The Press., 1913-06-11

girl answered the summons There were four men and sergeant. The sergeant was spokesman.
 "There's Tank about here," he said. Where is he?''
 There's no Tank here." was the re- ply.
 shooters saw him from treetop. He was going to shoot when the Yank passed out of sight. We've come out to get him."
 '"There was man here spell ago. but he went away"
 Jim in the cellar heard all this and wondered how could those innocent lips utter such falsehoods.
 Meanwhile he was looking about him for a better place of concealment. There was m old brick oven in the cellar, its top extending to within a foot of the rafters of the floor above. He climbed up on it and, pulling away some loose bricks. found an entrance to a chimney big enough for him to crawl into. Once in 1t, being young and strong, he worked his way up to the top. Meanwhile the troopers had searched the house and, not finding him, had ridden about for awhile, not getting too close to the Union line; then had ridden back southwark As soon as Jim heard their retreating footsteps he lifted his head above the chimney top for reconnaissance, but he quickly withdrew it, for a bullet sung within an inch of his ear This admonished him that some sharpshoot- CT was watching the house. and he scuttled down the chimney to make an exit by the way he had come up. At the cellar door stood the girl who had hidden him. He took her in his arms. and her head sank down upon his breast.
 If there had been any of that sense of self preservation in the bOy-or the girl, for that matter-such as comes with age, hunted by cavalry, watched by sharrshooters, liable to be caught by an officer off his post, Jim would have got out of the scrape as quickly as possible. But young love is stronger than the fear of death-stronger even than disgrace. Jim stood supporting her, her heart duttering against his own, and 1t was the happiest moment of his life.
 A distant sound of the long roll com ing down the slope from the Federal lines was needed to awaken the young soldier from his trance. Then a gun boomed. Snatching last kiss, the sol dier ran back to the cellar, took up his rifle from a dark corner where he had thrown it and sped out into the yard. A skirmish line was coming down the declivity. Jim ducked under some bushes and, when the men pass ed him, fell in, and, though he was not with his own company, no one except the pickets he had left a couple of hours before was ever aware of his foray between the lines
 One of those scrimmages that so of ten occur between armies in touch with each other, but neither of which is ready for battle, was fought, result ing in the advance of the Union line to the ridge on the south. That even ing long after the fight was over the girl Jim had won during so brief a
  soldier crawling between the rails of the fence. Running down and out, she saw Jim, wounded.
 Lying on the field, he had longed, in- stead of being taken to hospital, to be nursed by his new found love. When a party with stretchers came along he feigned to be dead. When they had passed he drew himself slow ly toward the house of his adventure
 In that house he remained for sev- eral weeks. When he left it he had promised to come back when the war would be over.
 Our ideas today of the men who par ticipated in that frightful struggle are derived from the graybeards in our midst who wore the blue and the gray. We do not see them as they were then nor remember that they are a mere Eemnant or those who marched away in the flush of youth in 1861 to 1865. We are prone to forget the trenches filled with their comrades. the head stones bearing their names and the word Unknown carved on many a marble. Now and again when we pass cemetery and notice little flag placed -Aere on Memorial day, its colors min Tled by many a rain, we are taken back to those dark and bloody days.
 Tn corner of farm in Virginia is q mound underneath which rests the body of Jim Bancroft. Again wound ed in a battle. he crawled back to his love and was nursed by her till death took Linn. He was laid in that corner. and today an old woman with white hair annually strews flowers on his grave.
 Doan's ReguIets are recommended by