As Penhallow, left alone, tugged at a reluctant boot, he heard, “Good Lord!  Master John, that’s my business.”

He looked up to seize Josiah by the hand, exclaiming, “How did you get here?—­I am glad to see you.  Pull off this boot.  How are they all?”

“The Colonel he sent me.”

“Indeed!  How is he?  I’ve not heard for a month.”

“He’s bad, Master John, bad—­kind of forgets things—­and swears.”

“That’s strange for him.”

“The doctors they can’t seem to make it out.  He hasn’t put a leg over a horse, not since he was wounded.”  Evidently this was for Josiah the most serious evidence of change from former health.

“How is Aunt Ann?”

Tugging at the boots Josiah answered, “She’s just a wonder—­and Miss Leila, she’s just as pretty as a pansy.”

Penhallow smiled; it left a large choice to the imagination.  “Pansy—­pansy—­why is she like a pansy, Josiah?”

“Well, Master John, it’s because she’s so many kinds of pretty.  You see I used to raise pansies.  That boot’s a tough one.”

“Have you any letters for me?”

“No, sir.  They said I wasn’t as sure as the army-post.  Got a note from Dr. McGregor in my sack.  Hadn’t I better get your horse over the bridge—­I liked his looks, and I asked a man named Bill who owned that horse.  He said you did, and that’s how I found you.  He said that horse was a bad one.  He said he was called ‘Hoodoo.’  That’s unlucky!”

“Yes, he’s mine, Josiah.  You would like to change his name?”

“Yes, sir, I would.  This boot’s the worst!”

Penhallow laughed.  “That horse, Josiah, has every virtue a horse ought to have and every vice he ought not to have.  He’ll be as good as Aunt Ann one day, and as mean and bad as Peter Lamb the next day.  Halloa there, guard! let my man cross over.”

Hoodoo came quietly, and as Penhallow walked his horse, Josiah related the village news, and then more and more plainly the captain gathered some clear idea of his uncle’s condition and of the influence the younger woman was exerting on a household over which hung the feeling of inexorable doom.  As he read McGregor’s letter he knew too well that were he with them he could be of no practical use.

The next few days John Penhallow was kept busy, and on June 2nd having to report with some sketch-maps he found the headquarters at Bethesda Church.  The pews had been taken out and set under trees.  The staff was scattered about at ease.  General Grant, to John’s amusement, was petting a stray kitten with one hand and writing despatches with the other.  At last he began to talk with members of the Christian Commission about their work.  Among them John was aware of Mark Rivers.  A few minutes later he had his chance and took the clergyman away to the tents of the engineers for a long and disheartening talk of home.  They met no more for many days, and soon he was too busy to think of asking the leave of absence he so much desired.