had dried upon them in reddish spots. It appeared, too, that the men had
not shaved in many days. In the hats there was a singular diversity. One
soldier wore the little blue cap of the Northern infantry, with corps
emblem and regimental number; one wore a great slouch hat with a wide
hole in the crown; and the other wore no hat at all. The left sleeve of
one man and the right sleeve of another had been slit, and the arms were
neatly bandaged with clean cloths. "These hain't no more than two little
cuts," explained one. "We stopped up yere to Mis' Leavitts--she said her
name was--and she bind them for us. Bill yere, he had the thirst come on
him. And the fever too. We----"

"Did you ever see my father in the army?" asked Mary. "John Hinckson--
his name is."

The three soldiers grinned again, but they replied kindly: "No, m'm.
No, m'm, we hain't never. What is he--in the cavalry?"

"No," said the girl. "He and my uncle Asa and my cousin--his name is
Bill Parker--they are all with Longstreet--they call him."

"Oh," said the soldiers. "Longstreet? Oh, they're a good smart ways
from yere. 'Way off up nawtheast. There hain't nothing but cavalry down
yere. They're in the infantry, probably."

"We haven't heard anything from them for days and days," said Mary.

"Oh, they're all right in the infantry," said one man, to be consoling.
"The infantry don't do much fighting. They go bellering out in a big
swarm and only a few of 'em get hurt. But if they was in the cavalry--
the cavalry--"