"Ma," who was his wife, came bustling out of the second room, or kitchen, of the cabin. She was red in the face, and of generous proportions. "Look here, pop," she cried, "do you expect me to cook for a hotel? I've just been feedin' these soldiers, and now you want me to get victuals for beggars." When the plump hostess saw the blind man, the boy and the dog, her face softened. She went back to the kitchen, and soon returned with some coarse but highly acceptable food, which was gratefully eaten by George and Watson. "Do you two tramp through the country together?" asked the officer. He was addressed by his men as Captain Harris. Every line and feature of his clean-shaven face denoted shrewdness. "Yes," answered Watson. "My nephew sings--the dog has some tricks--we make a little money--even in war time." He would put the best face possible on this trying situation. "You have no home?" went on the officer, in a sympathetic voice. "None." "Where did you come from before you took to begging?" Watson hesitated for a second. Then he said: "Lynchburg, Virginia." It was the only place he could think of at that moment, and it seemed far enough off to be safe. "I spent three weeks in Lynchburg last year," said Captain Harris. "What part of the town did you live in?" This time George came to the rescue. "On Main Street," he answered. He had known a boy in Cincinnati whose mother had once resided in Lynchburg, and he had heard the lad speak of a Main Street in that town. "On Main Street," repeated the Captain. Was the look that passed quickly across his face one of surprise or disappointment? "Yes, on Main Street," asserted George. He felt very sure of himself now. "How near were you to the Sorrel Horse Hotel?" asked the Captain, after a brief pause. "About two streets away, eh George?" said Watson. He had, very naturally, never heard of the Sorrel Horse, and he knew nothing of Lynchburg, but it would be fatal to show any ignorance on the subject. "Yes, just about two streets away," agreed the boy. The men were all sitting near the blazing fire. Suddenly Captain Harris, without saying a word, lifted his right arm and sent his fist flying towards the face of Watson, who sat near him. With an exclamation of anger Watson jumped to his feet, just in time to avoid the blow. "What do you mean?" he cried, as he glared at his antagonist. The Captain smiled. He did not seem at all pugnacious now. "I mean," he answered, "that I have proved my suspicions to be true. I thought you were not blind--and I find that you still have enough sight left to see a blow when it is coming to you!" Watson could cheerfully have whipped himself for his blunder. "Further," went on the officer, in a politely taunting tone that was very provoking, "I find that neither you nor the boy ever lived in Lynchburg, for the simple reason that there is no Sorrel Horse Hotel in that place, and there never was!"