He turned toward Armitage and added with lowered voice:
“It is different from our old hills and forests—yes? but sometimes I have been homesick.”
“But this is not so bad, Oscar; and some day you shall go back!”
“Here,” said the soldier, as they swung out of the wood and into the open, “is what they call the Port of Missing Men.”
There was a broad park-like area that tended downward almost imperceptibly to a deep defile. They dismounted and walked to the edge and looked down the steep sides. A little creek flowed out of the wood and emptied itself with a silvery rush into the vale, caught its breath below, and became a creek again. A slight suspension bridge flung across the defile had once afforded a short cut to Storm Springs, but it was now in disrepair, and at either end was posted “No Thoroughfare.” Armitage stepped upon the loose planking and felt the frail thing vibrate under his weight.
“It is a bad place,” remarked Oscar, as the bridge creaked and swung, and Armitage laughed and jumped back to solid ground.
The surface of this harbor of the hills was rough with outcropping rock. In some great stress of nature the trees had been destroyed utterly, and only a scant growth of weeds and wild flowers remained. The place suggested a battle-ground for the winds, where they might meet and struggle in wild combat; or more practically, it was large enough for the evolutions of a squadron of cavalry.
“Why the name?” asked Armitage.
“There were gray soldiers of many battles—yes?—who fought the long fight against the blue soldiers in the Valley of Virginia; and after the war was over some of them would not surrender—no; but they marched here, and stayed a long time, and kept their last flag, and so the place was called the Port of Missing Men. They built that stone wall over there beyond the patch of cedars, and camped. And a few died, and their graves are there by the cedars. Yes; they had brave hearts,” and Oscar lifted his hat as though he were saluting the lost legion.
They turned again to the road and went forward at a gallop, until, half a mile from the gate, they came upon a clearing and a low, red-roofed bungalow.