"You never heard," said Jack, "how old Gen'l Travis charged the breastworks at Franklin and hit the line where Cap'n Tom's battery stood. Nine times they had charged Cap'n Tom's battery that night--nine times he stood his ground an' they melted away around it. But when he saw the line led by his own grandsire the blood in him was thicker than water and----" "An' whut?" gasped the Bishop. "Well, why they say it was a drunken soldier in his own battery who struck him with the heavy hilt of a sword. Any way I found the old Gen'l cryin' over him: 'My Irish Gray--my Irish Gray,' he kept sayin'. 'I might have known it was you,' and the old Gen'l charged on leaving him for dead. An' so I found him an' tuck him in my arms an' carried him to my own cabin up yonder on the mountain--carried him an'----" "An' whut?"--asked the old man, grasping the outlaw's shoulder--"Didn't he die? We've never been able to hear from him." Jack shook his head. "It 'ud been better for him if he had"--and he touched his forehead significantly. "Tell me, Jack--quick--tell it all," exclaimed the old man, still gripping Jack's shoulder. "There's nothin' to tell except that I kept him ever sence--here--right here for two years, with little Jack an' Ephrum, the young nigger that was his body servant--he's been our cook an' servant. He never would leave Cap'n Tom, followed me offen the field of Franklin. An' mighty fond of each other was all three of 'em." The old man turned pale and his voice trembled so with excitement he could hardly say: "Where is he, Jack? My God--Cap'n Tom--he's been here all this time too--an' me awonderin'--" "Right here, Bishop--kind an' quiet and teched in his head, where the sword-hilt crushed his skull. All these years I've cared for him--me an' Ephrum, my two boys as I called 'em--him an' little Jack. An' right here he staid contented like till little Jack died last night--then--" "In God's name--quick!--tell me--Jack--" "That's the worst of it--Bishop--when he found little Jack was dead he wandered off--" "When?" almost shouted the old man. "To-day--this even'. I have sent Eph after him--an' I hope he has found him by now an' tuck him somewhere. Eph'll never stop till he does." "We must find him, Jack. Cap'n Tom alive--thank God--alive, even if he is teched in his head. Oh, God, I might a knowed it--an' only to-day I was doubtin' You." He fell on his knees and Jack stood awed in the presence of the great emotion which shook the old man. Finally he arose. "Come--Jack--let us go an' hunt for Cap'n Tom." But though they hunted until the moon went down they found no trace of him. For miles they walked, or took turn about in riding the old blind roan. "It's no use, Bishop," said Jack. "We will sleep a while and begin to-morrow. Besides, Eph is with him. I feel it--he'll take keer o' him." That is how it came that at midnight, that Saturday night, the old Bishop brought home a strange man to live in the little cabin in his yard.