He had worn a uniform which was not his own--and the dog must die! So ruled the god of warfare; still, did war prescribe disgrace and death for all?
If Cary had crept through the Union lines, to reach the side of a helpless little one--_yes, even in a coat of blue_--would the Great Tribunal count his deed accursed?
Should fearless human love reap no reward beyond the crashing epitaph of a firing squad, and the powder smoke that drifted with the passing of a soul?
"No! No!" breathed Morrison.

"In God's name, give the man his chance!" He straightened his back and smiled.

He took from the table a rumpled paper and turned to the littlest factor in the great Rebellion.
"Here, Virgie! Here's your pass to Richmond--for you and your escort--through the Federal lines." She came to him slowly, wondering; her tiny body quivering with suppressed excitement, her voice a whispering caress: "Do you mean for--for Daddy, too ?" "Yes, you little rebel!" he answered, choking as he laughed; "but I'm terribly afraid you'll have to pay me--with a kiss." She sprang into his waiting arms, and kissed him as he raised her up; but when he would have set her down, her little brown hands, with their berry-stained fingers, clung tightly about his neck.
"Wait! Wait!" she cried.

"Here's another one--for Gertrude! Tell her it's from Virgie! An' tell her I sent it, 'cause her daddy is jus' the best damn Yankee that ever was!" The trap above had opened, and the head and shoulders of the Southerner appeared; while Morrison looked up and spoke in parting: "It's all right, Cary.

I only ask a soldier's pledge that you take your little girl to Richmond--nothing more.