Mrs. Ruthven was a widow, having lost her husband, Colonel Martin Ruthven, at the bloody battle of Gettysburg. She had one daughter, Marion, a beautiful young lady of seventeen. Marion and Jack thought the world of each other and were all but inseparable. The sudden taking-off of the colonel had proved a great shock both to the children and to Mrs. Ruthven, and for a long time the lady of the house had lain on a bed of sickness, in consequence. She was now around, but still weak and pale. Her one consolation was the children, and she clung to them closer than ever. On several occasions Jack had spoken of enlisting as a drummer boy, but Mrs. Ruthven would not listen to it. "No, no, Jack! I cannot spare you!" had been her words. "One gone out of the family is enough." And Marion, too, had clung to him, so that going away became almost an impossibility, although he longed for the glories of a soldier's life, with never a thought of all the hardships and sufferings such a life entails. The meeting with the Confederate surgeon had filled Jack's head once more with visions of army life, and as he continued to fish he forgot all about the unpleasant encounter, although he remembered that repulsive face well. He was destined to meet the surgeon again, and under most disagreeable circumstances. "I wish mother would let me join the army," he thought, after hauling in another fish. "I am sure our regiments need all the men they can get. Somehow, we seem to be getting the worst of the fighting lately. I wonder what would happen if the South should be beaten in this struggle?" Ten minutes passed, when a merry whistle was heard on the road and another boy appeared, of about Jack's age. "Hullo, Darcy!" cried Jack. "Come to help me fish?" "I didn't know you were fishing," answered Darcy Gilbert, a youth who lived on the plantation next to Jack. "Are you having good luck?" "First-rate. I was getting ready to go home, but now you have come I'll stay a while longer." "Do, Jack; I hate to fish alone. But I say, Jack----" And then Darcy broke off short. "What were you going to say?" "Oh, nothing!" There was a minute of silence, during which Darcy baited his hook and threw it in. "You look as if you had something on your mind. Darcy," went on Jack, after his friend had brought in a fine haul apparently without appreciating the sport. "Did you meet a Confederate surgeon on the road?" "No, I came across the plantation. What of him?" "He came this way, and we got into a regular row because I wouldn't clear right out and give him the whole of the bridge." "He didn't hit you, did he?" "Not much! If he had I would have pitched into him, I can tell you, big as he was!" And Jack's eyes flashed in a way that proved he meant what he said. "No, I didn't meet him, but I met St. John Ruthven, your cousin. Jack, do you know that that young man is a regular bully, even if he is a dandy?" "Yes, I know it, Darcy." "And he is down on you."