Evans. Why, ain't you heard a word from them?
Hop. No, not since we were here in May. Things look right different now. Why, all along the way, as we were marching here, I couldn't help thinking how it was changed; the fences down, the fields all gone to waste, most of the houses burned, and only here and there some crazy negro cabin, looking as though it were about to tumble down. How those poor devils live I don't quite see. Ten or twelve of them in just one little room; and then to see them run and hide when we pass by, you'd never think we came down here to free them.
Evans. How's Col. Winthrop today? He hasn't seemed the same since this here fight six months ago. He used to be the life of all the camp, and now he hardly ever speaks. Seems like he has grieved most to death. I wonder why? Losing a few men don't often hurt a soldier so.
Hop. (again looking off across the river). Perhaps it isn't that.
Evans. I wonder why—(he stops, as the sound of voices is heard among the trees (Left). Hello! What's that?
[Off (Left) a child is heard.
The Child. Come on, come on; it's recess!
Hop. Who is it?
Evans. Them children from the school, I guess. It's just a little way up the road, I've heard; we'd better duck!