The old man fell down on his knees beside her and reached his face across to hers. With great effort she lifted her two naked long, arms, and wound them about the old man's neck. He seemed to know that death was near, as he reached his face over hers. Over his cheeks and down his long white beard the tears ran like rain and fell on her face and breast. "Forty-nine, father! Let me call you father; may I? I never had any father but you," said the girl feebly, as the tears fell fast on her face. "Yes, yes, call me father. Call me father, Carrie, my Carrie; my poor, dear, dear little Carrie,--do call me father, for of all the world I have only you to love and live for," sobbed the old man as if his heart would break. "Well, then, father, when I die take me back, take me back to the mountains. I want to hear the water--the cool, sweet, clear water, where I lie; and the wind in the trees--the cool, pure wind in the trees, father. And you know the three trees just above the old cabin on the hill by the water-fall? Bury me, bury me there. Yes, there, where I can hear the cool water all the time, and the wind in the trees. And--and won't you please cut my name on the tree by the water? My name, Carrie--just Carrie, that's all. I have no other name--just Carrie. Will you? Will you do this for me?" "As there is a God--as I live, I will!" and the old man lifted his face as he bared his head, and looked toward heaven. The girl's mind wandered now. She spoke incoherently for a few moments, and then was silent. Her form was convulsed, her breast heaved just a little, her helpless hands reached about the old man's neck as if they would hold him from passing from her presence; they fell away, and then all was still. It was now gray dawn. This man's heart was bursting with rage and a savage sorrow. He was now stung with a sense of awful injustice. His heart was swelling with indignation. He took up the form before him; up in his arms, as if it had been that of an infant. He threw his handkerchief across the face as he passed out, stooping low through the dark and narrow doorway, and strode in great, long and hurried steps down the street and over toward the hills beyond, where his horse was tethered in the long, brown grass. As the old man passed the post on the hill, where the officers slept under the protection of loaded cannon, the guard stopped him with his bayonet. "Halt! Where are you going? And what have you there? Come, where are you going?" The old man threw back the handkerchief as the guard approached, and the new sunlight fell on the girl's face. "I am going to bury my dead." The guard started back. He almost dropped his gun as he saw that face; then, recovering himself, he bared his head, bowed his face reverently, and motioned the old man on.