The hoof-beats drew nearer. Emp’s watchdog instincts--one of his multi-breed ancestors having perhaps been guardian of a farmstead--stirred within him. War experience had taught him that where there were horses there were likely to be men. Indeed, his twitching, moist nostrils had already caught the scent of men--several men--strange men, approaching. These outsiders assuredly had no right to intrude on Dad and the new friend, who were resting so comfortably. Emp’s fur, between the shoulders and then down along the spine-ridge, began to bristle with resentment. Far down in his thirsty throat a growling “Woof!” was born. Then another. Then the dog jumped to his feet, the stifled growls bursting forth in a storm of yapping barks. Dad, at the shrill warning, glanced up from his task of surgery. He glanced up--to see at the path’s end, a few yards distant, a half-dozen lean, finely mounted Confederate cavalrymen, seated carelessly in their saddles and eyeing in grave astonishment the unusual spectacle of a Federal infantry major tending the hurts of a Confederate cavalry officer. “Fortune of war!” remarked Dad, with dreary philosophy. At his words, the Confederate captain looked up. And he, too, saw the clump of gray-clad troopers, barely ten yards off, staring down at him. As they met their captain’s eyes, the cavalrymen’s hands went up in salute. But their gaze still rested in wonder on the odd scene that lay before them. “Friend,” said Dad to the captain, “there’s a favor I’d like to ask of you.” The Confederate looked up at him in quick surprise. “It’s this,” continued Dad. “My sword here was given me by someone--by someone I care for. I wish you’d keep track of what becomes of it and where it’s stored. Because some day I’m likely to be exchanged or set free in some other way, and when I am I want to get it back if I can.” “I--I don’t understand it, suh,” said the captain. Dad nodded toward the troopers. “There doesn’t seem much mystery about it,” he said. “Both of my horses up there are too tired to go much above a walk. Even if I could get to one of them, your men would overhaul me before I’d ridden fifty feet. And your men are between me and the only cover I could hide in if I should try to get away on foot.” “My men?” repeated the captain dully. “Oh, yes! My men. I’d forgotten.” Rousing himself by strong effort from the inertia due to exhaustion and pain, he turned toward the troopers. “Fauquier!” he drawled. A corporal saluted. “Go back to camp and have a stretcher brought here for me. I’m hurt. Take the men with you. ’Tention! Threes about! Wheel! _Trot!_” Obedient, if still wondering, the perfectly disciplined Southern cavalrymen wheeled and trotted off in double rank of threes along the path and its bush-encroaching sides.