•v;:';.,'^ {'■'<'.< •■■> A'-**'.' .'. ' ' . ' .- ■ . < / •' • ' THE UNIVERSITY OF NORTH CAROLINA LIBRARY THE WILMER COLLECTION OF CIVIL WAR NOVELS PRESENTED BY RICHARD H. WILMER, JR. jq:^y/u:x^ ^y 4 yP^^^ aayafiRcxxxECTi NEW JUVENILE BOOKS rLYMOTITH ROCK SERIES. (The three following vols, now ready.) 1. THE LITTLE REBEL. 2. THE TALLOIl BOY. 3. WILLAKD PRIME. Read-y for ttie IToliUsliers. ''S^mi DORA DARLIN^G: THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. BOSTON: J". E. TZLTOIN" ^^^JSTD CO:MIP.AJ>rS'. 1865. Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1S64, by J. E. TILTOX & Co., In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. STEREOTYPED AT THE Boston Stereotype Foundry, No. 4 Spring Lane. DORA DARLING: THE DAUGHTER OF THE EEGIMENT. CHAPTER I. " Hi ! Dat good un ! Bully for de 'federates, dis chile say. Dey's showed deyse'fs out now ! Cut urn stick in de night, eh, an' put ! Jes' like de wicked flea in de Bible dat no one Avan't a tryin' fer to cotch. Golly, I wish I'd got de rebel flea 'tween dis yer finger an' fum ! AYouldn' I crack urn 'bout de shortes' ? An' de Yankees got dar umformation from a 'telligent conterban', did dey? Wish't I know'd dat 'telligent feller •! I'd like 'o shake ura paw, an' gib um a chaw ob ole Yarginny for de sarvice he done to ebery nigger in de Souf w'en he help de Yankees. Wish't I was in his brogans, — reckon dey wouldn' fin' no 'telligentcr nor no willin'er conterban' dan ole Pic ud make ef he got de chance fer ter show um sentermen's ; but de trouble wid dis yer nigger is, him candle's got a bushel basket atop ob um, an' de Bible 1* (6) 602699 6 DORA DARLIXG: hese'f say dat dat ar' ain't no kin' ob a fashion. Bud ef de Yankees 'ud come an' kick off de ole basket — golly, what a confurgation o' smartness 'ud bust on dey eye- sight ! " " Then you believe in the Yankees, Pic, and would like to help them ? " said a low voice. " O Lordy, what dat? Golly, mas'r, whar be you? Hebenly Marster, I's a gone goose now ! I warn't on'y funnin', mas'r ; kin' o' makin' b'lieve, yer know ! " stam- mered the negro, springing from the feeding-trough, where he was sitting, and hastily cramming the torn newspaper he had been reading into the pocket of his Osnaburgs. "Whar be you, den, any way, mas'r?" continued he, a little more stoutly, as his great eyes, rolling wildly from floor to scaffold, from scaffold to beam, and thence into the very pitch of the roof, failed to discover any occupant of the room besides himself and Dolly the cow. " Wha' was it?" continued he in a lower tone, as his first demand remained unanswered. " 'Tain't de time o* day for ghos'esses nor brownies ; dey all takin' dey morn in' nap, an' sleepin' off dey night's doin's. Mabbe 'twas ole Nick hese'f, on'y I 'spected he wor too busy takin' care o' de 'federacy to bodder he horns 'bout one ole nigger like dis yer." " No ; he has a little time left for you. Pic," returned the same sepulchral voice, although the speaker still remained invisible. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 7 " I's powerful sorry to hear dat ar news," retorted the negro, recovering a little of his native audacity through the very extremity of his terror. " We was in hopes, now he'd got dis new handle ter work wid, he wor gwine to let de niggers alone, an' let 'um try to he'p deyse'fs out o' de fix he's got 'um inter." " It isn't old Nick's way to let go when he has once got hold, Pie. But don't you want to see him? Shut your eyes, and say, ' Raw-head-and-bloody-bones, fee-faw-fum' three times, and then look up in the mow just over your own head." Picter, closing his eyes, repeated the formula to the best of his ability, and then, opening them to twice their usual size, rolled them toward the designated locality. Peering over the edge of the hay appeared a white and ghastly face, blood-stained and haggard, and closely swathed in a white bandage. The expression was pre- ternaturally severe and solemn. *'"Well, Pic, and what do you think of me?" inquired the apparition, after a considerable pause. " Golly, mas'r ! I tink you isn' so brack as you's paint- ed ! " ejaculated Pic, adding, with more assurance, " An' I might ha' know'd you wasn', cause it say so in de Bible." The grim visage suddenly relaxed into a hearty laugh. " Bravo, Pic ! Pve always heard ' the devil isn't as black as he's painted,' but I never heard Scripture author- 8 DOE A DARLIKG: ity for it before. But now tell me, good fellow," con- tinued the mysterious speaker, with some return of anxiety in his voice, " can anybody overhear me but yourself? " " Wy, mas'r, dat hard question fer tcr answer," said Pic, dubiously, while his wild eyes once more roamed about the barn. "I t'ou't I was all 'lone jes' now, w'en I sot down fer look inter de paper jes' a lilly mluit." " And never knew I was listening to the whole story, Pic?" put in the voice, more joyously. " "Well, as far as I know, there is no one else here." " 'Less you's brung you sarvents 'long wid you," sus- piciously suggested Pic. *' S'pose dey's put dey bodies in dey trousers' pockets jes' now, an' is unwisible." " O, my imps ! \^q\\^ I'll promise they shan't trouble you as long as you're a good Union man." " Dis yer de Sou'fern 'Federacy, mas'r," said Pic cau- tiously ; for, as his belief in the stranger's human character increased, his fears of him, as a possible spy, returned. " I know that, you cunning old darkey, and I know, too, your Avay of feeling about it. Didn't I just hear your opinion of the result of our fight at Carnifcx Ferry the other day? and wasn't you just envying the contra- band who showed us the way through those confounded mountain passes? Well, here's an opportunity for you to rival him. I am a federal officer, wounded, and taken prisoner at this very battle of Carnifex Ferry. I TEE DAUGHTER OF THE nEGIMEXT. 9 made my escape the second day after I was taken ; but I've lost my way, and wandered among the mountains here for a week, I should think, until I'm starved, and footsore, and used up generally. Last night I crept in here for a sleep in your master's haymow ; and just now, after hearing you express your sentiments upon war mat- ters so frankly, it occurred to me you might like to help me along a little. Should you mind, for instance, letting me drink out of that pail of milk ? I tried to get some from the cow in the night ; but I am afraid my education in milking was neglected, for I couldn't get a drop, and had to put up with a kick instead." Pic turned and looked reproachfully at Dolly. " Now I alluz suspicioned dat ar' cow wor a kin' ob a rebel beast," said he. '' Dere ain't no surer way fer to make her ugly Av'en you's a milkin' dan ter whistle Yankee Doodle ; bud ef yer pipe up Dixie, she'll let down as good as gole. T'oder night I got so mad I licked her v.'id thirteen stripes, an' den gib her thirteen punches wid a hoe-handle, ter go fer stars ; but I don' see as it done any good." '•You must try compromise, I'm afraid. Pic. But now come up here, and we'll consult a little." "While Pic clambers laboriously into the haymow, v/e will cross the irregular space between the barn and the rambling old farm-house to Avhich it belonged, and make some acquaintance with its inmates. 10 VORA DAItLIXG: The level rays of the morning sun, crowding through the one eastern window, deluged the wide kitchen with light, danced a little scornfully among the coarse breakfast service upon the table, rioted gleefully in and out of Do- ra's chestnut curls, as she knelt upon the hearth carefully stirring the contents of the saucepan, and rested at last with a loving radiance upon the pale fingers and smooth, thin locks of the invalid who reclined upon the couch beside the fire. " There, mother," said the girl, as she started to her feet, and carried the saucepan to the sink, " I reckon you'll say your gruel is first rate to-day. There ain't a lump in it." " You're a darling little nurse, Dora," said ISlxs. Dar- ley, while her eyes rested lovingly upon the straight, firm figure and noble head of her daughter. " Only twelve years old, but almost a woman for strength and handiness," murmured she, thoughtfully. "TThat's that, mother?" asked Dora from the other end of the room. "Where did father and Tom go, Dora?" asked the mother, faintly. " Father went to mill with TThitefoot, and Tom went up to the wood-lot with the oxen, to fetch home some wood, — we've hardly a stick, — and Pic has got to reap all day ; we couldn't spare him, any way." " When will Tom come home ?" inquired Mrs. Darley, a little anxiously. THE DAUGHTER OF THE liEGIMEXT. H " Not till night, I expect. It's a good distance, and the oxen won't hurry much, you know. He took a lun- cheon with him." " I'm sorry," murmured the invalid. *' Why, mother ? Do you want to see Tom ? " " Not just now ; but I don't like to have him away from home so far. I feel as if you'd ought to know, my dear little girl, that your mother is going to leave you. My strength fails all the time, and to-day I feel very low. I can't tell just Avhen it's coming, Dora ; but I know it will be soon ; and I must bid you all good by first, or I couldn't go happy." " Mother ! " burst from the girl's lips, as she came has- tily to her side, and knelt to meet the offered embrace. In a few moments, however, the self-restraint that cir- cumstances had imposed upon the child's habit until it had become second nature, asserted itself, and Dora gently extricated herself from her mother's arms, and rose to her feet, saying, — " You'll feel stronger, mammy dear, when you've had something to eat. I'll bring the gruel." Then, after she had placed a chair and a pillow at her mother's back, she brought the little tray, covered with a damask napkin, and holding the one china cup and silver spoon of the meagre household. Dora waited silently until the invalid began to sip the delicate gruel with apparent relish, and then she walked away to the win- 12 DOHA DABLINGi dow. In vain the gay sunshine beat upon the face now turned toward it. A deadly pallor had killed the roses on cheek and lip, and in the steadfast gray eyes lay a depth of uncliildish sorrow that no sunlight could soften into soothing tears. This strange child, who never com- plained and almost never wept, concealed a capacity of suffering beneath that quiet exterior, unknown even to the dying mother, who built so hopefully upon the undue maturity of her darling's nature. Dora, fighting desperately with this terrible new grief that had so suddenly fallen upon her, did not notice, although her eyes mechanically rested upon him, the uncouth figure of a man, who, while limping across the yard, vainly sought to attract her notice, and beckon her to the outside of the house. This man was a middle- aged negro, intensely black, and most curiously mis- shapen, — his right leg being an inch or more shorter than the other, while the shoulder upon the same side of his body was as much higher than the left, and all the features on the right side of his face were coniically twisted upward. In fact, the idea suggested by the whole figure was, that some giant, in a playful mood, had seized it by the two feet, and, while pulling the left one down, had pushed the right one up, giving an upward tendency to that whole side of the body. This strange being was named Epictetus ; but this name, too long for common use, had been shortened into / THE DAUGHTER OF TEE BEGIMEXT. 13 Picter, and occasionally Pic. He was the sole retainer of the house of Darley, and clung to its decaying fortunes with the tenacity of his race and temperament. Just now he Avas particularly desirous of a moment's conversation with his young mistress before entering the house ; but, finding it impossible to attract her notice, he limped on to the back door, and presently entered the kitchen. Dora, aroused by the click of the heavy latch, came immediately to meet him, anxious to prevent his disturb- ing her mother with questions or complaints ; for Mrs. Darley had steadfastly stood between the slave and many a threatened injustice or cruelty on his master's part. "What is it, Picter?" asked Dora, softly. " O, Missy Dora, honey, what's you s'pose we's gwine to do 'bout dis yer bizness ? " " What is it — what's the matter, Picter? " "W'y, here's dis yer feller — w^ait now, lemme go ax mist's 'bout it. She'll fix um better nor de Queen o' Sheby could." " Well, there she is ; but don't plague her about any- thing that can be helped, Uncle Pic, for she's not so well to-day." With these words, Dora abruptly turned away, and began to clear the table, her lips assuming a painful compression. Picter pulled off his old straw hat, and coming close 3 14 DOB A DARLING: up to his mistress's couch, bent down and began to speak to her in a low, agitated voice. As he proceeded, Mrs. Darley also became moved, and presently called, — " Dora ! " Dora came directly, and stood beside her mother, smoothing her hair, and glancing rather reproachfully at Picter, who had disturbed her thus. "Dora, Picter says that there is a poor, wounded Union soldier in the barn, who has got away from some of the rebels, v>'ho had taken him prisoner, and is trying to get back to his regiment. He hid himself in our barn last night, and meant to stay there all day, but Picter found him. He is very hungry and tired, and his wound has never been done up, or anything. Isn't it dreadful, Dora?" *^ " Yes, mother," said the girl, in a low voice, while her eyes brightened, and the color deepened on her cheek. " But, mother, ain't you glad he came to us instead of anywhere else about here ? " "Yes, dear child, we will do our very best for him ; I knew you would feel so," said Mrs. Darley, answering the meaning rather than the words of her daughter's re- mark. "But you know," added she, hesitatingly, "father doesn't feel as we do about the war." Dora paused a moment, and then said, decidedly, — " Well, mother, I feel the way you do about every- thing, and the way you feel, is the right way." THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 15 Mrs. Parley looked relieved. She was uot a strong woman, either of body or mind, and this was by no means the first time she had indirectly asked counsel of her little daughter in the troubles that beset her life. " Then, Picter," said she, joyfully, " you may go and bring him in." " I know'd you'd say it, mist's I " exclaimed the negro, joyfully, as he stumped away through the back door. " Xow, Dora, go to my lower bureau-drawer, and get that bundle of old linen at the right-hand end, and bring the bottle of liniment from the cupboard. Now pour some warm water into the wash-basin, and put it in the sink, and bring a fine towel." "All ready, nether." " Smart girl ! "Well, next you may get him some breakfast. Make a little fresh tea, and set out the cold meat, and some bread and butter. Then boil a couple of fresh eggs. Here he comes." The door opened, and Picter stood aside to allow the stranger to enter first. He was a tall, slender young man, or rather lad, for he was but a little more than twenty years of age, with a face that might be handsome, but was just now too pale, and haggard, and blood-stained, for beauty. The fair hair, too, was clotted and stifiened with blood, and the white handkerchief bound about his head was soaked Avith it. He wore the uniform of a federal officer ; but every garment was torn, soiled, and battle-stained. 16 DORA DARLIXG: Mrs. Barley uttered a cry of dismay and pity. Dora stood still and looked at him as she had looked at the sun a half hour before. The young man advanced pain- fully, but without Embarrassment, to Mrs. Barley's couch. " You are very good, madam," said he, " to send for me. I only asked some food, and leave to rest through the day in your barn." " We would not leave you there. I have a son my- self. He may some day be in your case." "In the same good cause?" asked the soldier, with animation. Mrs. Barley shook her head sadly. " I am afraid not. The border states are full of divided households. The old Scripture curse ha%come upon us." " Pardon me," said the young man, faintly, as he sank into the chair offered by Picter. " It is very hard upon you who lie as it were between the two armies." " God only knows how hard," said Mrs. Barley, mournfully. " But," added she, immediately, '• I am for- getting all that I ought to remember first. There is some water and a towel. You had better sit down, and let my little girl take that handkerchief off your head, and then, after you have bathed it, she will do it up with some liniment. I am sure it will feel better for it. Then you m.ust have a good breakfast, and after that you had better go to bed up stairs, and try to sleep till night. After dark Picter will show you the road North, or wherever vou want to 2:0." THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 17 The young man rose, and held out his hand to the kind woman who thus endangered her own prosperity, perhaps her life even, for a stranger and for his cause. " I cannot thank you as 1 ought for this kindness," said he, in a broken voice. ^' But, if I ever see my mother again, I shall tell her of you, and she shall thank you as only she can. She would do as you are doing." " Some time perhaps she will," said the invalid, feebly. " Now, Dora, come and help the gentleman. She can remove the bandage better than you can. sir, because she can see it." In a short time, by the help of plenty of warm water, soap, and a towel, the young stranger presented a much less ghastly appearance ; and when Dora had deftly bound on the cool, clean bandage, soaked in healing lini- meat, he declared that he felt himself a different man. "Sit down now and eat," said Mrs. Darley, smiling. " Picter, you must go and keep watch round the house, and if you see any one coming, let us know. Dora, pour some tea for — what shall we call you, sir?" " They call me Captain Karl at home," said the young man, laughing ; " and perhaps I had better not tell you any more of my name. So, if you are questioned about me by my true title, you can say you never heard it." " Then, Captain Karl, sit down at the table, and help yourself. I'm sorry we've notliing better to oflfer." 2» CHAPTER II. PiCTER, detailed by his mistress as a scout, went about the duty somewhat unwillingly. He would have preferred to lurk in the farther end of the great kitchen, and feast his eyes and ears with the presence of the federal soldier, whom he looked upon as in a large degree his own prop- erty by right of discovery. He found reason, however, to congratulate himself upon his prompt obedience, when, in limping across the yard toward the barn, he met a lank, ill-looking fellow, by name Joe Sykes, coming out of it. This Sykes was one of Mr. Barley's nearest neighbors, and one of the bitterest rebels in the whole South. He was also, as Picter well knew, a hard and cruel master to his negi'oes and his family, and was consequently hated by all the colored people within the circle of his reputa- tion. Although intimate with her husband, this man was so displeasing to Mrs. Darley, that she had plainly intimated to him that his presence was disagreeable, and he now very rarely entered the house. " Hallo, Pic," growled this Avorthy gentleman, as the negro approached. " Who've you got to your house? " (18) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 19 " Got, Mas'r Sykes? " inquired Picter, vriXh. an air of intense innocence. '^ We've got all de folks." " Is your master in ? " " Mas'r? Well, no, mas'r ain't in ; but mist's and Missy Dora dere. Mist's ain't bery well dis yer mornin', an' she layin' abed. Got any arrand for her, Mas'r Sykes ? " " No," snarled Sykes. " Who was that went across from the barn to the house with you about ten minutes ago, you black cuss ? " " 'Bout ten minute ago," repeated Picter, leaning on the hoe he had been handling, and appearing to consider the question very gravely. " Well, now, Mas'r Sykes, you go agin larnin' niggers any sort o' ting, dey say. Now, dat all right I s'pose, else Mas'r Sykes 'ouldn't go fer it. Biit now jes see here, mas'r. Ef a nigger ain't neber been taught nuffin', how's he gwine to tell nuffin' ? " " What do you mean, you old fool? " " W'y, mas'r axes me who went crost dis yer yard 'bout ten minute ago. Now, niggers hain't got no call to know what's o'clock, yer den say ; den how's dis nigger gwine to know how much is ten minute ? " Mr. Sykes looked at the sable logician with a curious expression of bewildered anger, but found no better reply to make than an oath, which, being neither pleasing in itself nor appropriate to the subject, we will omit. " Who's in your house now, then ? " asked Sykes, angrily, after he had thus relieved his mind. 20 DOHA DABLIKG: " "Well, dere's mist's. Now, Mas'r Sykes, I feci worried 'bout mist's. She's mighty porely dese times. 'Pears like some days she gwine to drop right off de hooks, an' " " Never mind your mistress, you blockhead ; who's she got with her? " " Wid her. Wy, she got Missy Dora. Dat chile ain't neber fur off from her mammy. Spec's dere ain't no more sich gals 'bout here, any way. — "What, is yer gwine, Mas'r Sykes? ^Von't yer step in an' ax for mist's? Missy Dora gib you all de 'tic'lars 'bout her healf. — Gosh ! now dat feller gone off powerful mad wid dis yer pore ignorant critter. "Wish't I know'd how ter talk to a gen'l'man better. Ho, ho, ho ! " Picter indulged for a few moments in a congratulatory chuckle, but then became suddenly gi-ave. " Yer ole fool," said he severely to himself. '* Can't yer do nuffm' but stan' cacklin' here like de rooster w'en de ole hen lay a egg? Dat feller won't neber rest till he's got some one ter come an' help him peek inter all our cubboards an' tater kittles arter dat Yankee. Pore feller, he's got to trot. "S^"on't git dat nice all-day sleep mist's tole for. Wish't ole Pic could get wounded an' go ter bed up sta'rs all day." Shambling across the yard in a purposeless sort of way, Picter stopped to gather an armful of wood, in case he should be watched, and carried it in a leisurely manner into the kitchen. THE DAUGHTER OF THE BEGIMEXT. 21 No sooner, however, was the door safely closed behind him, and the wooden bar dropped, than the old negro flung down his wood upon the hearth, and inquired, — "Mas'r cap'n, how yer like to hab a call from de neighbors roun' here ? " Captain Karl started to his feet, and carried his hand to his empty scabbard. "What do you mean, Picter?" asked Mrs. Darley, hurriedly. " Is there danger ? " " Dat old Sykes ben trailin' roim' here, an' want fer know who come cross from de barn to de house lono- o o' me jes now." " You did not tell him, Picter ! " "Dis nigger ain't quite a fool yit, mist's. But I couldn' pull de wool ober he eyes so fur but what he fought he seed de leetle end ob de rat's tail, an' he smell him powerful strong. So he went off to git seben oder debils wusser dan hisself, I spec." " I must go at once," exclaimed Captain Karl. " But whither?" added he, bitterly. Mrs. Darley, Dora, and Picter looked at each other and at him. The mother was the first to speak. " Picter, you know the place where that poor fellow was hid last summer so lonor." " Yes, mist's," said the negro, gloomily. " You wilhnot be afraid to trust this gentleman with the secret of it?" " Not ef you say so, mist's." 22 DOHA DAIiLIXG: " You need not be afraid. I pledge you my honor that your secret shall be safely kept," exclaimed Captain Karl. " Dunno wot you'll see an' hear dar," said Picter, while his face lost a shade or two of its rich coffee color. "Why?" asked the officer, anxiously. " A pore boy dat dis ole Sykes licked mos' to def got away an' hid dere, an' arter a w'ile he died," said the negro, in a hard, savage voice. " Shocking. But no one knew where he was hid?" " No one but dem as helped him." "Negroes?" " Yes, mas'r." " I will trust them," cried the captain, joyously. " I should not be afraid to let every negro in the South know my hiding-place, and that's more than I would say for the white men even of my own Massachusetts." " Mas'r, I's proud to sarve ye," said Picter, straight- ening his poor back to the utmost. " Dora, put up as much food as they can carry ; and you had better take a blanket or comforter. Captain Karl. You may have to stay a day or two in the mountains," said Mrs. Darley, anxiously. " A small blanket, if you will be so kind, would indeed be a luxury," said the soldier, smiling ; " and I will leave it behind me for Picter to bring back. But will not you get into trouble yourself, if it is known that you have helped a Union officer in this manner ? " " Perhaps. But that is a matter we cannot control. THE DA TIGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 23 No one will hurt me or this little girl, however, and Mr. Darley is too well known as a secessionist to suflfer in his property. A few hard words will be all, so far as we are concerned. But Picter — " She paused and looked troubled. " Yes, they will try to force the truth from him if possible. Will your husband allow him to be ill used? " Mrs. Darley shook her head. " The faithful fellow must not be exposed to such a risk. What can be done ? " " I will go alone," said Captain Karl, firmly. " Picter will give me directions, and I dare say I can find the spot you mention. If not, I will hide somewhere among the mountains until I can go forward upon my journey." " No ; you would be found, or you would die of hunger and exposure. Picter shall go with you, and he shall not come back, — that is, if there is any danger. Before night I shall know if Sykes has suspected enough to bring the Vigilance Committee upon us. If they come, they would think nothing of torturing a negi'o to death on the chance of catching a federal officer. " After dark, Picter, come carefully back until you can see this house. If all is safe there shall be a light in Miss Dora's room, up stairs. You know which it is ? " " Yes, mist's." " But if I think any one means to harm you for what we have done to-day, there M-ill be no light up stairs, and you win go back to Captain I^iarl." 24- DOr.A DARLIXG: " An' whar '11 I go arter dat, mist's?" asked the negro, in a voice husky with emotion, and the sudden hope that the words of his mistress had aroused in his heart. " To the North, to freedom, Picter," said Mrs. Darlev, solemnly. " I have been tliinking of you for a good while, Picter. I am going fast to another home than this. There would be no one to protect you from — many things. Your master is going to join the rebel army, and, I suppose, would either sell you or take you with him. You deserve better than that, Picter, and you shall have it. If you come back this time I v.-ill contrive your escape before I die ; but perhaps if you go now, Captain Karl can help you after you reach the Union army." " I can, aiici v.iil," said the captain, eagerly. " Let him come with me, if you have really made up your mind to send him away, and I will charge myself with his wel- fare." " Let it be so then," said Mrs. Darley, faintly ; " and I thank the Lord, that has opened a way for him, and for you, too, for he will help you in your escape in a great many ways." At this moment Picter, who had stood rolling his gi^eat eyes from the face of one speaker to the other in a sort of bewildered ecstasy, suddenly limped forward, and fell upon his knees beside his mistress. Seizing her pale and trembling hand, he pressed his great lips reverently upon it, and sobbed out, — " De Lord bress you, mist's. De Lord bress you an' THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. £5 keep yon. An' ef you's r'ally a gwine, it's cause de angels is lonesome fer ye. I didn' spect it, mist's ; I nebber speeted fer ter be free till I got to heben." " But I have tried to be kind to you here, Picter, and so have the children," said Mrs. Darley, a little hurt, after all, that her servant should be so entirely overjoyed at leaving her forever. " Yes, mist's, yu's ben raal good alluz, and missy, too. Nobbuddy couldn' be better off ef dey'd got to be a slave dan I's ben long o' yer, mist's ; but mist's dear, 'tain't de same ting, no how. De bestest off slave 's wusser off den de mis'ablest free man." " Don't come back, at any rate, Picter. I never knew you cared so much, or you should have gone long ago. Remember, you are not to come back, on any account. Dora, bring my purse, and give it to Uncle Picter. I'm sorry it's so little, but it's all I have. And now you must really go as fast as you can, captain. I have done very wrong to keep you so long. Here are the basket and the blanket. Good by, sir, and take care of Picter for me." " You may depend upon me for that, Mrs. Darley. I shall never forget your kindness. Good by, madam. Good by. Miss Dora." He shook hands with the mother, hurriedly kissed the child's forehead, and was gone, followed by Picter, who laughed and cried by turns in such a manner as to make his farewell speeches rather unintelligible. 3 CHAPTER III. Two or three hours after the departure of the fugitives passed quietly over — quietly, that is, as to events; but Mrs. Darley had been so agitated and tired with the excitement of the morning that she could not get over it, and Dora was far more alarmed than she confessed at the alternate fever and deathly faintness that her mother vainly tried to conceal. Whatever the child could do was done, although with few words ; nor did the little housemaid neglect to prepare dinner for her father at the usual time, although she secretly feared his return home in a temper ill suited to a pleasant repast. A little after noon, the sound of hurried feet was heard outside the door, and Mr. Darley entered with rude violence, followed by Sykes and another man of the same stamp. Mrs. Darley closed her eyes, and turned very pale. Dora went to her side, and taking her hand, turned a keen, defiant gaze upon the strangers. At her father she did not glance. *' Mary, what man came here this morning about eight o'clock ? " asked Darley, sternly. (26) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 27 "^ His wife made no answer, nor did she unclose her eyes. " Mother is very sick indeed to-day, father. She isn't able to talk at all," said Dora, firmly. " Well, you're not sick, Miss Pert. Answer for her." " I can't. It disturbs her to hear talkin^:. Do sro away, father, and take these men. Poor mother ! " " Just tell me this, Dora. Did a man come here this morning?" persisted Darley, impatiently, although he lowered his voice, and cast an anxious glance at his wife's deathly face. "A man? There's no one about, father, but mother and me. There's no man here." " Well, but there has been. I see a feller come in *long o' yer old nigger. I see him myself," broke in Joe Sykes, pushing himself forward. Dora glanced scornfully at the speaker, and made no reply. - " Come, Do, tell me if such a man came, and who he was, and where he's gone, and then we won't plague you and mother any more," said Darley, in the coaxing tone that long experience had taught him was the easiest method of reaching^ his dauo-hter's heart. " There was a man came to the door, and asked for something to eat, this morning, father. I gave him something, and he went aAvay. I don't know where he's gone, or who he was, and I can't tell anything more about him. Now, please, father, will you take these men away, and let poor mother rest ? " 28 DORA DAELING: " Slie don't know anything about him," said Darley, turning to his companions. " I didn't suppose she did in the first place. Come, let's quit." " Well, that old nigger knows ef the gal don't," per- sisted Sykes. " He wouldn't ha' been so sarcy to me ef he hadn't know'd somethin' more'n he let on. Let's go see what he has to say 'bout it." " All right. You may talk to him as ha'sh as you're a mind to," said Mr. Darley, leading the way to the door, and evidently glad to relieve his wife and daughter of the annoyance of the examination by shifting it to shoulders so well used to burdens as those of poor Picter. Left alone, Mrs. Darley broke into a fit of convulsive weeping, and Dora vainly tried to co-mfort her. While she was still bending over the couch, the kitchen door was again opened, and Darley's voice harshly in- quired, — " Where's Picter, Dora? " " I don't know where he is, father." " Haven't you sent him away? " " No, father, I have not." "Well, haven't you, Mary? What in the world are you crying so about ? " " 0, father, mother is very sick indeed. How can you worry her so ? " Half angry, half ashamed, Mr. Darley drew back his head, muttering inaudibly some remark about a " saucy young one," and went back to his companions. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 29 After a short consultation all tliree rode away together, and Dora at last had the pleasure of seeing her mother drop into a troubled sleep. This lasted until about four o'clock, when Mr. Darley returned alone, but in a much more violent mood than he had been at noon. He had been drinking pretty freely with his companions, who had not spared some taunts as to his being afraid of his wife and daughter, and intimations that Mrs. Darley knew very well where the Yankee officer was, and might be made to tell if her husband could muster sufficient spirit to insist upon it. More than this, Mr. Darley had become anxious re- garding Picter's prolonged absence, knowing, as he did, his wife's wish to give the slave his freedom ; and he had returned home determined to learn the exact truth as to the occurrences of the morning. The invalid, suddenly aroused from sleep, was natu- rally nervous and bewildered ; and Mr. Darley, finding her answers still less satisfactory than in the morning, soon became very angry and abusive. Not satisfied with what could be said upon the subject in hand, he went back to various matters of disagreement between himself and his wife in former times, principally connected with the abolitionist sentiments that Mrs. Darley had occasion- ally expressed, and the horror she had not concealed at certain cruelties and excesses among Mr. Darley's chosen friends and associates. 