“I’m afraid so, darling, but I don’t know,” he answered sadly.  “We’ll just have to wait.  Wait,” he repeated, as he sat down on a rock and drew her close to him.  Without being seen either by Virgie or O’Connell he picked up a jagged stone the size of his fist and hid it under his knee against the rock.  It would be a poor weapon at best, but Cary had grown desperate and if the trooper once turned his back and gave him opportunity poor Harry O’Connell would wake up with a very bad headache and Virgie would be in Richmond.

But Virgie’s eyes were on neither the hidden stone nor her father’s watchful, relentless face.  All that Virgie could see was a knapsack open on the ground and food—­real food displayed round about with a prodigality which made her mouth water and her eyes as big as saucers.

“Daddy,” she murmured, clutching at his sleeve, “while we are waitin’ do you reckon we could take just a little bit of that?”

“No, dear—­not now,” her father answered, with a touch of impatience.  It would be too much, even in those bitter times, to accept a man’s food and then break his head for it.

“Well,” said Virgie, completely mystified at the restraint, “I don’t see why they shouldn’t be polite to us.  We were just as polite as could be when the Yankees took our corn.”

Just then the young Irishman with the carbine turned around and caught the wan look on Virgie’s face and the hunger appeal in her big dark eyes.  At once a broad smile broke over his freckled countenance and he gestured hospitably with his gun.

“Have somethin’ to eat, little wan.”

Cary’s knee loosened.  The jagged stone fell to the ground.

“Thank you, old fellow,” he cried, springing to his feet.  “I can’t show my gratitude to you in any substantial way at present—­but God bless you, just the same.”  He dropped down on the rock again and hid his face in his hands.  Another moment and the kindhearted trooper might have been lying face downwards in the muddy ground around the spring.  It had been only touch-and-go, but the man’s warm Irish heart had saved him.

“Oh, that’s all right, sir,” O’Connell answered freely.  “Sure an’ I’d like to see ye get through, though I ain’t the Gineral.  At least, not yet,” he grinned.

“There ye are, little girl,” he went on, pushing the knapsack over towards Virgie with the muzzle of his carbine.  “Jist help yerself—­an’ give yer dad some, too.”

With a little cry of delight Virgie swooped down on the knapsack and explored its interior with eager hands.

“I’m much obliged, Mr. Yankee.  We cert’ny do need it—­bad.”  She tossed the tangled hair back from her eyes and looked thankfully up at this curious person who had so much food that he could really give part of it away.  “Please, Mr. Yankee—­won’t you tell me your name?”

“Harry O’Connell, at your service, miss.”

“Thank you,” she bowed.  “I’m very glad to meet you.”  Then her searching hands found something wonderful in the knapsack and she sprang up and ran with her prizes to her father.