He did not stop again until he reached the narrow street at the top of the levee bank, where the quaint stone houses of the old French residents were being loaded with wares. He took a few steps back-up the hill. Then he wheeled about, walked swiftly down the levee, and on to the landing-stage beside which the big 'Juanita' loomed in the night. On her bows was set, fantastically, a yellow street-car. The Colonel stopped mechanically. Its unexpected appearance there had served to break the current of his meditations. He stood staring at it, while the roustabouts passed and repassed, noisily carrying great logs of wood on shoulders padded by their woollen caps. “That'll be the first street-car used in the city of New Orleans, if it ever gets there, Colonel.” The Colonel jumped. Captain Lige was standing beside him. “Lige, is that you? We waited supper for you.” “Reckon I'll have to stay here and boss the cargo all night. Want to get in as many trips as I can before--navigation closes,” the Captain concluded significantly. Colonel Carvel shook his head. “You were never too busy to come for supper, Lige. I reckon the cargo isn't all.” Captain Lige shot at him a swift look. He gulped. “Come over here on the levee,” said the Colonel, sternly. They walked out together, and for some distance in silence. “Lige,” said the elder gentleman, striking his stick on the stones, “if there ever was a straight goer, that's you. You've always dealt squarely with me, and now I'm going to ask you a plain question. Are you North or South?” “I'm North, I reckon,” answered the Captain, bluntly. The Colonel bowed his head. It was a long time before he spoke again. The Captain waited like a man who expects and deserve, the severest verdict. But there was no anger in Mr. Carvel's voice--only reproach. “And you wouldn't tell me, Lige? You kept it from me.” “My God, Colonel,” exclaimed the other, passionately, “how could I? I owe what I have to your charity. But for you and--and Jinny I should have gone to the devil. If you and she are taken away, what have I left in life? I was a coward, sir, not to tell you. You must have guessed it. And yet,--God help me,--I can't stand by and see the nation go to pieces. Your nation as well as mine, Colonel. Your fathers fought that we Americans might inherit the earth--” He stopped abruptly. Then he continued haltingly, “Colonel, I know you're a man of strong feelings and convictions. All I ask is that you and Jinny will think of me as a friend--” He choked, and turned away, not heeding the direction of his feet. The Colonel, his stick raised, stood looking after him. He was folded in the near darkness before he called his name. “Lige!” “Yes, Colonel.” He came back, wondering, across the rough stones until he stood beside the tall figure. Below them, the lights glided along the dark water.