It was near twilight. He carried the bag with him down the stairway, got his hat, and locked the door on the wreckage inside this house. The dead horse beside his gate was fairly seething. Dan walked back to town along the noisy Pike.

As he passed the Emblem Hotel, he met Julius Orcutt. “Going away?” the tallow-face asked. “Yes,” Dan told him. “I will write … how is Mrs. Orcutt bearing up?”

The lawyer said, “Bravely.” He asked, “Daniel— you are not going West?”

“No.” They stepped aside; a lot of Commission folks came past. Dan said to Orcutt, “Please assume the care of—everything. I shall have to write you the details, and arrange about a will; I wish to make the Duffeys and Mrs. Huddlestone the beneficiaries. Do the trains to Baltimore go through, yet?”

Orcutt nodded. “They do. Every four hours, or so I am told. Daniel, do you mean to go into the army?”

“I guess so.” There was a long, dry silence between them. “You’re a Mason, sir,” Dan begun. “Is it something Masonic if you do this: call for help as the son of a widow?”

“Why on earth do you—ask that?” Orcutt demanded.

“I heard somebody say that,” Dan told him. “I was pondering it. I assumed it was some kind of a lodge business.”

They shook hands; Dan wondered whether Benjy Orcutt had lain long unburied, after he died, and if he had looked like Elijah. Probably there would have been no telling them apart, after just so long … Not going—now—Daniel? Yes, he said. You are the only one I have seen. Here is the key to the house, and I will write from Washington or somewhere.

He started east along York street. It was four miles out to where the railroad began to function, since the track had been destroyed by the first invading rebels, and Bale would have to walk the distance unless someone offered a ride. Orcutt stood there in the middle of the sidewalk, watching him go. The dusk was thick with chloride of lime. Orcutt began to cough.

Bibliography

Bibliography

While the background of this story is supplementary to the development of the characters, it is earnestly believed that the bat-de fought in these pages is the actual battle which was fought, and not a fictive hullabaloo which never existed at Gettysburg or any other place.