“Mother, would you have me stay?”

It was hard for a mother to say it; but she had to do so.  She was patriotic, and she answered: 

“No.”

“Then I will go.”

“When?”

“They are beating up for volunteers at town, and I am going there to enlist in a day or two.  First I must help father drain the flat and clear off a few timber patches.”

It soon became rumored all over the neighborhood that Fernando was going to enlist.  Many friends came to see him, bid him good-by and wish him God-speed.  The day before he went away, he was chopping wood, when he saw a large man riding a large bay mare followed by a large colt, cross the old bridge a few hundred paces below and ascend the hill toward the house.  The visitor was Mr. Winners.  He had grown older and stouter, and the mare was older and heavier, and this was her fourth colt since he had come over to talk with his neighbor about sending his son to college with Fernando.  The kind, good face of the old farmer expressed sadness, and his eye, always dull, seemed melancholy.

He rode slowly up the hill to where Fernando was chopping wood.  Fernando saw him coming and laid down his axe, for it was quite evident that Mr. Winners wanted to speak with him.  The old man, drawing rein close by Fernando, said: 

“Mornin’, Fernando, how’s all?”

“We are all well, Mr. Winners.  How are yourself and family?”

“Oh, we are just middlin’ like.”

“Won’t you alight and come into the house?”

“No; I ain’t got time, Fernando.  I just came to see you, that’s all.  Fernando, I hear as how you’re goin’ t’ ther war.”

“I am, Mr. Winners.  I am a young man with no wife or children.  My country just now stands in need of young men.”

“Ya-as, it does, an’ I don’t come t’ blame ye for it,—­mind ye, I don’t blame ye fur it.  I’m sometimes tempted to go myself, old as I am.”

“No, no, Mr. Winners, there is no occasion.  Let the younger men do the service.”

“I don’t blame ye, for goin’, Fernando; but I hope ye won’t furgit one thing.”

“What?”

“My Sukey’s on t’other side.  Now that fightin’s begun, he’ll have to light his own flag; but he won’t do it with a very good grace, lem me tell ye.  No, he won’t.  Now, Fernando, I don’t want to ask ye to ease down on the British a bit; but when ye come to the crowd that Sukey’s with, won’t ye kind a shoot easy?”

Fernando promised to do all he could to aid Sukey to escape, and assured him that, when once he was free, the cruel masters should pay for their tyranny.  The old man seemed partially satisfied, and, as he rode away, he twisted himself half way round in the saddle to say: 

“Now, Fernando, if ye meet Sukey’s crowd, I want ye to remember to shoot easy.”

“I will not harm Sukey, if I can help it,” Fernando answered.  Next morning, he bade his parents farewell and, with his clothes tied up in a little bundle, set out on his way to the town.