3* 30 DORA DARLIXG: The consequence of this violence Tvas, that the sick woman became terribly agitated, and was finally seized with nervous spasms, that seemed likely to end her life at once. The sight of her sufferings, and Dora's indignant expostulations, at last aroused a feeling of shame and remorse in the husband's nature, and he hurried away to send the doctor, and to bring Mrs. Wilson, a married sister of his own, who lived at a distance of two miles. Before they arrived, however, the invalid had grown so much calmer, under Dora's eager but judicious care, that the doctor, after attentively examining her condition, merely prescribed a composing draught, and hurried away to another patient. As Mr. Darley attended him to the door, however, the gruff old physician briefly said, — " That woman'U die any minute — go right out like a candle. All you can do for her is to keep her quiet and comfortable. Don't agitate her about anything.'* Mr. Darley stood on the doorstep, looking after the doctor's sulky, with a very uncomfortable feeling about his throat. He was really as fond of his wife as a selfish and depraved man could be ; he had, indeed, been passion- ately in love with her when he tempted her to run away from her father's house with him, and the doctor's warn- ing sounded to him very much like a reproach. Presently he went quietly into the house, and sat down by the fire, with his head leaning on his hand. Dora, looking keenly at him as she went in and out of the THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 31 bedroom, pitied her father, and yet could not but be glad at the thought that while thus preoccupied, he would not be likely to ask any more questions about Picter. Mrs. Wilson, a sharp, bustling, managing sort of wo- man, so soon as she arrived, took possession of the inva- lid, and ordered everything about her in her own fashion. Sometimes these fashions were not Dora's ; and in these cases the child quietly pursued her own way, in spite of her aunt's peremptory advice to the contrary. " Mother likes it this w^ay," was her simple reply when her aunt crossly inquired why she had altered the arrangement of the window curtains that Mrs. Wilson had carefully pinned together, and that Dora now looped back to admit the soft western light. " Little girls shouldn't think they know more than them that's older than they be," said Mrs. Wilson, frowning. " But I do know more about mother, because I'm more used to her than any one else is," said Dora, simply. " Dora, child," said Mrs. Darley, feebly, " you've been in the house all day. Go now and take a little run while aunt sits with me. Go meet Tom." " I'd rather stay with you, mother." " Xo, Dora ; I want you to go. I really do." " Well, then, I will," said the child ; and putting a little shawl about her, she stole softly out at the back door. CHAPTER IV. About a mile from the farm-house, at the same hour, and coming towards it, a stout lad of sixteen years trudged along beside his ox-teara, bending low his head to shield it*in some measure from the eddpng ^Yhirls of sand dashed into his eyes, his nose, his mouth, and almost through his very skin by the keen north-east wind that came sweeping down the gorges of the Alleghany Mountains, driving every drifting thing before it. Tom Darley — for it was he — stopped and turned his back for a moment, and while he wiped his eyes upon the sleeve of his blue frock, said aloud, — " Pesky wind ! Any one might know it came from Yankee land, it's so mean and ugly." Then, somewhat comforted by this expression of his feelings, he ran a few steps to overtake the oxen, and walked along at their heads, whistling " Dixie," while the wind, shrilly piping a sort of gigantic Yankee Doodle, seemed defying the boy to an unequal contest. Presently, the road, after skirting a high hill, the low- est step, in fact, of the mountain range, entered a little (32) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 33 wood, whose close-set evergreen trees made a very effect- ual barrier to the sweep of the wind. Once more Tom paused to draw his breath and wipe his eyes, and was again moving on, when a little figure suddenly dropped down beside him, from the crest of a huge bowlder at the road-side. Tom started back in considerable alarm. His first impression was of a panther or wildcat. In the next moment he perceived who it really was, and exclaimed, — " Hallo, Do, is that you? How came you here, and what makes you jump out on a fellow that way? " " I came to meet you, Tom," said Dora, putting her hand caressingly upon his arm. Such a movement was so unusual in the undemonstra- tive girl, that her brother looked down at her in some surprise. "What's the matter then? You've been crjdng — haven't you, little goose?" asked he, with rough kind- ness. " O, Tom, there's a horrid time at home," burst out Dora, and then stopped with her lips close shut together to keep down the rising sob ; for whatever Tom might suspect, Dora would have suffered almost anything before she would have let him see her cry. " "What's up now? " asked Tom, amxiously. '' Mother's worse. We've had the doctor ! " " That's too bad. I'm real sorry, I do declare," said 34 DORA DARLIXG: the boy in awkward sorrow. " How did yon come to leave her, Dora ? " " Aunt Wilson 's Avith her, and she sent me away. She told me to come and meet yon. I reckon she wanted to talk to aunt." The brother and sister walked on in silence for a little while. Then Dora said, mysteriously, — " And Picter s gone. Dear old Uncle Pic — we shan't have him to play wdth us ever again." "Picter gone! "Where's he gone?" asked Tom, wonderingly. " Mother gave him leave to go, only you mustn't say anything about it to father." " Gave him leave to run away? " " Yes, for fear of father." " Come, Dora, begin at the beginning, and tell me your story. I can't make anything of it this way." So Dora did as she was bidden, and in a brief, distinct manner related all the events of the day. The only thing she omitted to mention Avas the refuge of Picter and the captain. This she concealed, partly because the cave was Picter's secret, partly because she did not quite trust Tom's sympathy Avitli the fugitives, and his first Avords gave her reason to congratulate herself on her prudence. " I AA^sh I had been about home this morning," said Tom, bringing doAvn his ox-goad upon poor Bright's neck. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 35 *'Why, Tom?" " I guess tliat fellow wouldn't have got off so nicely." " You wouldn't have tried to give him up to be put in jail and kept ever so many years, perhaps, and his wound never even washed — would you, Tom?" asked Dora, indignantly. " Of course I would. Ain't he a Yankee? and ain't the Yankees trying all they can to shut our men up in their prisons, or kill them outright? or if they don't do either of those, to make slaves of us here at home ? " " I don't believe it, Tom, and I don't believe you know better .than mother about it. And she did all she could for the Yankee captain." " Mother's a first-rate woman, Dora, and I'll lick any fellow that says there's a better inside the state line ; but, Do, she's a woman, and women don't know about these things, same as men do." " How is it with boys? " asked Dora, slyly. *' The boys hear the men talk, and they learn the right thing. But women only think about one thing at a time ; and if a man has curly hair and a cut on his head, they'll do the same by him as they would by their own brothers, and never remember that this very fellow they're nursing and cuddling up has come here on pur- pose to kill their brothers." " Well, you Avon't try to get them taken again — will you, Tom? You know I told you for a secret." 36 DORA DARLING: Tom walked silently on for a while, whistling to him- self, and examining the end of his goad ; at last he said, rather surlily, — " No, I don't know as I shall, now that mother has helped them off. But if I'd got sight of that fellow this morning — " " Never mind Avhat you would have done if something had happened that didn't happen. You've promised not to tell, and that's all." " No, I didn't promise not to tell. I said I wouldn't try to have them caught. But if father asks me if I know anything about it, I ain't going to lie, and say I don't." " No, of course you can't," said Dora, sadly. "Besides, I think father'd ought to know about Pic," continued Tom. " Mother's had her way, and given him his liberty, right or wrong, and I think father had at least ought to be told how he's gone." " Do you? " asked Dora, thoughtfully. " Of course I do. But I ain't a telltale, nor I don't want to get mother and you into trouble. So I shan't say anything if I can help it, and maybe mother will make up h'er mind to tell for herself. I'd be glad if she would." " Perhaps she will ; but she can tell best whether she ought to or not." To this the young advocate of male supremacy made no reply, and presently Dora said, — THE DAUGHTER OF THE liEGIMEXT. 37 " At any rate, you cau't tell where they're gone, be- cause you don't know." " That's so," said Tom ; " and I wouldn't advise you to tell mc." ^'I ain't going to," returned Dora, shrewdly. *' But here Ave are at home, and I must run in to get supper ready. Come in as quick as you can." " As quick as I've put up the cattle and given them their supper. After that I've got to milk, I suppose. You see I shall have to do Picter's work now, besides my own." " I'll help you all I can," said Dora, gayly, as she ran into the house. But she smiled no longer, when, on en- tering the house, she found her father still seated by the fireplace, his face buried in his hands, while her aunt moved about the kitchen wdth noisy efforts at quiet, mak- ing preparation for supper. "Well, child," began she, when Dora appeared, "you seem to take it easy, any w^ay. Where've you been trapsing, I'd like to know, and who'd ye think was doing up your Avork for ye ? " " Mother told me to go and meet Tom, and I've been," said Dora, quietly. " And you needn't hav^ done any- thing about supper, aunt ; I shall have it all ready at six o'clock." " Massy ! How peart we be ! " exclaimed Mrs. Wil- son. " You know a heap more than ever your granny did — don't ye, child?" 38 DOHA D An LING: To this address Dora made no reply, but went steadily about her preparations for supper, quietly undoing, as she proceeded, nearly everything her aunt had done. Mrs. Wilson, after grimly watching her a few mo- ments, went and sat down by her brother. "John," began she, in the whining and high-pitched voice many persons seem to consider essential to the proper treatment of mournful or religious subjects, — " John, I suppose you know there's a awful visitation a hanging over ye. Mary ain't no better than a dead woman, and I shouldn't wonder a mite if she was took afore another morning." Mr. Darley groaned aloud. " Yes, I know it's awful," recommenced his com- forter, "to be took right out o' your warm bed as it might be, and buried up in the cold ground. It makes a body's flesh creep to think on't ; now don't it? But then it's what we've all got to come to. There ain't no gittin' red on't, do what you will. It's her turn to- day, and it may be your'n or mine to-morrow. It's an awful judgment, sartain." During this speech Dora had stood motionless, her eyes fixed, half in horror, half in surprise, upon her aunt's face. When she had done, she came up to her father, and putting her arms about his neck, said softly, — " It won't be mother that will die and be buried up in the ground, father dear. It will only just be her body, THE DAUGHTER OF THE EEGIMEXT. 39 and her soul is going to live in heaven with Jesus. And if we do just as well as ever we can, we shall go there too, when God is willing to let us, and perhaps see her again." " Child, who told you this? " asked the father, hoarsely. " Mother told me ; and it is all true, every word of it, for she read it out of the Bible to me," said Dora, triumphantly. Mr. Darley, without uncovering his face, laid one arm about the child's waist. It was the first time that Dora remembered such an act ; for besides her own shy and reserved habits, she had for a year or tAvo plainly shown by manner, if not by words, her shame and indignation at her father s intemperate and violent habits. Occasionally, too, he had ill-treated her mother, when angry and intoxicated ; and this was something that Dora could scarcely endure in silence. Mr. Darley had seen and resented this silent protest on the part of his ovra child, and after a while the father and daughter had come to have as little as possible to do with each other. Xow, however, all this was forgotten in the common sorrow that had fallen upon them ; and as Dora felt her father's arm about her waist, she drew his head upon her bosom, and kissed his forehead. Mrs. Wilson's harsh voice indignantly interposed. " Well, brother, I must say, if you're going to let a saucy young one like that teach you religion, you're a 40 DOHA DARLIXG. bigger fool than I take you for. My sakes ! I'd like to catch one of my gals speaking up to me the way she's done ever since I stepped my foot inside o' that door. She's reg'lar spilte, that child is ; an' I guess you'll find your hands full when you come to have her on 'em all alone." At this moment the feeble voice of the invalid was heard calling Dora, and the child sprang away to obey the summons. CHAPTER V. After supper, Mrs. Wilson said that she must go home for a while, but would come back and stay the nin-ht with her sister-in-law, who, she again prophesied, o might " drop off most any minute." No one opposed her departure. In fact, Dora and Tom watched it with silent joy, while their father hardly noticed it. So soon as the evening work was done, the children went in to sit with their mother. Mrs. Darley seemed very much better. Her cheeks burned with a hectic color, and her eyes were bright with fever. She felt strong enough to sit up in her bed with pillows behind her, and Tom rather boisterously expressed his delighted belief that she was " going to get smart again right off." Dora said nothing, but her face was very pale, her eyes very large and bright, her lips very firmly shut. She had watched the different stages of her mother's disease, too narrowly to be deceived. Nor did Mrs. Darley herself believe for a moment that this sudden rally was other than a fatal symptom. She knew that her hour had come, and she was ready to meet it with 4 * (41) 42 DOE A DARLIXGr Christian hope and trust. But she was very glad that this temporary strength had been given her, for she had many things to say to her children, and had feared that she should not be able. She spoke first to them of the subjects most important at all times, and now naturally uppermost in her own mind. She tried her very best to make them feel that the approaching change she was to undergo was neither a misfortune nor a punishment, but a sure and blessed change from a world of sin and sorrow to one all joy and peace, for such as were fitted for it. She spoke long and earnestly upon these matters, and neither of her young hearers ever quite forgot the solemn and beautiful truths she uttered. But the mother did not forget that she was to leave her children in this Avorld, perhaps for many years, and she desired to point out for them that path through its perils that seemed to her the safest." "Is the door closed, Tom?" asked she, hesitatingly, after a short silence. " Yes, mother," said the boy. " I have been thinking, Tom, that when I am gone, and when your father knows that Uncle Pic is gone for always, he will very likely enter the army." "Perhaps so, mother," said Tom, leaning his arm against the wall, and hiding his face upon it. " Perhaps he will want you to go too, my dear boy, THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 43 and I have always taught you to obey your father above all things, except to obey God." " I know it, mother," sobbed poor Tom. " And I say the same now," continued the mother, feebly, for her strength was failing. " But O, my dear boy, I cannot bear to think of your joining these rebels. Remember that I was a New England girl. I lived for twenty years among free men, and I have never learned to love slavery. " I have a sister — at least I had ; but it is a great many years since I heard from her. In fact, I never had but one letter, and that was just after I came here. I cried so much over that, and was so homesick for Aveeks after- wards, that I think your father destroyed any others that came. At least, I wrote and wrote, and never got an answer. I never dared write to my father, for Lucy told me how terribly angry he was when I ran away. But, Tom, if you and Dora could go to her, I know she Avould give my children a home, and put you both in the way of doing something better than to fight for a re- bellion. '• That letter, Dora, is in my bureau drawer, at the bottom of the little box where I keep my trinkets. All that I have of such things, dear, are yours now. Take the letter, and keep it. Perhaps some day it will help you to find your aunt Lucy. I cannot tell either of you to leave your father, if he will keep you with him ; but YOU know now what I wish. 44 DOHA DAELING: " I had rather, Tom, that you died fighting for freedom, than lived and rose to the highest rank in the rebel army. "Dora, comfort and darling of my life, I could die content if I only knew that you would grow up in the home of a good and pious New England woman, such as I am sure my sister is. " Now kiss me, my darlings, kiss me once again, — and once again, — and then ask your poor father to come in and see me, while you stay out there. And, Dora, if aunt Wilson comes back, ask her to please to sit down with you a little while. I want to see father all alone." The children obeyed, and for the next hour no sound was heard in the kitchen except Tom's heavy sobs, as he lay stretched upon the settle, crying out his last boy's tears, the loud ticking of the clock, and the low murmur of voices from the bedroom. Up and down the kitchen softly paced Dora's little figure, her face white as ashes, except where dark rings had formed beneath her eyes, her hands knotted and twisted in each other, her lips pressed firmly together, her unswerving gaze bent steadily before her. It was a dumb anguish, as rare as strange in a child's heart, or on a child's face. Thus did Mrs. Wilson find her when she returned, and even her coarse nature recoiled from a grief so terrible and so uncomplaining. She went softly towards the bedroom door. Dora THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 45 interposed, and pointing to a chair, said, in a low, strange voice, — " Mother is talking with father, now. Please to sit down until he comes out. She said so." Mrs. Wilson silently obeyed, and taking out a spotted red and white cotton pocket handkerchief, she began to cry in a snuffling, demonstrative manner. So passed another hour, and then Mr. Darley opened the bedroom door, and said, in a choked voice, — " Come, children ; come sister : she's going." Midnight closed the scene. A mortal had died to earth, an an^el been born to heaven. CHAPTER VI. The day after Mrs. Darley's funeral, her sister-in-law made her ajopearance at the farm-house with a mind made up to business. " Well, John," began she, as soon as the preliminary greetings were over, " Cephas says you told him this morning you was going to enlist. Is that so? " " "Well, yes, I think some of it," said Mr. Darley, slowly. " You see Picter's gone." " Hain't you never heerd nothing from that nigger? " asked Mrs. Wilson, indignantly. " No ; nor I don't expect to," returned her brother, concealing what he really did know, from an instinctive desire to avoid the comments Mrs. Wilson would be sure to make upon his wife's conduct. " H'm. Run away, I suppose," suggested the lady. " Like enough it was he helped off that Yankee officer that they was looking for round here. Joe Sykes said all along he knew 'twas him that he see cutting acrost from the barn to the house here. On'y Mary was so sick that day that there wan't no good asking questions of her nor the gal." (46) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 47 " Yes, we'd something else to care for, before anothei morning, than Yankees or niggers either," said Darley, gloomily. " But," pursued Mrs. Wilson, " that ain't what we was saying. If you've made up your mind to jine the army, what you going to do with the children ? " " Well, I've thought about that too," returned her brother ; " and I've concluded to take Tom along with me. He's sixteen years old, I believe, and as stout and handy as any man. He'll do first rate, and I shall keep him under my own hand." "But the gal, brother ? " " Well, I some thought of asking you to take her, Polly. She's smart as a steel trap, and can earn her salt anywheres — " " She's too smart for me by half," broke in Mrs. Wil- son. " A sassier young one I never did see ; but it's partly the fault of her bringing up, and she hadn't ought to be give over without a try. I expected you'd say just w^hat you have said, John ; and I'll tell you plain just what I've made up my mind to do. '• I ain't a going to have no half-way works noAv. I ain't a going to have the gal come to my house to be company, and set with her hands in her lap all day. Nor I ain't a going to have her, at the fust quick word, fly up into my face like a young wildcat. Nor yet I ain't going to have her, just as I've got her broke in and trained 48 DOnA DARLING: some, go kiting off to live long o' some one else, whether it's you or another. " Now, what I'll do is this. I'll take the child, and treat her just 'xactly like my own gals from fust to last ; and I shall have just the same power over her as I have over them. I'll do well by her, and I'll make her do well by me, if I know myself." " Well, sister, that's a good offer, and I thank you kind for it, I'm sure," began Mr. Darley ; but his sister interrupted him. " Wait a bit," said she, dryly ; " I ain't one of them as does something for nothing, quite. It's a resky busi- ness and a costly business, this bringing up a gal, and doing for her, and I'm a poor woman. But if you'll give me your house'l stuff to boot, and Mary's clothes and fallals, why, I'll say done." "You mean all that's in the house here?" asked Darley. " Yes ; 'tain't much, nor 'twouldn't fetch much at auc- tion, 'specially these times ; but some of it'd come awful handy over to our house, and some on't I could store away against the gals get merried. Dora'U come in for - her full share, you may depend." "Yes, she'd ought to do that," said Mr. Darley, re- luctantly. " And as for Mary's clothes, why, I think the child had ought to have them, any way." " And so she shall, some of them ; but there's some THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 49 that -(vouldn't suit her no way, though they'd do fust rate for me. Men don't know nothing about sech thin^-s, and you'd better leave it all to me. I shan't wrong the gal, you may depend." " No, Polly, I don't s'pose you would. ISTobody'd be like to wrong a poor little motherless gal that was their own flesh and blood. But I'm afraid Dora'll kind o' miss home fashions. She's been used to having her own way, pretty much, here at home, especially since her mother's been laid up." ** Yes ; and in another year she'd ha' been spilte out- right. It's a chance, now, if she can be brought round." " O, I guess tain't quite so bad as that, Polly," said Mr. Darley, good-humor edly. " I guess she's a pretty good sort of a gal yet. And I ain't going to give her up neither. When my time's out I shall come and board with you. You'll agree to take me ? " "Yes, I suppose so," assented Mrs. Wilson, somewhat ungraciously. *' And if I should ever get a home again, marrying or any other way, why, I shall want her back ; and, since you're so sharp, I'll agree to let you keep all the stuff you get with her, and, maybe, give you a present to boot." " Well, we can talk about that when the time comes," said Mrs. Wilson. " It's all settled now." " Yes, I reckon," assented her brother, rather doubt- fuUy. 50 DOHA DARLIKG: At this moment a light foot came down the stairs into the kitchen, and Dora herself appeared, looking very pale and worn, but quite calm. She greeted her aunt quietly, and went about some little household matter in her usual steady manner. " Come here, my gal," said her father, holding ovt his hand. She went directly and stood beside him, her slender hand resting lightly upon his shoulder. He put his arm kindly about her. " Here's your aunt, Dora, is going to let you come and live with her, while Tom and I are gone to the war. She's going to be real good and kind to you, and you'll be the best girl that ever was to her ; now won't you, Dora?" The child's face grew paler still, and her eyes lifted themselves sharply to her aunt's face. She read there no more promise than she had expected. "How long am I to stay there, father?" asked she, moving a little closer to his side. " 0, I don't know," returned Mr. Darley, evasively. " I expect I shall stay in the army till they fight it out ; and that won't be to-morrow, nor next week." " And when you are through, you will come for me again ? " questioned Dora. Mr. Darley hesitated, and his sister answered for him, — THE DAUGHTER OF THE nEGIMEyT. 51 " Now, John, Avhat's the use of licking the devil round the stump that way? The gal might as well know fust as last that she's coming to me for good and all. Your mother's dead, Dora, and 'tain't likely your father'll be settled ag'in, — at any rate, not right away, — and he's give you to me, to do for just as if you was my own ; and that's all about it." AYithout a w^ord, Dora turned away and went into her mother's bedroom, closing and buttoning the door after her. There, all alone, upon the bed where her dear mother had died, she silently wept the first tears she had shed since that loss came upon her. But hers were not the tears that soften and comfort tender hearts ; they were bitter, despairing, tears, and they left her who shed them determined and desperate. " I was afraid she wouldn't like it," said Mr. Darley, in a tone of regret, when he was alone with his sister. " Temper, that's all," replied Mrs. Wilson, sharply. •• She's spilte, and that's all that's to be said. But she'll come to after a while, when she finds she can't help herself." "Maybe; but you ain't going" to be ha'sh with the child, Polly. I won't have that," said the father, anx- iously. " Don't you worry. I shan't eat her up, you needn't believe," snified the indignant matron ; and Mr. Darley tried to think all was satisfactorily arranged. CHAPTER VII. A FEW weeks more, and Mr. Darley's arrangements for selling liis farm and stock had been made, and lie had enlisted with his son in the rebel army. Tom had not forgotten his mother's last wishes ; but although he was extremely fond of her, and had been very much affected by her death, he still secretly held the idea common to the class of men with whom he had been bred, that a woman's opinions upon matters of public interest were hardly worth the attention of the sterner sex, and were necessarily feeble and one-sided. He did not now express this opinion to Dora, through respect for his mother's memory ; but she perceived that he still held it, and was secretly indignant with him for do- ing so. Then, Tom had his father's direct command to oppose to his mother's conditional wishes, and she had distinctly said that she would not have him disobey his father ; but perhaps more than all the rest, Tom, who was as ardent and as ignorant a politician as most lads, sided strongly, in his own mind, with the secessionists. Part of all this argument in favor of, enlisting beside 52 THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 53 his father, the boy repeated to his sister as they were returning from a long Sunday afternoon walk a few days before the sale of the old home. Dora listened attentively, and without interruption, till he had finished. Then she said, — " Well, Tom, you must do as you like, or rather as you think you ought to, and I shall do the same." " What do you mean, Dora? What can you do except to stay quiet with aunt Wilson till we get back ? " " I don't think I shall stay with aunt Wilson a great while," said Dora, quietly. " But you must, poor little Do," said her brother, compassionately. '' I don't suppose it will be very jolly, and I'm afraid you'll miss the old home a good deal. But you stay quiet, like a good girl, ^11 I get back, and if aunt Wilson don't treat you well, I'll — " He paused a little, doubtfully, and a quick smile shot across the little pale face beside him. " What will you do to aunt Wilson if she don't treat me well? " asked Dora, merrily. " Well, I can't do much to her, maybe, but I'll give her boy Dick the darnedest licking he ever got in his life, I'll be bound." Dora laughed outright. " You dear old Tom," said she, " and what good would that do me ? Do you think aunt would treat me any the better for it ? '* 5* 54 DORA DAELIXG: " Well, it would do me some good if it didix't you," muttered Tom, half ashamed of his comical threat. " No, dear Tom," continued Dora, while the smile died off her face, and gave place to the look of patient sternness, if it may so be called, that was fast becoming habitual to it ; " such ways as that are only good to laugh about. But I know just as well as I want to thai I shan't be able to live at aunt Wilson's, though I'm going to try a little while, because it's father that's put me there. And if I find that I can't stand it — " " Well, what will you do then, poor little girl? " asked Tom. " I don't just know myself," said Dora, thoughtfully ; " and if I did, I don't think I should tell you, because you might try to stop me ; but I shall contrive some way or other to get to Massachusetts, and find mother's sister that she told us of." "Aunt Lucy? Yes, I remember. Did you find the letter mother told about ? " " No ! " exclaimed Dora, indignantly. " Aunt Wil- son went and took all the things out of the drawers the very day after the funeral ; and I suppose she read the letter, and then burnt it up, for when I asked her about it she wouldn't tell me, nor she wouldn't let me look among mother's things. She has taken all that was in the bureau, and carried it off to her own house." "What, to keep?" THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 55 " I suppose SO. She told me everything that was in the house was hers now, and I had no more right to meddle with anything than any one else had." " But mother said that all she had was yours ! " ex- claimed Tom, indignantly. " I know it. I don't care for clothes, nor ribbons, and such things ; but I should have liked to have them be- cause they were mother's, and I dare say I should have given almost all of them to aunt. I would only have cared to keep the things I have seen mother wear most. But now I haven't anything at all to call my own." " It's awful mean, and I ain't going to stand it," said Tom, wrathfuUy ; " I'll talk to father about it." " No, Tom, there's no use in that. Father knows, and he thinks it's all right, or else he can't help it. He couldn't do anything, and there's no good in getting him into a quarrel with aunt Wilson. Don't worry. I shall take care of myself some way. I'm used to it, you know. As for the things, I don't care much ; but I wish I could get hold of that letter." " O, Ma'am Spite burnt it up, I reckon, just because she thought you'd like to have it." At this moment the children reached home, and the conversation ended. A few days after, the farm and stock were sold at auction, and Mr. Darley, with Tom, set out for the town of Monterey, where he intended volunteering. 