WAR
"Who are you?" I yells. "Not God-a-mighty—not at last—Dave?"
"No," says the young officer, "only Jon."
And he gets down and hugs me and cries over my empty sleeve.
"Where do you come from? Where are you going? Can't yon stay for dinner?" I asks altogether.
"No," Jon smiles. "We come from everywhere. We're pushing on to Hooker at Gettysburg. Orders are to get there to-night. There's likely to be a fight. We are paralleling Lee. As you know, he's on the way to Pennsylvania. After the fight I'll manage to get a little leave and come back for the dinner and a talk. So, daddy, dear, good-by."
He turns to get on his horse. I holds him fast.
"What about Dave?" I asked.
"Nothing," he shakes, and gets on his horse.
"Wait," I yells. "I can't stand this from my son—if he is a colonel. I must talk. God knows I don't get the chance often now.
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