He was back in his old soldiering days, on the march, in the camp, and before the enemy. Little Eva heard his voice ring out in stern command to the company he had commanded under the Stars and Stripes, then sink in pity, as he asked that the wounded be carried to the rear.
She was terrified as he half rose in bed, with glaring eyes, brandishing his arm as though it held a sword.
“Lie down, gran’ther; lie down, that’s a dear! You are having bad dreams!” she cried, pushing him down under the covers again.
“Is that you, little Eva? Go home to your mother, child! The battle is raging and you will get hurt! That was all a lie of Ludington’s! I never got him arrested as a spy. How could I harm my old neighbor? I was slandered by them all, the traitors, because I fought for my country’s good! Hark! the enemy! they are retreating!” He rose wildly in bed again. “Follow, my men, follow!”
Eva burst into loud, frightened sobs that dimly arrested his attention. He muttered:
“There’s a woman weeping because her man is dead. Poor soul—died for his country! How many of us came back from that grand charge? Yes, we shall know at roll call.”
Eva flew to the window and pushed it up, leaning forward to scan the moonlighted road with frantic eyes.
“Oh, if some one should be passing by that I could call to help me! He is very, very ill! The doctor ought to see him at once!” she moaned.
She heard sudden steps and voices in the room, and, dropping the sash, looked back over her shoulder.
Her three cousins were all in the room, glowering at her in rage and consternation.