God bless this little woman, MacGregor--and you--and I--will never ask where she has gone." MacGregor's hand reached out and gripped his own in silence.

In that hand-clasp there was sealed a pact between them, and Philip returned to his barracks room to write a letter, in care of his father, to the man and woman whom he had helped to escape into the south.

He spent the greater part of that day writing.

It was late in the afternoon that Moody came in with the mail.
"One for you, Phil," he said, tossing a letter on Philip's table.

"Looks as though it had been through a war." Philip picked up the letter as the sergeant left him.