The soldier glanced over toward the house. The voice of the young woman was heard singing a war song in a high key.
"Ef Millindy sees me, I'm a goner," he reflected. "Jes' come down the road a little piece, will you?" he asked, persuasively.
"No talking,—march!" ordered Frank.
He looked at each of the boys; the guns still kept their perilous direction. The boys' eyes looked fiery to his surprised senses.
"Who is y' all?" he asked.
"We are two little Confederates! That's who we are," said Willy.
"Is any of your parents ever—ever been in a asylum?" he asked, as calmly as he could.
"That's none of your business," said Captain Frank. "March on!"
The man cast a despairing glance toward the house, where "The years" were "creeping slowly by, Lorena," in a very high pitch,—and then moved on.
"I hope she ain't seen nothin'," he thought. "If I jest can git them guns away from 'em——"