Early in the afternoon one of the trains that ran at irregular intervals from Alexandria to the front was made up, and Anderson, having the necessary passports, was able to procure a ride for his companion and himself. At Bristol station he made inquiry and learned that his regiment had gone on to Gainesville, and thence to Auburn, and so the two men followed after on foot. That night, as guests of the rear-guard, they slept, rolled in blankets, in an open field. It was not until late the next morning that they came up with Anderson’s regiment, camped under the shelter of a low hill-range near Auburn. The sergeant, beloved by the men of his company for his bravery in battle, and his cheerfulness and gentleness in camp and on the march, was heartily welcomed back. And his recommendation of Bob was an open sesame for the boy into the good graces of the entire command. So it happened that, before nightfall, Bob Bannister, duly examined, passed, mustered, and clothed in uniform, became a soldier in the Army of the Potomac. CHAPTER VIII A LETTER FROM THE FRONT There was consternation in the house of Bannister. The son of the house had disappeared over night. His mother was distracted, his father was anxious and angry. The morning wore on and he did not return. No one had seen him nor could any trace of him be found. Toward noon Seth Mills came over. He was able to quiet, to some extent, the apprehension concerning the boy. But he would not tell where Bob had gone. “The boy knows what he’s a-doin’,” said the old man, “and he’s perfectly safe. He won’t git back to-night. He may be back to-morrow night--I don’t know. Ef he don’t come till the day after, I’ll tell ye more about ’im. He’s on the right track an’ he’s able to take keer of ’imself, an’ some day ye’re a-goin’ to be proud o’ that boy, both of ye. That’s what I say.” He stood up very straight and rapped his cane three times on the floor for emphasis and turned toward the door. With this statement and this promise the Bannisters had to be satisfied. They knew, from long experience, that the old man could not be forced to tell more than he chose. So the day dragged on. Rhett Bannister had not been so unhappy before in all his life. A dozen times he thought of starting out to find his son, and a dozen times he abandoned the idea. A dozen times he felt that he must go over and choke the truth out of old Seth Mills, and as often he restrained himself. He surmised something of what had happened, and what he surmised hurt and angered him.