A year after the war closed, Frederic Shackelford, a stalwart young man, sought out the home of Mrs. Ferror. He found a gray-haired, brokenhearted mother and two lovely young ladies, her daughters. They had mourned the son and brother, not only as dead, but as forever disgraced, for they had been told that Robert had been shot for desertion.
Fred gave them the little mementoes he had kept through the years for them. He told them how Robert had given his life to try and save him, and that the last word that trembled on his lips was "Mother."
The gray-haired mother lifted her trembling hands, and thanked God that her son had at least died the death of a soldier.
Learning that the family had been impoverished by the war, when Fred left, he slipped $1,000 in Mrs. Ferror's hand, and whispered, "For Robert's sake;" and the stricken mother, through tear-dimmed eyes, watched his retreating form, and murmured: "And Robert would have been just such a man if he had lived."
CHAPTER XI. CRAZY BILL SHERMAN.
Fred's wound was not a dangerous one. The ball had gone through the fleshy part of the arm, causing a great loss of blood; but no bones were broken, and it was only a question of a few weeks before he would be as well as ever.
The story of the two boys charging four Confederate cavalrymen, killing three, and disabling the fourth was the wonder of the army. But Fred modestly disclaimed any particular bravery in the affair.
"It is to poor Bob Ferror that the honor should be given," he would say; "the boy that knowingly rode to his death that I might be saved."