Later, when the last buckle of Shadrach's harness was fixed, David Bond climbed to the seat and took up the reins. A score of troopers about the head of the white horse stepped aside and formed a little lane. Here and there, a man reached up. Here and there, too, were awkward attempts at wit. "Hope y' 've made yer will, parson," called one. "Look out them locks o' yourn don't go t' trick out some big buck," admonished a second. "Good-by," cried a third, saluting with great formality; "tell ol' St. Peter he'll git a bunch of us some time this summer." To all, the evangelist returned his blessing. The interpreter shoved forward through the growing crowd and made a show of friendliness. "Gran'pa," he said, "you're pritty game, all right. Most old war-hosses like you'd be stayin' home and enjoyin' their pension." David Bond threw up his head resentfully. "Pension," he said, and shot a searching look into Matthews' face. "I am not a man who sells his principles for money. What I give to my country, I give free." The crowd cheered him, swinging their caps. Then there was a hush. A shrunken figure was hurrying up, stretching out thin hands to detain him. No one scoffed now. But one stout trooper put an arm about Jamieson to steady him while he talked. "Mr. Bond, the Colonel thinks I oughtn't to go with you. He wants me to wait for the ambulance. But he's fooling--he's fooling. He means me to stay behind, and I know it. So I've come to say that I look to you to find mother and Alice. Tell them to hurry. For I can't stand this--long." The grey head dropped to the trooper's shoulder. "Jamieson," said the evangelist, "if God spares my life I shall meet your mother and sister. I shall cheer them and help them. I believe I shall save them. If they are given to me, I shall come straight back. Do not go with the command. Stay behind, Jamieson. I'll bring them to you." "I'll stay, then. I believe----" The preacher smiled down, and to every side. Then he clucked to Shadrach. The tugs straightened. The wagon rolled slowly out of the post. The sunlight shone upon the green box and the red wheels, and upon the staunch old driver, who never once looked back. Above him, emblem of the sublime Martyr, sagged the high board cross. CHAPTER XXI A MEETING BY THE FORD Under the cottonwoods that shadowed the landing-place, the clematis trailed its tufts of fluffy grey; a cluster of wind-flowers nodded, winking their showy blue eyes; birds whisked about to fetch straws and scraps for their building; and the grass, bright green, but stubby, wore a changing spatterwork of sun and leaf.