"Will you tell me, Lengthy?" asked Griffith. "Will you tell me in the presence of the General? It would be better for us both if you will. I wish----" "'Twill?" asked Lengthy giving Griffith a long, slow look. "Better fer yoh?" "Yes," said Griffith, half choking up. He thought he had solved the problem of why, with these two mountaineer marksmen as their antagonists none of their party had been shot in the encounter. "Yes, better for me. Do you care for that, Lengthy?" The woodsman gave another long look at Griffith, and then pointed with his thumb at the figure on the ground. "I done hit. Whis aimed t' kill yoh. Few words comp--" Griffith grasped the great rough, helplessly groping hands in his. "I thought so, I thought so," he said brokenly. "And you stood by me even---- He was your friend, and----" Griffith's voice broke. In the pause that followed Lengthy was staring at the form on the ground. "Yes. Whis wus a frien' er mine; but Whis tuck aim at yoh. Few-words-comprehends-th'-whole!" The last sentence seemed to be all one Word. Griffith was still holding the great hands. "Did you know I was with Northern troops, Lengthy? Did you know----?" "Knowed hit wus you. Didn't keer who t'other fellers wus. He tuck aim. Seed whar he wus pintin'--Few words----" "Are you a Union man, Lengthy?" "Naw." "Rebel, are you?" asked the General, sharply. There was a profound silence. The mountaineer did not even turn his head. "I asked you if you were a rebel, God damn you! Can't you hear?" shouted the General thoroughly angry. "I'll let you know----" "Are you on the Confederate side, Lengthy?" began Griffith. The mountaineer had not indicated in any way whatever that he had heard any previous question. "Naw," he said slowly and as if with a mental reservation. The General shot forth a perfect volley of oaths and questions and threats, but the immobility of the mountaineer remained wholly undisturbed. There was not even the shadow of a change of expression on the bronzed face. "What the General wants to know--what I want to know is, Lengthy, which side are you on? Are you----" "On youm." "On Davenport's side against the world!" remarked a staff officer aside, smiling. The mountaineer heard. He turned slowly until the angle of his vision took in the speaker. "On his side agin the worl'. Few words----" The rest was drowned in a shout of laughter, in which the irascible Commander joined. Griffith's eyes filled. Lengthy saw--and misinterpreted. He forgot the wound in his leg, and that his trusty gun was his no more. He sprang to Griffith's side. "On his side agin the _hull_ o' yuh!" he said, like a tiger at bay. The sorely tried leg gave way and he fell in a heap at Griffith's feet.