"
"My brother said he had as hard a struggle with him then as he had
with his rider before," she said, looking shyly up.
"Indeed! I am obliged to him," he responded with a smile. "The
commendation of an enemy is always pleasant to a soldier."
"Oh, he said you were terribly bloodthirsty and rode at him as
if nothing would satisfy you but his life," she said, with great
eagerness.
"Very likely," he answered, lightly. "I have some reputation for
directness of purpose, and that was a moment of desperation. We
did not know whether we should come back or not, and did not care.
We knew that the end was very near, and few of us wished to outlive
it. Not that we cared so much--many of us at least--for the cause
we fought for; but we dreaded the humiliation of surrender and the
stigma of defeat. We felt the disgrace to our people with a keenness
that no one can appreciate who has not been in like circumstances.
I was opposed to the war myself, but I would rather have died than
have lived to see the surrender."
"It must have been hard," she said, softly.
"Hard!" he exclaimed. "I should think it was! But then," he
added, his brow suddenly clearing, "next to the fact of surrender
I dreaded the loss of my horse. I even contemplated shooting him
to prevent his falling into the hands of the enemy."
"My brother thought you were rather anxious to throw away your own
life," she said, musingly.
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