ELSIE DINSMORE Complete Series: 28 Books in One Edition. Martha Finley

tell us of anything that will put the savage brutes off the scent?"

      "Sah?"

      "Something that will stop the hounds from following us—quick, quick! if you know anything."

      The negro sprang up, reached a bottle from a shelf, and handing it to Harry, said, "Turpentine, sah; rub um on your feet, gen'lemen, an' de hounds won't follah you no moah. But please, sahs, go little ways off into the woods fo' you use um, so de rebs not tink dis chile gib um to ye."

      Harry clutched the bottle, throwing down a ten-dollar bill (all the money he had about him) at Uncle Scip's feet, and dragging Harold some hundred yards farther into the depths of the wood, seated him on a log, applied the turpentine plentifully to his feet, and then to his own.

      All this time the baying of the hounds came nearer and nearer, till it seemed that the next moment would bring them into sight.

      "Up!" cried Harry, flinging away the empty bottle, "one more tug for life and liberty, or we are lost!"

      Harold did not speak, but hope and fear once more inspiring him with temporary strength, he rose and hurried on by the side of his friend. Coming presently to a cleared space, they almost flew across it, and gained the shelter of the woods beyond. The cry of the hounds was no longer heard.

      "They've lost the scent, sure enough," said Duncan, exultingly; "a little farther and I think we may venture to rest awhile, concealing ourselves in some thicket. Indeed 'twill now be safer to hide by day, and continue our journey by night."

      They did so, spending that and the next day in hiding, living upon roots and berries, and the next two nights in traveling in the supposed direction of the nearest Union camp, coming upon the pickets about sunrise of the third day. They were of Captain Duncan's own regiment, and he was immediately recognized with a delighted, "Hurrah!"

      "Hurrah for the Union and the old flag!" returned Harry, waving a green branch above his head, in lieu of the military cap he had been robbed of by his captors.

      Chapter Twenty-Seventh

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      "In peace, love tunes the shepherd's reed;

       In war, he mounts the warrior's steed;

       In halls, in gay attire is seen;

       In hamlets, dances on the green;

       Love rules the court, the camp, the grove,

       And men below and saints above;

       For love is heaven, and heaven is love."

       —SCOTT.

      "Escaped prisoners from Andersonville, eh?" queried the guard gathering about them.

      "Yes; and more than half-starved; especially my friend here, Captain Allison of the——"

      But the sentence was left unfinished; for at that instant Harold reeled, and would have fallen but for the strong arm of another officer quickly outstretched to save him.

      They made a litter and carried him into camp, where restoratives were immediately applied.

      He soon recovered from his faintness, but was found to be totally unfit for duty, and sent to the hospital at Washington, where he was placed in a bed adjoining that of his brother Richard, and allowed to share with him in the attentions of Dr. King, Miss Lottie, and his own sister May.

      How they all wept over him—reduced almost to a skeleton, so wan, so weak, so aged, in those few short months.

      He recognized his brother and sister with a faint smile, a murmured word or two, then sank into a state of semi-stupor, from which he roused only when spoken to, relapsing into it again immediately.

      Slowly, very slowly, medical skill and tender, careful nursing told upon his exhausted frame till at length he seemed to awake to new life, began to notice what was going on about him, was able to take part in a cheerful chat now and then, and became eager for news from home and of the progress of the war.

      Months had passed away. In the meantime Richard had returned to camp, and Harry Duncan, wounded in a late battle, now occupied his deserted bed in the hospital.

      Harry was suffering, but in excellent spirits.

      "Cheer up, Allison," he said; "you and I will never go back to Andersonville; the war can't last much longer, and we may consider the Union saved. Ah! this is a vast improvement upon Andersonville fare," he added gayly, as Lottie and May appeared before them, each bearing a tray with a delicious little lunch upon it. "Miss Lottie, I'm almost tempted to say it pays to be ill or wounded, that one may be tended by fair ladies' hands."

      "Ah, that speech should have come from Mr. Allison, for May is fair and her hands are white, while mine are brown," she answered demurely, as she set her tray within his reach, May doing the same for Harold.

      "None the less beautiful, Miss King," returned Duncan gallantly. "Many a whiter hand is not half so shapely or so useful. Now reward me for that pretty compliment by coaxing your father to get me well as fast as possible, that I may have a share in the taking of Richmond."

      "That would be a waste of breath, as he's doing all he can already; but I'll do my part with coddling, write all your letters for you—business, friendship, love—and do anything else desired; if in my power."

      "You're very good," he said, with a furtive glance at May, who seemed to see or hear nothing but her brother, who was asking about the last news from home; "very good indeed, Miss King; especially as regards the love-letters. I presume it would not be necessary for me even to be at the trouble of dictating them?"

      "Oh, no, certainly not!"

      "Joking aside, I shall be greatly obliged if you will write to Aunt Wealthy to-day for me."

      "With pleasure; especially as I can tell her your wound is not a dangerous one, and you will not lose a limb. But do tell me. What did you poor fellows get to eat at Andersonville?"

      "Well, one week's daily ration consisted of one pint of corn-meal ground up cob and all together, four ounces of mule meat, generally spoiled and emitting anything but an appetizing odor; but then we were not troubled with want of—the best of sauce for our meals."

      "Hunger?"

      "Yes; we'd plenty of that always. In addition to the corn-meal and meat, we had a half pint of peas full of bugs."

      "Oh! you poor creatures! I hope it was a little better the alternate week."

      "Just the same, except, in lieu of the corn-meal, we had three square inches of corn bread."

      "Is it jest; or earnest?" asked Lottie, appealing to Harold.

      "Dead earnest, Miss King; and for medicine we had sumac and white-oak bark."

      "No matter what ailed you?"

      "Oh, yes; that made no difference."

      To Harry's impatience the winter wore slowly away while he was confined within the hospital walls; yet the daily, almost hourly sight of May Allison's sweet face, and the sound of her musical voice, went far to reconcile him to this life of inactivity and "inglorious ease," as he termed it in his moments of restless longing to be again in the field.

      By the last of March this ardent desire was granted, and he hurried away in fine spirits, leaving May pale and tearful, but with a ring on her finger that had not been there before.

      "Ah," said Lottie, pointing to it with a merry twinkle in her eye, and passing her arm about May's waist as she spoke, "I shall be very generous, and not tease as you did when somebody else treated me exactly so."

      "It is good of you," whispered May, laying her wet cheek on her friend's shoulder; "and I'm ever so glad you're to be my sister."

      "And won't Aunt Wealthy rejoice over you as over a mine of gold!"

      Poor