Once more the Union officer checked him.
"It isn't any trouble. Only—you'll have to be careful of your approach, even to your own lines. Those gray devils in the rifle pits up there have formed the habit of shooting first and asking questions afterwards. There you are," and he tore the leaf from his note book and handed it up with a faint smile.
The Southerner took it with a reluctant hand.
"I—I wish I could thank you—Morrison," he said in tones that shook with feeling, "but you see I—I—"
"Then please don't try. Because if you do I'll—I'll have to hold Virgie as a prisoner of war.
"Well, young one," he said to the small Miss Cary with a laugh, "did you really get something to eat?"
"Yes, sir. That is—we almost did."
"Almost?" he echoed.
"Yes, sir," came the plaintive answer. "Eve'y time we start to eat—somethin' always happens!"
"Well, well, that is hard luck," he said with a gentle squeeze of her frail body. "But I'll bet you it won't happen this time; not if a whole regiment tries to stop it."