prolong this war about three years.

"And yet we must save them for the nation's sake. They are to be the
mothers of our patriots in days to come. Is she a friend of yours, too,
Steve?"

What was I to say?

"Not especially, sir," I answered finally. I have had to offend her
rather often. But I know that she likes my mother."

"Why!" he cried, jumping up, "she's a daughter of Colonel Carvel. I
always had an admiration for that man. An ideal Southern gentleman of the
old school,--courteous, as honorable and open as the day, and as brave as
a lion. You've heard the story of how he threw a man named Babcock out of
his store, who tried to bribe him?"

"I heard you tell it in that tavern, sir. And I have heard it since." It
did me good to hear the Colonel praised.

"I always liked that story," he said. "By the way, what's become of the
Colonel?"

"He got away--South, sir," I answered. "He couldn't stand it. He hasn't
been heard of since the summer of '63. They think he was killed in Texas.
But they are not positive. They probably never will be," I added. He was
silent awhile.

"Too bad!" he said. "Too bad. What stuff those men are made of! And so
you want me to pardon this Colfax?"