‘How do you know?’ inquired Lucius, scrambling in to join him. ‘Why, all the food is gone,’ sighed Ephraim, pointing to the table with a sigh. ‘I war looking forward ter a fresh supply er them crackers after all this runnin’ around.’ ‘I’ve got plenty here,’ said Lucius, slapping his pockets; ‘and you’ve got the ham.’ ‘It won’t do ter gobble up thet jest yet, Luce,’ explained cautious Ephraim. ‘Ye kin hev jest wan slice ef ye’re sharp set, but we must keep some fer ter-night in case we run dry.’ ‘No, I’m not very hungry,’ answered Lucius; ‘but I’ve turned most unaccountably sleepy all of a sudden.’ ‘Nuthin’ onaccountable about thet,’ said Ephraim, ‘seein’ ye never went ter bed at all last night, and hev been up all ter-day. Lie down in the corner and take a snooze. I’ll look after things.’ ‘Why,’ asked Lucius, surprised, ‘aren’t you sleepy, too? You said you were just now.’ ‘Ez ter thet,’ responded Ephraim, ‘I kin hold old man Nod orf a bit yit, I reckon. It’ll maybe suit better ef we don’t go ter sleep at the same time.’ ‘I see,’ said Lucius with a huge yawn. ‘Well then, you lie down, and I’ll take the first watch.’ ‘Shucks!’ ejaculated Ephraim. ‘What does it matter? Ye air half over already. Go ter sleep. I’ll git my allowance by-and-by.’ ‘But,’ began Lucius drowsily, ‘you always do everything. I—I—don’t see—why’——. He mumbled on for a second or two, nodded heavily, started into semi-wakefulness, nodded again, and rolled over fast asleep. Ephraim looked down at him with an expression in which tenderness for his friend and self-reproach were blended. ‘Pore Luce,’ he murmured, ‘ye air jest nat’ally tuckered out. I wish I hadn’t been sech a or’nery fool with my notions. I’d give suthin’ ter see ye back agen safe and sound in the old home et Staunton. Pray God I’ll git ye thar yit, though. He stole to the door, and going outside, planted himself with his back against the logs of the cabin, so that he could command a view of all approaches by the front or sides. For he rightly judged that only skulkers would be likely to enter by the window, and for them he did not care. ‘“Carry me back to old Virginny,”’ he hummed softly to himself, as he glanced up and down; up to where he knew the Federal camp lay concealed behind the bend of the woods; down to where, though he could not see them either, he knew that the Confederates were still standing to arms, expecting a fresh attack on the part of Shields, and wondering why it never came. But Shields was too astute. It was as if he had heard the remark made by Jackson to his chief of staff, when the latter expressed the opinion that Shields would make a more determined attack on the bridge at Port Republic before the day was out. ‘Not he,’ said Stonewall, waving his hand towards the heights. ‘I should tear him to pieces. Look at my artillery.’