Long years of warfare passed; then came the day when war was over, and Captain Tom Burns strolled down the avenue in Washington, linked arm in arm with Brown and Knight. Behind them sauntered the surviving members of the raiders. Each of them wore a medal of honor, which had been pinned to their coats that afternoon.
"You're going straight home, I suppose, Tom?" asked Brown.
"No—no, I'm going to Albany. Someone I have to see there. I was home on a furlough just a few weeks ago."
"It's just about my train time," said Knight. "I'll have to be getting to the station."
"Wait a minute while we say good-by to the boys, and I'll go with you," said Tom. They stopped while the others came up. The moment of parting had come, and silence fell over them. Some of the men had escaped from prison camps, others had been exchanged, and this meeting had been a great event in their lives. For two days they had lived their experiences once again, exchanging stories and discussing the raid.
"Good-by, boys," said Knight, breaking the pall of silence. "You all have my address. Let me know when you're around my part of the country."
"Same goes for me," said several of them. "Don't forget, now. Good-by, Tom.
'By, Knight. Here, let's shake that paw again. Drop me a line, eh?"
"'By, boys," said Tom, untangling, himself from the group. He looked back and waved.
Two days later in Albany Tom presented himself at the Mayor's office. "I've come on a peculiar errand," he explained. "One time when I was in the South, a Northern girl, who was living there, befriended me and saved me from being taken prisoner. Her name was Marjorie Landis, and she told me that she had lived here. She said she was coming back to Albany just as soon as the war was over. I want you to help me find her, if it's not asking too much."
The Mayor smiled. "You don't happen to be Tom Burns of the raiders, by any chance, do you?" he asked.