"Am I shot?" asked Frank.

"No! Do you think we'd have touched a hair of your head -and you such a brave little fellow? We were just trying to scare you a bit and carried it too far, and you got a little faint, that's all."

The voice was so kindly that Frank was encouraged to

sit up.

"Can you walk now?" asked the corporal, helping him and steadying him as he rose to his feet.

"I'll take him," said the big fellow, and before the boy could move, he had stooped, taken Frank in his arms, and was carrying him back toward the place where they had left Willy, while the others followed with the horses.

"I can walk," said Frank.

"No, I'll carry you, b-bless your heart!"

The boy did not know that the big dragoon was looking down at the light hair resting on his arm, and that while he trod the Virginia wood-path, in fancy he was at home in Delaware; or that the pressure the boy felt from his strong arms, was a caress given for the sake of another boy far away on the Brandywine. A little while before they came in sight of the other soldiers, Frank asked to be put down.

The soldier gently set him on his feet, and before he let him go, kissed him.

"I've got a curly-headed fellow at home, just the size of you," he said softly.

Frank saw that his eyes were moist.

safe back to him," he said.

"God grant it!" said the soldier.

"I hope you'll get

When they reached the squad at the gate, they found Willy still in much distress on Frank's account; but he wiped his

eyes when his brother reappeared, and listened with pride to the soldiers' praise of Frank's "grit," as they called it. When they let the boys go, the little corporal wished Frank to accept a five-dollar gold piece; but he politely declined it.

THOMAS NELSON PAGE.

par'-a-lyzed, unnerved; unable to in-dif'fer-ent, lacking in interest. de-clined', refused to accept.

act.

e-mo'tion, excitement of the feelings.

THOMAS NELSON PAGE (1853-) was born at Oakland Plantation, Virginia. In his boyhood he and his brothers played about their father's plantation, near which the Army of Northern Virginia camped for two winters after the Civil War broke out. Through this the boys saw real camp life, and learned numerous stories of the war. Mr. Page has written of these experiences and stories in "Two Little Confederates," from which this story is taken, "Among the Camps," "The Burial of the Guns," and "A Captured Santa Claus." He has also written "In Ole Virginia," "Meh Lady," "Red Rock," and other interesting stories and novels. "A War-Time Adventure" is used in this book by permission of the publishers, Charles Scribner's Sons.

Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
You have a work that no other can do;
Do it so bravely, so kindly, so well,
Angels will hasten the story to tell.

Dare to do right! Dare to be true!
Other men's failures can never save you;

Stand by your conscience, your honor, your faith;

Stand like a hero, and battle till death.

GEORGE L. TAYLOR.

SPRING TWILIGHT

Singing in the rain, robin?
Rippling out so fast
All thy flute-like notes, as if
This singing were thy last!

After sundown, too, robin?
Though the fields are dim,
And the trees grow dark and still,
Dripping from leaf and limb.

Surely, thus to sing, robin,
Thou must have in sight
Beautiful skies behind the shower,
And dawn beyond the night.

Would thy faith were mine, robin!
Then, though night were long,
All its silent hours should melt

Their sorrow into song.

EDWARD ROWLAND SILL.

EDWARD ROWLAND SILL (1841-87) was an American poet, who was born in Connecticut. He was a graduate of Yale, and afterward became professor of the English language and literature in the University of California. Among his works are "The Venus of Milo" and a volume entitled "Poems." "Spring Twilight," like many others of his short poems, has a delicate beauty both in the thought and in the form.

A WOLF-HUNT

The light from the faintly yellow east had begun to fill the room when the sound of a galloping horse, rapidly approaching from the south, wakened Lincoln Stewart, and then a whistle mingled with the trample of the horse brought to a halt.

66

That's Milton Jennings!" he cried, leaping from his bed into the frosty air, and hurriedly dressing.

When Lincoln got outdoors, the horseman was at the gate, seated on a restless gray colt.

"Aren't you up early for a Seminary chap?"

"Oh, I guess I haven't lost all my stamina with one term o' school," laughed Milton.

"Had breakfast?"

"Yes."

"Well, I haven't, so you put Mark in the barn, and wait while I eat."

After a hasty breakfast, the boys brought out the colts. Mark came first, snuffing and alert, and Milton put one toe into the stirrup and swung gracefully into the saddle. Lincoln followed with Cassius, wild already, as if he smelled the game.

As Lincoln seized the pommel of his saddle, the horse plunged and reared and flew away sidewise, but the boy hung to the bridle and mane, and as he whirled, leaped into his seat and had the wild brute in hand before he could make a second rush. He was too good a horseman to be irritated by high spirits in a horse.

As they rode, the sun rose, and its rays, striking along the horizon, changed the level prairie into a flat basin, with the

horsemen low in the center.

To the east the line of timber

seemed to rise far out of its normal position. Ten miles to the west, the larger and deeper forest seemed only three or four miles away.

"Will the boys be on hand?" asked Lincoln.

"Oh, yes! ! This snow'll bring them out. It was the signal. We'll find them at the school house."

Some miles to the north, and just over the state line, a big square of wild land still lay. Upon it, as upon an island, the wolves, foxes, and badgers had taken refuge, and the Iowa boys had made several hunting trips "across the line," but Lincoln had never before taken part in them. Rance Knight, who always had a hand in any expedition of this kind, had been in two wolf-hunts, and was the natural leader of this one.

As the boys rode steadily on, three horsemen could be seen making easy way along another lane. When Milton caught sight of them, he rose in his saddle and uttered a wild whoop, which made a remarkable change in the pace of the other horse

men.

Answering yells rose, and a fine race took place. Lincoln let the rein loose on Cassius, dug his heel into his flank, and was off before Milton's protest could reach him.

Milton held Mark down to an easy lope, and watched the race between Lincoln and the nearest horseman mounted on a black horse. Lincoln was a little nearer to the goal, but had a ravine to cross; and though the iron-sided Cassius did his best, the black turned in just a neck ahead.

When Milton cantered calmly up to the crowd, they all yelled. "He isn't any good, that gray horse! Why didn't you let him out?"

"You'll find out why, later in the day, responded Milton