The group returned to a little hollow, in which Sergeant Whitley and Shepard had built a fire, and where they were already frying strips of bacon and slices of ham over the coals.  Shepard and Harry shook hands.

“I may as well tell you now, Mr. Kenton,” said Shepard, “that Miss Henrietta Carden, whom you met in Richmond, is my sister, and that it was she who hid in the court at the Curtis house and took the map.  Then it was I who gave you the blow.”

“It was done in war,” said Harry, “and I have no right to complain.  It was clever and I hope that I shall be able to give your sister my compliments some day.  Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll take a strip of that wonderful bacon.  It is bacon, isn’t it?  It’s so long since I’ve seen any that I’m not sure of its identity, but whatever it is its odor is enticing.”

“Bacon it surely is, Mr. Kenton.  Here are three pieces that I broiled myself and a broad slice of bread for them.  Go ahead, there’s plenty more.  And see this dark brown liquid foaming in this stout tin pot!  Smell it!  Isn’t it wonderful!  Well, that’s coffee!  You’ve heard of coffee, and maybe you remember it.”

“I do remember tasting it some years ago and finding it good.  I’d like to try it again.  Yes, thank you.  It’s fine.”

“Here’s another cup, and try the ham also.”

Harry tried it, not once but several times.  Langdon sat on the ground before the fire, and his delight was unalloyed and unashamed.

“We have raided a Yankee wagon train again,” he said, “and the looting is splendid.  Arthur, I thought yesterday that I should never eat again.  Food and I were such strangers that I believed we should never know each other, any more, or if knowing, we could never assimilate.  And yet we seem to get on good terms at once.”

While they talked a tall thin youth of clear dark complexion, carrying a long bundle under his arm, approached the fire and Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire welcomed him with joy.

“Julien!  Julien de Langeais, my young relative!” he cried.  “And you are indeed alive!  I thought you lost!”

“I’m very much alive, sir,” said young De Langeais, “but I’m starved.”

“Then this is the place to come,” said Dick, putting before him food, which he strove to eat slowly, although the effort at restraint was manifestly great.  Lieutenant Colonel St. Hilaire introduced him to the Union men, and then asked him what was the long black bag that he carried under his arm.

“That, sir,” replied De Langeais, smiling pathetically, “is my violin.  I’ve no further use for my rifle and sword, but now that peace is coming I may be able to earn my bread with the fiddle.”

“And so you will!  You’ll become one of the world’s great musicians.  And as soon as we’ve finished with General Grant’s hospitality, which will be some time yet, you shall play for us.”

De Langeais looked affectionately at the black bag.