“Dat ar horse name Julius Cæsar. He good horse ef he had ernough ter eat.” The day was warm, the sky a deep blue, all neighbouring vegetation covered with a tawny felt of dust. Trampling feet and trampling feet of horses and men, wagon wheels and wagon wheels and wagon wheels, had gone over that road. It was a trough of dust, and when the wind blew it up, a sandstorm would not have been more blinding. It seemed clear now of troops—all were withdrawn into the haze to the southward. As for the enemy, he must be moving on the other side of the low mountains, unless, indeed, he were already in force at Resaca—and the grey were going into battle—and the grey were going into battle. “Julius Cæsar goes pretty slow,” said Désirée. There was little débris in the road or by the wayside, no wrecked, left-behind wagons, little or no discarded accoutrement, few broken-down or dying horses, very few ill or wounded men, or mere footsore stragglers. Johnston’s movements were as clear-cut as so many cameos. He left no filings behind; he did not believe in blurred edges. He might place an army here to-day, and the morrow might find it a knight’s move or a bishop’s or a rook’s or a queen’s away; but always it went cleanly, bag and baggage, clean-lined, self-contained, with intention and poise. If his army was in retreat, the road behind him hardly bore witness to the fact. Horse and wagon crept on toward Resaca. Morning wore to afternoon, very warm, very—“Nebuchadnezzar, what do you make of that dust before us? I make smoke as well as dust. And now I make firing! Listen!” “Reckon better tuhn back—” “No, no! Go on! When it is necessary to stop, we will stop until they let us by. It’s rear guard fighting probably—” The cloud mounted. A few hundred yards and a bullet came and sheared away a leafy twig from the oak under which they were passing. It fell upon Désirée’s lap. A few yards farther, a second struck the dusty road in front of the horse. The confused sound down the road swelled into tumult. “Gawd-er-moughty!” said Nebuchadnezzar. “Mus’ git out ob dis! Dey’re projeckin’ dishyer way!” “Drive into the bank!” ordered Désirée. “No! there where it is wider! Don’t be afraid! Look how steady Julius Cæsar stands!” “Yass, ’m. Think I’ll git out en hol’ him.—Lawd hab mercy, heah dey come!”