66 DORA DAELIXG: Dora went home with her aunt, who had caused all the furniture of the Darley homestead to be removed to her own house, where, as she had said to her brother, it added very much to the somewhat scanty comfort of her arrangements. For a day or two matters went very peacefully, Mrs. Wilson, feeling, perhaps, some touch of pity for the moth- erless child, forbore to press her either with labor or discipline ; and Dora, on the other hand, exerted herself to do all she could, and in the way that she supposed most likely to be agreeable to her aunt. But at last came Monday, that terrible day to the households of short-tempered wives who have their own work to do. Jane and Louisa, Mrs. "Wilson's daughters, always cased themselves, upon Monday morning, in a triple armor of sullen endurance and covert opposition to their mother's tyranny, promising themselves and each other to escape from it at the very earliest opportunity. On this particular Monday Mrs. Wilson contrived to make herself more disagreeable and oppressive than usual. Nothing done by Jane, Louisa, or Dora was well done. Each in turn found herself reproached with laziness, stupidity, and that most comprehensive of household crimes, called " shiftlessness." The daughters, well hardened to this periodical out- pouring of sentiment, bore it, as usual, in sulky silence, varied with gestures, glances, muttered comments, and THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT, 57 when their mother was absent, with open expressions of discontent and rebellion. But Dora, accustomed to her own mother's mild and affectionate rule, to commands so gentle that they seemed like requests, and to an authority as undoubted as it was unobtrusive, looked on at her aunt's domestic manage- ment with undisguised astonishment, merged in silent but indignant protest as she found herself becoming an equal sharer with her cousins in their mother's abuse. She Avas silent, to be sure, and, as the day passed on, grew still more so ; nor did she join in any of the muti- nous gestures and whispered comments that sufficed for the relief of the other girls ; but one accustomed to her face and manner would have read in the kindling eyes, pallid cheeks, and rigid mouth a gathering storm, wheth- er of grief or anger, as much beyond the usual scope of a twelve years' temper as was the power of concealing it. Evening came. Jane and Louisa cleared away the supper dishes, and put the cheerless kitchen to rights, while Dora, under her aunt's supervision, folded and sprinkled the clothes. A large sheet came under the child's hands, and rather than ask help of her aunt, who had left her for a moment, she attempted to fold it alone, succeeding, as she thought, very well ; but just as she was laying it in the basket Mrs. Wilson returned, and catching it out again, flung it on the taL'le. 58 DORA DARLING: *' What sort o' way to fold ?. sheet's that? " asked she, contemptuously ; " you're so plaguy smart I s'pose you couldn't wait for me to take holt o' the end, and so ye just wabbed it up any way, to call it dbne. I don't think much o' slickin' over Avork that way. It's my fashion to go through it." Dora made no reply ; but as her aunt unrolled, with a jerk, the smoothly folded sheet, she took hold of one end, and helped to refold it. This was nearly done, when, with a snap and a jerk, intended to straighten it, Mrs. Wilson twitched the sheet out of Dora's hands, and it fell upon the dii'ty floor between them. " You great fool !" shouted Mrs. Wilson ; and catch- ing up the sheet with both hands, she struck Dora a swinging blow with it in her face. " Ye did that o' purpose, ye know ye d^'d, 'cause you was mad at having to fold it over." " I did not," said Dora's voice, in an ominous tone, while her eyes were raised steadily to her aunt's face. " Say I lie, do ye ! " screamed the angry woman. "You impudent trollop, I'll teach ye to sarce me that way. You open your head agin, an' see if ye don't get fits." To this Dora made no reply in words, but her looks were too expressive to be misunderstood, and her aunt, after a moment's pause, continued, — " Now I ain't a goin' to have ye stand there lookin' as THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 59 if ye'd eat me up. I can tell ye what it is, miss, the best thing for you to do is to go right ter work and unlarn all them pretty Avays ye've been brought up in. They won't set well here, I can tell ye. Yer mother was as weak as water, and as silly about you as a hen with one chick ; but I ain't no sech a fool." " My mother was not a fool, nor silly, nor weak. You don't know anything about her, and I wish you wouldn't talk about her," said Dosa, firmly and quietly. " Hity-tity, ma'am ! " cried Mrs. Wilson, furiously. " Do ye know who yer talkin' to? Do ye see that 'ere stick over the fireplace ? Well, I can tell ye now that you and it will be like to git putty well acquainted be- fore many more minits, ef ye don't down on yer knees and beg my pardon. Tell ye what, gal, I'm bound to tame ye down ; that's partly what I took ye for, and it's jest as well to begin now as any time. We'll soon see, miss, who's the boss o' this shanty." " I'll bet my money on the old gray mare; "Will anybody bet on the filly ? " sang Dick Wilson, a lad of eighteen, who, being now too big to be beaten by his mother, revenged himself by inso- lence for the injustice and tyranny she had exercised over his childhood. The sins of the parents are, indeed, visited on the chil- dren ; but also they rebound heavily to punish the source .whence they came. 60 DOE A DARLIXG: " You, Dick, clear out o' this. Clear, I say, or I'll scald ye, same 's I would a dog," screamed Mrs. Wilson. " Don't ye git riled, old lady. Tain't good for yer stummick," drawled Dick, without rising. " And as for Do, I reckon you'd better let her alone. She ain't used to our lovin' little ways here, and tain't best ter give her too big a dose ter once. Clear, little un," continued he, pointing with his thumb to the open stairs leading to the loft where all the girls slept together. Mrs. Wilson, glaring from one to the other, remained for a moment irresolute whether to first attack son or niece ; and Dora, without waiting for her to decide, w^alked quietly across the kitchen and up the stairs, leaving mother and son to a short but spirited battle of words, ending in Dick rushing off to "the grocery" at the cross roads, declaring, as he slammed the door behind him, that he wished he could go to Bedlam to live, instead of such a house as his own. CHAPTER yill. That night, when all Avas dark and quiet, both within and without the house, a slender little figure came gliding down the stairs and across the kitchen. With a noiseless hand she slipped back the wooden bolt, unlatched the heavy door, and crept out into the starless night. It was Dora, who, Avith a little bundle of clothes in her hand, and her mother's Bible in her bosom, was leaving behind her the only home she could call her own, and going out into the wide world to seek a better one. Her future course remained perfectly undecided, ex- cept that she intended to travel Xorth as fast as possible, and hoped in some way to find out that aunt Lucy, of whom she did not even know the full name and place of abode, but whom she already loved for her mother's sake. First of all, however, she determined to go and say good by to the old house where she had been born and passed her whole life, except these last unhappy days, and also to her mother's grave. Walking hastily on, and congratulating herself upon the darkness, she soon reached the house, which was 6 (61) 62 DOE A DARLIXG: still untenanted, and sat down for a moment upon the stone step of the kitchen door where she and Tom had been used to sit and eat their supper together, through all their happy childhood. " And now he is a rebel, and gone to fight, and per- haps he will be killed," thought Dora, sadly. Presently she took the little Bible from her bosom, and kneeling upon the old step with it tightly clasped in her hands, she prayed simply and fervently to the Father of the fatherless, that he would guard her dear brother, and her father, and herself from all evil and sin, and that in his own good time he would bring them all home to live with the beloved mother who had gone before. After this, the little girl felt so much happier and safer, that she was sure there must be angels about her, sent by her heavenly Father to comfort and sustain her. "Perhaps mother herself is here," thought Dora ; and her eager eyes glanced around as if she might really see that dear face shining upon her out of the darkness. But such sights are not for mortal eyes, and Dora herself soon faintly smiled at her own fanciful hope. After a few moments she arose, and lightly kissing the closed door of the dear old home, she took up her little bundle, and went slowly down the path. Near the barn she almost stumbled over a dark figure crouching upon the ground. "Who's that?" cried she, involuntarily. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 63 " Gosh, Missy Dory, be dat you? " exclaimed a well- known voice, as the figure straightened itself, as far as was possible. " Picter ! Why, Picter, can it be you ? " " Me mysel', missy, an' proper glad to see lilly missy agin," replied the negro, warmly. " Well, but, Uncle Pic, how came you here, and where are you going ? " " Ps tell you all 'bout it, missy, fas' I can, for 'twon't do fer me to stay long in dese yer diggins. Ps come out on furlough, as we calls it in de army." " O, you're in the army, then?" asked Dora, with a roguish smile. " Yes, missy, I is. An' you see we's in camp jes' now, 'bout fifty mile from here, an' gwine ter stop a spell. We's moved furder off dan we was when me an' de captin got back, and so I t'ou't 'fore we moved on agin, Pd borry a boss, and come back to de ole place for sumfin' dat I forgot dat mornin'. An' so yer mammy's dead, poor lilly missy ? " " Yes, Picter. How did you know? " " Lor, missy, Ps seen some of our folks 'bout here, an' got all de news. An' I was gwine ter try fer ter see you 'fore I wented back, 'cause I t'ou't mabbe you wa^n' jist happy down dere, an' I was gwine to see if ole Picter, that yer mammy gib his freedom to, couldn' do sumfin* 'bout it." 64 DORA DARLING: " I am not living at aunt Wilson's now," said Dora, quietly. " I have left there." " Lef ' dah ! An' whar's ye gwiue, missy?" asked Picter, in much astonishment. '' I don't know. Only I am going North, where my mother's folks live. Perhaps I shall find some of them." " Yer pore lilly gal ! " exclaimed Pic, with a world of tender pity in his coarse voice. " Why don't you come with me, Picter? " asked Dora, suddenly, as the idea flashed upon her mind. " You want to go to the Korth, of course, and very likely, when I find my aunt, she will take you to live with her, too. Won't that be nice ? " " But, lilly missy, how's we gwine fer ter find yer aunty ? Do ye know whar she live ? " "No, Picter, nor I don't know her name, except Lucy ; but I guess she lives in Massachusetts. She used to when mother was married." Epictetus pondered the proposition with a gi-avity worthy of his namesake. At last he spoke, as one who has made up his mind : — " Lilly missy, ter go an' look in a big place, like Mas- serchusetts, for a woman named Lucy, 'ould be jis' like looking in the mowin' for las' year's snow. 'Twouldn't be no use, no how. But now yer wait a minit, an' Pll tell yer how we'll fix it. " Dese yer sojers dat Ps wid, come from de Norf, THE DAUGHTEE OF THE REGIMENT. 65 an' some of 'em from Masserchusetts. De eap'n dat was to our house dat morning, lie's a Masserchusetts man, an' come down here with one of dere regiments, but when de oders went home, he stopped, an' has been fighting 'long o' dese yer fellers. " Now, missy, yer come 'long back wid me to de camp, an' I'll take keer on ye dere whiles we stop, an' w'en dey goes jSTorf, w'y, we'll go 'long too. What yer tink o' dat yer for an ole nig's plan, now? " " That will do, Picter, very well, I should think," said Dora, composedly. " When shall we go ? " " Right off, now, lilly missy. 'T won't do fer dis chile to be cotched in dese diggins, as I said afore. Tell trufe, lilly missy, I only come fer de ole stockin'." " What old stocking? " asked Dora, wonderingly. " ^'jy n^issy, de ole feller has been pickin' up de coppers ebery chance he gQi^ dis many a long year, an' t'ought one dese yer fine days mabbe mas'r take 'em all an' gib him his freedom. Den, when mist's say, ' Go, ole Pic,' all to a sudden t'oder day, ebery ting seem turned upside down, and de silly ole nig scamper off widout so much as tink 'bout de ole stockin' hangin' up in de barn." " And so you came back to get it? " asked Dora, rather impatiently, for she longed to begin her journ#y. "Yis, missy, I's come back fer get it; dat part my arrant, to be sure. Bud den, 'sides dat, I wanted know how lilly missy gittin' 'long, an' wedder de coppers 6* QQ DORA DARLING: 'ould do some good to she. 'Cause, missy, w'en mist's gib me my freedom right out o' han', it 'ould look orful mean fer me to carry off all de coppers, too, and neber ax wedder lilly missy could help herse'f some way wid dem." " O, thank you, Uncle Pic," exclaimed Dora, hastily. " But of course I would not for the world take one of them away from you. And how did you know, before you came, that I was at aunt Wilson's ? " " Lor's, missy, 'twas passed along to me, same as all de news is." "But how, Picter?" " Well, missy, de col'ud folks dey don't hab no news- papers nor books, so dey takes a heap o' pains to git de news roun' by word o' mouf. Dey meets nights, an' dey tells eberyt'in' dey know, an' dey has ways, missy, heaps o' ways. Bud now Ps all ready for travellin' ef you is." " I am in a great hurry to start, Pic." " Sho ! be you, lilly missy? Den Ps mos' afeard you has'n' be'n ober an' above contented to your aunty's. Pore lilly lamb. Well, ole Pic's gwine ter see ter ye now, an' dere shan't nebber no one take ye away from him without you says so you'se'f. Xow I jes' go to de barn a minit, an' git my lilly bundle, an' den we goes." Picter stole cautiously away through the darkness, and Dora strained her eyes to distinguish once more the dim outline of her old home vaguely drawn against the gloomy THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIME XT. 67 sky. The night wind moaned drearily around its gables, and a ■svliip-poor-will perched upon the tree that swept the roof to chant his mournful cry. Dora shivered nervously, and murmured, " This isn't home any longer, and aunt's house isn't either. I haven't any home, now ; but the Lord and mother will take care of me just the same — so I don't care." " H'yar we be, missy," whispered Picter's hoarse voice, as he rejoined his new charge. " Now we's all ready to put, I reckon." " Do you know the way. Pic, w^hen it's so dark?" " jSTeber you fear fer dat, missy. De ole nig fin' he way 'bout, ef it be darker dan ten black cats shuck up in one bag. Den, back here a piece I's got a boss, a fus' rater, too, dat dey lend me up to de camp. De cap'n tell 'em trust de ole nig same as dey would hese'f." "Do you mean the captain that was at our house?" asked Dora, who was now tripping along beside the old negro in the direction of the mountains. '• De berry same, missy. He name Cap'n Windsor — Charley Windsor. Don' you min' he tole us ter call 'im Cap'n Karl? Dat de same name as Charley." " Yes ; and I was real glad afterwards that I didn't know his true name, for they asked me, you know." "No, I didn't know 'bout dat. I heerd dat dey got wind roun' here dat a Yankee officer got away, an' dey was rampin' roun' like mad, lookin' fer 'ira ; an' ole raas'r was some 'spected, I heerd." G8 DOE A DAELIXGt " Father suspected ! Why, he brought Joe Sykes and some other men to our house to look, and to ask mother and me questions." " Yes, yes, chile, I knows all 'bout dat. Dem fellers is part ob de Wigilance Committee, an' mas'r had to fotch 'em to he house wedder he like it or not. Den dey tole him he'd better 'list after mist's died, an' so he did." " And did you hear all that before you came back? " " Not all, missy. I seed a boy las' night, Av'en I was comin' dis way, dat telled me part. He b'longs to one o' dem "Wigilances, an' so heerd de whole story." " Poor father ! " murmured Dora. " Well, missy, I reckon he didn' want much drivin' to go inter de army. He used ter talk 'bout it by spells, an' say he'd a mind fer ter go." " Yes, I know it," said Dora, sadly. " Golly ! How dark he am here 'mong de hills. Can't hardly make out de way, now we's lef de road, but reckon we's right so fer," muttered Pic. " Where are we going first, Picter? Where shall we find the horse ? " asked Dora, a little anxiously. " Fin' 'im in he paster, missy. I lef 'im dah as snug as a bug in a rug, an' de Bible say, * Safe bind, safe find ; ' so I boun' him safe 'nouf, I tell ee." " O, no, Picter, that isn't in the Bible," said Dora, quite scandalized at the idea. "Ain't it, now, missy? Well, I heern mist's say so THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 69 one day, an' I t'oii't she alluz talk out o' de 'Bible. Any- ways, dem's good words, else she wouldn't say dem." To this Dora made no reply, and Picter was now too deeply engrossed in making out their path among the rocks, fallen trees, hillocks, and ravines of the mountain side, to continue the conversation. Nearly an hour had passed, and the little girl was be- coming quite tired, when Picter stopped short at the foot of a large oak tree, and said, triumphantly, — " Here we is. Missy Dora." " Where ? I don't see anything but trees, Picter." " No more you wouldn' if 'twas cl'ar as noonday, honey ; an' now, you couldn' see de king's palace ef 'twas straight afore ye. Bud dis chile knows all 'bout it." While speaking, the negro had been carefully removing some brush and broken branches, which, had it been li<^ht enough to see them, would have appeared to have naturally drifted in between the old oak and a high cliff of mingled rock and gravel just behind it. Under these appeared a large round stone, lying as it might have lain ever since it first became loosened from the face of the cliff in some frosty spring, and rolled to its present position. But Picter, after casting a searching look into the darkness surrounding him, applied his strength to this rock, and soon displacing it, showed that it acted as cover to the mouth of a tunnel perhaps two feet in diameter, penetrating the face of the cliff at an acute angle. 70 DORA DARLIXG: '' TThy, hoW came that hole there, and where does it go to ? " asked Dora, in astonishment. " He come dere trew much tribberlation an' hard work, an' he go to de Ian' o' promise. A kin' ob a short cut ter freedom, dis yer is," returned Pic, cheerfully. " Now, den, gib us you lilly paw, missy." Dora, without hesitation, put her hand in that of Pic- ter, who, after lifting her over the brush and the rock, set her down at the entrance to the tunnel. " Dere, missy, git down on you ban's an' kneeses, an' creep right frew. Ps comin' right arter, soon's I fix up de brush an' stuff fer ter hide de op'nin'. Has ter be mighty keerful 'bout dat." With fearless obedience, Dora did as directed, and crept forward some feet into the tunnel, where she paused until the negro had arranged the disguises of his curious refuge to his mind. " Dere, honey," said he, at length, " now we's all right, I reckon. You jis' go ahead till you gits to de end ob dis yer hole. 'Tain't so mighty long, arter all, an' de Ian' ob promise is waitin' fer us at t'oder end." The child made no reply. Indeed, the close air and heavy darkness of the place rendered the mere act of breathing a difficult one, and she had neither strength nor courage for speech. Keeping on as she was told, it was not many minutes, however, before a waft of fresher air touched her panting THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIME XT. 71 lips, and presently a dim light, at some distance in front, refreshed her aching eyes. Still creeping forward, she came at last to the end of the tunnel, and rising cautiously to her feet, stood beneath the sombre sky in what ap- peared to be a small, deep valley surrounded on every side by overhanging cliffs. " Here we be, missy ! " exclaimed Picter, exultantly, as he stood beside her. " Xow gib me you han' again, an' I'll fotch you to de cabin." Putting her hand in his, Dora was silently led across a little space of gi-ass, to where, beneath the impending brow of one of the crags, a rude hut had been constructed of boughs and small trunks of trees. The door was closed, but yielded to Pic's hand. " Dere's nobbuddy here. Reckon Scip's gone right 'long," muttered he, leading in his little companion, and carefully closing the door behind them. " Xow you set right down on dis yer log, missy, an' w^e'm hab a fire an' suffin' to eat 'fore you kin say Jack Robberson," continued he, cheerily ; and Dora, tired, faint, and somewhat frightened at her strange situation, obeyed without a word. Groping his way to the fireplace at the back of the hut, the negro drew together some half-burned brands, added to them from a pile of brush at the side of the fire- place, lighted them with a match from his pocket, and soon had a cheery fire crackling up the chimney. 72 DORA BARLING: " De smoke goes ofF in de cracks ob de rocks some way. You can't neber see it f'um below," explained be, turning round to look at Dora, who sat huddled up in the spot where she had first sunk. " Pore lilly missy. You's all beat out, an' yore cheeks is as white as you' ban's. Come right up to de fire an* warm ye, honey. You's awful tired now, isn' you?" " A little tired. Uncle Pic. But I shall soon be rested now. What a funny sort of place this is ! " " I'll bet you 'tis, missy. To-morrer we'll look roun' an' see it. Now, here's some beef an' some bread I lef ' here w'en I corned along. Dem's Yankee vittles, missy. Tell yoii^ dis chile neber tasted nuffin' sweeter dan de first mou'ful of Yankee beef, dat he eat in de Union camp." " And I shall like it, too, Picter," said Dora, earnestly ; " for Pm going to be a Yankee all the rest of my life, after once we get among them." " Dat right, honey ; you an' Pic cl'ar Yankee f'um dis minit. Now, chile, here's you bed in dis corner, an' here's de bery branket dat mist's gib to Cap'n Karl dat mornin' all handy fer ter wrop ye up. " Now, missy, you 'member dat it tells in de Bible 'bout how you mus' heave you corn-dodgers inter de water, an' arter a while dey'll turn up loaves ob w'ite bread if so be as you has bin good to dem dat stood in need o' kin'ness." " I guess you mean, ' Cast thy bread upon the waters, THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 73 and after many days it shall return to thee again ' — don't you?" asked Dora, doubtfully. "Mabbe de words is fix some sich way ; but I's got de meanin' fus' rate, 'cause mist's tole me all 'bout it ; an' now see, honey, how it's come true 'bout dis yer branket. Mist's had lots on 'em, an' 'twan't no more dan a corn- dodger fer her ter gib ; bud now it's come back to her darter w'en she hain't got no oder mortial rag fer ter wrop herse'f in, an' now it's ekill to a thumpin' big loaf o' w'ite bread." Dora laughed at this queer Scripture reading, and wrapping herself in the blanket, lay down upon her leafy bed, where soon she slept as soundly and as sweetly as if she had still been beneath her father's roof. As for Picter, he curled himself up almost in the fire- place, and soon snored portentously. CHAPTER IX. The next morning the weary child slept until Picter gently shook her by the shoulder, and called her to ai^&e. " O, good morning, Uncle Pic," said she, smiling, as she sat up and rubbed her eyes. " Is it late? " " Well, missy, not so berry late, I reckon, dough I hasn' got my goold watch on dis mornin' ; but breaksus is all ready, an' a fus' rate one, too, honey." " Is it? What have we got? " asked Dora, merrily, as she jumped up and came towards the fire. " Mos' eberyting, honey. Fus' place dere's de soup made out o' beef an' hard tack. Dat mighty good w'en it ain't too salt ; and I's freshened my beef a heap. Den dere's taters roasted, an' dere's a hoe-cake bake, an' dere's coffee bilin', wid sugar in it." " Why, Uncle Pic, where did you get all these things ?" asked the astonished child. " Well, honey, de beef, an' de coffee, an' de sugar, I fotcht from camp, an' de taters an' de corn for de hoe- cake I 'fistercated las' night." "Did what, Pic?" " 'Fistercated, honey. Dat's a bran'-new Yankee word (74) THE DA UGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 75 dat I larn in camp. I can't zackly splain de meanin' on't, but I understands it fus' rate, an' it's an oncommon handy kin' of a word." Picter chuckled to himself as he lifted the tin kettle of soup off the fire, and Dora, giving up the attempt to understand his joke, inquired, — " Where can I wash my face, Uncle Pic? " " Dere, now," cried the negro, in a sort of delighted admiration, " dat's what I calls de effec' ob a good eddi- cation. Here dis bressed lamb gits up in de mornin', an' wot does she ax fer fust? Her breaksus? Not a bit on't. She axes fer water to wash her purty lilly face. Now dat cl'ar buckra. De nigger picaninnies isn't up to dat," " Why, Uncle Pic, don't you always wash your face in the morning ? " " Alluz, alluz, chile— Ven it handy, an', when I tink ob it, an' de water ain't too cole, an' I ain't too much druv up. Bud now I 'spec you an' you mammy wash 'um face ebery single day." " Why, yes, of course, Picter. I thought everybody alive did." " Bress de pore lilly child ! An' she wor gwine all 'lone to look fur aunt Lucy in de Norf, and didn' know no more 'bout de worl' dan dat ar. Well, well, de Bible say dat Hebbenly Marster takes keer to temper de win' to de shorn lamb, an' I spec he will to dis one." 76 DORA DAELIXG' " I don't think that's in the Bible, Pic," said Dora, doubtfully. " Lors, chile, dere's no sasserfying ye, ye're so ciirus," retorted Pic good-naturedly. " But you come long o' me, missy, an' PU show you de baf-room." Taking the coffee-pail off the fire, lest it should boil over in his absence, Picter led the way out into the open air. Looking about her with some curiosity, Dora saw that she was, as she supposed, in a very deep and narroAv valley, hardly more, indeed, than a deep cleft near the summit of a mountain. A narrow strip of verdure ran through it ; at one end was the opening through which they had entered, and at the other was the only break in the rocky wall that rose around it to a height of from twenty to fifty feet. This break, or, as it may more properly be described, this slight division between two toppling crags, served as a loophole from whence the fugitives might command a very extended view of the sur- rounding country. At their feet arose a little bubbling spring, which, after filling its deep, rocky basin, sparkled away in a stream, that, after a course of only a few feet, fell over the edge -of the precipice, which seemed to have yawned asunder to allow it room to pass. Looking carefully down the dashing little waterfall, Dora saw that some twenty feet below her lay another little glen, similar in size and shape to that where she THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 77 stood. Through this the waters of the fall, collecting themselves after their leap, danced gayly along until they reached its lower end, when they made their way through another canon so narrow as to leave no room except for their bed, and so sinuous that no one standing at either end could possibly catch a glimpse of the other. The passage was further obstructed at the present time by a good-sized pine tree, which had been cut down and dragged into the bed of the stream. This little valley, thus fortified, thus watered, and well provided with herbage, was " the pasture" of which Pic had spoken when asked where he had left the horse ; and here, at the moment when Dora looked down from her mountain eyry, a fine, strong looking animal of that description was indulging in a roll upon the dewy grass by way of performing his morning toilet. " And how do we get down there. Pic? " asked Dora, after taking a long survey of the little valley, the horse, the sparkling stream, and the grand view of mountain scenery that stretched away for miles before her. " TTell, dat ruffer a bodder, missy," acknowledged Pic. " You see I t'ou't we was comin' in de same way we come out, an' den I was goin' roun' to fotch out de boss t'oder way. But now I spects we'm bof got to scrabble down behin' de fall." '^ Behind the fall ! " echoed Dora. " Yes, honey. See here, now: dere's a chance to put 7* 78 DORA DARLIXG. you foot on dis yer ledge just b'low here, an' den you stick you fin'ers an' toes in mighty tight, an' gits do^\^l to dat ar nex' one, an' den you kin' o' sidle along an' git right in 'hind de water ; an' so you keeps workin' down, one step to a time, till you lan's to de bottom. T'ink you kin do't, lilly missy ? " " Yes, I reckon I can," said Dora, bravely, though she turned a little pale as she carefully scanned the slippery and dizzy path pointed out to her. " Yer'll have to pull off yer shoe an' 'tockin', missy," resumed Pic, " an' I's 'fraid you'll git orful wet. I's mighty sorry, honey, fer to ax you ter do sich a thin', bud dere ain't no oder way." " No, I see there isn't, Picter ; and I dare say it won't be half so bad as it looks. Pll try, any way," said Dora, bravely. " Bress you heart, honey ! You jes' as brave as a lion, an' jes' as purty as a lamb ; an' now you jes' wash you lilly face here to de sprin', an ole Pic '11 go see to de breaksus." CHAPTER X. The breakfast was a merry meal, and proved excel- lent in quality. When it was finished, Dora insisted on washing the few utensils and scouring them as clean as she could, although Pic grumbled at both operations as useless labor, and added, as a final argument, — " 'Sides, dey ain't use to it, and w^'en dey gits it once dey'll olluz be spectin' ob it, an' be jes' like dat ole boss doctor's darters in de Bible, dat was olluz singin' out, ' Gib ! Gib ! ' so I spec's dere poor daddy had to go roun' nights an' pizen de bosses, so's to cure 'em up nex' day and get de pay fer doiu' it." " Why, Pic ! " exclaimed Dora, pausing in her labor upon the coffee-kettle, and looking up at the negro's grotesque face. " What makes you call it a horse doctor? It says 'horse leech' in the Bible." " Well, chile, I ax mas'r one day what a leech mean, an' he say it mean doctor ; so boss leech mean boss doctor — don' you see ? " " Why, I don't believe that is it," said Dora, medita- tively. " But, any way," continued she, shaking the heavy chestnut curls oat of her eyes, " I'll scour the (79) 80 DOJRJ DABLIXG: kettles no\v, if they cry, ' Give, give ' ever so loud to- morrow." ""Well, den, de pore ole nig mus' take holt too, I specs," said Picter, grumbling good-naturedly, as he grasped his great paw full of ashes, and began to scour lustily at the soup-kettle. " Ah, ha, Pic ! That was the real reason you thought it wasn't best for me to do them," laughed Dora ; " you didn't w^ant to help." " Well, chile, dis ole nig 'ud full as lieves rest afore de fire, an' dat's a fac', an' he kin' o' hate ter see lilly missy's pooty hands all grimmed up wid ashes an' soot, jes' like ole Dinah's. But dat all go wid w^ashin' yore face ebery mornin'. Can't be help, I specs, w'en a body has had a eddication. Dey's buckra ways, I reckons." By the time the vessels were thoroughly scoured and washed. Pic declared that it was time for dinner, and he proceeded to cook all the remainder of the provisions, that Dora and he might not only eat at that time, but have something to carry as support in the long night march before them. Dinner over, and the vessels once more cleansed and set aside, Pic suggested that they should each take a nap, and sleep, if possible, until the time should come to start upon their journey. Dora consented, and lay down upon her bed of leaves, while Picter, as before, curled himself beside the hearth, and was in a few moments fast asleep. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 81 But Dora could not so easily seize irregular repose For an hour or more she lay almost motionless, watch- ing the fitful firelight that played among the projections and recesses of the irregular walls a fantastic game of " I spy." Then the fire went down, and only curls of thin blue smoke arose from its embers. Dora softly arose, and was about to lay more wood upon the fire, when a distant sound arrested her atten- tion. It was a confused noise, and Dora could not determine whether it came from the direction of the waterfall, or the tunnel through which they had entered the valley. But it appeared to be approaching, and as any unusual sound was a subject of alarm to the fugi- tives, Dora hastened to arouse Picter. "Eh, what? Wha's *e matter, chile? Tain't time yit to be movin'. Let 'e ole feller sleep a leetly long'r," muttered the negro, lazily, as he turned upon the other side and prepared to drop off" again. "But, Picter, Uncle Pic, I say, there's something coming ; there's danger, perhaps." " Somefin' comin' ! Danger ! " repeated Picter, start- ing to his feet and rubbing his eyes. " Whar ! whar's de danger, missy? Reckon you foolin' you ole uncle, honey, ain't you ! 'Fraid he obersleep hese'f." "No, no, indeed, Picter. Just listen now — there, what is that sound in the tunnel ? " Picter now listened anxiously enough, for the sounds 82 DOHA DARLING' growing louder every minute, evidently came from the direction of the tunnel. Carefully leaving the cabin, he crossed the little glade to the entrance of the subterra- nean passage, and stood for some minutes with his neck outstretched and his ears alert, while his eyes wildly rolled first towards the hut and Dora's watchful little fio-ure standing in the doorwav, and then within the gloomv chasm at whose entrance he stood. Presently he softly entered the tunnel, and disappeared from sight. A few minutes passed, and Dora, ftlmost holding her breath from anxiety, softly approached the dark passage, and peered within. vShe saw nothing ; but in another moment Picter noiselessly crept to her side, and hoarsely whispered, — " 'Tis de Philistums, honey I Dey is upon us, an' dis ole fool 'ould ha' laid still till dey come an' cut off ebery ha'ar he's got, same's dey did to Satnson, ef 't hadu' been for lilly missy. But de wus ob de wltole is, dey's got a dog. Spec dey's been way down to Pete Flanders, and berried his'n. Dere ain't no one else 'bout here has got one — " " Xo one got a dog? " " Xot a bloodhoun', missy. Dat's what dey's got up dah. I knows his bay. It's diff'ent from any oder dog. Spec God made all de dogs, and de debil made blood- boun's. Don' know else how it happen dat he's de only one dat'll eat a nigger." THE DAUGHTER OF TEE REGIMENT. 