“I'm afraid that what you say is true for the present at least, Harry,” he said. “You beat us now here in the east, but don't forget that we're winning in the west. And don't forget that here in the east even, you can never wear us out. We'll be coming, always coming.” “All right, old Sober Sides, we won't quarrel about it. We'll let time settle it. Here come some friends of mine whom I want you to know. Curious that you should meet them at such a time.” Two other young lieutenants in gray uniforms at the head of burial parties came near in the course of their work, and Harry called to them. “Tom! Arthur! A moment, please! This is my cousin, Dick Mason, a Yankee, though I think he's honest in his folly. Dick, this is Arthur St. Clair, and this is Tom Langdon, both friends of mine from South Carolina.” They shook hands warmly. There was no animosity between them. Dick liked the looks and manners of Harry's friends. He could have been their friend, too. “Harry has talked about you often,” said Happy Tom Langdon. “Says you're a great scholar, and a good fellow, all right every way, except the crack in your head that makes you a Yankee. I hope you won't get hurt in this unpleasantness, and when our victorious army comes into Washington we'll take good care of you and release you soon.” Dick smiled. He liked this youth who could keep up the spirit of fun among such scenes. “Don't you pay any attention to Langdon, Mr. Mason,” said St. Clair. “If he'd only fight as well and fast as he talks there'd be no need for the rest of us.” “You know you couldn't win the war without me,” said Langdon. They talked a little more together, then trumpets blew, the work was done and they must withdraw to their own armies. They had been engaged in a grewsome task, but Dick was glad to the bottom of his heart to have been sent upon it. He had learned that Harry still lived, and he had met him. He did not understand until then how dear his cousin was to him. They were more like brothers than cousins. It was like the affection their great-grandfathers, Henry Ware and Paul Cotter, had felt for each other, although those famous heroes of the border had always fought side by side, while their descendants were compelled to face each other across a gulf. They shook hands and withdrew slowly. At the edge of the field, Dick turned to wave another farewell, and he found that Harry, actuated by the same motive at the same time, had also turned to make a like gesture. Each waved twice, instead of once, and then they disappeared among the woods. Dick returned to Colonel Winchester. “While we were under the flag of truce I met my cousin, Harry Kenton,” he said. “One of the lucky fortunes of war.” “Yes, sir, I was very glad to see him. I did not know how glad I was until I came away. He says that we can never beat Jackson, that nothing but death can ever stop him.” “Youth often deceives itself, nor is age any exception. Never lose hope, Dick.”