It was one of the most dramatic scenes in Dick's life, the two men under
the tree, and the tens of thousands who watched. Nobody moved. It
seemed that they scarcely breathed. After the continuous roar of firing
the sudden silence was oppressive, and Dick felt the blood pounding in
his ears.

The heat was close and heavy. Black clouds were floating up in the west,
and lightning glimmered now and then on the horizon. Although the storm
threatened no one noticed. All eyes were still for Grant and Pemberton.
After a while each returned to his own command, and there was an
armistice until the next day, when the full surrender was made, and Grant
and his officers rode into Vicksburg. At the same time Lee was gathering
his men for the retreat into the South from the stricken field of
Gettysburg. It was the Fourth of July, the eighty-seventh anniversary of
the Declaration of Independence, and no one could have possibly conceived
a more striking celebration.

As soon as Dick was free for a little space he hurried to the ravine, and,
as before, found there the open door. He passed in without hesitation.

The light as of old filtered into the room, and Colonel Woodville lay
just as before in bed with his great bald head upon the pillow. Miss
Woodville sat beside the bed, reading aloud from Addison. Dick's step
was light, but the colonel heard him and held up a finger. The lad
paused until Miss Woodville, finishing a long sentence, closed the book.
Then the colonel, raising a little the great white thatch of his eyebrows,
said:

"Young sir, you have returned again, and, personally, you are welcome,
but I do not conceive how you can stand the company you keep. My