It was his own uncle, Colonel George Kenton, C.S.

A., his gold braided cap on the window sill, and his sword in its scabbard lying across his knees.
But Dick changed his mind.

His uncle was a colonel on one side, and he was a lieutenant on the other, and from one point of view it was almost high treason for them to meet there and talk quietly together, but from another it was the most natural thing in the world, commanded alike by duty and affection.
He pushed open the door a little further and stepped inside.
"Uncle George," he said.
Colonel Kenton sprang to his feet, and his sword clattered upon the floor.
"Good God!" he cried.

"You, Dick! Here! To-night!" "Yes, Uncle George, it's no other." "And I suppose you have Yankees without to take me." "Those are hard words, sir, and you don't mean them.

I'm all alone, just as you were.