The young officer still held his shapeless hat on the pommel of his saddle. “Reckon theh five-yeh-olds; yawl take ’em along. Leave any mo’ old nags behind; we got too many now.” He fumbled in his coat pocket and drew out a fold of damp paper. He looked up at the window and saluted gravely. “Do you want I should write you an odduh, seh?”

Cybo’s yelping: row, row, row, row. Mrs. Fanning had disappeared. Irene could hear the reluctant sagging of the bed … and now the fat woman was lying down, trying to huddle deep in her sanctuary. She would want more turpentine—

“Will that order be honored in Confederate money?” Mr. Fanning asked, slowly.

“All sech items will be paid at a time subsequent to the establishment of the complete and undisputed independence of the Confederate States of America, seh,” the boy rattled.

Mr. Fanning patted the window-sill hysterically. “No. No. I will never see that day, nor will you! Take my horses, but please do not harm my household or my—”

The rebel blushed angrily, and saluted again. He swung his horse in a swift dance. “We hahm no one,” he said, but he was looking at Irene as he said it. Once more he bowed; he leaned forward in the saddle. The black gelding thudded across the yard. “Fetch ’em along, Lacy,” the captain called, waving his hat. The black skimmed the fence, up and over and down; he loped away, twisting along the path which angled east below Knouse’s. The carrot-nibbling soldier ran ahead of his companions and opened the wide gate into the pasture, and closed it meticulously after they were through. Bright and Becky filed through the bushes, each ridden bareback by a soldier, with the third man bringing up the rear; the mares were wrenching their necks and neighing at Demon.

The old negro crouched beside the manure pile. He began to keen shrilly to himself. Take Bright and Becky to slabery … em damn rebel cayn’t take Demon, but take my fine team … He was humming, swaying his head, building a foolish song out of it. A tear coasted slowly alongside his flat nose.

Mr. Fanning groaned from the window: “Daughter! There’s no help for it. We should be thankful if they spare our home. Come into the house at once; these are soldiers, my girl—enemies! A woman—”