They dug holes in the ground for the powder, and over the powder crossed some dry sticks. When they touched it off they ran away as fast as possible; but it was a wonder they were not both blown up. It was pleasant, no doubt, to hear the popping of the powder; but they dared not laugh too loud, lest some one in the house should hear them, and come out to ask what they could be playing that was so remarkably funny. Mrs. Clifford little thought what a naughty thing Horace had been doing, when she called him in one day, and said, with a smiling face,--for she loved to make him happy,--"See, my son, what I have bought for you! It is a present from your father, for in his last letter he asked me to get it." Horace fairly shouted with delight when he saw the beautiful Zouave suit, gray, bordered with red, and a cap to match. If he had any twinges of conscience about receiving this present, nobody knew it. Here is the letter of thanks which he wrote to his father:-- "DEAR PAPA. "I am sorry to say I have not seen you since you went to the war. Grandpa has two pigs. I want a drum so much! "We have lots of squirrels: they chip. We have orioles: they say, 'Here, here, _here_ I be!' "I want the drum because I am a _captain_! We are going to train with paper caps. "I get up the cows and have a good time. "Good-by. From your son, "HORACE P. CLIFFORD. "P.S. Ma bought me the soldier-clothes. I thank you." About this time Mrs. Clifford was trying to put together a barrel of nice things to send to her husband. Grandma and aunt Madge baked a great many loaves of cake and hundreds of cookies, and put in cans of fruit and boxes of jelly wherever there was room. Aunt Louise made a nice little dressing-case of bronze kid, lined with silk, and Grace made a pretty pen-wiper and pin-ball. Horace whittled out a handsome steamboat, with _green_ pipes, and the figure-head of an old man's face carved in wood. But Horace thought the face looked like Prudy's, and named the steamboat "The Prudy." He also broke open his savings-bank, and begged his mother to lay out all the money he had in presents for the sick soldiers. "Horace has a kind and loving heart," said Margaret to Louise. "To be sure he won't keep still long enough to let anybody kiss him, but he really loves his parents dearly." "Well, he's a terrible try-patience," said Louise. "Wait a while! He is wilful and naughty, but he never tells wrong stories. I think there's hope of a boy who _scorns a lie_! See if he doesn't come out right, Louise. Why, I expect to be proud of our Horace one of these days!" CHAPTER VII. IN THE WOODS. "O, ma," said Horace, coming, into the house one morning glowing with excitement, "mayn't I go in the woods with Peter Grant? He knows where there's heaps of boxberries." "And who is Peter Grant, my son?"