“This here's powerful weather for sweatin',” he pleasantly observed, as he pulled a mullein leaf from the foot of the apple tree and placed it over his eyes. Then he turned over and in a moment was sleeping as quietly as a child. Dan got down from the logs and stood thoughtfully staring in the direction of the happy little town lying embosomed in green hills. That little town gave to him, as he stood there in the noon heat, a memory of deep gardens filled with fragrance, of open houses set in blue shadows, and of the bright fluttering of Confederate flags. For a moment he looked toward it down the hot road; then, with a sigh, he turned away and wandered off to seek the outside shadow of a tent. As he flung himself down in the strip of shade, his gaze went longingly to the dim chain of mountains which showed like faint blue clouds against the sky, while his thoughts returned, as a sick man's, to the clustered elm boughs and the smooth lawn at Chericoke, and to Betty blooming like a flower in a network of sun and shade. The memory was so vivid that when he closed his eyes it was almost as if he heard the tapping of the tree-tops against the roof, and felt the pleasant breeze blowing over the sweet-smelling meadows. He looked, through his closed eyes, into the dim old house, seeing the rustling grasses in the great blue jar and their delicate shadow trembling on the pure white wall. There was the tender hush about it that belongs to the memories of dead friends or absent places; a hush that was reverent as a Sabbath calm. He saw the shining swords of the Major and the Major's father; the rear door with the microphylla roses nodding upon the lintel, and, high above all, the shadowy bend of the staircase, with Betty standing there in her cool blue gown. He opened his eyes with a start, and pillowing his head on his arm, lay looking off into the burning distance. A bee, straying from a field of clover across the road, buzzed, for a moment, round his face, and then knocked, with a flapping noise, against the canvas tent. Far away, beyond the murmur of the camp, he heard a partridge whistling in a tangled meadow; and at the same instant his own name called through the sunlight. “I say, Beau, Beau, where are you?” He sat up, and shouted in response, and Jack Powell came hurriedly round the tent to fling himself down upon the beaten grass. “Oh, you don't know what you missed!” he cried, chuckling. “You didn't stay long enough to hear the joke on Bland.” “I hope it's a fresh one,” was Dan's response. “If it's that old thing about the mule and the darky, I may as well say in the beginning that I heard it in the ark.” “Oh, it's new, old man. He made the mistake of trying to get some fun out of Pinetop, and he got more than he bargained for, that's all. He began to tease him about those blue jean trousers he carries in his knapsack. You've seen them, I reckon?”