Herbert walked directly to the side of the car and laid his hand on Elizabeth’s arm. His mind was filled with one emotion; he scarcely saw the constabulary or Colonel Thomas; he thought only that Elizabeth wanted something, and that he had it to give. He had had much time to meditate, and he had put two and two together. He had less persistence than Elizabeth, but he had more originality of mind. Weak and excited, he blurted out the words which were uppermost in his consciousness, and which had been growing to seem more and more significant. “They said my Grandfather Baring was buried here. They threatened to put me in the same grave. They were angry with him. I believe they shot him here.” “What! What!” Colonel Thomas stepped down from the car. “He went away with the Confederates and was never heard of more!” “They threatened to put me in the same grave with him!” insisted Herbert. “I believe they shot him here. If he was friendly to the South they would not have done that.” “We didn’t hurt you,” cried a terrified voice. “We treated you good!” “It was war-time!” cried another. “Things is done different in war-time!” “Who shot him?” demanded the old gentleman in a voice of authority. “It was before our time,” came the frightened answer. Then a shrill, spent voice spoke from within the log cabin. “If you don’t let me have my forty dollars for to bury me, I’ll tell about John Baring!” The old colonel went with the step of youth to the tumbledown building. Vague gleams of light illuminated the confusion in his mind. What the boy said was true--if John Baring had come to his end here, and at these hands, he was no friend to the enemy! He beckoned to the police to step nearer to the door. But the old voice carried to them all. “I’ll tell about John Baring, if you don’t let me have my forty dollars.” “What about John Baring?” asked the old gentleman. “I’ll see that you get your forty dollars.” The old woman was silent. Elizabeth Scott held her breath. Then the old woman spoke. Intelligence was almost gone, or she would not have uttered the betraying words. There was among them all a conviction that for the crime of their fathers against John Baring, they might still be held responsible. “He led ’em in here to deceive ’em!” she cried. “He pretended to help ’em and he deceived ’em. He led ’em to the wilderness to show ’em the way to Gettysburg. And our folks led ’em safely out. Great generals was among ’em an’ fine men. But it was too late, an’ the battle was lost. So our folks shot him an’ buried him deep.” The old gentleman leaned against the door frame. “Is it true?” he asked of Sheldon and Black Smith. “It was before my time,” answered Sheldon. “But is it true?” The men saw prison yawning. “Yes,” said Sheldon; “he lies buried yonder.” * * * * *