Shyly and swiftly she raised her eyes.  He looked so humble, deprecatory, and unsoldier-like that she could not repress a laugh.  “I’m not a British cannon,” she began, “that you should be so fearful.”

His manhood was now too deeply wounded for further endurance even from her, for he suddenly straightened himself, and throwing his rifle over his shoulder, said sternly, “I’m not a coward.  I never hung back from fear, but to keep mother from charity, so I could fight or die as God wills.  You may laugh at the man who never gave you anything but love, if you will, but you shall never laugh at my deeds.  Call that boasting or not as you please,” and he turned on his heel to depart.

His words and manner almost took away the girl’s breath, so unexpected were they, and unlike her idea of the man.  In that brief moment a fearless soldier had flashed himself upon her consciousness, revealing a spirit that would flinch at nothing—­ that had not even quailed at the necessity of forfeiting her esteem, that his mother might not want.  Humiliated and conscience-stricken that she had done him so much injustice, she rushed forward, crying, “Stop, Zebulon; please do not go away angry with me!  I do not forget that we have been old friends and playmates.  I’m willing to own that I’ve been wrong about you, and that’s a good deal for a girl to do.  I only wish I were a man, and I’d go with you.”

Her kindness restored him to his awkward self again, and he stammered, “I wish you were—­no, I don’t—­I merely stopped, thinking you might have a message; but I’d rather not take any to Zeke Watkins—­will, though, if you wish.  It cut me all up to have you think I was afraid,” and then he became speechless.

“But you acted as if you were afraid of me, and that seemed so ridiculous.”

He looked at her a moment so earnestly with his dark, deep-set eyes that hers dropped.  “Miss Susie,” he said slowly, and speaking with difficulty, “I am afraid of you, next to God.  I don’t suppose I’ve any right to talk to you so, and I will say good-by.  I was reckless when I spoke before.  Perhaps—­you’ll go and see mother.  My going is hard on her.”

His eyes lingered on her a moment longer, as if he were taking his last look, then he turned slowly away.

“Good-by, Zeb,” she called softly.  “I didn’t—­I don’t understand.  Yes, I will go to see your mother.”

Susie also watched him as he strode away.  He thought he could continue on steadfastly without looking back, but when the road turned he also turned, fairly tugged right about by his loyal heart.  She stood where he had left her, and promptly waved her hand.  He doffed his cap, and remained a moment in an attitude that appeared to her reverential, then passed out of view.