83 " Bat, Pic, we ain't going to stay here and wait for them — are we?" said Dora, impatiently. " Come, let us go to the Avaterfall, and get out on the ledge, and then, when they are in the tunnel here, we can climb down to where the horse is, and so get off. I can climb any where that you can, I know. Come, here's the bundle of food — we must take that. "Why don't you start, Pic?" The negro looked at her with admiring wonder. " Lors, now," said he, " how many pooty lilly gals, I won'er, 'ould talk dat a way, sich a time as dis. Mos' all on 'em would screech an' holler fit to kill deyse'fs, an' let all de folks out dah know jes' who's inside here. Dis is what comes o' eddication, I reckon." " But, Pic, I say," reiterated Dora, almost angrily, " why don't you do something? " " Wy, honey, 'tain't time yet. Dat's w'y. Ef dem fools up dah sen's in de dog — golly, dey's done it a' ready." Dropping to his hands and knees, Pic began to creep up the tunnel as he spoke, and Dora followed more cau- tiously. About half way, as well as she could judge, she overtook him lying motionless and listening intently. The sounds now distinctly heard were the voices of men talking eagerly, and the occasional hoarse sound of a mufiled howl from the hound. " Dey's muzzlin' him, I 'specs dey knows you's in 84 DOE A DARLING: here, and doesn' want he should t'ar je. Dey doesn' muzzle um Ven dey's chasin' niggers," muttered Picter. "Well, what are you going to do? He'll be down here in a minute, and the men after him. Can't I do something — can't you tell me, Picter? " " Put out you han', missy. Here, dis way." Dora did as directed, and found that the tunnel be- yond Pic's position was closed by a barrier, made ap- parently of small saplings, bound together closely with withes. " But this won't stop him long," whispered she ; " he'll jump at it till he knocks it down, or at any rate till the men come up. It won't stop them." " Wait, den, honey. Feel here, now." " A rope — two ropes ! What are they for ? " " Now I'll tell you, missy. Wen dat howlin', tearin' debil up dah gets to dis gate, he'll be as mad as hops, an' he'll howl, an' yelp, an' run back'ards and for'ards. Bud dat ain't de wust dat'll happen to um ; fer w'en he begins to do dat ar', dis chile will pull de rope, jus' like um hangman pull de leetly cord dat let de drop fall, an' wow ! whar dat debil's pup fin' hese'f den ? " " Why, what will happen .to him, Pic ? " " Jes you wait a lilly minit, missy, an' you'll see," replied the negro, who had all the taste of his race for melodrama, and did not intend to spoil the gi'and " ef- fect" he was preparing, by describing it beforehand. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 85 Dora was too breathless and too excited to insist upon an explanation, and waited silently beside Pic, grasping the hurdle with one cold little hand, and listening with both her ears. The voices above, confused by the distance into one hoarse sound, reverberated sullenly along the sides of the tunnel ; but no single voice or words could be distin- guished. The hound bayed no longer, but his fierce growl was distinctly audible. All at once a sudden shout was heard, followed by a profound silence. Then came the patter of the dog's feet, mingled with exultant yelps, as he pressed forward upon the scent. He was evidently approaching fast. " Now, den, chile. Here um debil, an' hear um mas'r hangmana' ready for um," whispered Picter, hoarse- ly, as he grasped the ropes in either hand, and braced his foot against the centre of the hurdle. The hound reached the spot. He paused a moment, whining impatiently, and running from side to side. Then scenting his prey close at hand, he became furious, bounding against the gate with all his force, growling fiercely, and tearing at the ground with his paws. Through the hurdle Dora could see the red gleam of his eyeballs, and smell his fetid breath. "Dat right, you debil dog," muttered the negro, in great excitement. " Dat de w^ay to dance ; golly ! Don' dis chile want to see yer dancin' roun' in de fire down 8 86 DOnA DAnzixG: b'low dab, Avhar you's gwine ! Specs, dough , yer'll be ter home dali, 'long wid you daddy. Dat's it ! Scratch um groun' ; tear 'im wid you paw ! Don' you jes' wish 'twas ole nig you war tearin' ! Xow, den, trot back a leetly mite, take fresh start ! Dat's it ; now um time fer mas'r hangman ! He-o ! " As he uttered the last exclamation, Picter, bracing his foot afresh, pulled suddenly and strongly at the two ropes twisted about his brawny hands. A crash, a heavy fall, the rattle and plunge of an ava- lanche of stones and earth, accompanied by suffocating clouds of dust, followed the action. A yelp of agony, a smothered whine from the hound, ensued, and then all was still, and even darker than before. Picter seized Dora by the arm. and hurried her back into the open air, where they were pursued by the pun- gent dust of the earth-fall. " Dah ! Tank de Lor' dat all done safe ! " gasped Picter, as he sank upon the ^^'ithfered grass. " Xow we'm got noffin' ter do but wait till dem folks is gone, and den get out t'oder way.*' "But if they find the other way?" whispered Dora, after they were safe once more in the hut, with the door closed. " Dey won't, chile. Dey neber 'ud ha' foun' dis, on'y fer de houn'. T'oder way, de houn'couldo' help um if THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 87 dey had him, cause it's trough runnin' water. An' I reckon dat houn' won't neber t'ar down a nigger agin, not if he was clost afore 'im." "What was it, Picter? What did the ropes do?" asked Dora, with a sort of breathless terror in her voice. " Well, honey, w'en dis place was fix up fer a sort o' refuge fer us poor col'ud folks, eber so long ago, we t'aut like enough some day we might be tracked in wid houu's. An' so, in de tunnel, we fix a kin' ob trap-door ober head, wid lots o' dirt an' big stones atop, an' big sticks a holdin' it up underneaf. Den we tied ropes to de foot o' dem big sticks, an' fix de gate jes' dis side ob de trap. " So w'en I went up fiis' time, an' foun' out w'at was to pay, I jes' put up de gate, an' fotch de ends ob de ropes trew. So den, w'en de ole houn' Avor jes' about under de middle, I gib um hangman pull, an' wow ! down he come ker-smash, de trap fus', an' all de stones an' dirt atop. Reckon dat dog am flatter dan a hoe-cake 'bout dis time. Hi ! I'd like 'o look at um." " O, Picter, how can you ! " cried Dora, in horror. " Can what, missy? Kill um?" " Xo, that was all right. But to want to see him now." " W'y not den, missy. I hate um like de bery debil hese'f. I kill um ; I want ter see um dead, an' kick um a leeily bit p'raps." 88 DORA DARLIXG'. " But, Pic, how can you want to see him all mashed and mangled as he is ? O, I wouldn't look at him for a hundred dollars." "Wouldn'you now? Lors, dat kin' o' curus. Dat goes 'long wid washin' you face, and scourin' de coffee- kettle, I specs. Buckra ways, all buckra ways," said Picter, looking at Dora with the same sort of admiring wonder that he frequently displayed for her. " Well, nigger ways is good enough fer ole Pic, but he like to see bucki-a ways in lilly missy. Dat all right, I specs." " 0, yes, that's all right. Uncle Pic ; but don't you think there's any danger at all now ? " asked the child, rather anxiously. " Xo, honey. Dey couldn' fin' out de oder way, not if dey was lookin' a week ; not even if dey got inter de bosses' paster down by de waterfall, fer yer can't see noffin' w'en yer look up from de foot." " Well, then, we have only to wait till these men have gone, and it is dark." " Dat's um, honey. jSTow, s'pose yer tell ole Pic some ob dem pooty stories yer mammy use ter tell you an' Mas'r Tom in de winter ebenin's." " Well, I will. Or, Picter, wouldn't you rather have me read a little to you out of the Bible ? I have orot mother's own little Bible here in my bosom." *' Yes, missy, I like dat fus' rate. Dere ain't no stories THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 89 ekill to dem in de Bible, arter all. I like um jes' as well as fairy story." " You ought to like them better, Picter," said Dora, earnestly, "because they are all true, and it is God's own book, the Bible is." " Lors, yes, missy, I know dat. I knows heaps 'bout de Bible — lots o' pooty sayin's out obit. Read me 'bout Dan'l in de lion den, missy. Spec's dat ar houn' wus dan any dem lions. Wouldn' ha' cotcht 'im lettin' Dan'l alone ! " CHAPTER XI. "We must now go back for a few hours to the dawning of the day whose evening found Dora in the mountain cabin, reading the story of Daniel to old Pic. When Mrs. Wilson shrilly summoned her daughters to arise, she called Dora's name with tlie rest. " Dora ain't here," sleepily replied Louisa. " Ain't there ! Where is she, then ? " " I don't knoAV, Pm sure." " Don't you know, Jane ? '* " No, ma'am." " She's gone out, I reckon. The door's unbolted," suggested Sam, one of the younger boys, who had risen early to go fishing. " Gone a walkin' for her health 'fore breakfast, I reck- on,' sneered Mrs. Wilson. " Ef she ain't back pooty soon, I can tell her she'll get more Avalk than breakfast. I don't believe in no such ways." The breakfast passed, and was cleared away. Mrs. Wilson's displeasure at her niece's absence became a sort of angry alarm, as the day went on, and brought no tidings of her. Just before noon, Sam, returning from (90) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 91 his fishing, brought to his mother a little bow of cherrj- colored ribbon. '' There's the bow Dora had pinned on her gown yes- terday — ain't it? " drawled he. " Yes, I b'lieve so. Whar'd ye git it?" asked Mrs. Wilson. " In the yard of their old house. I come acrost it coming from the brook, and 'bout half way I see this in the path, and fetched it home. Ain't she got back yet?" " No," said his mother, slowly, as she stood with her eyes fixed upon the bit of ribbon. " So she went up to the old house all 'lone, 'fore light. Where'd she go next, I'd like to knoAv," said she to her- self. '' "Whar's your daddy, Sam, and whar's Dick loafing now, when he might be o' some use ? " " They're coming up to the house, ma'am, this minit, and a strange man and a big dog 'long with 'em." Mrs. Wilson peeped out at the window. "It's Pete Flanders and his hound," said she. "I s'pose dad's brought him home to dinner ; and here's the vittles won't be done this half hour. 'Clare for't, I wish Cephas 'ud let me know 'fore he brings folks home." The men now entered, and Mr. Wilson somewhat sheepishly informed his wife that Mr. Flanders would stay to dinner with them. The dame went through some form of welcome, not of 92 DORA DARLING: the heartiest, and then proceeded, with the help of her daughters, to lay the table and dish the dinner. When they were seated, she mentioned her anxiety at Dora's prolonged absence, and also the clew to her movements given by the cherry-colored bow, " "We can track her from that spot easy enough with old Vixen," said Flanders, eagerly. " The hound? But he'd hurt her," said Mrs. Wilson, dubiously. " Lord, ma'am, Ave'd muzzle him. He couldn't hurt a babby then, 'cept by knockin' of it down." " You could hold him in a leash too, last part of the way, couldn't you ? " asked Dick. " 'Course I could. The gal shan't get hurt, and per- haps we shall kill both birds with the same stone." "What two birds?" Mrs. Wilson inquired ; and her husband and his guest went on to tell her that Scipio, one of Joe Sykes's " niggers," had run away on the pre- ceding night, and that Joe had asked Mr. Wilson to go after Flanders and his dog to hunt him. Arriving at Wilson's house just at dinner time, they had stopped there first. More than this, Dick Wilson, who had been over at Mr. Sykes's house in the morning, said that one of the boys upon the place had been overheard saying to an- other that he " reckoned Scip had gone off with Pic Darley ; " but though the lad had been strictly exam- THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 93 ined, and finally put to the torture of the lash to make him confess that he had seen Picter, nothing could be extorted from him more than that he "thought like enough Pic had been round," but did not know it cer- tainly. " I never see anything like the imperdence of niggers nowadays," remarked Mr. Flanders, indignantly. " There ain't no gittin' at the truth, no how, 'thout you cut it right out o' their hides." " Golly ! I reckon you'd 'a thought Joe cut deep enough inter that boy's hide this morning, but he didn't come to the truth," drawled Dick. " That's cause there wan't no truth in him, I expect," said Louisa, with the air of one who utters a witticism. " Truth," chimed in her mother, " PU put all the truth you'll find in a nigger inter my right eye, and shan't go blind with it nuther. I never b'lieve a word they say, and I tell 'em so straight out." " It's no wonder they lie to you then," growled Dick, who was quite willing to argue against himself for the sake of opposing his mother. Dinner was now ended, and the men and dog all hur- ried away to Joe Sykes's house, to begin the exciting slave-hunt that they had prepared for. But no clew could be gained to the starting-point of the fugitive, who was, indeed, at that moment snugly concealed in the great barn, having judged it beet to 94 DOnA DABLIXG^ wait there until the pursuit, that he well knew would be vigorously conducted, should be over, and the country quiet, when he intended to steal away. This little plan it may be as well to mention, was afterwards carried out with perfect success, and the " boy " (aged about forty) escaped to the Union lines, and some time afterwards carried a musket at the battle of Milliken's Bend. The hunt, so far as he was concerned, was an entire failure ; but Mr. Flanders, determined to lose no oppor- tunity of turning an honest penny, now offered his ser- vices to Mr. Wilson at a reduced rate, for, as he face- tiously remarked, — " Chillen is alluz half price, you know." "Well, I don't suppose you'll have to ti-avel very far," replied Mr. Wilson, who Avas incapable of taking even so mild a joke as that offered by the slave-hunter. "• And if old Pic has been about, it's as likely as any way that he'd harbor at the old place ; and maybe Dora went there to meet him, and they've took off together," suggested Dick, who had been in a brown study ever since dinner-time. This idea was hailed by his companions as little short of inspiration, and Dick received various rough compli- ments upon the brilliancy and penetration of his mind. " Waal, it takes some eyesight to see inter the middle of a millstone, that's certain ; but then, when you git to THE DAUGRTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 95 thinking, why, sometimes it seems as if you could figger out most anything," returned the lad, with a modest pride, very refreshing to behold. " Waal, let's git to vrork. It'll be sundown one o' these days," interposed Flanders, who felt that his own importance must not be suffered to fade out of the public mind. The party accordingly adjourned to the spot where Sam Wilson had picked up the little bow. Here a shoe of Dora's was given the dog to smell of, and he was then laid upon the scent. This he immediately lifted, and set off at such speed that the men could hardly keep him in sight. Dick again suggested that he should be held in leash or muzzled ; but the slave-hunter objected that either of these measures would retard the chase, and that there could be no danger, as the child would not be in the open road Avithin a few miles of home. "She'll be hid up somewhere — in a cave, or up a tree, or somewheres like that, where Vixen couldn't reach her. Besides, if the nigger's with her, we don't want the hound muzzled, and Vixen wouldn't tech a white gal ; she knows better'n that, 'specially when there's nigger to be got. She's trained fust rate, that dog is, though I say it as shouldn't say it," said Mr. Flanders, modestly. " Well," retorted Dick, drawing a revolver from his 96 DORA DAIiLIXG: breast pocket, " all I've got to say is, that I'm going to keep at that dog's heels, and if he offers to touch Dora, supposing we find her, I shall just put a bullet through his head for you." " Reckon you'd better not do that, young man, 'thout you've got fifty dollars in your other pocket. That dog ain't to be shot for nothing." " Nor my cousin ain't going to be worried like that poor wench of Sykes's that you caught two year ago for him. She died 'fore they got her home, she did." " Yes, that was kind o' unfortnit," said Flanders, in a lower voice. " But the fool might 'a dim a tree or sun- thin', and got out of his way. Wha' 'd she want to stop right on the ground for ? " " I don' know nothing 'bout that, but this I do know. If that dog flies at Dora, it'll be the last fly he'll ever make," returned Dick, emphatically, as he set off after the dog, on a long lope, that could evidently be kept up by so active a young fellow as Dick for a long period. The others followed more slowly, two or three on horseback, the less fortunate on foot. The hound mutely followed the trail of the fugitives in all its many windings, and Dick mentally concluded, from, its irregular and capricious course, that it had been traversed in the darkness of night. " Poor little Do," thought he, " I wonder if she wa'n't ficart. I 'most hope old Pic was with her. By George, THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 97 if he is, and she seems to care about him, I'll give him a chance to make off before the others come up." This benevolent intention was still fresh in the young man's mind, when the hound stopped beneath the old oak, concealing the entrance to the tunnel, and uttered an impatient howl, followed by a furious bark. " She's tree'd 'em ! " exclaimed Dick, hurrying up, and looking eagerly into the tree. " Say, Dora ! " called he softly, " if you're up there, speak quick. No one ain't going to hurt you while I'm round, and if you've got Pic with you, I'll give him a chance to get off before the rest come up." To this proposal there was, of course, no reply, and Dick now perceived that the dog was tearing at the brush and broken branches wedged between the rock and tree. He at once concluded that there must be a cave in this rock, and that the brush concealed its' entrance. He hastened to drag away the obstructions, but, to his great surprise, the face of the cliff was perfectly smooth and unbroken. The dog also appeared somcAvhat puzzled, but still persisted in clinging to the little space between the oak and the cliff, and whimpering with impatience at not finding it possible to pursue the trail. The rest of the party now came up, and the united wisdom of the whole finally succeeded in solving the problem. The large stone was pushed aside, the tunnel discovered, and every one drew back a little, expecting 9 9S DORA DAHLIKG: a shot or desperate charge from within, for all were now agreed that the little girl could not be alone. Nothing of the kind happened, however, and after a moment or two, Dick boldly advanced, and looked into the opening. •' Golly, that's curious ! " exclaimed he. " There's a hole here jist like a fox-hole. I reckon they've burrowed down and hid since they heard us outside." All how crowded forward to look, and for some mo- ments nothing was to be heard but a confused wrangle of voices, each one suggesting his own opinion or advice, and rudely contradicting that of every one else. " "Waal, they're in there safe enough," said Flanders, at length ; " now who's going down to fetch 'em out? I can p'int to a man as ain't. I hain't got no fancy fer havin' my throat cut by a nigger in a dark hole like this'n. I'll send in the pup if you say so, or you may go yourself, young man, sence you're so tender of the gal getting scared.'' Dick, without reply, advanced a little way into the tunnel, and called repeatedly to Dora, promising safety and protection both then and at home if she would only come out to him, and suggesting that if she refused, the dog would next be sent to summon her, and might prove a less considerate messenger than himself. To this artful harangue there was naturally no reply, as none of it reached the ears of any one but the speaker, and Dick presently reappeared, somewhat disappointed. THE DAUGHTER OF THE EEGIMEXT. 99 "There's no one there," said he, sulkily. "The dog has got off the right scent, and been trailing a fox or a badger, I reckon." " Foxes and badgers ain't so curus about shutting their front doors when they go to bed," sneered Flan- ders. " The stuff's blow'd in sence the hole was given up, I reckon," said Dick, hastily. " My dawg don't run on a last year's trail of a fox or badger, when he's sot on the fresh trail of a human," said Flanders, with offended dignity. "Muzzle the hound, and send him in, Flanders," in. terposed Wilson. " He'll soon tell us what's inside. To this proposition, after some further discussion, every one agreed ; and Yixen, after a little encouragement from her master, plunged into the tunnel and disap- peared. The men followed cautiously, and paused be- fore they had quite lost sight of daylight. The muffled cries of the dog soon announced that she had met with some obstacle ; but before the listeners had decided upon the nature of this, the sudden rush and crash of Picter's land avalanche, and the clouds of dust accompanying it, drove them tumultuously from the entrance ; nor did one of them care to reenter it, even to ascertain the fate of tl^e hound, whose loss Flanders loudly and somewhat indignantly lamented. A long and heated discussion of these events, contin- 100 DOHA DARLIXG. ued even after the party were seated in friendly conclave at " the grocery," where they spent the evening, resulted in the almost unanimous conclusion that Dora and Picter had been hidden in the cave, which was supposed to be of small extent, and that upon the approach of the dog, they had made some effort to escape by climbing its sides, that had brought the whole do\vn upon their heads, burying themselves and the hound in a common grave. So Mrs. Wilson entered into undisturbed possession of the orphan's heritage, and did not find it so satisfac- tory as she had expected. CHAPTER XII. " Dat mighty pooty story, missy ; but I reckon dem lions had got a bite ob sumfin' 'fore Dan'l was frowed in, or they wouldn't ha' been so 'commodatin' as ter hold off till de ole king change he mind." " Why, Picter, it was a miracle that made them," ex- plained Dora, earnestly. ''Meracle, missy? Well, it seems to dis ole fool dat meracles mos'ly has got two sides to 'em ; an' some folks, mos'ly chillen an' women, on'y look to one side, whilst we dat am men folks 'sider bof." Dora, rather offended both at the incredulity and the line of argument, said nothing, but, turning over the leaves of her Bible, read here and there a verse to her- self. Picter watched lifer furtively for a while, and then added, coaxiugly, — " Bud, den, missy, yore mammy fole me once dat we wasn' to be saved by our own wisdom, bud by faith ; so, p'r'aps, after all, you stan's a better chance dan I does." To Picter's surprise, Dora abruptly closed her book, and laughed outright — a merry, girlish laugh, such as had not come from her pale lips for many a week before ; 9 * (101) 102 DORA DARLIXG: but the idea of Picter's wisdom standing in the way of his spiritual advancement, struck her as an uncommonly funny one. " Well, dear old Uncle Pic," said she, after a moment of merriment, " if your wisdom will get us safely out of this valley, and to the Union camp, I won't ask it to do any more. We can talk about Daniel and the lions another time." " Yes, missy, I specs 'tis 'bout time to be movin'," replied Pic, with such readiness one would almost have suspected him to be glad of an excuse for withdrawing from the argument. Dora, with a quiet smile, occupied herself in ptitting together the things they were to carry with them, and leaving the cabin in such order as must have much sur- prised the next comer. Pic, meantime, went out to reconnoitre, and at the end of about half an hour returned with a beaming coun- tenance. " All right, missy," said he, joyfully. " Dey's cleared, horse, foot, an' dragons, as we says in de army. We're all j'ight now ; bud it's comin' on awful cold, an' you mus' take de branket to wrop Toun' your liliy shouFers. Tell 'e what, missy ; 'tain't a loaf, bud a hull bakin' o' white bread we's a gittin' fer dat corn-cake yer mammy frowed inter de water w'en she gib 'um branket to Cap- tain Charley." THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 103 " Well, then, I'll put it on for a shawl ; but what will you do, Pic? Won't you be cold?" " Neber fear fer dis chile, missy. I got big sojer coat, dat one ob our fellers pick up arter de battle ob de Elk Water. De ole rebs didn' stay to pack up dey trunks dat time, dey lef * in sech a hurry. Now here's de saddle for de ole hoss. Guess I'll frow it down fus'." "And here are the bread and meat in this bundle, and there are some cold roasted sweet potatoes. Shall we want them, do you think ? " " Lors, yis, missy, dem's fus' rate ; I'd like to eat ha'f a dozen dis bressed minit. Here, I'll put dem in ray pocket, an' you can carry de bundle till I gits red o' dis saddle, — after dat I'll take it ; and de branket we'll frow 'long o' de saddle. We don' want nof&n' to carry w'en we gits to scram'lin' down dem rocks." All was now ready for departure, and Picter, after standing at the door a few minutes to listen for any alarming sound, announced that all was safe ; and, care- fully closing the door of the cabin, he proceeded, followed by Dora, to the edge of the cliff, and threw down into the valley the various articles carried by each, including Dora's shoes and stockinets and Picter's bro^-ans. He then stepped down to the first ledge, and, so soon as his feet were set upon the second, directed Dora to fol- low, he remaining near enough to help and protect her very considerably in the perilous descent. The child, 104 DORA DARLIXG: with neither complaint nor exclamation of any kind, did exactly as she was bid ; and, after ten or fifteen minutes of anxious exertion, the two found themselves in safety upon the dry ground at the foot of the fall. " Now, den, missy, dat's all ober, an' you's de bestest lilly lady in dese U-nited State fer doin' it so nice and quiet. I's 'fraid you'd holler ; an' dat 'ud ha' scared me, and spike us bof. Xow, here's de branket, an' you jes' wrop youse'f all up in it, an' set down here till I gits de hoss ready. Isn' you aAvful wet ? " " No, I'm not very wet ; but I wan't to see how you'll catch the horse. I don't believe you can," said Dora, slyly. " Dat 'cause you don' know, chile," said Picter, a little indignantly. " Dere ain't no bother 'bout cotchin' dis yer hoss, any way, w'en dis yer nigger is de one to cotch um." So saying, Picter picked up the bridle, which he had throv^Ti down with the saddle, and marched directly up to the horse, who had left off feeding, and stood Avith head erect watching him. " Here, ole Jump, Ps gwine to put on yer bridle, now. Specs yer hasn' had sech a bellyful sence yer come to de war, 'fore. Xow's de time to pay for it, ole boy." But Jump, although he may have agreed with his tem- porary master's opinion as to the abundance of his two days' feast, was disposed to differ with him as to tlie TUE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEyT. 105 propriety of leaving it. As Picter boldly approached, bri- dle in hand, Jump, with a wild snort, suddenly wheeled, and lashed out with his hind legs in a decidedly danger- ous manner. " AV'y, you ole cuss ! " exclaimed Picter in great wrath, as he sprang backward to escape the kick. " Am dat all de manners you got, arter Ps been so good to ye ? Jes' you wait till I gits back ter camp, and see if I doesn' borry de biggest pa'r o' spurs dere is goin', an' ride ye up an' down dat mountain till ye hollers, ' Nuff said.' " ''Ha, ha, ha!" laughed Dora, gleefully. " O, Pic, you'll kill me right out ! 0, Pic ! the horse hallooing ' Nuff said ' ! Do the Yankee horses talk, Picter? " " Don't ee, missy, don't ! " expostulated Picter, almost crossly. " How can I talk sense w'en you keeps a 'stractin' my 'tention? You jes' creep inter de tree dah, out de way, chile. Mabbe de ole fool'U go ter kickin' dat way nex'." " But why don't you catch him, Picter, the same way you always do ? I thought there wasn't any bother about it, you said," continued Dora, mischievously, while she nestled herself into the branches of the pine that closed the passage. To this little jibe Pic made no reply, while, with alter- nate threats and coaxing, he applied himself seriously to the task of catching the horse. 106 DORA DARLING: But Jump, on this occasion if never before, made good his claim to his peculiar name, and indulged in a series of leaps, curvets, plunges, rearings, and prancings, that would have done credit to a mustang of the prairies. At last, however, he seemed suddenly to consider that this course, although pleasant at the time, might not be of advantage to his future comfort, when he should finally be obliged to submit to tlie halter ; or else he had become tired of the performance. At any rate, he all at once stood still, and allowed Picter to approach and put the bridle over his head Avithout making the slightest resistance. " Now, den, you ole brack debil ! " exclaimed the wrathful negro, so soon as he could gather breath enough to speak. " Wat you spec I's gwine to do wid ye, now? You 'sarve to hab ebery bone you's got broke inter twenty t'ousan' pieces, an' hab yer skin all cut off ob dem arterwards ; an' I's a great mind ter do it." " But how should we get to the camp, if you did, Pic- ter?" asked a merry voice from the pine tree. '' Shore 'nough, chile ; an', arter all, de pore beast didn' mean no harm ; but lors, how he did cut up ! Real r'dic'lous, now, wa'n't it ? " replied the good-natured ne- gro, in whose mind the laughable side of the little skirmish between himself and Jump had already overcome the an- noyance, and before he had finished buckling the saddle- girths he was obliged to stop and roll on the grass in a THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 107 paroxysm of laughter at the memory of some of the horse's gambols. Dora joined in the laugh, but presently recalled to Picter's attention the necessity of getting started, at least, upon their journey, before it shoiild be quite dark, as the first miles of their road lay through the forest, and among the mountains, where it would be very easy to get lost, especially by night. " Neber fear, missy ; de star gwine to be orful bright, an' dey's jes* de same as hebenly guide-boards, 'specially to us cullud folks, dat couldn' read de guide-board, an' can read dc stars, 'specially de norf star. Spec dat star was made o' purpose ter help de poor niggers to dere freedom. How many Gospels is dere in de New Tes'a- ment, missy? " " Four." " Well, de norf star makes five ; and seeiu' dat, makes it easy to berieve all the res'," said Picter, meditatively. " Come, then. Uncle Pic, let's set out to travel towards it," replied Dora, gently. " Dat you, missy. We's trabellin' for de norf star, all ob us, brack an' w'ite ; fer dere's many a mas'r an* mist's dat don' git dere freedom till dey's trabelled clear oiF de earth, an' git 'mongst de stars. Yore own mammy was one o' dat sort, honey." " Don't let us talk about that, Picter," said Dora, softly ; for although she knew, even better than the negro, that 108 DORA DARLIXG. her mother's married life and associations had been little better than bondage, she felt it a profanation and an in- delicacy to speak of it, or even to allow the faithful old servant to do so. Picter, with native tact, understood her feeling, and made no reply. The horse was now ready, and the pine tree being thrown aside, he quietly allowed himself to be led through the bed of the stream, and into the valley that lay be- yond. Dora followed, and sat down upon the bank to put on again her shoes and stockings. " Now then. Uncle Pic, all ready for the line of march," said she gayly, as she sprang to her feet. " All ready, honey," replied the negTO, lifting her to an extemporized pillion behind the saddle, and then heavily mounting himself. " Now den, ole Jump ! Hol' fas', missy ! " and through the clear twilight of the October evening the weather- beaten old slave and the slender, bright-eyed little girl set out tos^ether to travel towards the north star. CHAPTER XIII. " You never have told me yet where we are going, Picter," said Dora, as they jogged along at an easy rate. " Where is the Yankee camp ? " '' On de top of what dey call Cheat Mountain, chile," said Pic, with much importance. " Wen me an' Cap'n Charley got away, he tol' me dat we should fin' some sojers dah, dough I b'lieve dey wasn't de ones dat he rightly belong to ; but he ain't in no rig'lar comp'ny jes' now, 'cause his'n has gone home. Bud he 'scribed de place to me, an' I know'd how to get dere fus' rate, an* showed um de Avay." *' And are there many soldiers there? " " Heaps on em, chile. Dey isn't all in one camp, you knows, but ebery rigimint by hese'f. Our rigimint is de — Ohio. Dat's de one dey put Cap'n Charley into, soon's we got dah." '•' And Avhat do you do, Picter? Do you fight? " " Well, no, honey, I hasn' done any fightin' yit. I helps do de cookin' mos'ly, so fur. 