“I couldn’t do that, Sally,” he said. “Not to save my life, I couldn’t. Somehow I think the chances o’ my seein’ another sunrise is dead ag’in’ me, an’ I don’t want to die in any other uniform except the one me an’ my comrades has fought in. I’d as soon wear the clothes of a brother o’ yor ’n as anybody else alive, but I can’t put on blue even to escape arrest. I jest can’t! It would be exactly the same as bein’ a spy, an’ the Lord only knows how a fightin’ man hates that sort of a character.” “But you must,” urged the girl, frantically. “Oh, you must!” “I simply can’t. That’s all. I’d a sight ruther be tuk as a wounded soldier unable to stir a single peg than to sneak into another man’s clothes an’ deny the side I fit on. Huh, you are a woman! War makes men mighty indifferent to anything except duty.” A picture of baffled despair, the girl peered through the doorway at the approaching men. “You once said you’d do anything I asked ef I’d consent to marry you. John, now will you let grandpa put it on you?” A warm scarlet wave had passed over her. She had never looked so beautiful. He hesitated for some time, and then shook his head. “I can’t put on blue clothes, Sally.” The air was still as death. Above the beat of her strumming pulse she could hear the “hep! hep!” of the soldiers as they marched toward the cabin. Ericson staggered to his feet and stood swaying beside her. “I mought as well go out an’ meet ‘em,” he said, his face awry with pain and utter exhaustion. “Ef I don’t they ’ll think you are harborin’ a reb, an’ it mought go ag’in’ you-uns.” Then he threw out his hands and clutched her shoulders, and sank to the floor. “He has fainted, grandpa,” said the girl. “Quick! Put the uniform on ‘im. I ’ll try to detain ’em out thar till you are ready.” “I mought just as well take off his suit an’ kiver ’im with quilts,” suggested the old man. “It ’ll save time.” “No, the uniform!” cried the girl. “Ef he has that on they won’t ask no questions--along with the furlough. You know Jake McLain tried that trick on ’em an’ failed. Put it on ‘im, for the Lord’s sake. Don’t stand thar idle!” The steady tramp of feet was now audible, and the occasional command of the officer in charge. Darting from the back door the girl crossed the entry, went into the next room, and emerged with the permit of absence in her belt. Picking up a pail near the door, she went to the pig-pen in a corner of the zigzag rail fence, and with no eyes for the approaching men, slowly poured the food into the animal’s trough. Stopping the squad a few yards from her, the captain doffed his cap and bowed. “I have come to search your house for possible fugitives from the Confederate ranks last night,” he said, politely. “A good many have been found hiding in farmhouses in the vicinity.” The girl set her pail down at her feet. “We are Union,” she said, simply.