his silence on the subject that Phil's aunt was a myth. The latter stopped abruptly and was about replying, but thought better of it, and held on his way in silence.

They had gone some distance, looking carefully among the different groups for the familiar faces of the Guards, but without success; their faces lengthened perceptibly, as it became apparent that they would have to tramp into the town to get something eatable, it being yet too early for the huxters. Just on the point of turning back, they were startled by a tremendous "halloo" behind them; turning, they beheld the good natured phiz of their huge friend of the bâton.

"We're all right now," exclaimed Phil, with a broad smile, and giving his companion a suggestive punch in the ribs.

"That is enough of that," remonstrated McLeod, twisting his shoulders, "that hurt."

"Where did you slip off to last night?" inquired the Drum Major. "Go to your aunt's ?" looking at Phil.

"No," exclaimed McLeod, "we stayed out all night; slept in a pile of hay; he," nodding his head towards Phil, "was too bashful to go there. He is awful bashful, is Philip Blair; but then sometimes he forgets how to be bashful,—about once a day. He didn't this time though; but I am hungry."

Phil flushed angrily. "Look here Cloudy, stop that chaff; I wouldn't have said I had an aunt here, only you were so cowardly about coming." "He asked me to come first," added Phil, turning to the Major, "and then wanted to back out; I'd like to know which is the worst of the two?”

"Stop that row now," interposed the big friend, good-naturedly, as McLeod was opening his mouth to reply, "or I'll bump both your heads. You want something to eat ; if you get that you will be better natured; come with me." And he stalked away, the two boys following obediently, the prospect of a good breakfast proving too much for their belligerent inclination.

They threaded their way among tents innumerable, and past groups of men and officers. Fires were blazing up brightly from the rude fireplaces improvised hastily, the savory odors of cooking meals filling the air.

"Come in boys," said their conductor, stopping before one of the tents that was quite empty.

"Our men breakfasted early," he explained; "some of the fellows wished to have a shot at the plover before parade; I think we will be able to find something eatable. However, if there is nothing left we must get some; you see I am cook to-day; being only an ornament, they wont require my services before Saturday, when the swells and ladies put in an appearance."

The boys looked their thanks, as he placed before them on the rude table (two boards on two barrels) biscuits and butter, cold meat and coffee, with a liberal slice of cold tongue for each from his private stores. They breakfasted as only boys can who are thoroughly hungry.

The Drum Major eyed them quizzically as they sat back after their superhuman efforts, looking as comfortable and contented as two amateur aldermen.

If you two were as big as I am, and with such appetites, phew!" "But we haven't had anything to eat since yesterday afternoon until now," replied Phil, flushing, "but if you think—”

"There now," interrupted their host, "don't lose your temper; I am only pleased to think that you did not have to go without longer."

"We were just going to town to buy some," replied Phil in an independent tone,—he had eaten enough to last all day and he did not care a rap,-" wasn't we Cloudy?"

Cloudy, thus appealed to, nodded his head knowingly, "I guess so, got lots of money, besides our aunt."

The huge friend looked amused. "I'll tell you a story, boys, and I want you to listen attentively, as there is a moral. It's only a short one: Last winter,-it was the latter part of December,- I was taking a constitutional on the back road. You know where I mean?""

6

"I should think so," chorussed the boys.

"Well, as I was tramping along I met half-a-dozen darkies or thereabouts, looking very pinched and miserable indeed; they stopped to tell me their troubles, how hungry they were, and all

that sort of thing. I inquired where they came from. One of the men, a strapping big fellow, whined out very humbly, "From 'de cullud setttlements, sah; God help us.' I gave them a trifle each and went on. A short time since I was on the same road, and again met a lot of darkies. Among them I recognized my big friend of last winter, endeavoring to make himself agreeable to a lady. This time they looked decidedly comfortable-baskets filled with spring vegetables, berries in plenty, and so forth. I stopped them this time and inquired how they were getting along. The big fellow, acting as spokesman, curtly replied: "I guess we're getting along well enough,' and while he was saying it, looked 'mind your own business.' 'Come along,' he added, looking ferociously at the rest, what yer stannen' there for?' Something prompted me and I asked the same question as before, 'Where do you come from?' The big fellow roared out, 'From de plains blast yer,' and then travelled. I pursued my way a wiser man."

Phil looked doubtfully at McLeod as Mr. Delwyn finished the story. He hardly knew whether to get cross or not. McLeod, not quite so thin-skinned, grinned vigorously; the story was an old one and they both understood it perfectly.

"You must not apply it to yourselves or I shall think you deserve it," he said, good-humoredly, as he watched the varying expressions on their faces. "Walt," he continued, turning to one of the volunteers, who was lazily lolling on the grass in the shadow of the tent, "I wish you would get me some water!"

"Can't do it, Bear-skin; foot's too lame. Sandy Wilson has taken my place to-day. He has just gone up for rations,” replied Walt, rolling over with a yawn.

"Confound your laziness!" retorted Delwyn. "Lame indeed! I suppose I must go myself."

"I'll go,” exclaimed Phil, pricking up his ears and seizing a tin pail that stood near.

"Not with that one though," said Mr. Delwyn smiling. "If you think you can carry it, take this," and he handed him a wooden pail.

"Of course I can, if it ain't too far. Anyway, Cloudy can help me. Which way will I go? To the river?"

"No, no; there is a spring over in that direction," pointing to that part of the field that lay nearest the town. "Do you see that hollow?"