'Tain't no use fer sojers try to fight we'n dey starviu' ; so I reckon de fel- 10 (109) 110 DORA DARLIXG: ler dat does de cookiii' is, afer all, de one dat wins do battle, fer 'twould be lost shore widout him." "To be sure it would," assented Dora, smiling. " They ought to call you general, at least, Picter." "Well, honey, I's 'fraid my wirtue is more pertic'lar dan general, so fur," said Pic. " Bud now, missy, I wants to tell yer sumfin'. S'posin' we meets one ob de rebels, or any one but a Liukum sojer, we's got ter 'xplain who we is, an' what we'm about. Now, I reck'n dis yer'll be de safes' story, 'sides not bein' any lie. I'll tell um you's my lilly mist's ; dat my ole mist's is done gone dead, an' my mas'r fightin' in de army ; an' my mist's, 'fore she died, said dat de chile was to go lib long ob her aunty, jes' leetly way norf ob here. Den dey'll ax fer pass, mabbe, an' you'll speak up real peart an' say, ' What fer my nigger want a pass, when he got his mist's 'long wid him. He my sarvent, an' trabelin' 'long o' me. Dat's 'nough.' " " Well, that's all true enough, Picter ; but it would be deceiving them to tell it," said Dora, rather doubt- fully. " 'Ceivin', missy ! Lord, ef we don't have ter do no wus deceivin' dan dat ar, 'fore we gits to camp, we'm lucky fellers ; dat all I got to say. Why, yore own mam- my 'ud lie up hill an' down, 'fore she'd let you be took now, an' kerried back, let alone ole Pic." " Do you think so, Picter? " THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. " 111 " I knows it, missy. It say in de Bible dat de end justerfy de means." " 0, no, Pic ; that isn't in the Bible at all," said Dora, decidedly. "Well, if tain't, itoughter be, fer it's de truf," asserted Picter, doggedly. " Now, mind, honey, an' tell de story straight, an' face it out dat it's de truf right frew, fer ef we'm took, dey'll kerry you back to your aunty Wilson, an' poor ole Pic, dat corned back a purpose to fotch ye aw^ay, will git licked to def, p'raps." " O, Picter, how horrid ! Yes, I am sure mother would think it was worse to let that happen, than to deceive the rebels. But I don't want to tell any lies." " Neber fear, missy ; I'll do all de lyin' fer bof ob us. 'Two n't hurt me a mite." Dora, instead of replying, fell into a puzzled reverie upon the question of speaking the exact truth at all times, and under all circumstances, and longed, as she had longed many a time before, to be able to go to her dear mother's side, and lay all her doubts and troubles before her. The night went on. The great constellations rose, climbed the summit of the heavens, and sank. The air grew chill and heavy, and the eyes of the poor, tired child dropped together with weariness. Laying her head upon Picter's broad shoulders, and clinging to his belt, she slept soundly, wrapped in her blanket, and was 112 DOB A DARLING: sweetly dreaming of home and mother, when she was suddenly aroused by the halt of the horse, and a stern voice demanding, — "Who goes there?" " Now fer it ! Missy, missy, wake up, an' git yer wits about ye," whispered Pic hoarsely, and in the same breath answered aloud to the challenge, — " Lor, mas'r sojer, 'taint on'y mist's an' me." "Who is your mistress? Let her speak," said the sentinel, after a little pause. " Miss Jones her name. She right here on de boss 'long o' me." "What do you want, Miss Jones, in this camp?" asked the sentinel, courteously. " I don't want anything in camp," replied Dora, steadily. " I am travelling to the northern part of the state with my servant, and we didn't know of a camp about here." " Why, that's a child's voice," exclaimed the sentinel, abruptly. " How old are you. Miss Jones?" " Twelve years old." "And travelling alone at night with this negi'o ! How's that ? " asked the man, suspiciously, as he peered through the dim, gray light of dawn at the horse and riders. " We are in a hurry, and wished to travel part of the way to-night, and have got a little out of our way, I sup- pose," said Dora, quietly. •• K'm. Well, you can't pass this way without the THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIME XT. 113 countersign, and I think the colonel had better talk with you a little before you go back. I shall be relieved in a few minutes, and then I'll take you to him." " We'm much obleege," ventured Pic ; " but Hain't a bit Avuf Avhile to bother the kunnel 'bout us, an' we'm in most a awful hurry. Ef dis yer ain't de way, we'll jes' go back a piece, an' fin' anoder road." " Halt, there ! If you go either backward or forward a step, I'll shoot you, you black scoundrel ! " exclaimed the soldier, sternly. " I think, for my part, your story is a very queer one, and I shall detain you for examina- tion." " Don't say any more. Pic," whispered Dora, softly. " By and by you can turn suddenly, and be off before he can shoot." Her advice was cut short by another order from the sentinel. " Dismount, boy, and tie your horse to this tree. Then stand out in the road in sight." "Neber fear, missy; we'll fool 'em yet," whispered Picter, hastily, as he slowly obeyed so far as to dismount ; but the knot w^ith which he tied Jump to the sapling in- dicated by the sentinel was such that a single pull at the bridle would loos&n it and although he posted himself in the middle of the road, it was with every muscle ready for a spring to the horse's back, should any opportunity of escape present itself. 10* . 114 DORA DAELIXG: None, however, appeared. The sentinel never for a moment relaxed his vigilance, and the cold, gray light of the morning gleamed warningly from the barrel of his musket. He did not make any further remark, and when Pic, unable to long remain silent, attempted to enter into conversation, he was sternly ordered to " liold his tongue." A long half hour passed, and then approaching foot- steps were heard, and the challenge, "Who goes there?" was returned by the countersign, " Confederacy," as " the relief" came up, and after a hurried glance at the prisoners, made some inquiries of his comrade concern- ing them. The latter in a low voice explained his suspicions and his intention of taking them immediately to "the bridge," that the question of their detention might be decided by the colonel. " The colonel ain't there now ; he's gone back to camp," said the new comer. " Well, I suppose the captain will send them up. I shall report to him, at any rate. Come then, boy, untie your nag, and lead him along ; or stop — I'll lead him, and you go in front. Right along this path. Step I " Picter, without reply, shambled along in the direction indicated, followed by the young soldier, leading Jump, with Dora sitting erect and indignant in the saddle. The morning had now fully opened, clear and beautiful. Through the thin foliage of the wood the little girl pres- THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 115 entlj caught the blue sparkle of running Avater, and a rippling murmur as of a stream at hand. It was, though Dora did not know it, Green Brier River, and their guide was a vidette from a rebel com- pany stationed at the bridge across it, to watch for the federal troops, of whose approach the rebel general had been warned some hours previously. Emerging from the wood at some little distance from the bridge, the prisoners caught one glance of the spar- kling stream, the -winding mountain road beyond it, and of dark lines of gray-coated men drawn up at the end of the bridge nearest to them, in position to defend it. All this they saw in the first instant ; in the next their eyes were blinded by a blaze of fire from the mouths of a hundred muskets, while the sulphurous smoke and deafening rattle of their breath stunned and suffocated them. Captor and captured started back instinctively to the shelter of the trees, for, as if it were the echo of the first, another crash of musketry pealed from the other side of the river, another flashing cloud of fire and smoke filled the air, while over their heads, and among the trees at either hand, pattered and whistled the leaden hail born of that portentous cloud. Wild shouts, near at hand and farther off, next arose upon the air, min- gled wdth the ring of many feet as they rushed across the bridge. All passed in a single moment. In the next the sentinel exclaimed eagerly, — 116 DORA DARLING: " The Yankees, by thunder ! " and, dropping the bridle of the horse, he rushed forward to join the fray. " Now's de time, missy," exclaimed Picter, eagerly, as he darted forward and caught the rein before Jump had time to plunge away, as he evidently wished to do. " Now what w^e's to do is to git out ob de way ob all ban's, till de fight's ober, an' den jine our own men." "Quick then, Pic. Mount before me ; that other man behind us, the guard, will be up in a minute ; he'll hear the firing." " To be shore he will ; here we be. Xow den." Turning the horse's head directly into the woods, Picter soon put himself and his companion out of reach or sight of the combatants ; but curiosity as to the event of the fight so strongly pressed him, that he was no sooner in safety than he abandoned the reins to Dora, while he hastily climbed a tall chestnut tree, and finally got a view of the bridge. "Hooray!" exclaimed he so soon as his eyes rested upon the scene. " Dat's you, Yanks. Gib it um ! Lor, how dey does come peltin' down on 'em ! Dat's it ; pour it in, hot and heavy, blue-coats ! Now dey feels it ; now dey squirms ! At 'em, boys ! Hit um agin ; hole dah noses down to de grin'stone, an' gib um anoder turn o' de handle. Dat's it ! Hooray, now ! Dere dey runs ! Now dey scampers ! Foot it, ole gray-backs ! Run yer pootiest ! Let out den ! Prick 'em up, boys, wid de baggonets ! Show um de way to make time ! O, golly ! THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 117 if dis yer ain't a bressed sight, den I didn' neber see one, on'y it didn' las' long enough ; deys all out o' sight now, ebery moder's son ob 'em, de gray-coats heavin' away dey coats, an' guns, an' knapsacks, like as dey didn' neber expec' to want noffin' more in dis worl'. Spec a good many on 'em won't. Golly ! dere'll be pick- in's fer somebody dere, I reckon." With a sigh for the unattainable plunder, ending in a chuckle at the success of the side he had espoused in the quarrel, Picter came slowly down out of the chestnut tree, and again mounted in front of Dora, who had sat with flushed face and gleaming eyes, drinking in the somewhat fragmentary description of the skirmish to be gathered from the negro's exclamations. " O, Picter," said she, breathlessly, when he was again beside her, "will there be more fighting? will there be a real battle? O, Pic, can't you take me somewhere to see it?" "Would you like 'o see it, chile? Wouldn' ye be scar't nor noffin' ? " eagerly demanded Pic, who was every bit as anxious to see the fight as herself, and who was glad to find an excuse in her own wishes for linger- ing with the little girl in a scene of possible danger, and certain horror, should a general battle ensue. " Scar't ! no indeed ! " cried Dora. " Do make haste, and get somewhere where we can see the whole." " Lors, honey, who'd tink of a pooty leetly gal wantiu' ter see a big fight, wif lots o' men a bleedin' an' a dyin' 118 DOHA DABLIXG: all 'bout her. You'd be right for a sojer's wife, missy, to help take care ob de pore wounded fellers in de hos- pital." *' And so I will," cried Dora, with enthusiasm. " I am not old enough to be a soldier's wife, but I will be the sister or the daughter of every soldier that I can help. There will be men wounded in this very battle — won't there. Pic?" " Dere will dat, missy." " Well, I will take care of them. You will see how handy I can be with sick folks. Mother always said I was a born nurse." " Specs you's born fer eberyting dat's good an' com- for'ble, honey," said the negro,, turning round to look lovingly into her glowing face. " But now we must get where we can see something, Pic. Do you know anj^hing about the fight, who it is, and what they are trying to do ? " " Dey's our fellers from Cheat Mountain, ob course," said Picter, confidently. '.' "Wedder part or de whole I couldn' say, an' I specs dey's come down dis mornin' to clean out a rebel hole dat dey calls Camp Bartow, some- 'eres here on dis Green Brier River. I was talkin' long wid a berry 'telligent feller, fer a nigger, t'oder day; he'd been scoutin' roun' here, an' he know'd all 'bout it. But our gen'ral couldn' make up he mind to trus' a nig- ger's story, so he sent de lightes' complected feller in de brigade to see if Jonas (dat's de nigger) had tole right ; THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 119 but de foxy head got took, or shot — didn' neber come back, any way. Den anoder feller, a doctor dat lives roun' here, up an' said he^d go ; but he's got orful tanned dis summer ridin' a hossback, an' I don' know wedder de gen'ral took him or not. Specs he'll hab to sen' to Richmon' arter some creturs dey had dere makin' a show on 'em. Dey called 'em Albinos, an' dey was jes' as white as snow. Dem's de fellers to spy out a rebel camp." " Well, and did this Jonas tell you where Camp Bar- tow is, so that you can find it? " asked Dora, eagerly. "Yis, honey. It's on de side ob a mountain called Buffler HiU." "Buffalo Hill? Why there aren't any buffaloes about here." " Might 'a ben once, honey, ef dere isu' now. Any ways, dat's what dey calls it ; an' de rebels has frowed up fortifications, an' dug trenches, an' mounted big guns dere, 'nough to kill de whole Yankee nation if dey dares to 'tack 'em. Least, dat what dey say." " And what do you say, Picter?" "I says de rebels is biggest at sayin\ bud de Yankees is de fellers fer doin%" said Picter, emphatically. " So now, honey, we'll jes' skirt roun' here in de woods, an' git ober dis big hill afore us, an' den, if I rec'lect de lay ob de Ian', we shall see Bufiier Hill an' de whole ob de fun." *' Make haste, then ; I hear guns now ! " CHAPTER XIV. Keeping carefully concealed among the trees and brush covering the irregular surface of the country, Pic- ter pushed rapidly forward in the direction taken by the rebels in their flight from the bridge. A few scattering shots occasionally broke the calm of the morning ; but nothing as yet indicated a general engagement, and Pic began to have misgivings that the event was to prove him but a false prophet, and that the battle he had so pompously announced w^ould, after all, turn out only a skirmish. He accordingly attempted to save himself from the ignominy of confessing a mistake, by an operation kno^vn in naval language as " laying an anchor to the wind- ward," and upon the turf as " hedging." " De gen'ral wasn' gwine ter make much ob a fight jes' now," said he, carelessly. " All we wants is ter look roun' a leetly mite, an' see how de rebs is fixed. Fac', I don' know as dere'll be much fightin' 'bout it any way. Shouldn' wonder if we drawed off, now we'm made um run, an' come back 'noder day to finish wid um." (120) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIME XT. 121 " That's too bad," said Dora, quite disappointed. " I thought you said they were going to clear out Camp Bartow, Picter. That would be a fight." " An' so we am, chile ; we'm gwine ter cl'ar it out as clean as yore lilly han', bud wedder we do it to-day or to-morrer I couldn' say. It wasn' quite decided w'en I corned away. Dis yer is w'at we calls a armed re- connoissance, dis is," replied Pic, his complacency fully restored by the sonorous military phrase he had so fortu- nately recollected. " O," said Dora, a little dubiously, " is it?" " Yes, chile. You'll know all 'bout dese yer 'fairs one dese days, ef we stops in camp. You can't 'xpect ter all ter once, dough. It took me some time myse'f fore I made it all out." " There ! Here we are at the top of the hill," cried Dora, joyfully. " But we can't see anything for the trees. You must lead the horse down to the edge of the wood, Picter. The hill will be cleared part way up." . " I reckon so, missy ; dey mos'ly is. Golly ! if dis chile had got a farm roun' here, de fus' ting he'd do 'ould be ter git a big rollin' pin an' roll it out flat. It's all ups an' downs now, like de top ob a huckleberry pie. vSpecs, dough I's made ter walk roun' dese oneven places, same as de kangaroos mist's tole 'bout one day. Dey's got two short leg an' two long leg, an' so's I." *' You haven't four legs, Pic," laughed Dora. 11 122 DORA DARLING: " Well, missy, two on 'em's arms, to be sure ; but den it's pooty mucli'e same ting. Now, den, de trees am gittin' thin. Don' yer see de cl'arin' down b'low ? We'm can't go much furder. It's a massy dat Jump an' I is brack, an' you face, honey, dough it's w'ite 'nough, is so leetly, dat ef dey sees us dey'll tink it's on'y a white posy growin' up here." " But this white blanket, Picter, I'll take it off and roll it up." " "Will you be warm 'nough, missy, widout it? " " O, yes. I am too warm now. Then, my gray dress won't show at all, and you can strap the blanket behind the saddle here for me to sit on." " Golly ! What a lian' you is fer plannin', missy ! Jes' as smart an' quick's a steel trap. Specs de gen'ral'll hab you up to help 'em in de council. Take keer you don' git sunburned, dough, else all yore smartness won't be no 'count." They had by this time reached the limit of the forest covering the crest of the high hill they had just crossed. The land, for about half the height on the side they had now gained, was cleared for cultivation, and Picter carefully concealed the horse, with Dora still upon his back, in a dense clump of young oaks and chestnuts that encroached a little upon the field below. Through their foliage, thinned by early frosts, she could obtain an un- obstructed view of the scene in the valley. THE DAUGHTEE OF THE EEOIMENT. 123 For his own part, Picter, after tying the horse securely, climbed into the top of an enormous white pine, just upon the edge of- the forest, and crouched there like a remarkably large specimen of the ravens, that are poet- ically alleged to attend battle-fields. " There, missy," said he, cautiously, when finally set- tled to his mind, " now we'm as comf'able as de big bugs in de show boxes at de Richmon' play-house, an' all de fun dere is to be seed we'll see, widout eber stirrin' a foot ; fer dat's Buflier Hill right acrost de val- ley, an' all dem shiny w'ite spots is tents, an' dem lines ob light-colored dirt is umbankments, wid cannon atop ob 'em, an' dem critters dat's swarmin' in an' out an' all roun', same as de black ants does w'en a boy sticks a 'ole in de hill, is rebels. Hullo ! see dem fellers trottin' up de hill an' goin' in? Dey's de ones we jes' druv away from de bridge, I reclion. Wonder if de leetly feller dat was so perlite to us is dere." " O, Picter ! Isn't it a splendid sight ! " exclaimed Dora, clasping her little hands, while her face turned pale, and her luminous eyes flashed with excitement. It was indeed a glorious picture. At their feet lay a broad valley, its surface broken with hillocks and wooded knolls, with patches of cultivated land at intervals, re- lieved by broad tracts of forest. Curving in and out, among these woods and hills, the clear waters of the Green Brier sparkled and glittered in 124 DORA DARLING: the morning sunshine, like the blade of King Arthur's sword Excalibur, -when it flashed from the hand of the good knight Bedivere, to sink forever in the lake. Beyond the valley rose abruptly high hills, steep ac- clivities, that should have been mountains, had not the gray peaks of the Alleghanies risen grandly above and beyond them, frowning down in stern sterility upon their softly-rounded summits. Far away, where a cone-like crest cut sharply upon the clear blue of heaven, a shining thread of light wound down the mountain side, as if the parched granite had cracked in a long, zigzag seam, and the eternal fires within gleamed through. It was the stream of the waterfall and the cave, transformed by the sunshine to a stream of glancing light. Near at hand, in fact little more than half a mile dis- tant, as the crow flies, rose the steep eminence known as Buflfalo Hill. As Picter iiad faithfully repeated from the narration of his friend, the scout, this hill-side camp had been carefully fortified by the rebels with terraced bat- teries, rifle-pits, and embankments. The defences, beginning near the foot of the hill, ex- tended quite up to the summit, which was crowned with heavy woodland. Through the valley, close by the base of Buffalo Hill, and up into the mountains beyond, ran a road known as the Staunton turnpike. Following this line of road, some half mile to the THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 125 right of the position chosen by Picter, Dora's eyes fell upon a dark, motionless mass lying near the highway, and surmounted by innumerable little glancing points. A close inspection satisfied her that this was a body of soldiers, with the sunshine flashing from their bayonets. She pointed them out to Picter. '• Yes, chile, I sees 'em ; dere'll be a fight, a'rter all. But, Lord sabe us, what's dat?" "Where, Picter?" " Down here, jes' a leetle dis side ob dem fellers. Don' you see, all dese figgers squattin' down 'hind de fence and de brush, and den ober dis side de road, 'mongst de trees on dat leetly hill? Dey's hidin', dat's cl'ar, an' dey' waitin' fer dem oder fellers." " And they must be rebels, because they're between the rebel camp and those other soldiers." " Yes, yes, so dey is, chile. Well, I reckon you's got de right pig by de ear now. Dey's rebels, an' dey's ambushed dere, to wait for our sojers dat's stan'in' still up dere. Wy don't dey come 'long, I wonder." " See ! There's some more." As Dora spoke, a small body of horsemen appeared at the head of the valley, riding rapidly towards the sta- tionary troops, their plumes waving and accoutrements flashing in the sun. " Dat's de gen'l wid his staff an' escort ob cabalry," cried Picter, eagerly. " Golly ! if dem rebels makes out 11* 126 DORA DARLING: to cotcli him, de fat's all in de fire, au' de skillet cracked. Wow ! He'll ride right in amongst 'em." " No ; he's turning off. He's going over to the troops that have been waiting there. I guess thej were wait- ing for him." " Waitin' fer orders. Yis, ob course dej was. I could ha' tole you dat, chile," said Picter, jealously. " Yes, see," continued Dora, breathlessly. " He points forward with his sword ; I can see the sun glance along the blade ; he means that they are to go. There, see, they are starting ! Not all, though ; it's only a small part, and they are spreading all out." " Dey calls dat deployin'," interposed Pic. " They move very carefully, and carry their bayonets out in front, as if — There, see, see, Picter] they have come right upon that clump of trees, where the rebels are hiding thickest. O, see the guns flash ! Hear the shots ! They are running back a little ! Now, see, they stop behind that wall ! The rebels don't follow." " Reckon dey don't. 'Ould you follow a hornet inter his nes'? Now den, look a' dah. De gen'l an' de oder ossifers runnin' roun' like mad, an' de sojers steppin' out — dey's all gwine now — de hull bilin' on 'em. Guess urn rebs '11 hab to cl'ar out o' dat, 'bout de quickest. High O, Jack ! Dat's de way ! Hooray for de Union an' de Hoosier boys ! " The cause of this last exclamation was a grand rush THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 127 of the whole regiment, so intently watched by Picter and Dora, in the direction of the ambushed enemy. The company deployed as skirmishers had, on discovering the enemy, — nearly a thousand strong, — given him a volley, and then, falling back, had waited for the support of their comrades. This had been given upon the instant, and the whole regiment, dashing forward with loud cheers and flaunting colors, charged so impetuously upon their opponents, that the rebels, hardly pausing to return the first volley, broke and fled, hotly pursued by the excited victors. One large body rushed across the valley in the direc- tion of their camp, followed by a part of the federals, from whose waving lines flashed continually the blaze of the muskets, loaded as they ran ; and at every flash fell a dead or wounded foeman. The remainder of the rebels, consisting principally of those who had been concealed among the timber to the left of the road, fled precipitately up the mountains, stanchly followed by the Union men, firing incessantly in spite of the difficulties of the ground, or, when so for- tunate as to overtake the fugitives, engaging in breathless hand-to-hand conflicts, as terrible as they were brief. In the valley calmly sat the general and his staff, pennon and plumes softly waving in the golden autumn air, their horses prancing and pawing with excitement, trappings and accoutrements flashing again to the dancing 128 DORA DARLIXG: sunbeams. It was the fair outside of the battle picture, whose grim reverse was to be found among those bloody thickets on the mountain side, and in the laurel swamp across the valley, where the right wing of the rebels was overtaken, and received a withering volley from their pursuers, who then slowly retired to their post. The other companies were also recalled from the hills, which they had entirely cleared of the rebels, who were by this time saffely sheltered in their intrenchments, ex- cept the prisoners, some few Avounded, who were pres- ently to be cared for by the victors, and the many who lay stififening in their blood, with wide, ghastly eyes frozen in their last look of pain and horror. A battery of flying artillery now dashed down the road, past the hill where Picter and Dora had taken post, and, pausing directly in the enemy's front, unlimbered its guns and opened fire. At the same time the regiment which had cleared the road for it, and which was now recognized by Picter as the Indiana Fourteenth, moved rapidly forward, and took post upon the hill-side in its rear. Another battery occupied a point near the ambush whence the rebels had been driven, and a single gun, commanded by the gallant Daum in person, rattled defi- antly up to a position on the left of the Indiana men, and boldly opened fire. __The rebels, although they had retreated so nimbly in the field, were brave within their intrenchments, and THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 129 vigorously returned the fire of the federal artillery from their loAver line of batteries, where Avere mounted seven guns. These, however, were badly served, and wildly aimed. Most of the first shot fell short of the mark, and many others were fired above it. The roar of artillery now became continuous, as the batteries of the Union force loaded and fired without pause, and often six or eight of the reports were simulta- neous. The rebels, on their side, kept up nearly an equal fire, and, in noise at least, their execution was equal to that of their opponents. Across the valley rolled the heavy volumes of smoke, swept before a light breeze, and from the mountain sides echoed and reechoed, in grand reiteration, the thunder of the cannon, while the earth trembled beneath the heavy reverberation. Suddenly from the mountain camp rose one, two, three rockets, in quick succession, sweeping up into the clear sky, exploding, and fading away, unheard and almost unnoticed in the wild tumult of the battle. "Now, now, gen'l, do you see dat ar'?" muttered Picter, uneasily. " Dat means somefin', shore. Dey doesn't feel like lettin' off fire-crackers fer fun, up dah, I'll bet a cent. Like as not dere's more on 'em comin', an' dem rockets means, ' Hurry up you cakes ! ' Gosh ! Reckon de ole man didn' see it, or he wouldn' set so easy in him saddle." 130 DORA DARLING. But the general did see and understand the signal, almost as clearly as Picter himself, and in a few moments long lines of infantry were to be seen glancing in and out among the hill-side trees, as they deployed left and right, far upon either Aving, to guard the Union batteries from a flank movement of the enemy, or his expected re- enforcements. CHAPTER XV. Meantime most of the rebels' guns had been either dismounted or silenced ; but one piece continued to fire, and, having at last got the range, began to do some exe- cution, taking off with one of its balls the arm of an artillery man, and with the next killing outright a gunner of the same corps. At this sight, a young fellow attached to Daum's gun, who had never before been under fire, became panic- stricken, and turned to fly ; but the choleric captain pur- sued, overtook, and stopped him, and, in spite of the poor boy's piteous cries, and protestations that he should certainly b6 killed with the next shot, drove him relent- lessly back to his gun with a shower of blows from the flat of his sword, and a storm of reproaches and oppro- brium as the reward of his cowardice. " Golly ! " remarked Picter from his tree, whence he had watched this little incident with great attention. " Dey say, ' Honesty de bes' policy ; ' but, for my part, I tink courage de bes' policy fer us sojers. Might as well Stan' you chance o' bein' shot as to be licked to def wid a sword, an' den be called coward all de res' you life." (131) 132 DOBA DARLIXG: " Look, look, Picter ! " said Dora, in a low, excited voice. "Look whar', honey?" " On the road coming down from the mountains, there behind the rebel camp. The others are coming. That is what the rockets meant ! " " Lor' 'a' massy, so dey be ! How dey comes peltin' down de hill ! an' see de cannon a shinin', an' de horses a galloppin' ! Dere be four, five, rijiments, for sart'in. Hark ! Hear de ole fools a hootin' and singin' out 'hin' dere mud-banks ! Tinks dey's got us now, shore. Dat shows how scar't dey was, any way. Reckon dey'd better wait now, till dey's out o' de woods, 'fore dey begins ter holler dat-a-way. Eeckon dey'll fin' dey's got more dan dere match, if dey has got 'forcements. So's we got 'forcements, an' plenty ob 'em too, if we was a min' to fotch 'em up. 