“I wouldn't have shaken it if you had been born north of the Ohio River,” said Colonel Woodville.
Dick laughed.
“My chief purpose in having you brought here,” said Colonel Woodville, “was to relate to you an incident, of which I heard once. Did I read about it, or was it told to me, Margaret?”
“I think, sir, that some one told you of it.”
“Ah, well, it doesn't matter. A few words will tell it. In an old, forgotten war a young soldier quartered in the house of his defeated enemy—but defeated only for the time, remember—saw something which made him believe that a wounded nephew of the house was hid in an upper room. But he was generous and he did not search further. The second night, while the young officer and his comrades were at supper, the nephew, who was not hurt badly, was slipped out of the house and escaped from the city in the darkness. It's not apropos of anything, and I don't know why I'm relating it to you, but I suppose this terrible war we are fighting is responsible for an old man's whim.”
“I've found it very interesting, sir,” said Dick, “and I think it's relevant, because it shows that even in war men may remain Christian human beings.”
“Perhaps you're right, and I trust, young sir, that you will not be killed in this defeat to which you are surely marching.”
Dick bowed to both, and left them to their fears and hopes. The glow was still about his heart when he rode forth with the Winchester regiment after midnight. But, owing to the need of horses for the regular cavalry, it had become an infantry regiment once more. Only the officers rode.
At dawn they were with Grant approaching a ridge called Champion Hill.