Emmeline looked up, startled.
"Are you going away?"
"We can't stay here."
"Without me? Are you going to miss me?" said Private Christy in astonishment. "Why, you will go home, Emmyline."
"Home!" repeated Emmeline, as if the word were strange.
That night Emmeline slept on a chair by the kitchen table. Private Christy, who did not sleep at all, put a folded coat under her head and stood for a moment smoothing her dark hair; then he went on with his sad work.
Once or twice the moon showed for an instant, only to vanish; the sights upon which it looked were best shrouded in darkness. When morning dawned, troops were still massing behind the protecting breastworks. As soon as it was light, Private Christy made his way down the slope to Willoughby Run, and addressed himself once more to the soldier who guarded the prisoners:—
"Any orders?"
"Orders to be ready to move."