Is he doing here?" She fought her way through the crowd to the

curb and called: "Mose! Stop!"

The boy seeing her, drew rein, smiled delightedly and started to

dismount. A soaking sergeant, riding behind him, called: "Stay on

that mule, boy, or I'll light a fire under you! We got to git to

the mountain some time."

Uncertainly, Mose looked from the sergeant to Scarlett and she,

splashing through the mud, close to the passing wheels, caught at

Moses' stirrup strap.

"Oh, just a minute, Sergeant! Don't get down, Mose. What on earth

are you doing here?"

"Ah's off ter de war, agin, Miss Scarlett. Dis time wid Ole Mist'

John 'stead ob Mist' Ashley."

"Mr. Wilkes!" Scarlett was stunned. Mr. Wilkes was nearly seventy.

"Where is he?"

"Back wid de las' cannon, Miss Scarlett. Back dar!"

"Sorry, lady. Move on, boy!"

Scarlett stood for a moment, ankle deep in mud as the guns lurched

by. Oh, no! She thought. It can't be. He's too old. And he

doesn't like war any more than Ashley did! She retreated back a

few paces toward the curb and scanned each face that passed. Then,

as the last cannon and limber chest came groaning and splashing up,

she saw him, slender, erect, his long silver hair wet upon his

neck, riding easily upon a little strawberry mare that picked her

way as daintily through the mud holes as a lady in a satin dress.

Why--that mare was Nellie! Mrs. Tarleton's Nellie! Beatrice

Tarleton's treasured darling!

When he saw her standing in the mud, Mr. Wilkes drew rein with a

smile of pleasure and, dismounting, came toward her.

"I had hoped to see you, Scarlett. I was charged with so many

messages from your people. But there was no time. We just got in

this morning and they are rushing us out immediately, as you see."

"Oh, Mr. Wilkes," she cried desperately, holding his hand. "Don't

go! Why must you go?"

"Ah, so you think I'm too old!" he smiled, and it was Ashley's

smile in an older face. "Perhaps I am too old to march but not to

ride and shoot. And Mrs. Tarleton so kindly lent me Nellie, so I

am well mounted. I hope nothing happens to Nellie, for if

something should happen to her, I could never go home and face Mrs.

Tarleton. Nellie was the last horse she had left." He was

laughing now, turning away her fears. "Your mother and father and

the girls are well and they sent you their love. Your father

nearly came up with us today!"

"Oh, not Pa!" cried Scarlett in terror. "Not Pa! He isn't going

to the war, is he?"

"No, but he was. Of course, he can't walk far with his stiff knee,

but he was all for riding away with us. Your mother agreed,

providing he was able to jump the pasture fence, for, she said,

there would be a lot of rough riding to be done in the army. Your

father thought that easy, but--would you believe it? When his

horse came to the fence, he stopped dead and over his head went

your father! It's a wonder it didn't break his neck! You know how

obstinate he is. He got right up and tried it again. Well,

Scarlett, he came off three times before Mrs. O'Hara and Pork

assisted him to bed. He was in a taking about it, swearing that

your mother had 'spoken a wee word in the beast's ear.' He just

isn't up to active service, Scarlett. You need have no shame about

it. After all, someone must stay home and raise crops for the

army."

Scarlett had no shame at all, only an active feeling of relief.

"I've sent India and Honey to Macon to stay with the Burrs and Mr.

O'Hara is looking after Twelve Oaks as well as Tara. . . . I must

go, my dear. Let me kiss your pretty face."

Scarlett turned up her lips and there was a choking pain in her

throat. She was so fond of Mr. Wilkes. Once, long ago, she had

hoped to be his daughter-in-law.

"And you must deliver this kiss to Pittypat and this to Melanie,"

he said, kissing her lightly two more times. "And how is Melanie?"

"She is well."

"Ah!" His eyes looked at her but through her, past her as Ashley's

had done, remote gray eyes looking on another world. "I should

have liked to see my first grandchild. Good-by, my dear."

He swung onto Nellie and cantered off, his hat in his hand, his

silver hair bare to the rain. Scarlett had rejoined Maybelle and

Mrs. Meade before the import of his last words broke upon her.

Then in superstitious terror she crossed herself and tried to say a

prayer. He had spoken of death, just as Ashley had done, and now

Ashley-- No one should ever speak of death! It was tempting

Providence to mention death. As the three women started silently

back to the hospital in the rain, Scarlett was praying: "Not him,

too, God. Not him and Ashley, too!"

The retreat from Dalton to Kennesaw Mountain had taken from early

May to mid-June and as the hot rainy days of June passed and

Sherman failed to dislodge the Confederates from the steep slippery

slopes, hope again raised its head. Everyone grew more cheerful

and spoke more kindly of General Johnston. As wet June days passed