'Tain't our way, dough, to turn up all ban's to drive a leetly yaller dog out de door-yard, even if he has got a bull-pup to help him. Holler away — won't ye ? " Thus grumbled Epictetus, forgetting, in his alarm and ano-er at the sight of powerful reenforcements to the cnemv, the calm dignity befitting a namesake of the old Greek philosopher and moralist. But liis sneers and boasts met with no response, for Dora, his only possible auditor, was absorbed in watch- ing the glittering line of bayonets descending the moun- THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 133 tain road, and filing into tlie intrenchments of the rebel camp, where they were received with vociferous cheers of welcome, ringing loud and clear above the sterner sounds of battle. The new pieces were quickly placed in position upon the upper line of fortifications, and opened fire amid re- newed cheers upon the part of the besieged. These, however, were of short duration, for the federal batteries reopened, after their brief rest, with renewed energy, and soon proved that both their guns and their practice were better than those of their enemy. "What for de fools want ter aim so high? Dere ain't noffin' to shoot up here 'cept we," muttered Picter, uneasily, as a round shot fell into the field a few hundred yards below his position. The next moment a shell, rising in a bold curve from the new battery, swept across the sky with a shrill scream to be remembered but not described, and finally swooped down, like some horrible bird of prey, upon the little grove where Dora was concealed. " O ! O ! De Lord in heben sabe us ! O, missy ! O, de Lord ! " yelled Picter, clinging to his own tree, while, with blanched face and starting eyeballs, he watched the iron death that now lay directly behind Jump's hind feet, its smoking fuse threatening instant destruction to the w^hole party. Dora, without speaking, slipped fi-om her saddle. " It's 12 134 DORA DARLING: a shell — isn't it? Is it that fire in the string that blows it up?" asked she, hurriedly. " Yis, yis ; it'll go in a secon' ! Run, missy, run fer de woods ! " gasped Picter, beginning to come down the pine tree as fast as his limbs, paralyzed by fear, would permit. Before he could reach the ground, however, Dora had seized the smouldering end of the fuse in the skirt of her woollen dress, and held it firmly compressed in her hand, as she knelt beside the shell, with pallid face and eyes dilated with excitement. " O, de Lord! O, honey, chile I You leetly fool! You bressed leetly angel ! " stammered Picter, quite un- conscious of what he said, as he staggered back against the bole of the pine tree. " It's out," said Dora, quietly, as she unclasped her hand, and pointed to the black end of the fuse, charred down to the very surface of the shell. " ! ! O ! missy ! " gasped Picter again, as he sank upon the ground, and, hiding his face in his folded arm, began to cry lustily. Dora looked at him a moment, then looked at the shell, but said never a word. It was only by her marble face and shining eyes that one could have guessed how much was stirring within that little heart. "When she did speak, it was very quietly. " Perhaps we'd better go away from here, Pic. They THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 135 seem to be firing at the battery just below us, and all the balls go over it. There is another falling in the field just down here." " Go 'way from dis, says you ! " exclaimed Pieter, almost angry at the child's coolness. " Course we will, 'thout we's ready to be blowed inter kin'dom come 'thout stoppin' fer make our wills. Should ha' been dere now if dat 'ere fuss had been de proper len'f. Reckon de shells we's frowin' up dere can't be pinched out like um candle snuff." While speaking, Pieter had hastily loosed Jump's bridle from the sapling where it had been tied, and re- placed Dora upon his back. He now led him up into the woods, and as quickly as possible placed the brow of the hill between himself and the enemy. So soon as they were in safety, however, the negro paused, and seemed to consider. " Dey came from dat-a-way," muttered he, pointing in a northerly direction. " An' by keepin' roun' dat way we shall fall in wid some ob 'em gwine back. I reckon de fight's 'bout played out, an' 'tain't wuff w'ile to try fer see any more dis time." " Let us get round where the wounded men have been carried, Uncle Pic," said Dora, decidedly. " I want to see if I can't do something for them." " "Well, honey, de amberlances '11 be in de rear, an' I 'epect dat we shall get at dat by keepin' right 'long dis 136 DORA DARLIXG: way. 1 daresn' go down in de road fer fear of meetin' some ob de rebels skulkin' rouu' de back way to dey camp. Dey'd be sure to shoot a nigger dat didn' b'long to deyse'fs, ef dey should meet nim now, dey's so mad." " Then keep along here in the woods, but do make haste," said Dora, impatiently. " O, Picter, I never shall forget, when our guns left off firing that time, just before the other rebels came up, how the horrid groans and screams of the wounded men over in their trenches seemed to fill the whole air." " Yis, missy, I hear um," replied Pic, with an anima- tion that was not wholly horror. " Golly ! I reckon we gib some on 'em fits." " But, Pic, do they have doctors, and nurses, and com- fortable beds over there?" asked Dora, piteously. " Reckon so, missy ; bud I 'xpect mos' o' de fellers dat got hit with de sugar-plums we frowed 'em to-day, won't neber want no doctor. TVe doesn' fire shells wid tails as long as de pussy-cat's." " But those that groaned so horribly were only wound- ed, not dead," persisted Dora. " Good for um lay an' groan a leetly while, an' 'fleet on dey sins, 'fore dey die. Like ter fill dem trenches right in Avid quick-lime, an' finish 'em off," said Picter, with a curious mingling of recklessness and ferocity in his tone. " Picter, I don't like to have you talk that way," said THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 137 Dora, seriously, as she fixed one of her steady glances on his face. " 'Xcuse me, missy," said the negro, his glowing eyes falling before hers. " I know dat ain't de way dey talks in de Bible ; bud you knows, missy, we niggers doesn' hab de buckra ways 'bout some ifings. Now you washes you face in de mornin', an' forgib you enemy ebery day ; but my fader come from Afriky, an' use to go fight an' kill he enemy ebery chance he git, an' den eat 'em up." " Eat them up ! " echoed Dora, in horror. " Sart'in, missy. Dat de way he eddicate ; an' I don' s'pose he wash his face hardly neber, 'cause dey didn' hab no water where he lib. So you see, missy, we diff'ent." '* But, Picter, your father died when you were a little boy, and you have always been taught just as I have. You are a Christian, you know. Pic, and your father wasn't." " Yis, missy ; bud I's de son ob my own daddy fer all dat. De Bible says dat de wil'-cat can't change he fur, nor de nigger wash hese'f w'ite." " Well, never mind," said Dora, after a few minutes of puzzled thought, " whether you are just like me or not ; you're a dear, kind old uncle, and never was cross or ugly to me, or any one else, that I know of; so it don't make so much difference what you say." " Dat's it, missy. It's de doin', an' not de sayin', dat's 12 * 138 DORA DARLIXG: de mos' importance, mist's use to say ; an' w'en I talks de way you doesn' like, honey, you mus' 'fleet dat it's on'y de ole nigger daddy dat's talkin', an' dat it'll be Uncle Pic dat'U do de doin'." Dora laughed, and perfect harmony was once more restored between the two. For nearly an hour Picter pursued the course he had adopted, as likely to bring him to the rear of the federal army, keeping all the time within the shelter of the woods, and below the crest of the hills. He now, however, judged it time to keep up a little so as to intersect the high road, along which it was prob- able the troops would make their line of march in return- ing to their encampment. Striking a ravine between two of the hills dividing the valley from their own position, the negro cautiously fol- lowed it up, until, nearing the edge of the woodland, he hitched the bridle to a tree, and went forward to recon- noitre. In a few moments he returned with far less precaution. " All right, missy," said he, gleefully. " TTe'm hit jes' on de right spot. Here's de amberlances an' de surgeons, an' de Twenty — Ohier ; dat's our own riji- mint, you 'member, all in a heap. De res' ob de army is marchin' ahead, an' we'm waitin' ter fotch up de rear, I reckon, from de looks. Come, ole boss, step 'long — will ye?" THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 139 In a few moments Dora found herself upon the edge of the wood, and only a few hundred feet from a line of ambulances already nearly filled with wounded men, whose groans attested the severity of their sufferings. A surgeon and his assistant, distinguished by their green sashes, stood close at hand, their faces pale, their hands stained with blood. Their work had been severe, for wounded rebels had shared equally with federal sol- diers in their care and attention. A party of men carrying stretchers were slowly mov- ing up the valley. Beyond them stood the Ohio regi- ment, to which Picter considered himself attached, drawn up in a solid phalanx, ready to close the rear of the re- treating army, when the hospital train should be prepared to precede them. Several officers were standing around the surgeon, talking with him and each other, and in the shade of the trees sat or lay men slightly wounded, or suffering from heat and exhaustion. Picter, after a slight pause, walked boldly up to the group of officers, still leading Jump with Dora upon his back. " Hullo ! What have we here? " cried a young cap- tain, who had just asked for a strip of sticking-plaster to apply to a slight bayonet scratch upon his beardless cheek. " Here's our prince of sable cooks and strategists, 140 DOEA DABLIXG: • come back with some sort of mountain elf to bear him company. AVho is it, Picter? " " Sarvent, Cap'n BrufF," said Picter, passing him with a military salute, and keeping on towards the surgeon. " Well, Picter," said that gentleman, carelessly, "where did you drop from?" " I's been off wid a furlough, doctor," said the negro, modestly. " An' dis yer young lady is my leetly mist's, an' she'm gwine to de Xorf by an' by, long wid us, an' I'd like 'o keep her wid me in camp till we goes. She jes' wild now, to come an' help you take care dese yere pore fellers. Made me fotch her straight ter you." " Ah ! " said the surgeon, benevolently, as he glanced again at Dora, and smiled. " So you'd like to be an army nurse, my dear, would you? " " Yes, sir," said Dora, meeting his eyes in an una- bashed, earnest manner, that made the kindly surgeon smile again. " Well, you look like a brave litfle girl, who would do all she was able. But it's rough work this." " May I help you now? " asked Dora, eagerly, as she slipped down from Jump's back, and went close up to her new friend. " What is your name, child? " " Dora, sir. Dora Darley." " And how old are you ? " " Twelve, sir." TUE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIME XT. 141 The surgeon -would evidently have asked more ques- tions, but the party of men detailed to bring in the wounded and dead now came up, and his attention was immediately absorbed in his fresh cares. Before turning away, however, he said, hurriedly, " Dora, if you like to, you may fill this canteen from the brook down there, and carry water to the wounded men in those ambulances. They are always thirsty, poor fellows." Dora eagerly hastened to do as she was bid, and with some help from Picter, soon supplied the occupants of the ambulances with all the water they chose to drink. Murmured thanks and blessings repaid the kindness. Dora then approached the exhausted groups beneath the trees. " Will you have some water? " asked she, gently, of a grizzled veteran, suffering from a blow on the head, given by the breech of a dying rebel's musket. " Ah, thin, an' it's one of the ' good people ' has started up out o' these woods — isn't it ? " murmured the Irishman, opening his aching eyes. "Ye ould fool," retorted a comrade, who had just thrown himself upon the grass to rest for a few moments, " there ain't none o' them kind in 'Meriky. They all stay to home in the owld country, like sensible little men. This purty little gal is a runaway rebel, come in wid the nagur there." 142 DOHA DAItLIXG. Relieved by this explanation from the fear of an en- chanted di'aught, private O'Sullivan drained the canteen offered him, and returned it with a " Blissin' on yer purty face, my darlint ! " Dora, delighted with her new office, next approached, with a shy, serious grace, the lines of soldiers, who, most of them, looked hot and tired after their exertions of the forenoon, although they stood steadily to their ranks, ready at any instant to repel the most unexpected attack on the part of the enemy, who might, very possi- bly, attempt to harass the rear of the army they had not dared to meet openly in the field. CHAPTER XVI. "Mat I give the men some water, please, sir?" asked Dora of the first officer she approached. "Yes, my child, if you will give me some too," said the major, — for he it was, — with a pleasant smile. Dora filled the cup from a bucket that Picter had found in one of the ambulances, and ofiered it with a quaint little courtesy. The major drank eagerly. " I didn't know I was so thirsty," said he. " What a nice little vivandiere you make, my dear ! What is your name?" " Dora Darley, sir." " And where did you come from? " " I came here with Picter. I am going North with the Twenty — Ohio regiment, to find my aunt," said Dora, simply. " The dickens you are ! You're a cool little body, any way," exclaimed the officer, looking at her with an ex- pression of amused surprise. "Do you hear this, colonel?" continued he, as his superior officer came up to speak with him. (143) 144 DORA DARLIXG: "TV'hat is it, major? " " Why, here's a young lady, who says her name is Dora Darley, and that she came here under the escort of Picter, to travel North with the regiment." " Indeed ! " exclaimed the colonel, smiling slightly, but fixing his eyes somewhat sharply upon the child, who blushed a little as she noticed the attentive eyes and ears, and the quizzical smiles, of the group of officers now sur- rounding her. But, after a slightly troubled glance around the circle of strangers, her clear eyes sought the grave and kindly face of the colonel, and rested there. " And how came you to think of joining this regiment, little one?" asked he, at length, in a softer voice. "Because Picter belongs to it, and so does — some- body I know," replied Dora, hesitating a little as she remembered that her mother's visitor had said that " Captain Karl " was only a home name. " And who is Picter? " pursued the colonel. " Picter ! Don't you know Picter, sir? Why, he be- longs to this regiment. He's — O, there he is ! " She pointed, as she spoke, to the negro, who, finding that his little mistress was about to have an interview with the higher powers, had modestly shrouded himself from observation behind the group of officers. " It's a contraband, that has been cooking for the men for the last few weeks, colonel," explained the captain of Co. B., in an apologetic sort of manner. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 145 " Indeed ! Is their cuisine so elaborate in its arrange- ments that they have to employ a professional ? " asked the colonel, a little sarcastically. " He was going North, but Captain Karl brought him here," interposed Dora, rather hastily, as if anxious to explain that her old friend had not attached himself to the regiment uninvited. '' And who is Captain Karl?" asked the colonel again. " That isn't his name ; not all his name, at least. He is — O, there he is ! " cried Dora, joyfully, as she caught sight of her friend advancing down the valley at the head of his company, who had been detailed to make a final search in the thickets on the hill-side for any wounded who miglit have been concealed there, and overlooked. "TN'hat! Captain Windsor?" asked the colonel. " Yes, sir. He was a prisoner, and was at our house, and Picter showed him the way.'* " O, ho ! Yes, indeed, I have heard that story from the captain himself, and I remember now about the black fellow. Windsor asked to have him attached to the reo^i- ment in some fashion, and I told him to set him to help the cook. Bless my soul ! I had forgotten all about it. And so you belong to the good woman who took care of the poor boy, and set him forward on his way ? " *' It was mother, sir," said Dora, with the old strait- ness settling upon her lips. " And how came mother to send you after him, child?" 13 146 DORA DAliLIXG: " She is dead, sir," said Dora, softly. " Tut, tut ! is it so? And where are the rest of your family, my poor little maid ? " " My father and brother are in the rebel army, sir, and my aunt was not kind ; so I went away from her." '' Went away — how ? " " In the night, with Picter. Mother didn't want us to be rebels. She told me to go away to the Xorth as soon as I could," said Dora, anxiously, for a little cloud had settled upon the colonel's brow. It cleared now, however. "So mother didn't want you to be a rebel, eh?" asked he. " No, sir. Nor I didn't want to myself." " What, you are a Union girl, then?" "Yes, sir. I'm Union all through," asseverated Dora so earnestly, that a smile went round the circle of atten- tive listeners. " That's right, Dora. You said your name was Dora — didn't you?" " Yes, sir ; Dora Darley." " Dora Darling^ I shall feel inclined to call you," said the colonel, pleasantly. " And if you are going to join the regiment, I shall give you the rank of vivmidiere. Would you like that ? " "What is that, sir? " asked Dora, gravely. " You will have to do just what you have been doing THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIME XT. 147 now — carry water to all tlic wounded men after a bat- tle, and bring relief to them, if tliey are unable to seek it. Then you can help in the hospital a good deal, I dare say, and there will be a good many ways of making yourself useful to the sick and wounded. I shall give you into the chaplain's care, and he will tell you what to do. Would you like it?" " O, yes, sir ! That is just what I should like better than anything," cried Dora, with shining eyes and joy- ful smile. " All right, then. — Attention ! " The colonel, taking Dora by the hand, led her a few paces back, so that she might be seen by the whole regiment. Every eye was fixed upon her. " Boys," said the colonel, pleasantly, '' here is Dora Darling, who is for the future to act as vivandiere of this regiment. Remember that every man of you is bound to guard and protect her as if she were his own daughter or sister. She is, in fact, the daughter of the regiment so long as she remains with it, and longer, if you choose. I place her in your care." " Three cheers for Dora Darling, the daughter of the regiment ! " suggested the major, gayly ; and three hearty cheers Avent up from the smiling ranks. " And three cheers for Colonel Blank, the father of the regiment ! " added a veteran sergeant, stepping forward in his place. The salute to the deservedly popular colonel was given 148 DOHA DABLIXGi even more enthusiastically than that to the adopted daughter. " And now three for the battle of Green Brier, my lads, and then we must be moving," said the colonel, as he affably saluted the regiment in acknowledgment of the compliment. *' But, after all, the men have had no water," mur- mured Dora to Picter, as, in the bustle of " falling in," she found herself again beside him. " No more dey hasn', but dey's got a wandieer, an' dat's mos' de same ting," said Picter, grimly ; for the poor old fellow had found his pride in his little mistress's sudden promotion and adoption sadly checked by the reflection that, now she had a thousand new friends, she would hardly remember the one humble old one, who had, but an hour before, felt as if she were almost his own. With feminine intuition Dora perceived the jealous pang, with feminine tact she relieved it. " They are very good. Pic, aren't they, to give us both something to do while we stay with them ? TVe shall often talk of them after we are settled at home there in the Xorth." " Bress de lamb ! She won't neber forgit nobody dat she's sot by," replied Pic, rather irrelevantly. " The vivandiere is to ride in ambulance No. 3," said an orderly, hastening up to Dora, and smiling pleasantly THE DAUGHTER OF THE BEGIMEXT. 149 as he pointed to the Avagon. " It's the colonel's orders. Picter, you'll have to foot it with the rest of us, I ex- pect." " I'm got my hoss in de Avood dah, t'ank you, sah ! " returned Picter, with much majesty ; and, as the laugh- ing orderly full back to his station, the negro led Dora to her appointed chariot, helped her to a seat beside the driver, and then scuttled off to the Avoods, Avliere he had left the redoubtable Jump snatching a hasty lunch from the short, sweet, mountain grass. A few minutes later, tlie last fdes of the rear guard disappeared from the beautiful valley, and the occupants of Camp Bartow were left once more in peace, with only their shattered works and dead or Avounded comrades to remind them of their late unpleasant visitors. 13* CHAPTER XYII. Colonel Blank did not forget his promise of putting Dora under the care and instruction of the chaplain of his regiment ; and the morning after her arrival in camp she was summoned to the colonel's tent, to be introduced to the Rev. Mr. Brown, commonly called, among the somewhat unruly members of his flock, Fight-and-pray, from a tradition that he had been found, on the occasion of a sudden surprise by the enemy, crouching behind a stone wall within aiming distance, and loading and firing with a promptness and exactness that no amount of drill could have improved. In person the chaplain was tall, broad-shouldered, and athletic, with a face more manly than handsome, and a manner more earnest than polished. The men almost adored him ; his brother officers were divided into two classes, one of ardent friends, the other of sneering ene- mies ; no one regarded the Rev. Mr. Brown with indif- ference or contempt. " Here is our new daughter, parson," said the colonel, as Dora, deserted at the door of the tent by the orderly who had brought her, entered alone and came slowly (150) TEE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 151 forward. " This is Mr. Brown, Dora, who is going to be so kind as to look after you a little while we remain here. He is your spiritual father, child, although of the church militant, and as ready with his weapon, on occa- sion, as any of us pooi* sinners." " Don't puzzle her, Blank," whispered the chaplain hastily to the colonel, who ranked first in the class of ardent friends above alluded to. " Don't make her afraid of us. Come here, my dear," continued he aloud, extending a cordial hand to meet Dora's somewhat backward one. " So you have come to help me a little in the hos- pital?" asked he, kindly, as he seated the child on a camp stool beside him. "Yes, sir," said Dora, rather coldly; and then her eyes, hitherto downcast, rose slowly to the level of his face, and calmly, not boldly, rested there long enough to fully scan its lines and expression. " He isn't handsome, but he looks real good, and as if he knew more than almost any one," was the thought that shaped itself in Dora's mind as she kept her steady eyes fixed upon the somewhat rugged face, that at last blushed like a boy's beneath her scrutiny. " Ma foi^ cette demoiselle vous fait grancV attention^ mon heau gargon" * said the colonel, laughing. * By my faith, this young lady is very much taken with you, my iiandsome fellow. 152 DOB A DABLIXG: " Cliut ! C'est enfant d'apres nature. N'effraycz pas," * retorted the chaplain, recovering his self-pos- session. " And perhaps you will like to study a little with me, when we have time," continued the chaplain, wlio all this time had looked at Dora as steadily as she at him. A sudden color flashed over the child's face, not, as with the sturdy chaplain, from difSdence, but from the sudden spring of hope and joy. "O, sir," cried she, "will you teach me?" I want so to know things." "Things? What things?" laughed her new friend. " Everything," returned Dora, with confident resolve in her voice. " Then you feel ready to set yourself to work to learn everything, supposing I allow myself able to teach it to you? " asked Mr. Brown, still smiling. " Yes. I think I never should be tired of learning. I don't know anything now," said Dora, thoughtfully. " So far advanced as that ! " exclaimed the chaplain. "Well, if you are going to be so untiring, we shall have our hands full, for I will never be the first to cry, ' Enough I ' So, now, if Colonel Blank will excuse us, we will go to the hospital for a while, and then begin our course of study." ^ " But don't try to learn everything in one day, my * Hush ! She is a child of nature. Do not alarm her. THE D AUGHT EH OF THE ItEGIMEXT. 153 Fille du Regiment^ or we may lose our little vivandihre before Ave have even seen her in service. By the way, I must look up some sort of uniform for her." Passing from the tent of the colonel, Mr. Brown, hold- ing Dora's hand within his own, now led her toward a large pavilion a little without the camp, made by the combination of several tents into one, the curtains be- tween being looped up for air, or lowered for warmth, as occasion might require. Along the sides of this pavilion lay two long ranges of pallets spread upon the floor, AA'hicli had been roughly boarded, or, more properly speaking, logged, from the neighboring forest. Another row of beds down the middle of the pavilion was also nearly filled witli wounded or diseased sufferers ; for many of the prisoners taken upon the previous even- ing had been wounded, and were now placed side by side, and attended with the same care as the Union soldiers. The surgeons passed busily from bed to bed, followed by attendants with bandages, basins, clean garments, and food. The chaplain's smiling face grew earnest as the sights and sounds of suffering that filled the place smote upon eye and ear. " Here is enough to be done, Dora," said he, cheerful- ly. " Let us set ourselves to work. You had better wash this poor fellow's face and hands. The nurses have no time to attend to him, with all these wounds to look 154 DOHA DAIiLIXG. after. He is a fever patient, and has been here some Jays. Melvin, you can give your basin and towel to this girl — can you not? and bring another for yourself." The attendant immediately complied with this request, and Dora went to work so deftly and so tenderly, that the chaplain, after ■watching her a moment or two, said cheerily, — " Yes, you will do nicely. After you have finished with him, you can get more water from the pail out there, and go to the next. All at this end of the tent are convalescents, whom you can attend as well as a sur- geon. T\"hen you wish to know anything more, you can come to me." " Thank you, sir," said Dora, softly, as she leaned tenderly over the poor fever patient, who was moaning out a petition for water. Mr. Brown watched again while the youthful nurse raised the heavy head, and carefully placed the cup to the eager lips. Then once more saying, — " Yes, you will do nicely, my child," he turned away to seek the spot where his strong arm and brave words might best uphold the shrinking suiFerers groaning be- neath the surgeon's sharp remedies. Noon came, and Dora, hastening from the kitchen tent with a bowl of broth for a poor fellow who had confided to her that he was "just about starving for his dinner," was met by the chaplain, who had been looking for her. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 155 "Come, Dora Darling," said he, after a scrutinizing glance at her pale face and disordered dress, " I thi'^^ you have done enough for once. I will not have you tire yourself out the first day. Come to my tent, and I shall send you some dinner there. I am sorry I cannot ask you to dine witli me ; but I do not keep a table by myself, and do not wish to take you to the mess-table. You will want to arrange your dress a little before dinner, I suppose. Where are your quar- ters?" "Sir?" "Where did you sleep last night? " " In the cooking tent, sir. Picter made me a bed there with some blankets." " You must have another place. I will see to it before night. Meantime you shall come to my tent, or rather wait here a few minutes till I have washed my own hands, and then I Avill send for you." He laughed as he went away, and Dora remained in a happy reverie upon her new life and new friends, until the chaplain's servant came to summon her to the tent which Mr. Brown had left for her occupation while he was at dinner. The servant, having pointed out the toilet apparatus, which had been scrupulously re-arranged for her, withdrew, after promising to return with some dinner in a few minutes. Dora, with a new care for her appearance, hastened to 156 DORA DAIiLIXG: remove the stains of her late occupation from hands and srmp, to bathe her heated face, and scrupulously arrange her luxuriant and waving hair. Then she looked dov%'n at her torn and travel-stained dress, and hoped that the colonel vould not forget his intention to provide a new one for her. *' Picter thinks I am so wonderfully neat ! I wonder if he ever looked at Mr. Brown's hands, and nails, and teeth, and hair," thought simple little Dora, wistfully ex- amining herself in the bit of looking-glass taken from the chaplain's dressing-case, and hung up for her accom- modation. She was still engaged in this amusement when the ser- vant, whose name was Hepburn, reentered the tent with some dinner upon a little tray. He set it upon the camp table with the remark, — " Mr. Brown sent you this, miss, from the colonel's table." "Thank you, sir," said Dora, turning away from the glass with a very unusual color burning in her cheeks. " I ain't only Mr. Brown's man, miss," said the man, smiling a little at the title given him. " Is there any- thing more that I can get for you ? " " No, I thank you. Do you belong to the regiment?" " Yes, miss." " Then don't say miss to me. I'm the daughter of the regiment," said Dora, with a little laugh. THE DAVanTER OF THE EEQIMEXT. 157 " Yes, miss, I know it," said Hepburn. " And we're* all proud and glad to liave you our daughter ; but Mr. Brown said I was to call you 2Iiss Dora, and that the colonel wanted all the men to do the same." "O," said Dora, thoughtfully, "then I suppose you must. Do you know what they call them -generally ? " "What, Miss Dora?" "Why, what the colonel said I was to be — a vivau' dero, I believe," said Dora, coloring again with the fear of commhting a blunder. " Vivandiere, I think they call it, miss." " Well, how do the soldiers speak to them generally ? " " I don't know, miss. I never knew a regiment that had one, though I know some of them do." " Well, I suppose, if Mr. Brown says so, it is right ; but no one ever called me miss, before," said Dora, thoughtfully, as she seated herself and began to eat. Hepburn, after waiting a moment to see if he could do anything more, withdrew to assure his mess-mates that the little vivandiere was a darling by nature as well as by name, and that he, for one, Avouid stick by her just the same as if she was his own sister. After dinner, Mr. Brown, returning to the tent, found his little charge somewhat impatiently awaiting him. "Well, Dora," said he, gayly, " are you all ready for the Greek Grammar, or shall we begin with German?" " I think sir, if you will let me, I had rather go back U 158 DORA DAELIXG- to the hospital, and see if all the men have had their dinner. I know there Avere a good many who wanted some Avhen I came away," said Dora, earnestly. Mr. Brown looked at her attentively, and then took from his trunk a little volume of illustrated poems. The plates were artistic in design and exquisite in ex- ecution, and Mr. Brown, carelessly opening the book, placed it in Dora's hand, saying, in an offhand man- ner, — " Well, we will go in a few minutes. There are some pictures for you to look at." ^'O, thank you, sir!" said the child, as she eagerly, but carefully, grasped the book. Mr. Brown, taking another, sat down to watch her. The engraving to Avhich he had accidentally opened rep- resented King Arthur floating alone upon the haunted lake, whence uprose the arm " clothed in white samite, mystic, wonderful," extending towards his grasp the magic sword Excalibur. An air of romance, of chivahy, of knightly prowess clung about not only the figure of the king, but was ex- pressed in all his surroundings, — in the prow of his boat, carved to the likeness of the dragon's head — in the bold sweep of the shore — in the transparent waters, where the dim outline of the mermaid's figure melted undistin- guishably into the ripple of the wave — in the gemmed hilt of the wonderful sword, whence di'ipped the spar- THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 159 kling drops, as it uprose to meet the extended hand of the great Pendragon. Dora looked at it eagerly for a moment, and then raised her eyes inquiringly to the chaplain's face. He met and answered the look smilingly. " Do you wonder what it means?" " Yes, sir. Will you please tell me ? " " Certainly I will." And in a few, clear, sparkling phrases the chaplain related the outline of Arthur's story, particularly the scene represented in the picture. Dora listened, not with her ears alone, but with her eyes, her parted lips, her deepening color, her whole lithe body. She was charmed and absorbed as only a child on the verge of maturity, to whose youth has been denied all knowledge of such matters, can be, when the world of romance and story is first opened to her bewildered vision. Suddenly, however, her attention Avavered. She closed the book, and rising, stood waiting until the chaplain should have finished speaking. "What is it?" asked Mr. Brown, breaking off ab- ruptly in the middle of a most interesting account of the Round Table. " Are you tired of my story?" " O, no, indeed, sir," cried Dora, with such unaffected earnestness, that the chaplain smiled. " I could listen all night and all to-morrow to it ; but, sir, you know those men haven't had their dinner." 160 noPiA DAnzixG: " Well, on the next page there is another picture that shows the last scene of Arthur's life. Don't you Avant to look at that, and hear a little about it before you go?" Dora glanced wistfully at the book, still in her hand, then stepped resolutely forward, and laid it upon the table, saving, at the same time, — " If you had just as lief, sir, I had rather hccir about it another time." " But suppose, Dora, I can't tell you about it another time?" asked the chaplain, intent upon trying the child's resolution to the extent. Dora looked steadily into the grave face, where was to be read no leniency of purpose. " I tliink you will, sir," said she boldly, at length. "But if I won't?" " Then, sir, I think I had better go without the pic- tures than the men without their dinner," said the girl, with a little sigh, as she turned to leave the tent. " Wait a moment ; I am coming too," said Mr. Brown, briefly ; and as he carefully deposited the book in its place, he smiled, and whispered to himself, " You'll do, my little heroine." But the chaplain was too wise to spoil by praise the un- consciousness of merit that gave such a charm to the little act of self-sacrifice, and as he Avalked along with Dora towards the hospital, he only said, — , THE DAUGHTEIt OF THE liEGIMEXT. 