My Master's troop was composed for the most part of young men who had struggled with principle and with family opposition and who regarded it wise to meet in secret to prepare themselves for battle. In many families the dividing line ran as in our house, across the dinner table. Sometimes a "Confederate" and a "Federal" company would go through with their maneuvers in the same wood pasture; and on such occasions the strictest dignity and decorum were maintained, with never a jeer or idle word passing from one side to the other. The quarreling was indulged by older men and irresolute persons who had great bitterness, but not enough nerve to impel them into the ranks. From the moment when Young Master was forced openly to take his stand, his spirits seemed to rise, though my accustomed eye could sometimes see a sadness striving to pull his gayety down, as when he heard Old Master's voice or met him unexpectedly. Sometimes they saluted each other coldly as they passed, but often they appeared almost to forget the difference lying like a shrouded corpse between them. One cool morning they met in the yard. By a silent agreement they no longer sat together at the table. "A crisp and beautiful day," said the old man, bowing. "By such a day I am always reminded of a shaggy dog we used to own--we called him Wolf. Do you remember him?" "Yes," Young Master answered, his countenance illumined with a sudden light. "One of his eyes was brown and the other blue. He must have died long ago, for he seems now to trot around the outer rim of my recollection." At this figure the old man was so much pleased that he laughed. "You were very young," he said, "but little taller than old Wolf's back;" and here he fell into a meditation, leaning against a locust tree. The dog was still in his mind when he spoke again. "On a frosty day he was always frisky. He believed that the chill in the air foretold a rabbit hunt; and frequently it did. He used to come to my door early at morning and scratch to awake me. And I think he treed the first 'possum you ever saw. Old Simon brought the 'possum to the house, and you asked him why there was no hair on his tail. This gave him an opportunity to tell a story that I heard when I was a boy and which has been told in every negro cabin. The Lord made a raccoon and the devil was so taken with the work that he was resolved to imitate it. Well, he made a thing as near like a coon as he could, but was so disgusted at the appearance of the result that he seized the animal by the tail and swung him round to dash his brains out against the jamb, but the hair slipped off, the animal escaped with his life but with a hairless tail. Yes, sir, and I believed the story until I was nearly grown."