“To-day is really the first time he has had his senses,” Dorothea answered. “That is the reason there was no word from him sooner. He spoke to me of you this morning and I am here to find out how I can help you to get away.” “What I want principally,” Hendon responded quickly, “is a Confederate uniform.” Now for the second time within a few days Dorothea was asked to play what she felt to be a treacherous part to those whose hospitality she was enjoying. She knew in her heart that her sympathy for the Northern cause was growing and realized she would be glad to see the war end in favor of the Union. Yet here was a Federal officer asking for aid, which she had no more right to give than she had had in the case of Larry Stanchfield. All she could do was what she thought Hal might contrive were he here in her stead. Indeed, as far as a uniform was concerned, the granting of Lee Hendon’s request was beyond her power. “You must know that is impossible,” she replied. “Confederate uniforms are hard to obtain.” “Of course that’s true,” he granted. “I was only hoping Hal might have an extra one. These clothes are a bit awkward.” “Yes,” she nodded, realizing that here lay his reason for hiding even from his former friends in the little town. “If you can bring me some money,” he said, finally, after a moment of deep thought, “I shall be able to manage. All that I had and all that Hal had was spent in getting him home.” “I brought some gold with me, thinking that was what you might need,” Dorothea replied, and held out to him a netted silk purse heavy with coins. He took it mechanically, but shook his head and smiled. “It was most thoughtful of you, but it wouldn’t be of the least use to me, you know. Where I am going, I couldn’t find a soul to change a ten-dollar gold piece. Haven’t you any paper money?” “I’m sorry,” Dorothea replied, genuinely grieved at her lack of foresight. “It was stupid of me, wasn’t it, not to have realized that difficulty? I thought gold would be just the thing you would want.” “Under ordinary conditions you would have been quite right,” Hendon hastened to assure her. “You have not the slightest reason to accuse yourself of thoughtlessness, and I must seem like a most ungrateful brute; but you see my life really depends upon it.” “I can get you paper for it right away,” Dorothea suggested. “That will be good of you,” he answered. “How soon do you think you can have it for me?” “I can go into the village to-morrow morning,” Dorothea replied, and then hesitated. “But I can’t tell when I will be able to get off alone again.” “And I dare not loiter about in these woods,” he told her. “It’s running too great a risk.” “Then where can I meet you?” Dorothea asked. “Where are you living?” she added. “With some turpentine gatherers,” he replied. “They have a hut deep in the woods, and—” “Couldn’t I go there with the money?” Dorothea broke in.