Sometimes they fought like wildcats--and sometimes we were the ones that ran away." "What for ?" "To keep from getting killed, or maybe to keep from getting captured." "But the Rebels were bad men, weren't they, Grandpa ?" "No." The boy's forehead, customarily vacant, showed some little vertical shadows, produced by a struggle to think.

"Well, but--" he began, slowly.

"Listen, Grandpa, listen here!" "Well ?" "Listen! Well, you said--you said you never got scared the ole Rebels were goin' to win." "They did win pretty often," said the grandfather.

"They won a good many battles." "I mean, you said you never got scared they'd win the war." "No, we were never afraid of that." "Well, but if they were good men and fought like wildcats, Grandpa, and kep' winning battles and everything, how could that be?
How could you _help_ bein' scared they'd win the war ?" The grandfather's feeble eyes twinkled brightly.

"Why, we _knew_ they couldn't, Ramsey." At this, the little vertical shadows on Ramsey's forehead became more pronounced, for he had succeeded in thinking.