He threaded his way slowly for over half an hour through the closely-jumbled mass of tents and burrows, and at length stopped in front of a blanket-tent in the northwestern corner.

The occupant rose and took my hand.

For an instant I was puzzled; then the clear, blue eyes, and well-remembered smile recalled to me my old-time comrade, Charley Barbour.

His story was soon told.

He was a Sergeant in a Western Virginia cavalry regiment--the Fourth, I think.