faced with yet more faded red, walking beside him with a face white
even at that distance, and lips shut as though they would never open again.
They halted at the big bowlder which the Colonel had indicated,
and the lieutenant, having saluted ceremoniously, turned to come up
to the camp; the Colonel, however, went down to meet him. The two men met,
but there was no spoken question; if the Colonel inquired it was only with
the eyes. The lieutenant spoke, however. "He says," he began and stopped,
then began again -- "he says, General Lee --" again he choked,
then blurted out, "I believe it is all a lie -- a damned lie."

"Not dead? Not killed?" said the Colonel, quickly.

"No, not so bad as that; surrendered: surrendered his entire army
at Appomattox day before yesterday. I believe it is all a damned lie,"
he broke out again, as if the hot denial relieved him. The Colonel simply
turned away his face and stepped a pace or two off, and the two men stood
motionless back to back for more than a minute. Then the Colonel stirred.

"Shall I go back with you?" the lieutenant asked, huskily.

The Colonel did not answer immediately. Then he said: "No, go back to camp
and await my return." He said nothing about not speaking of the report.
He knew it was not needed. Then he went down the hill slowly alone,
while the lieutenant went up to the camp.

The interview between the two officers beside the bowlder was not a long one.
It consisted of a brief statement by the Federal envoy of the fact
of Lee's surrender two days before near Appomattox Court-House,
with the sources of his information, coupled with a formal demand
on the Colonel for his surrender. To this the Colonel replied