A corps of soldiers marched past, tramping with even, hasty step; caissons rattled by; great cannon rumbled along; huge wagons drawn by mules lumbered through the mud. On and on marched the thousands of men, with eyes fixed before them, as those deeper, wilder eyes of the enemy had been. Emmeline shrank behind the broad body of Mrs. Schmidt. These were Emmeline's own soldiers, but they seemed grim and terrible. Surely they could whip all the other soldiers in the world! When they were almost past, Emmeline thought of Henry, and looked after them in dismay. Then she realized that, even if Henry had been among them, he could not have spoken to her. She suddenly began to long for the shelter of her grandfather's house. When the corps had passed, Whitey was with difficulty restored to the road--a horrible road, in which the ruts were now much deeper and the stones more protruding. At a snail's pace he crept. Stragglers following the soldiers passed constantly--here a man leading a string of lame horses, there a man in charge of a line of ambulances or a damaged cannon. These stragglers were not so set upon advancing that they did not have a word for Mrs. Schmidt and her children and her duck. Finally, when the sun was almost directly overhead, Whitey stopped at the entrance of the byroad on which the elder Willings lived. Mrs. Schmidt must drive on another half mile, and then leave the Emmitsburg Road in the opposite direction. She wept at parting from Emmeline, and the children wept, and Emmeline kissed the sleeping baby. The road was now clear; the house of Emmeline's grandparents was in sight, half a mile away. Carrying her little satchel, Emmeline started to run. She was hungry, for she had forgotten to eat the luncheon her mother had put up for her, and she was anxious to tell her grandparents, who always listened to her with close attention, of the condition of affairs in Gettysburg. The booming sound had ceased; the battle was certainly over. Perhaps this afternoon her grandfather would drive into Gettysburg with her. That would be glorious indeed! She opened the gate at the foot of the lane, and then, swinging it shut behind her with a slam, waved her hand toward the porch. Her grandmother knew that slam; it always brought her hurrying out to greet her darling. Emmeline hastened toward the house. "Hello!" she called eagerly. "Where are you?" When no one answered, she called a little louder:-- "Grandmother!" Still there was no response. Emmeline stopped in the grassy lane, startled. "Grandmother!" she called again. Still there was no answer. Emmeline approached the door with hesitation. Here the dog and the cat usually met her; but now no friendly animals were to be seen. Moreover, the shutters were closed and there were no familiar crocks sunning themselves on the fence. "Grandmother!" called Emmeline again, as she put her hand on the latch. "Grandmother, where are you?"