him worthy of their trust.

The singing had stopped, and Judge Ellis was standing before him.
The Judge was about to go, and in his caressing voice he said that
he would hope to see Montague again. Then, seeing that General
Prentice was also standing up, Montague threw off the spell that had
gripped him, and shook hands with the little drummer, and with
Selden and Anderson and all the others of his dream people. A few
minutes later he found himself outside the hotel, drinking deep
draughts of the cold November air.

Major Thorne had come out with them; and learning that the General's
route lay uptown, he offered to walk with Montague to his hotel.

They set out, and then Montague told the Major about the figure in
the grape-vine, and the Major laughed and told how it had felt.
There had been more adventures, it seemed; while he was hunting a
horse he had come upon two mules loaded with ammunition and
entangled with their harness about a tree; he had rushed up to seize
them--when a solid shot had struck the tree and exploded the
ammunition and blown the mules to fragments. And then there was the
story of the charge late in the night, which had recovered the lost
ground, and kept Stonewall Jackson busy up to the very hour of his
tragic death. And there was the story of Andersonville, and the
escape from prison. Montague could have walked the streets all
night, exchanging these war-time reminiscences with the Major.

Absorbed in their talk, they came to an avenue given up to the
poorer class of people; with elevated trains rattling by overhead,
and rows of little shops along it. Montague noticed a dense crowd on