Was I doomed
to defeat, then? Must I go back to the major with my convictions
unchanged but with no fresh proof, no real evidence to support them?
I certainly must. With the death of this man, all means of reaching
the state of Mrs. Jeffrey's mind immediately preceding her marriage
were gone. I could never learn now what to know would make a man
of me and possibly save Cora Tuttle.
Bending under this stroke of Providence, I passed out. A little
boy was sobbing at the tent door. I stared at him curiously, and
was hurrying on, when I felt myself caught by the hand.
"Take me with you," cried a choked and frightened voice in my ear.
"I have no friend here, now he is gone; take me back to Washington."
Washington! I turned and looked at the lad who, kneeling in the
hot sand at the door of the tent, was clutching me with imploring
hands.
"Who are you?" I asked; "and how came you here? Do you belong to
the army?"
"I helped care for his horse," he whispered. "He found me smuggled
on board the train - for I was bound to go to the war - and he was
sorry for me and used to give me bits of his own rations, but - but
now no one will give me anything. Take me back; she won't care.
She's dead, they say. Besides, I wouldn't stay here now if she was
alive and breathing.
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