As time went on, and Lengthy Patterson recovered from his wound so as to be always in evidence, he came in for a large share of the General's explosive and meaningless oaths. Sometimes it was half in fun, more often it was in memory of the fact that Lengthy had ignored him and his questions upon their first meeting, and that up to this day the lank mountaineer took his orders and his cue from Griffith only. He had attached himself to the sharpshooters and rarely left Griffith's side. As silent and faithful as a dog he rode day after day, with watchful eyes, by the side of or just behind "the Parson," as he still called the object of his adoration. He watched Griffith narrowly. He noticed the growing sadness of the old-time merry face. He felt that something was wrong. At last the silence could be preserved no longer, he must know what the trouble was. They were near the borders of the county where Griffith's old home was. Lengthy had expected to see his face grow interested and bright, but instead there seemed to come over it a drawn and haggard look that was a puzzle and a torment to the woodsman. He ventured a remark as they rode apart from the rest. "Sick?" "No, no, Lengthy. I'm not sick. Why?" "Yeh never talk no mo'. Heard yeh kinder groan. Few-words-comprehends-th'-whole." Griffith turned his face full upon him. "Lengthy, it is almost more than I can bear to do this work. I--it is--sometimes I think I _cannot_ take them over there." He held out his hand toward the beautiful valley in the distance. They could see the thread of the river winding through the trees and out into field and farm. It was the river in which Lengthy had seen this friend of his baptized, so many years ago, when both were young men, and now both were growing gray! Lengthy made no reply. The silence stretched into minutes. They halted for the noon meal and to feed and rest the horses. They all lay about on the hill, and Griffith talked to the engineers. They drew lines and made figures and notes. An hour later they pushed on toward the river. Lengthy and Griffith rode in front. The old mill where Pete had run away appeared in the distance. The river was very near now. A heavy sigh from Griffith broke the silence. He was looking far ahead and his face was drawn and miserable. "What d' yeh go fer?" Griffith did not hear. His chin had dropped upon his breast, and his face was pale. His lips moved, and the mountaineer waited. At last he said: "What yeh do hit fer?" "What?" "What yeh do hit fer,'f yeh don't want teh?" "Do what? Go here?" "Yeh?" "I am a Union man, Lengthy. The President sent for me and asked me to do it. He made me see it was my duty. There was no one else he could trust, who knew the country. I----" There was a long pause. The mountaineer threw his leg up over the front of his saddle, and ruminated on the new outlook. Presently Griffith went on: "Some one _must_ do it, but--"