"Oh, don't mention it. Are you going far?" "Yes, we're going to
Richmond, to—to find our boys, lost in the battle two weeks ago."
"Oh, you're from the North." He was a young man, perhaps thirty, evidently proud of his unsoiled uniform and the glittering insignia of rank on the sleeve and collar.
"Yes, sir; we're from Acredale, near Warchester," Merry said, as though Acredale must be known even in this remote place, and that the knowing of it would bring a certain consideration to the travelers.
"Oh, yes, Warchester. I fell in with an officer from there after the battle, a Captain Boone. Do you know him?"
"Oh, dear me, yes. He is from Acredale. He is captain of Company K of the Caribee Regiment—"
"Caribee? Why, yes. I remember that name. We got their flags and sent them to Richmond; we—"
"And, oh, sir, did you take the prisoners? I mean the Caribees—were there many? Oh, dear sir, it is among them our boys were; they were mere boys."
"Yes, ma'am, there were a good smart lot of them, and as you say all very young. Boone himself can't be twenty-five."
"And are they treated well? Do they have care? Of course you did not ask any of their names?" Merry asked eagerly, comforted to be able to talk with some one who knew of the Caribees, for heretofore, of the scores they had questioned, no one had ever heard of the regiment.
"Oh, as to that, ma'am, you know a soldier's life is hard, and a prisoner's is a good deal harder. Most of your men are in Castle Thunder—a large tobacco warehouse." He hesitated, and looked furtively at Olympia administering water to her mother. "Perhaps," he said, heartily, "if you would put a drop of whisky in the cup it would brace up your mother's nerves. We find it a good friend down here, when it isn't an enemy," he added, smiling as Olympia looked at the proffered flask hesitatingly.