Evans.  Most of them didn’t.  I remember that night just like it was yesterday; ’twas the very night you got back from Columbus.  The moon had just set behind them hills, and the sentry reported all quiet.  I was just turning in, when down on us like a whirlwind came that rebel, Morgan.  We didn’t have a show; ’twas “boots and saddles” quicker than I ever saw it before.

Hop.  Their victory all right; more than half our men were killed or captured, and all through the information that fellow Hillary brought through when he escaped from prison (he gazes off across the river).  I wonder what’s become of them—­the people over there?

Evans.  Why, ain’t you heard a word from them?

Hop.  No, not since we were here in May.  Things look right different now.  Why, all along the way, as we were marching here, I couldn’t help thinking how it was changed; the fences down, the fields all gone to waste, most of the houses burned, and only here and there some crazy negro cabin, looking as though it were about to tumble down.  How those poor devils live I don’t quite see.  Ten or twelve of them in just one little room; and then to see them run and hide when we pass by, you’d never think we came down here to free them.

Evans.  How’s Col.  Winthrop today?  He hasn’t seemed the same since this here fight six months ago.  He used to be the life of all the camp, and now he hardly ever speaks.  Seems like he has grieved most to death.  I wonder why?  Losing a few men don’t often hurt a soldier so.

Hop. (again looking off across the river).  Perhaps it isn’t that.

Evans.  I wonder why—­(he stops, as the sound of voices is heard among the trees (Left).  Hello!  What’s that?

[Off (Left) a child is heard.

The Child.  Come on, come on; it’s recess!

Hop.  Who is it?

Evans.  Them children from the school, I guess.  It’s just a little way up the road, I’ve heard; we’d better duck!

Hop.  Yes; back in the trees.  No one must see us (he looks off
(Left).  Hello!  Who’s that with them?

Evans.  The school ma’m, I guess.  Come.

Hop. (looking intently off).  You go; I’ll come in a second.

[Exit Evans.

Miss Charlotte!  Have they come to this?  She teaching school!

[He exits (Right) among the trees.

A Little Girl’s Voice (nearer).  Come on, come on; we’re going to the camp.

[Enter by the road (Left) a little group of children; they are
very small, between the ages of six and ten, all dressed
in poor, home-made garments; some of the girls have shawls
over their heads.  They seem happy.  Nearly all carry little
parcels wrapped in paper.

A Boy.  Ain’t you glad it’s recess, and we can eat our lunch down here?

A Girl.  Corse we are.  We can’t stay long, though—­it’s so cold.

A Boy.  Ain’t you got any mittens, Susie?