But just now they could not stir from their hiding place unless--unless the men were Confederates.

This faint hope, however, soon flickered out when he saw the color of their uniforms.
Up the road came four dismounted men with a corporal in command.

They were taking it easy as they walked along, their caps thrust back, their coats open and their Sharps' carbines carried in the variety of ways that a soldier adopts to ease his shoulder of the burden that grows heavier with every mile.
"Here's the place, boys," the Corporal called out as his eye fell on the spring.

"We can get some decent water, now.

That James River water's too yellow for any white man to put inside of him." At the sound of a voice which he had heard that same morning while he hid in the attic of the overseer's cabin Cary's hold on his daughter's hand tightened warningly.
"Come along, Virgie," he whispered.