treated, as he questioned men about the engineers.  He took it all with good-humour.  About three, he came near to a house on the wayside, where a halt had been ordered to give the men a brief rest.  The soldiers dust-grey and thirsty scattered over the clearing or lay in the shadow of the scrub oaks.  Some thronged about a well or a wayside spring, or draining their canteens caught a brief joy from the lighted pipe so dear to the soldier.  Josiah looked about him, and knew the log-cabins some distance away from the better house to have been the slave-quarters.  Beyond them was a better built log-house.  Apparently all were deserted—­men, cattle and horses, were gone.  He lay down a little way from the road and listened to the talk of the men seated in front of him.  He heard a private say, “A halt is as bad as a march, the dust is a foot deep, and what between flies and mosquitoes, they’re as bad as the Rebs.”

“Ah!” said an old corporal, “just you wait a bit.  These are only a skirmish line.  July and Chickahominy mosquitoes will get you when your baccy’s out.”

“It’s out now.”

Josiah was eager to question some one and was aware of the value of tobacco as a social solvent.  He said, “I’ve got some baccy, corporal.”

The men in front of him turned.  “For sale—­how much?”

“No,” said Josiah.  “My pouch is full.  Help yourselves.”

This liberal contribution was warmly appreciated, and the private, who was the son of a New York banker, interested in the black man, asked, “What are you doing in this big circus?” It was the opening for which Josiah waited.

“Looking for an engineer-captain.”

The corporal said, “Well, like enough he’ll be at the bridge of the North Anna—­but the engineers are here, there and anywhere.  What is his name?”

“Thank you, sir.  My master is Captain Penhallow.”

“Well, good luck to you.”

“Take another pipe load,” returned Josiah, grateful for the unusual interest.

“Thank you,” said the private, “with pleasure.  Tobacco is as scarce as hen’s teeth.”

“That’s so.  Who’s that officer on the big horse?  He’s a rider whoever he is.”

“That’s the ring-master of this show,” laughed the private.

“Not General Grant!”

“Yes.”  Josiah considered him with interest.

There was of a sudden some disturbance about the larger of the more remote cabins; a soldier ran out followed by a screaming young woman.  Her wild cries attracted attention to the man, who was at once caught and held while he vainly protested.  The men about Josiah sat up or got on their feet.  The young woman ran here and there among the groups of soldiers like one distracted.  At last, near the larger house at the roadside she fell on her knees and rocked backwards and forwards sobbing.  Josiah at a distance saw only that a soldier had been caught trying to escape notice as a young woman followed him out of the house.  It was too well understood by the angry men who crowded around the captive.