161 " Yes ; duty comes before pleasure, or should do so, at even a greater cost than the story of King Arthur." " Good morning, or afternoon, if you have dined, Brown," called a cheery voice from behind. "Good afternoon, Windsor," said the chaplain, turning to meet the young captain, who was hastening after him. " You were coming to see me?" " iSTot you exactly, but this young lady, who is an old friend of mine. You have not forgotten me. Miss Dora — have you ? " " No, sir ; you are Captain Karl," said Dora, gravely. The two officers smiled, and Captain Windsor an- swered, — " So I am, Dora. Captain Karl to you and my little sister and brother at home, and one or two other good friends far away just now. I knew you in a moment last night, but could not get a chance to speak to you, although I am sure you heard me cheer when the colonel proposed you as ' Daughter of the Regiment ; ' now, didn't you ? " " They all cheered, you know. Captain Karl," said Dora, hesitatingly, evidently afraid of hurting her new friend's feelings by confessing that she had not distin- guished his voice from the rest. '• But I louder tlian any one else," persisted the cap- tain, Avith a twinkle of the bright blue eyes. " Now con- fess that you noticed one particularly clear and sonorous note above the general shout, and wondered whose it was." 14* 162 DORA DARLIXG. " You was very kind to try so hard," said Dora, with a simple pity in her voice that quite turned the intended jest against its perpetrator. " Yes, Windsor," said the chaplain, gravely, " it was wrong of you to make such an effort. You might have injured yourself seriously." Captain Karl colored a little, but answered the chap- lain's satirical smile with a gay laugh. "Xa Fille die Regiment has an able ally in its chaplain," said he, merrily. "And where are you going now?" " To the hospital. We are volunteer aids on the staff of nurses," replied Mr. Brown, in the same tone. " But if you will come to my tent after parade, I shall be happy to see you ; and so Avill Dora, I do not doubt." ^^Au revoir, then. I don't affect hospital sights and sounds when I can be of no use ; " and the young man sauntered away, twisting his fair mustache, and humming a soldier's air. " That boy has the making of a fine man in him, if he learns that little maxim I just quoted, Dora," said Mr. Brown, as he held aside the flap of the tent door for her to enter first. " What maxim, sir?" asked Dora, a little puzzled. " Xow let us see who wants some dinner?" replied the chaplain, with a smile. CHAPTER XVIII. After this, for several weeks, the little vivandiere led a very active life. There were many wounded and sick men in the hospital, who needed almost incessant care ; and the soldier nurses, overwearied and overburdened as they were, found themselves very glad to accept the services so eagerly offered by Dora. In fact, so little care or pity had the child for herself, that Mr. Brown was frequently obliged to interfere with an authority that she never thought of resisting, and force her to take time for rest or recreation. For regular study there was, as yet, no opportunity ; but the chaplain had with him a few well-selected books, and was able to bor- row others, so that there was always something for Dora either to read to herself, or to hear Mr. Brown read aloud for her instruction or amusement. The story of King Arthur, and that of many a knightly hero of that and later ages, had been fully told, with such comments and explanations as gave the child subject for thoughts and dreams far beyond the scope of the mere narrative. The chaplain, with delight not unmingled with a cer- tain awe, beheld a mind, developing beneath his teachings, (163) 16-4: . DORA DAELIXG: of no ordinary vigor and grasp — a mind of sucli activity and constant thirst for information, that he hardly dared keep pace with its demand, wliile it was protected from undue severity by a vivid and graceful foncy. But this fine intellect was not Dora's greatest charm in her teacher's eyes. Mrs. Darley, although she had been unable to give her daughter the education she had never herself received, had labored zealously and constantly to make her good ; and these efforts, seconded by the child's own nature, had been so successful, that to be true, self- denying, patient, and industrious, were as inevitable with Dora as her breath. And even Mr. Brown, a man in whose strong nature the good often conquered the evil only after a fierce struggle, stood more than once rebuked before the rectitude and conscientiousness of the child, who, in her turn, looked upon the chaplain as the incar- nation of human virtue and wisdom. Captain Karl also was soon a fast friend and favorite of Dora, who always greeted his approach with one of the merry smiles that had been becoming ftir more frequent upon her face than they v»-ere in the old time, M'lien care and sorrow had formed so large a portion of her life. To tell the truth, the young captain and the vivandih-e were quite as much playfellows as friends, and might have been seen, in many a clear twilight, building little dams in the brook just without the camp, or playing at ball, or even catch-who-catch-can, upon the mountain side. THE DAVGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 165 "With the men Dora was a universal favorite, although, partly in obedience to a hint from Mr. Brown, partly from a native sense of propriety, she mingled but little with them, and nevp.r familiarly. It soon, however, became an established custom, that every Sunday afternoon, as many as could gather around her, either in the hospital tent or out of doors, collected to listen while the child's sweet and clear voice read out some chapters in the New Testament, and then led in a simple hymn. After this was over, the soldiers felt privileged to approach, and hold a little talk with their " daughter," as they delighted to call her ; and it was good to see how even the coarsest of them softened his voice, and chose his phrases as fitly as he might, to suit the ear and mind of the grave little girl, who spoke to each so simply and so gently, and yet impressed all with a sense of her womanly purity and dignity. " Arrah, thin, an' it's like ' the dochter,' that the Howly Vargin was, when she was a gurrl," said Pat Maloney, on one of these occasions tc his neighbor, honest Sam Kyder, who answered, with gruff emotion, — " I don't know nothing about your holy virgin, but I had a little sister that died when I was a boy, and ' the daughter ' always makes me think of her." " Good night, tliin, an' Hiviu's blissin' on yer purty head, Dora Darlint," exclaimed Pat, as Dora, in passing 166 DOHA DAELIXG: out, gave him her hand in turn, Tvith a kindly, " Good night, Maloney." Nor were these expressions the only proofs of the affection felt by the regiment for its daughter. A small tent communicating with the hospital pavilion had been appropriated as the vivandiere's quarters, and this was almost filled with gifts of one sort and another from Dora's six hundred or more fathers. Not only had the tent been neatly floored by one of the carpenters, of whom there were several, but a piece of canvas had been nailed over the boards by way of carpet. The bedstead, table, and chair had been manufactured and ornamented with much labor and some taste for her ex- press use, and the bed was warmly piled with blankets contributed by one and another honest fellow who " really did not care for it at all." Pictures, and trinkets carved of wood or bone, hung upon the canvas walls, or lay upon the table ; and Dora might have covered every one of her slender fingers with the gutta percha rings, some of them inlaid with pearl or silver, constantly bestowed upon her. The colonel had not forgotten his promise to find a costume for his little vivandiere^ but it proved to be a matter of some difficulty to do so. From the sutler's stores were provided a supply of blue cloth, and thread, needles, and buttons, and Dora shaped for herself a short, full skirt, belted sack, and THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 167 Turkish trousers ; but both head and feet seemed likely to remain bare, as neither shoes nor cap of the proper size were to be found, or could easily be procured. But private John Slocum had been born a Yankee, and bred a shoemaker, and after two or three days of hard work he brought forward a neat little pair of high bal- moral boots manufactured out of the cast-off pair of a cavalry captain, and presented them to Dora, with a sheepish intimation that, — " They'll do, maybe, to keep you from stubbing your toes off raound these ere woodsey places." Then private Joe Billings, who did not often like to remember that he had been a tailor before he was a soldier, went to work and made a jaunty little red cap gayly trimmed with gold braid, out of some odds and ends of finery from the officers' quarters, and as the season advanced and the diiys grew chill, the same mar- tial tailor fashioned a short cloak of dark-blue cloth trimmed with a broad red stripe, and fastened down the front with military buttons, that left nothing to be de- sired, either in the way of elegance or comfort. To this costume was to be added, in time of action, a stout leathern belt circling the trim waist of the vivan- diere, and upholding a small keg of water at one side, balanced by a flask of spirits and a tin cup at the other. She was also provided with a bottle of pungent smelling salts, and another of hartshorn, to be administered to men fainting from pain and exhaustion. -1 168 DORA DARLIXG: She was, moreover, allowed rations from the colonel's mess table, and might eat them in her own quarters. It was a strange life for a little girl, but a very comforta- ble and happy one. Only one person was dissatisfied with the new order of things ; and this was Picter, who jealously felt that his charge had been taken out of his hands, and removed far beyond his reach. To be sure, Dora made every effort to prove that she retained the same affection and confi- dence she had always felt for her humble friend, and often went herself to look for him, besides urging him to come to the hospital and see her. Picter received all advances of this sort gratefully, but incredulously. "Don' bodder youse'f 'bout me, missy," he would often say. " It ain't in nater dat you don want ole nigger chasin' roun' arter you, now dat you's got ossifers, an' men, an' de parson hese'f, to wait 'pon ye." " But none of them are like you, Picter. None of them Avas my mother's old friend and servant, nor it wasn't one of them who brought me aAvay from the place where I was so unhappy, to this, where I am so happy." *' Yes, missy, I s'pecs you is. Happy 'nough now widout ole Pic. Well, de ole feller '11 go back to de pots an' pans ; ain't fit company for missy." Dora felt this discontent of her retainer very acutely, and tried, whenever she could, to dispel it ; but besides THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT, 169 Picter's own obstinacy, she was very often prevented from seeing him by the engrossing nature of her own business. Most of the hospital patients were now recovering from their wounds, and were in that condition when careful nursing and cheerful occupation were of more importance than the surgeon's visits. At the head of this convalescent department stood the chaplain and Dora, not by actual appointment, but by a sort of gen- eral consent, including their own ; and both found quite enough to fill hands, minds, and time, during the hours to which Mr. Brown endeavored to confine their attend- ance, for he wisely insisted on reserving time sufficient for rest, exercise, and food, both for himself and his pupil. Among Dora's most requiring patients was a young Kentucky artilleryman, who had been dangerously wounded in the head by a piece of shell. For many days his life had been despaired of ; and after he began to rally a little, it was necessary to perform a severe operation, that completely prostrated his strength, and left him, for more than a week, in a condition of stupor from which it was considered doubtful if he ever aroused. His name was Merlin, and both Dora and Mr. Brown had taken the greatest interest in his case, and attended him with the most unwearied care. At last the surgeon pronounced a favorable change to have taken place, and one day, after a long eiamina- 16 170 DORA DARLIXG : tion, both of the wound and the general condition of the patient, he said, — " There, Miss Dora, I give this case into jour hands now. Nothing more is required but nursing, light food, and an occasional tonic draught. Let me know if there is any change, but I think he will do." It was, therefore, to Merlin especially, that Dora's first visit in the morning and last at night were paid, and he began steadily to improve. As consciousness returned, however, a settled melancholy became apparent, and baf- fled all the little arts of the young nurse to vanquish it. In vain she read interesting stories beside his pillow, re- peated bits of camp news and rumors, or tried to draw him into conversation. Merlin answered always respect- fully and promptly, but never questioned, or smiled, or evinced any interest in the doings of his fellow-soldiers. "He will never get well until he is in better spirits," said she, sadly, to the surgeon, who rallied her upon the slow convalesence of her patient. " I'm afraid he's a shirk, and don't want to go back to quarters and rations," said the doctor, as he passed on, without waiting to hear Dora's eager disclaimer. The next morning, however, as soon as she entered the hospital, the young nurse perceived that some great change had taken place in her languid patient. He had partially risen, so as to lean upon one elbow, and his flushed face and glittering eyes were turned eagerly towards the can- THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 171 vas partition, that in these cold autumnal days "was kept lowered between the different tents, that, as has been ex- plained, were connected to form the hospital. "TMiat is the matter, Merlin? What do you hear?" asked Dora, anxiously, as she hastened to his side. '•Who's that?" asked the gunner, hoarsely, as he turned his blood-shotten eyes for a moment towards her. " Who ? What do you mean ? " " There ! That voice — whose is it ? " Dora listened in her turn, and soon distinguished a deep tone rising above the confusion of the place, in the wild accents of delirium. "You mean that poor fellow who is out of his head — don't you ? There ! the one Avho is singing ? " " Yes. Who is it? " fiercely demanded Merlin. " It is a poor rebel, who was dreadfully wounded by a sabre cut across his forehead," said Dora, soothingly. " He has been moved into the next tent this morning, because we are not going to use the third one any more at present." " What's his name ? " asked Merlin, in the same sharp voice. '"We don't know. He hadn't anything marked about him, and he hasn't been conscious since he came in. What are you looking for? Can't I help you ? " " I want my clothes. I want something to put on right away," returned Merlin, impatiently, as he looked 172 DOHA DARLING, from side to side, and pushed the bed-clothes nervously away. " But you mustn't ; you can't be dressed for a good many days yet. Do lie still, please do, or I shall have to call one of the nurses," pleaded Dora, almost tear- fully, for the man's agitation filled her with dismay, con- trasting, as it did, with the perfect apathy he had hith- erto exhibited. " But I must, I tell you," persisted he. " I must know what that felloAv's name is, at least. Hadn't he anything about him with his name on it?" " No, nothing at all." "Well, wasn't there anything — anything else, — I mean anything that some of his folks might have given him — a picture, or such?" asked Merlin, nervously, while his wasted hand still gi'asped the bed-coverings, as if determined to throw them aside. Dora looked at him steadily, and turned a little pale. " If you will lie do^Mi quietly, and let me cover you up, I will tell you,'* said she, decidedly. Merlin hesitated a moment, and then sank back upon his pillow. " The man in there had a picture in his pocket-book, a photograph of a young lady," said Dora, slowly. " Do you want to see it ? " " Yes, of course I do ; right away, as quick as you can get it I " exclaimed Merlin, imperiously. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 17b '' But I canuot get it at all, or do anything about it, unless you will promise to lie perfectly still in bed here, and not even ask for your clothes again until the doctor says you may sit up," said Dora, decidedly. The Kentuckian muttered an oath, and tossed himself over with his back to Dora, who stood looking pityingly, and yet firmly, at him. As he did not stir, however, she turned to the inmate of the next bed, and began to make him comfortable for the day. Presently she felt her skirt plucked from behind. Turning instantly, she found Merlin again leaning upon his elbow, and regarding her with a sort of impatient submission of manner. " Say," began he, as soon as she turned towards him, " will you get me that picture if I w^on't ask for my clothes till you're ready to let me get up ? " " You must promise, besides, to stay quietly in your bed, and not toss about so," stipulated Dora. " Well, I will." "You promise?" "Yes." "Then I will get you the picture as soon as I have done washing Lynn's face. It won't be long." " Plurry up, then, for mercy's sake ! " entreated the Kentuckian, restraining the stronger expression that had risen to his lips, out of deference to his nurse. In a few moments, Dora, having finished bathing poor Lynn's feverish face, tripped away to the other tent, 15* 174 DORA DARLING: where she knew Mr. Brown was now to be found, and rapidly repeating to him the events of the morning, she asked for the photograph, which, witli other property belonging to wounded prisoners, had been placed under the chaplain's charge. "Here it is, since you promised it to him," said Mr. Brown, rather reluctantly. " But I am afraid it will lead to mischief." He turned away without explanation, and Dora, slowly returning to her patient, wondered what the chaplr'a could have meant. " She doesn't look as if she could do mischief," thought the child, looking at the photograph. It was the vignette of a beautiful young girl, with a somewhat timid ex- pression in her large eyes, and an undecided mouth. The curling hair Avas tied back from tte low brow with a ribbon, whose ends floated doA\Ti upon the plump neck. As Dora approached Merlin's couch, he eagerly ex- tended his hand. She placed the picture in it, and Avaited a moment for some exclamation, or remark, to show whether the face was the one he had prepared himself to see. But the Kentuckian uttered neither comment nor ejaculation. Not even the lines of his face betrayed the emotions beneath the surface. Lying perfectly motion- less upon his back, with the picture steadily held before his eyes, he looked at it intently moment after moment, THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 175 until Dora turned to attend to her other duties. When she returned, some time afterwards, he had not moved ; and when, an hour later, she again visited him, the pic- ture had disappe.'^red, and the patient slept, or appeared to sleep. CHAPTER XIX. During- the rest of the day Dora kept a constant watch upon the Kentuckian, for, in spite of his promises, she felt an uneasy consciousness that all was not as quiet with him as he wished her to believe. "When her hour of liberty in the afternoon arrived, she sought Mr. Brown, who was reading in liis tent, and told him that she feared Merlin had some plan in his mind with regard to the prisoner whose voice had moved him so strangely, and begged him to go into the hospital be- fore night and question him. Mr. Brown promised to do so, and then, seeing that Dora looked pale and tired, he bade her put on her cloak and come to walk with him. Dora gladly obeyed, and, as they strolled along the mountain side, Mr. Brown began to talk with her of mat- ters that soon carried her beyond the present weariness. Speaking first of the traces of fortification that the pres- ent war will leave all over the land, to be the Avonder of coming generations, he went back to the centuries of the past, and told how in Ohio and all over the West are to be found traces of battles mightier than ours, of fortifica- tions that might include a dozen of our own, of relics left (176) THE DAUGHTER OT THE IlEGIMEXT. 177 behind ia the disappearauce of a mighty people, whose gi-aud works survive, when eveu tradition holds no echo of the workers' name or race. Mr. Brown, who was a determined antiquary, grew enthusiastic as he talked, and Dora listened Avith more avidity to this marvellous, true story than she had to the romantic legends of Arthur and his knights. Both teacher and pupil became so engrossed as quite to forget where they were, and the danger of straying far from camp, when, as they paused a moment to look at the western sky, where the last glory of the sunset was fading away, the sharp crack of a rifle rung through the stillness, and a little puff of smoke rose lazily from a dense thicket some distance below them in the valley. The sharp whistle of the ball cut the air, at the same instant, so close to the chaplain's head, that he felt the slight current made by its motion. ''What — O, who is that?" cried Dora, as a dark figure seemed to spring out of the earth a little distance from her side, and bound forward to the thicket. " Why, it's Picter — isn't it?" added she, as, even in the brief glance she caught of the figure, she noticed the peculiar motion of the limbs. "Was it? But what is going on now? Stay here, Dora, or, rather, crouch behind this stump, and keep close, while I go to see — " " But you haven't any gun, or anything ! " cried Dora, holding the chaplain fast. 178 DOHA DARLIXG: " I am armed ; I Lave a pistol. Let me go, child ! You must, really. Keep yourself bidden." As Mr. Brown spoke, he released himself from Dora's grasp, and, drawing a pistol from an inside pocket, bounded down the hill. Without a moment's hesitation the child followed, and arrived at the thicket just as Mr. Brown stooped over a Avi'ithing mass of matter, which might, so far as eyes were to be trusted, have been two bears struggling in a death hug. Human voices, however, were to be heard in panting exclamations, oaths, and menaces, but the only articulate sounds were in Picter's gruff tones. " Take dat, den ! " panted he, raising high above his head a knife whose blade gleamed faintly in the twilight. But the blow never fell, for, quick as thought, his unseen adversary, releasing his own right hand from the negro's grasp, dashed it so heavily into his face as to prostrate him to the ground, while at the same moment he leaped to his feet, and darted into the forest, pursued by a ball from the chaplain's pistol. Picter slowly rose to his feet, wiping from his eyes the blood that trickled into them from a cut upon his fore- head. " De ole cuss," muttered he, " knockin' open a pus- son's head as ef 'twor a mushmillion ! Wait till I cotch ye agin, mas'r, dat's all ! " "Who was it, Picter? Did you know him?" asked Dora, breathlessly, while the chaplain inquired, — THE DAUGHTER OF THE EEGIMENT. 179 " HoTv came you out here, Picter, so providentially? '* "0, de Lor', mas'r an' missy, how's I gwine to tell eberyting all to once, an' all de extry stars dat was lef over arter de sky was full, a dancin' 'fore my eyes, an' in an' out ob my pore ole head dis bressed minute ? " asked Picter, with some asperity, as he reseated himself upon the ground. "Poor Uncle Pic! It is too bad. Come up to the hospital as quick as you can, and I will do up your hurt. Is there any other except this on your forehead ? " " Dunno, missy. Don' you bodder youse'f 'bout de ole nigger. He noffin' but ole fool arter all." " No, you're not, Picter, and you don't believe it your- self," said Dora, laughing. "But come, let us go home." " Yes, it is quite time. Our friend may return at any moment, and his next aim may be truer," said Mr. Brown, peering sharply into the forest beyond where they were standing. "He tried to shoot you — didn't he?" asked Dora, anxiously. " Yes, I suppose so," said the chaplain, coolly. -% " Course he did. Didn' want fer touch missy," mut- tered Picter, who was now folloAving them up the hill. " But how came you do^\^l here all ready to defend us ? " asked Mr. Brown, soothingly ; for he had learned to understand the poor fellow's crabbed jealousy of all his 180 DOHA DAELIXG: young mistress's new friends, and liked him llie better for it. '' Wasn' tryin' to 'feud no one but lilly missy," growled Picter, " I seed her a trabelliu' off down here long wid parson, an' t'out parson had lef ' he gun to home : didn' know he got lilly gun in he pocket. Den I knowed de rebs kep' a comin' roun' fer spy out what we's a doin', an' t'out like *uough dey pick: up missy an' de parson, an' carry dey off 'fore dey had time fer holler. So I took um knife, an' comed along arter 'em. Didn' come in sight, fer missy 'ouldn't want fer talk wid stupid ole nig- ger v\^'eu she got buckra gen'leman to talk wid. So de mis'able ole feller he creep an' crawl long jes' like de pore dog arter he mas'r gib him lickin' an' tell he go 'long home. An w'en missy set down on de log, an* parson 'tan' an' talk 'fore her, den dis nigger lay 'till an' look at dem, till de gun go ' crack ' down here in de brush, an' de ball go singin' up clost to missy head. Tou't fust 'twas her dey was shootin' at, but now I knows it wasn'." "How do you know, Picter?" asked Mr. Brown, st|pping, and looking earnestly at him. " Can't tell, mas'r parson. On'y I reckon 'twor you, an' not missy, dey wanted," said the negro, doggedly. Arrived at the camp, Mr. Brown went to speak to Merlin, as Dora had requested; and she insisted upon Picter's coming with her into the outer hospital tent, now THE DAUGHTER' OF THE REGIMENT. 181 left unoccupied by patients, while she sought from the surgeon some plaster and a bandage to dress his wound. The negro reluctantly obeyed, and Dora, after bathing the cut, and applying the plaster, bandaged it so neatly and so tenderly, that, as the patient emphatically de- clared, it was " better dan a whole head," " That's nice. Now, Pic, you had better go to bed, and try to sleep. I dare say your head aches — doesn't it? " asked the little nurse, kindly. " Not half so bad as it had oughter," replied Pic, pen- itently. "'Clare to mas'r, Missy Dora, it 'nough ter make a hedgehog 'shamed ob hese'f, ter see how good you is ter dis mis'able ole cross-grain nigger. Wy doesn' you up an tell him, ' You ole fool, does you s'pec a young madam like me is gwine to 'sociate wid a nigger? I's got Oder fish a fryin' in my pan dese times.' But, 'stead o' dat, you's jest as pleasant an' as pooty to him now, as you was dem days in de cave, an' in de ole times w'en he use to fix up swings an' seesaws in de barn, fer you an' mas'r Tom." " And I am just as fond of you, Picter," said Dora, eagerly. " And I wouldn't say any such thing as }%i just told me to, for anything. Of course my time is very much taken up now, and you wouldn't want me to come and sit round in the kitchen with the men." •' Course I shouldn', honey. Wouldn' hab it no way." " Well, then, you must come and see me, Pic ; and I 16 182 DOHA DAHLIXG: wish you would make it a rule to come every afternoon at three o'clock, and stay a few minutes with me before I go to Mr. Brown." " T'ank you, missy. S'pecs dat parson mons'ous wise genTman — isn't he?" asked Pic, with a little return of jealous envy. " O, yes. He is the wisest and the best person I ever knew or thought of. You ought to hear him talk about the Bible and heaven, and those things. Why don't you ask him to tell you about it Pic? He would in a minute." " He wouldn' want 'pend he time on ole fool like dis yer," grumbled Pic. " He wouldn't call you that, and you wouldn't feel so, after you had talked with him." " Should like 'o talk wid him 'bout dem tings fus' rate, ef he'd hab de patience," said Pic, doubtfully. " O, he is never out of patience, or out of temper. Tve tried him awfully, Pm so ignorant, and he's always just so goo(il." " S'pecs you an' Ps diff'ent sort o' scholars, missy," said Pic, with a short laugh ; " but Pll try to cotch de parson w'en he'm not so busy, an' ax him — " "What will you ask him? There's no time like the present," said a sonorous voice behind them ; and Mr. Brown smilingly entered the tent. "O Lor' ! Dey say dat de ole gen'l'man is alluz near THE DAUGHTER OF THE JREGIMEXT. 183 when yoii's a talkin' 'bout him," blurted out Pic, and then hastily added, — " Ax you pardon, fer sure, mas'r ; I didn' mean ter call you de debil." " It isn't a wise thing to talk much about that indi- vidual, Picter. You never can tell how near he may be to you," said the chaplain, with a sort of merry gravity. " But now you had better come with me, and ask me whatever it was you intended to. Dora, I advise you to go to your own quarters now, and get some sleep." *' I jes' want fer tell missy somefin', mas'r, and den I come right 'long," said Picter, hesitatingly. " Very well. I will wait a moment outside. Good night, my child." " Good night, sir." Picter waited until the curtain had fallen behind the chaplain, and then, approaching close to Dora, he whis- pered, — " Dat ar' feller in de brush wor Dick Wilson, if dis chile knows anyting." " What, my cousin, Dick? " " Yis, missy. Night, missy Before Dora could reply, the negro was gone. CHAPTEH XX. Startled by Picter's sudden and brief communica- tion, Dora remained for some time seated Avliere he had left her, while her mind rapidly reviewed the very little that she knew of her cousin Dick, and weighed the probabilities of his being in the position of Mr. Brown's attempted assassin, and ofshis possible motive in making such an attempt. Wearied, at last, of useless conjecture, the young girl rose to visit her patients in the adjoining tents, before seeking her own little nook, which communicated vrith the outer hospital tent, where she now was. In the second tent were the wounded rebel prisoners, many of whom had before this recovered sufficiently to be forwarded to Beverly jail, and from thence to Colum- bus, where they were retained as exchanges for the fed- eral prisoners. In one corner lay the stalwart fellow whose delu'ious cries in the morning had so agitated Merlin. Almost a giant in stature, he was of a swarthy and forbidding countenance, and so violent at times in his language and behavior, that the surgeon and chaplain (1S4) THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 185 had forbidden Dora attempting to do anything for him. Since morning, Irowever, a favorable change had taken place in his condition, and he "svas now perfectly sane and quiet, although much exhausted. As Dora timidly paused near his bed, he faintly asked for some water. She gave it him at once, saying kindly, as she held the cup to his lips, — " You feel better, now — don't you? " " Yes. I reckon I've been pretty sick." " Yes, very sick. You have not had your senses at all since you were wounded." " What sort of a wound is it ? " " A cut on your head from a sabre bayonet, the doc- tor said." " I was in the ambush," murmured the man, dreamily. " I'm glad you are better. You'd better go to sleep now," said Dora, moving away. " Hold on a minute. Be you a Yankee, or do you belong round here ? " " Neither. I was born in Virginia, but I belong to a federal regiment. I'm the vivandiere^^* said Dora, in- wardly hoping her hearer would not suspect how proud she felt of the rank. "What is your name? We don't know what to call you," continued she, timidly, as the man lay staring at her with his bold black eyes. "My name's Judson, — Bob Judson, — and I ain't 16* 186 DORA DARLING: ashamed to tell it to any one," said the rebel, half defi- antly. " I'm glad of it. Good night," retm-ned Dora, has- tily, as she moved away. A few moments later, she found herself beside Mer- lin's bed. He was lying broad awake, and apparently perfectly quiet ; but his cheeks had a feverish glow upon them, and his eyes a glitter, ominous to the young nurse. " You are not so well to-night," said she, laying her hand upon his forehead. " You are feverish. I will bathe your face, and give you some of the drops to make you sleep — shan't I ? " •' No ; I don't want anything at all, miss. I shall go to sleep as soon as it's quiet here," said the young man, briefly. Dora looked at him again. She noticed that one hand was beneath his pillow, as if conoealing something. " It's the picture," thought she, " and the other man will be asking for it soon. I must get it." But a second thought suggested that it would be cruel and unwise to deprive Merlin of what he appeared to value so much, at this particular time, when a disturb- ance or disappointment might break up his whole night's rest, and seriously injure his health. She therefore resolved to let the picture remain till morning, and with a kind good night, left her patient to himself. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 187 Retiring to her OYm tent, Dora dropped the curtain, undressed, and after repeating lier prayers as simply and innocently as she had been wont to do at her mother's knee, she composed herself to sleep. But, ahhough tired both in body and mind, she could not rest. No sooner was she in quiet and darkness, than fancy surrounded her with vague shapes of harm, and whispered still vaguer warnings of danger to herself or others close at hand. She thought again of Dick, and wearied herself with conjectures as to his intentions towards her and the chaplain, until at last she almost fancied he was concealed in the very camp, and might at any moment start up beside her bed, ready to murder her as she lay, or drag her back a prisoner to his moth- er's home. Reasoning herself out of these idle terrors, Dora next thought of Merlin, and his animosity to the rebel named Judson ; and she soon convinced herself that this, al- though concealed, was quite as vehement now as in the morning, when it had been so plainly shown. As these fears and doubts pressed upon her mind, Dora became more and more uneasy, until at last she noiselessly rose from her bed, slipped on a part of her clothing, stole softly out of her little cell across the empty outer tent of the hospital, and slightly di'awing away the curtain between it and the second apartment, peeped in. All was quiet, and by the feeble light of the night 188 DORA DARLIXGt taper, Dora could see that Judson was sleeping calmly in the corner, with his left arm thrown up above his swarthy face. The patients were all so comfortable now, that only one attendant was thought necessary for both rooms during the night, and he was at present in the inner one. The curtains were lowered between the two tents, and Dora, moving as noiselessly as a spirit, passed through the second, and peeped within the third. At the upper end sat the nurse soundly sleepmg, with his head upon the table, where burned the night lamp. The sick men were all quiet, and Merlin lay apparently in a heavy sleep. Dora stood silently beside the nurse, with intent to wake him ; but as she heard his deep breathing, and saw how soundly he slept, her purpose changed. " I am not sleepy," said she to herself, " and he is, poor fellow ! I will sit here a little while, and not wake him until I am ready to go to bed again." So Dora seated herself upon a box in the corner, and leaning back against a bale of blankets, began her lonely watch. For nearly an hour her senses remained as alert as at the first ; but then her eyelids began to droop ; her head rested against the comfortable cushion behind it ; the silent and dimly lighted tent, with its rows of sleep- ing patients, grew indistinct and confused to her sight ; and Dora slept. THE DAUGHTER OF THE JiEGnfEXT. 