Crittenden

The thunder of big guns, Cervera's doom, and truce at the trenches. A

trying week of hot sun, cool nights, tropical rains, and fevers. Then a

harmless little bombardment one Sunday afternoon--that befitted the day;

another week of heat and cold and wet and sickness. After that, the

surrender--and the fierce little war was over.

Meantime, sick and wounded were homeward bound, and of the Crittendens

Bob was the first to reach Canewood. He came in one morning, hungry and

footsore, but with a swagger of importance that he had well earned.

He had left his Young Captain Basil at Old Point Comfort, he said, where

the boy, not having had enough of war, had slipped aboard a transport

and gone off with the Kentucky Legion for Porto Rico--the unhappy Legion

that had fumed all summer at Chickamauga--and had hoisted sail for Porto

Rico, without daring to look backward for fear it should be wigwagged

back to land from Washington.

Was Basil well?

"Yas'm. Young Cap'n didn' min' dat little bullet right through his neck

no mo'n a fly-bite. Nothin' gwine to keep dat boy back."

They had let him out of the hospital, or, rather, he had gotten out by

dressing himself when his doctor was not there. An attendant tried to

stop him.

"An' Young Cap'n he jes drew hisself up mighty gran' an' says: 'I'm

going to join my regiment,' he says. 'It sails to-morrow.' But Ole Cap'n

done killed," Bob reckoned; "killed on top of the hill where they druv

the Spaniards out of the ditches whar they wus shootin' from."

Mrs. Crittenden smiled.

"No, Bob, he's coming home now," and Bob's eyes streamed. "You've been a

good boy, Bob. Come here;" and she led him into the hallway and told him

to wait, while she went to the door of her room and called some one.

Molly came out embarrassed, twisting a corner of her apron and putting

it in her mouth while she walked forward and awkwardly shook hands.

"I think Molly has got something to say to you, Bob. You can go, Molly,"

she added, smiling.

The two walked toward the cabin, the negroes crowding about Bob and

shaking him by the hand and asking a thousand absurd questions; and

Bob, while he was affable, was lordly as well, and one or two of Bob's

possible rivals were seen to sniff, as did other young field hands,

though Bob's mammy was, for the first time in her life, grinning openly

with pride in her "chile," and she waved the curious away and took the

two in her own cabin, reappearing presently and walking toward the

kitchen.