spoke over his shoulder reassuringly to the President with a friendly
glance. Dashing down the corridors in front, he did not see the guards
salute the tall figure which followed him; too preoccupied to wonder
at the ease of their entrance, he flew along through the big building,
and behind him in large strides came his friend.

A young man--almost a boy, too--of twenty-three or twenty-four,
his handsome face a white shadow, lay propped against the pillows,
watching the door eagerly as they entered.

"Good boy, Warry," he greeted the little fellow; "you've got me a
lawyer," and the pale features lighted with a smile of such radiance
as seemed incongruous in this gruesome place. He held out his hand to
the man who swung toward him, looming mountainous behind his brother's
slight figure. "Thank you for coming," he said cordially, and in his
tone was the same air of a _grand seigneur_ as in the lad's.
Suddenly a spasm of pain caught him, his head fell into the pillows,
his muscles twisted, his arm about the neck of the kneeling boy
tightened convulsively. Yet while the agony still held him he
was smiling again with gay courage. "It nearly blew me away," he
whispered, his voice shaking, but his eyes bright with amusement.
"We'd better get to work before one of those little breezes carries
me too far. There's pen and ink on the table, Mr.--my brother did not
tell me your name."

"Your brother and I met informally," the other answered, setting
the materials in order for writing. "He charged into me like a young
steer," and the boy, out of his deep trouble, laughed delightedly. "My
name is Lincoln."