189 Not for long, however. Of a sudden, a thrill shot through her frame, an indistinct horror seized upon her even through her slumber, and while suddenly arousing her mind to its full consciousness, laid a paralyzing hand upon her bodily senses. Through her half-opened eyelids she saw again the tent, the sleepers, the nurse, still sleeping heavily with the taper burning dimly beside him. She saw the cov- ering of one bed thrown aside, and a man's figure cau- tiously arising from it. This man was Merlin ; and Dora watched as in a dream, while with slow, deliberate movement he rose upright, steadied himself a moment on his feet, as if to try his strength, glanced keenly at her and at the nurse, and then drew from under his pillow a long bright knife, or dirk. Still as in a dream, Dora remembered that this knife had formed part of the Kentuckian's accoutrements re- moved when he was placed in bed the morning after the battle, and she dimly wondered how he had regained possession of it. After a cautious pause, the gaunt figure began to move silently and swiftly across the tent to wdiere the curtain, still looped aside, showed the interior of the second tent, Avith the corner bed full in sight, where lay the stalwart figure of the wounded rebel as Dora had last seen him, his left arm thrown above his head, and his face up- tui-ned. 190 nORA DARLING: Noiselessly as a panther the ghost-like figure of the Kentuckian crept towards this corner, and, as he moved, Dora caught the glancing rays of pale light reflected from the blade in his hand. The nurse beside her stirred in his sleep, muttered a few words, and heavily turned his head. The gliding figure in the next room paused, looked uneasily over his shoulder, at the same time thrusting the kuifi3 into his bosom. But the break in the nurse's dream was slight, and he presently slept again, as soundly as before. Assured of this, Merlin crept noise- lessly forward ; and now he stood beside his rival's bed, stooping low to scan his features, while his right hand stealthily emerged from his bosom, and again the yellow lio;ht jrlanced shiverino:lv off the blade. With a cautious movement the assassin drew down the bed covering, and lightly placed his left hand upon the breast of the sleeping man, as if to discover the exact position of the heart, while the knife slowly rose to the level of his head. But at this awful sight — at this crisis in the history of two men, both of whose lives hung upon the event of the next moment — the frozen trance that had held Dora enchained suddenly dissolved. "With a mighty effort she sprang to her feet, rushed through the two tents, and as Merlin, startled by the light sound of her approach, turned his head, she seized his uplifted arm in both her hands, and steadily confronted him. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 191 For a moment the man glared angrily at this child who dared to throw herself between him and his purpose, and struggled impatiently with her clinging grasp. But, as his eyes met those true and steady ones, fixed in re- proachful horror upon him, his own wavered and fell, the uplifted arm sank to his side, and his mouth lost the Lard, fierce curve it had held. Then Dora, feeling her power without reasoning upon it, said, in a low voice, — " Give me the knife. Merlin." After an instant's hesitation, the man obeyed. Throw- ing it upon the bed behind them, the girl motioned for- ward, and, still clinging to his arm, led her captive to the division curtain, and, pointing to his bed, whis- pered, — " Go and lie down before the nurse wakes." Without reply. Merlin did as he was bid ; and Dora, after returning to secure the knife, roused the nurse, telling him that she had kept watch for him through the last two hours, and now was going to her own quar- ters. The man, mortified at this mild reproof, was profuse in apologies, and was so evidently determined to keep himself awake during the rest of his watch, that Dora felt quite safe in leaving matters under his charge. As she passed out of the tent. Merlin called to her, appealingly, to speak with him a moment ; but Dora 192 DORA DARLIXG. only shook her head in reply. A natural horror of the contemplated deed, and of the man himself, had already replaced the calm courage that liad enabled her to con- front him, and it seemed to her as if she could never be ■svilling to approach him again. In the second tent she paused a moment to replace the covering over Judson's broad breast, Avondering, as she did so, if no ugly dream, no dim horror, such as had assailed herself, had waked in this man's mind, to warn him of the horrible danger that had so closely overshad- owed him. But Dora's light touch effected what the hand of the murderer had not ; and as she drew the blanket around his shoulders, the man stirred, opened his Avide black eyes, and, -svith a pleasant smile, murmured, — " I'm coming, Nelly," and then dropped asleep again. Dora, creeping away to her own little bed, wondered if Nelly was the original of the photograph so valued by both these men, and also what Nelly would have said and thought, could she have known the events of ihe last hour ; and then, utterly exhausted by fatigue, agitation, and anxiety, she threw herself upon her bed, and slept heavily through the few remaining hours of night. CHAPTER XXI. The next morning, when Dora awoke with an aching head and heavy eyes, she recalled the occurrences of the past night as a horrible dream, and smiled at the feeling of terror that had accompanied her first moment of conscious- ness ; but the smile vanished when, as she sprang to her feet, the long dirk dropped from her dress, and fell rat- tling to the floor. Sinking upon the edge of the bed, Dora fixed hci- eyes upon it, and gradually recalled the Avhole chain of events connected with it. Her first impulse was to go at once to Mr. Brown, and tell him the story, relying upon his judgment to do what- ever should be best for both men ; but when, after a hasty toilet, the young nurse looked for a moment into the hos- pital before going out, she found so many matters await- ing her attention, that she was unable to get away until after the hour when she knew the chaplain would be en- gaged in his own duties : she was, therefore, obliged to defer seeing him in private until evening ; for, although he regularly came into the hospital at a stated hour both morning and afternoon, there would then be no oppor- tunity for conversation. 17 (193) 194 DORA DAELIXG: When Dora, in her rounds, found herself approaching Merlin's bed, she hesitated, and shrank back. The eyes of the sick man caught the movement, and a deep flush of mortification covered his face, while lie humbly said, — " Good morning. Miss Dora." " Good morning. Merlin. Can I do anything for you this morning?" replied Dora, coldly, and without her usual smile. "If it isn't too much trouble, would you bathe my head and face a little ; I feel pretty hot," said the man, in an apologetic sort of way. " Yes, I will come in a moment," returned Dora, read- ily, although in the same constrained manner. From the outer room she brought some warm water, mixed with spirit, and applied herself to the task before her, gently and carefully, but in perfect silence. Presently Merlin said, softly, — " I want, ever so much, to tell you sometliing. Miss Dora. Can I?" " Yes, if it will be of any use to you," said Dora, hes- itatingly ; for she had just done the bathing, and was longing to get away. "Can any one hear, do you suppose?" " No ; this next bed is empty, and Bobbins is fast asleep. No one can hear, if you speak low." " If you will comb my hair while I talk, they won*t think strange of your stopping so long with me," sug- gested Merlin. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 195 " Well, I will comb your hair ; but I can't stop a gi-eat while, for I haven't been all round yet ; and when I have, I am going to read to Sherman and Phillips a little while." *' I'll try not to be long ; but I do want to tell you about it. Miss Dora, for I can't bear you should think I am such a villain as I'm afraid you do." He paused and looked up, but Dora averted her eyes, and made no answer to his appealing tone. Merlin sighed heavily, and went on in a low voice : — " Rob Judson and me are neighbor's sons, and was both raised on the banks of the Kentucky River, two or three hundred miles west of here. We played together when we was boys, and when we got older we went shooting and rowing in one another's company, and was great friends, as young men's friendships go. By and by he went off to New Orleans with a load of cotton for his father, and stopped there two or three years trading, and one thing and another. When his father died, he came home and took the place, being the only child they had. " By this time my sister Susan, that was a little girl when Rob went away, had got grown up into as pretty a young woman as was in them parts, though she was al- ways kind of slender and delicate. Well, Rob and she took a great fancy to one another, and was always walk- ing, or riding, or going out on the river, and keeping 196 DOHA DARLING: company some way. Our folks liked it Avell enough, and he hadn't any one to object ; so they called themselves engaged, and Sue began to get ready to be married. " Just at this time a sister of mother's died, and left one girl — all the child she had — to our care. She had been living in Massachusetts, and it was from there that Nelly wrote, and said that her mother was gone, and had left a letter for my mother, which she sent along with her own. " Mother said, right off, that she must come and live with her, and be a. child to her in the room of Sue when she got married. Father hadn't no objections to make, and, of course, I hadn't ; so I was sent off to fetch her. I stopped a little while in Andover, when I got there, along with the folks where Nelly was, so that before we begun our travels we had got real well acquainted, and before we got to Kentucky I was regularly smashed with her, and she seemed to like me about first rate. " After we got home I couldn't do anything but just hang round after Nelly, and was a good deal more atten- tive to her than Rob was to Sue all along. The old folks laughed some, and Sue and my younger brother were al- ways poking fun at us ; but we didn't care. I had got Nelly to say she'd have me when her year's mourning for her mother was out, and my father had agreed to make over a part of the farm to me, and let me carry on the rest for him : aiid so we was all fixed comfortable — at least THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 197 it seemed so ; but -\ve wasn't loug in finding out that trouble hadn't died out. " In the first place, we lost mother ; and that was a hard matter to pull through for all of us. Then Sue said she wouldn't be married for a year from the day she buried her mother, any how ; and so it was concluded that my wedding should be put off too, and all of us be married the same day, and till then the two girls would keep house together. " Just after this I was called to Cincinnati on business, and stopped there some mouths, making arrangements for my farming operations, and seeing to affairs generally. This was only a year ago, or less, and the folks in Cin- cinnati was all up about the war. I went to all the meet- ings, and got quite wrought up about it, and was more than three quarters of a mind~to enlist and fight for the good old Union that had kept me and mine in peace and plenty ever since old Peter Merlin followed on after Boone, and settled in Kentucky. But when I was all ready to put down my name, I'd think of Nelly, and if I should get killed before my three years was out, what would she do then? So, after a while, I concluded to go home, and talk the matter over with her and the folks. I hadn't said anything about it in my letters ; in fact I hadn't Avritten many letters about anything, nor Nelly hadn't written often to me. But neither of us were very good at it ; so I didn't think strange of it. 17* 198 DORA DABLIXG: " TTell, I got home, quite unexpected, late in the af- ternoon of a first-rate October day, and ran into the house all ready to hug and kiss both the girls, and old dad, too, for that matter. But there wer'n't no one in the lower part of the house, and so I went up stairs. The door of Sue's chamber was locked, and, even when I told who it was, she was some time in opening it. The first look 1 got at her I saw she'd been crying. I gave her a good hug and kiss, and then I asked where was Nelly. " 'Out walking ^\'ith Rob,' says Sue. " ' And why didn't you go too ? ' " ' Cause they didn't w^ant me,' says she, choking do^NTi another crying fit. " Well, I thought these was curious kind of proceed- ings ; but I didn't mean to get mad for nothing ; so I kind of pooh, poohed at Sue for being jealous, and talked about other matters, reckoning that if there was any trouble in the Avind I shouldn't be long of finding it out. "After a while Rob and Xellie came back. They said they was mighty glad to see me home, and said I'd ought to have let them know I was coming, so's they might have stopped to home and seen me. " I was as pleasant and chatty as they was, and any one would have thought all was going first rate amongst us ; but I knew well enough that all Sue's laugh and talk was made up, and that she rather, by half, have a good cry than to speak a word ; and I couldn't but feel as if THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 199 Rob and Nelly were kiud of flustered and conscious when they first saw me, and liad been trying ever since to pull the wool over my eyes with their pretty speeches. " Then, as for myself, I didn't naturally feel very sprightly when I had all these ideas working in my head, though I wasn't going to let any of 'em see how 'twas with me. "After a while father come in, and set down, and I begun to talk about the war with him ; but I soon found I'd got the wrong pig by the ear. The old man was a out and out secesh ; and when I said something about enlisting on the Union side, he swore the Avorst kind that if I did he'd never see my face again. " Then Rob he come over to where w^e was settins:, and father and he begun to talk a way that riz my dan- der right up. I hadn't never thought nor cared much about such things till I heard so much of them in Cincin- nati, and so I didn't really know how father was likely to go when it come to the pinch ; and as for Rob, though he used to talk rather on the Southern side, I had no idea he was goiog to be so bitter about it as he come out now. " Well, we all got pretty well heat up in the argoo- ment ; but we didn't come to no conclusion, and Rob went off home. " I wanted to set up a while, and have a chat with Nelly ; but she slipped off along with Sue, and I went to 200 DORA DARLING: bed a good deal less chipper than I had felt coming home. "After this, for a- week or tAvo I staid round, not saying a great deal to any one, but keeping up a great thinking. I watched Eob and Nelly close enough ; but they didn't see that I did, and after a while they began to show out pretty plain. "Wlienever they could, they'd slip and sly round, and get together for a walk or a row, or to set round in the garden and on the river bank. Then they'd try to brass it out that they'd met by acci- dent ; but any fool could see how it really was. " Still I didn't say anything, but lay low, and kept dark, watching for what would come next. All this time, while they were getting careless, and I was getting mad, poor little Sue was just breaking her heart in her own quiet way. She wasn't never a rugged body, and mother had ahvays took care of her most as if she was a baby ; and after mother died, the girl seemed for a while as if she'd die too of fretting after her. But then she took to Rob kinder than ever, and seemed to feel as if he v/as going to be father and mother, and husband and all, to her. But now — well, when I looked at her pale face and great, shiny eyes, and heard her sigh, and saw her put her hand over her heart, as she looked after her lover and my girl walking off together, it would seem to me as if I could draw a bead on that fellow with a good will. THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 201 *' At last there came a day that settled up matters for all hands of us, except the reckoning between Judsou and me ; that's to come yet. " Father had got to go to Lancaster to court, and calculated to be away all night. I advised Sue to go along with him for the change, and to freshen her np a bit. Nelly thought, too, that she'd better go, and told her she'd have a chance to buy some of her weddino- fix- ings. To that Sue didn't say a word ; but she looked in Nelly's face till I thought the girl's cheeks would have blazed right out. She didn't say no more, but went up to her own room, and I guess took her turn at crying a spell. As for Sue, she only sighed in that broken-hearted fashion, as she looked after her, and then said, — "'I needn't go to Lancaster to be out of the way, Harry. They don't mind where I am.' *' I made as if I didn't take her meaning, and lauo-hed at her feeling in any one's way because she was poorly ; but I still urged her to go to Lancaster, till finally she agreed, and before noon father and she set off. After din- ner, I took my gun, and said I was going out to look for partridges. Nelly didn't say much ; but I knew, by her looks, it suited her plans to have me go ; and when she asked me, kind of careless, which way I was going, I told her right directly contrary to the way I really meant to take. " I walked away as brisk as could be, for I knew she'd 202 DORA DARLING: be a watching ; but as soon as I'd got well out of sight in the woods, I took the back track, and got round close to the house again, though not the side I had started from. When I'd got a good stand, I fixed myself in a tree to watch for the game that I thought Avould be along. " Sure enough, in about half an hour, I see Rob Jud- son riding up to the door as bold as brass, and sending his horse round to the stable. He went into the house, and staid so long that I began to be afraid he'd do all his courting there, and I shouldn't have a chance to say the little word I wanted to in the matter. " But, after a spell, I see them come out, and stroll round the garden a few minutes, and then they headed for the woods, right exactly at the spot where I w^as waiting for 'em. They walked very slow, and as soon as they was well in the woods, they set down to have a good cosy chat. As luck would have it, they chose a tree right next to the one where I was roosting, and I could hear every word they said. " It wan't very nice kind of talk for me to listen to, nor it ain't the kind I'd want to tell over to you. Miss Dora ; but it let me into the whole state of matters between them two, and that was what I wanted to find out. I listened till I was fairly sick at my stomach, and then I just let myself down, with my gun in my hand, and stood afore 'em. " Xell screeched and turned as white as a sheet, and THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 203 Rob looked as if he didn't feel overly comfortable, 'spe- cially when he looked at my rifle, and thouglit of his own three miles off at home. " I looked at 'em both a spell, and then I says, with- out any bluster, — '•' ' I hain't got any remarks to make to neither one of you. All I want to know is, how soon you can marry this girl, Rob Judson, and take her out of the house where my sister lives.' " The fellow scowled, and he twisted, and he tried to laugh ; and at last he sort of mumbled out that he didn't know as he had ever said anything about marrying of her. He thought I calculated to do that. " That sort of talk riz my temper right up. I didn't make any bluster, though. I felt too bad for that. I just put a new cap on my rifle, and struck the ramrod down on the bullet I'd put in when I started. Rob watched me as a trapped wolf watches the hunter that's loading for a shot at him ; but he didn't speak, and when I'd got through, I just says quietly, — " ' Robert Judson, that girl is my cousin, and, what- ever tricks she's played on me, I ain't going to see any man make a fool of her. You take this here piece of paper and pencil, and Avrite down a promise to marry her and take her home just as soon as the matter can be fixed. Then you sign your name, and swear to keep it fair and square. Come, I'm a waiting.' 204 DORA DARLING: " ' And s'pose I won't do it? ' says lie, a trying to gQ{ up a little spunk. "Then just as sure as God's in heaven I'll put this bullet through your head before you're a minute older," says I, calm and still, and tapping on my rifle. Rob he looked at me a minute, and I reckon he see that I meant just what I said, for, after shifting round a little and looking all sorts of ways, he blurts out, — " '^Vell, give us the paper.' " I tossed him a letter that I had in my pocket, and a pencil, and then I said over what he was to write down, and see him sign it. Then I made him repeat an oath that would make your hair stand on end if I Avas to tell it to you, that he'd keep to his agreement, and I put the paper back in my pocket. " ' Now,' says I, ' go back to the house, and get your horse about the quickest ; and don't you never show your face there but once more, and that'll be when you come after this girl. That needn't be three days from now. As for you, Nell, I'll let you stop in the house till then, for the sake of your mother, that was sister to my mother ; but don't you speak one single word to Sue, if you know what's good for yourself. You're not fit company for her, and you've done her harm enough already. I hope you feel as if you'd made a good return for the way she and her mother have always treated you. But I ain't going to twit, and I shan't never speak about this again THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 205 to you nor no oue else. If you two hold your own tongues, there's no need of any one but us three know- ing that I had to help you to a husband with my rifle.' " I had turned away when I got through speaking, and was walking off, when I heard a kind of a rush ; and first I knew there w^as Nelly on the ground at my feet, a clinging round my knees and sobbing so's she couldn't hardly speak. I reckoned she felt ashamed of herself, and kind of cut by my ha'sli words ; and so I says, in a softer sort of way, — " ' Get up, Nell. I won't say no more ; and bimeby, like enough, I shan't feel so bad as I do now.' " ' But I don't want to marry him,' says she, most choking with her sobs. ' You're twice the man that he is, and I think more of you every way. I won't have a feller that is scared into taking me. I like you, Harry, better than I ever did, and I don't want to lose you. Can't you make it up no Avay ? ' " I looked down at the girl a kneeling and a clinging there, with her sweet, pretty face turned up, and all her curls a tangling round her neck, and I couldn't but feel it strange. Miss Dora, that I'd got over all fancy for her, so that I'd as soon have took a snake in my arms as her. She was handsome, and I reckon she never looked hand- somer than that minute ; and she was awfully in airnest — that was plain enough to see ; but as for making up, as she called it, I wouldn't, nor I couldn't, have done it if 18 206 DOFxA DARLIXG: she'd been the only woman left under the canopy. But I pitied her, and I couldn't feel so wrathy with her as I nad done, when I see her so kind of broken. So I says, very gentle, — " ' No, Xelly, you can't never be nothing to me again. I'm rough and rude, I know ; but I never could love any woman that wasn't just as particular in her ways as the first lady in the laud should be. I'm awful sorry for you, and for myself, and more'u all for poor Susan, who's been the most wronged after all, and is the least able to stand it. But what's done can't be undone nohow ; and the way I've fixed it, is, I think, the best for all parties. " ' Get up, Xelly, and go home now, and remember what I said about keeping out of Sue's way. The sight of you will about kill her after this day's work.' " ' But ain't I never to see her, or you, or uncle any more, after I am married ? ' asks Xelly. " ' Not at present. By and by, perhaps, when time has sort of healed up our hearts, and you've proved by your life that you are really truly sorry for the doings of this last three months, perhaps we may all come to- gether again in a sort of way. Blood is thicker than w^ater, and we shan't forget that you are our cousin. But just now, you'll see the sense of keeping yourself pretty much out of sight of poor Sue, at least, and if Judson knows what's good for himself, he'll do the same.' I turned off into the woods with that, and wandered THE DAUGHTER OF THE BEGIMENT. 207 about till after dark. When I got home, Nelly was up iu her own room, and she didn't come down all the next day. " But, Miss Dora, ain't you tired of my talk by this time?" " No, Merlin, not in the least ; but I am neglecting other things to listen to you. I must go now for a while ; but this afternoon, when the men have all had dinner, I should like ever so much to hear the rest. Won't you try and sleep now ? " CHAPTEE XXII. A FEW hours later, Dora, having seen all her patients comfortably disposed for their afternoon's rest or recrea- tion, seated herself by Merlin's bed, with some sewing, and told him she was all ready to hear the rest of the story he had begun in the morning. "Well, Miss Dora, I think it's very kind of you to care about it, but it's a great relief to me to tell it," said Merlin. " And as long as you're willing I'll keep right on, and tell you the whole. " After father and Sue got home, I told them, as care- less as I could, that Nelly and I had had a falling out, and that I had a&vised her to marry Rob Judson if Sue would give him up ; and I reckoned they had pretty much made up their minds to take my advice. " Then there was a time. Father he stormed and swore, and laid it all off on me for quarrelling with Xelly, who was a great pet of his'n, and then he turned right round and said Sue had a better right to her own fellow than any other girl, and she shouldn't give him up without she was a mind to. Then he turned to speak to her, and there she was, fainted dead away in her THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMEXT. 209 chair. We thought she was dead, and we didn't get any life into her for more than an hour. When she come to, she called me, and questioned me up so close, she got pretty near the whole story out of me ; and then she kissed me, and asked me never to leave her while she lived. She said it wouldn't be for long, and it wasn't ; but if it had been a lifetime I'd have stopped. '' She took to her bed that very day, and she never got up again. Miss Dora, they tell about angels looking all white and shiny, as if they give off light of them- selves. "Well, that was the way that girl looked. It seemed as if her soul was shining right through her body ; and I don't believe she'd need to look any different in heaven from Avhat she did them last weeks of her life. " She didn't seem unhappy, nor she didn't seem to care any longer about Rob, or the things that had tried her so when she was about. She never asked for Nelly, nor spoke her name, no more than if there wasn't such a person, nor I to her. "A couple of days after the flare-up, Judson came and took Xell to a justice's house, about five mile from ours, and they was married. Father went with them to see that all was done regular ; and somehow or other Rob and he patched up a sort of peace, and father used after- v.ards to go there considerable. " I didn't know much about his doings^ however, being 18* 210 DORA DARLIXG: mostly took up with Sue. It wasn't much that I could do for the poor girl ; but she liked having me with her, and there was nothing I wouldn't have been glad to do to please her. " She didn't suffer much, and her thoughts seemed mostly took up with the happiness she was going to, and the hopes of being with mother again. She never said nothing like complaining but once, and then it was, — " ' They've killed my body, Harry, but that will only give me back to dear mother, and we shall live forever with Christ and each other.' " At last she died." Merlin paused, and hid his face a moment. Dora softly placed her hand on his, but said nothing, and after a few moments the Kentuckian resumed his story. " When we'd buried Sue, I began to think about my- self again. As for settling down to the care of a farm, with only father for a family, and Judson and his wife living not a mile away, I couldn't do it nohow ; and after thinking the matter over every way that I could fix it, I told the old gentleman that I was going into the army. He was just as bitter about it as he was before, and finally told me to give in to secession, or leave his house for good and all. " I took a night to think of it, and in the morning I told him I was ready to go, and asked him to shake hands, and say good by. The poor old man swore, and THE DAUGHTER OF THE REGIMENT. 211 then he cried, and said how his wife and his daughter was dead, and now his only son was desertin«g him. " I told him that was to be as he said ; that if he cared for aiy company, I'd stay as long as he wanted me, if he wouldn't say anything about secession, for that I should never join that party as long as I had the use of my senses. " That made him mad again ; and he told me to be- Sfone, and said he knew where to find a son and a daughter, too, that would be better to him than his own flesh and blood. " I knew who he meant, but I didn't care for myself, though I was kind of cut that he should talk about Nelly taking the place of Sue to him ; so I didn't stop for any more talk, but went off that very morning. " I knew there was a company mustering in Prince- ton, pretty near twenty miles from where I lived, and 1 went right away there to enlist. " After a few weeks we were ready to join the regi- ment, and I went over to take a last look at the old place, and see if father and I couldn't part on better terms. " I hadn't more than got into the village near where our place was, when I met the old doctor that had always been to our house, and he, looking at me mighty sharp, asked where I come from, and if I'd heard the news. I told him where I'd been, and what I'd been about, and asked him what news he meant. Before he answered, 212 DOB A DARLIXG he made me get into his chaise, and drove off right out of town. When we was well on the road, he told me that only the night before a party of guerrillas had made a sudden sweep on our place, and driven off the hogs and cattle, seized the horses, and whatever provisions they could find, and was off to the mountains before any force could be got to resist them. But the heavy part of the news was, that my poor old father had most likely been shot, and his body burned in the house. All that could be known was from the darkeys, and they was so scared they didn't know what they saw and what they didn't. " The most likely story, however, was, that father locked the doors and fired out of his window at the fel- lows when he heard them breaking into the barn, and they fired back at him. Any way nothing more was seen of him ; and Avhen the guerrillas had got their plunder together, some of them set fire to the house out of clear deviltry, and rode away by the light of it ; and before anything could be done to save it, the whole place was no more than a heap of ashes, and most likely my father's ashes mixed up with that of his home." " PIoAv dreadful ! " exclaimed Dora. " Yes, it was that," said the Kentuckian, emphatical- ly. "' But there's more a coming that's about as bad, as far as deviltry goes. It was out of revenge, I suppose, for my threatening to shoot him unless he married Xelly, that Rob Judson undertook to say that it was me who THE DAUGHTER OF THE EEGIMEXT. 213 led them guerrillas, and shot my own father ; and I think it was about as mean a lie as Satan ever put into the mouth of one of his children." " Did he say so? " asked Dora, in horror. " Yes, he did, and swore that he recognized me, when he met the troop riding away. He told all round that I hadn't joined any regular troops, but was one of these that fought either side or any side, when there was plun- der or mischief to be got, and that no doubt I had led these men to my father's house partly to steal, and partly because I was mad at being turned out of doors. Any way, about half the village believed him ; and my life wouldn't have been safe if I'd been seen in town while the excitement lasted. The doctor said, too, that he didn't treat Nelly kind, nor as he'd ought to, and that she was dreadful changed from what I'd known her." Merlin paused, and a black scowl settled on his face. Dora looked at him timidly, and sought for the right thing to say ; but she could not, in her heart, wonder at the resentment that his next words betrayed. " There's my sister's broken heart, and my father's life, and poor Xell's peace and comfort, and all the best of my own hopes and happiness that fellow has stole away from me. His miserable life wouldn't begin to pay the debt ; but it's all I could get, and when I left town that morning, afraid to show my face in the village where I had grown up, and aU for no fault of my own, 214 DORA BARLIXG. I swore that if ever I had the chance I'd take that life as I would that of a wild beast. " I served out my time with the Kentucky regiment, and then I entered this Ohio one, and I've fought through pretty nigh all