The skies lowered more and more, and presently from the east a chilling wind began to blow. Standing in the doorway, Emmeline felt it on her bare arms and neck, and shivered. When a wagon stopped at Grandfather Willing's door and the bearers entered, Emmeline went weeping to bid farewell to these her enemies. Private Christy had lifted his knapsack to his shoulder and had taken in his hand a staff, as if he were preparing for a long journey.
The officer in charge of the wagon ordered all men who were wounded only in the arms or head or shoulders to walk beside it; others were lifted in upon the board floors of the wagon; others were left where they lay.
Emmeline clung to Private Christy's hand.
"Why don't they take them, too?" she asked.
"They're too sick, Emmyline."
"What will become of them?"
"I don't know, Emmyline. You give 'em water."
"Are you really going away from me?"
"I've got to go, Emmyline!" said Private Christy. "Marchin' orders are marchin' orders. You stay here in the house, mind! You write to me sometime, and when the war is over you've got to get acquainted with my Bessie."
"Does this end the war?" asked Emmeline.