The boys' Uncle William came the next day. The two weeks which
followed were the hardest the boys had ever known. As yet nothing had
been heard of Hugh or the General, though the boys' father went to
Richmond to see whether they had been released.
The family lived on corn-bread and black-eyed pease. There was not a
mouthful of meat on the plantation. A few aged animals were all that
remained on the place.
The boys' mother bought a little sugar and made some cakes, and the
boys, day after day, carried them over to the depot and left them with
a man there to be sold. Such a thing had never been known before in
the history of the family.
A company of Yankees were camped very near, but they did not interfere
with the boys. They bought the cakes and paid for them in greenbacks,
which were the first new money they had at Oakland. One day the boys
were walking along the road, coming back from the camp, when they met
a little old one-horse wagon driven by a man who lived near the depot.
In it were a boy about Willy's size and an old lady with white hair,
both in deep mourning. The boy was better dressed than any boy they
had ever seen. They were strangers.
The boys touched their limp little hats to the lady, and felt somewhat
ashamed of their own patched clothes in the presence of the
well-dressed stranger. Frank and Willy passed on. They happened to
look back. The wagon stopped just then, and the lady called them:
"Little boys!"
They halted and returned.
"We are looking for my son; and this gentleman tells me that you live
about here, and know more of the country than any one else I may
meet."
"Do you know where any graves is?--Yankee graves?" asked the driver,
cutting matters short.
"Yes, there are several down on the road by Pigeon Hill, where the
battle was, and two or three by the creek down yonder, and there's one
in our garden."
"Where was your son killed, ma'am? Do you know that he was killed?"
asked the driver.
"I do not know. We fear that he was; but, of course, we still hope
there may have been some mistake. The last seen of him was when
General Sheridan went through this country, last year. He was with his
company in the rear-guard, and was wounded and left on the field. We
hoped he might have been found in one of the prisons; but there is no
trace of him, and we fear----"
[Illustration: THE BOYS SELL THEIR CAKES TO THE YANKEES.]
She broke down and began to cry. "He was my only son," she sobbed, "my
only son--and I gave him up for the Union, and----" She could say no
more.
Her distress affected the boys deeply.
"If I could but find his grave. Even that would be better than this
agonizing suspense."
"What was your son's name?" asked the boys, gently.
She told them.
"Why, that's our soldier!" exclaimed both boys.
"Do you know him?" she asked eagerly. "Is--? Is----?" Her voice
refused to frame the fearful question.
"Yes'm. In our garden," said the boys, almost inaudibly.
The mother bent her head over on her grandson's shoulder and wept
aloud. Awful as the suspense had been, now that the last hope was
removed the shock was terrible. She gave a stifled cry, then wept with
uncontrollable grief.
The boys, with pale faces and eyes moist with sympathy, turned away
their heads and stood silent. At length she grew calmer.
"Won't you come home with us? Our father and mother will be so glad to
have you," they said hospitably.
After questioning them a little further, she decided to go. The boys
climbed into the back of the wagon. As they went along, the boys told
her all about her son,--his carrying Frank, their finding him wounded
near the road, and about his death and burial.
"He was a real brave soldier," they told her consolingly.
As they approached the house, she asked whether they could give her
grandson something to eat.
"Oh, yes, indeed. Certainly," they answered. Then, thinking perhaps
they were raising her hopes too high, they exclaimed apologetically:
"We haven't got much. We didn't kill any squirrels this morning. Both
our guns are broken and don't shoot very well, now."
She was much impressed by the appearance of the place, which looked
very beautiful among the trees.
"Oh, yes, they're big folks," said the driver.
She would have waited at the gate when they reached the house, but the
boys insisted that they all should come in at once. One of them ran
forward and, meeting his mother just coming out to the porch, told who
the visitor was.
Their mother instantly came down the steps and walked toward the gate.
The women met face to face. There was no introduction. None was
needed.
"My son----" faltered the elder lady, her strength giving out.
The boys' mother put her handkerchief to her eyes.
"I have one, too;--God alone knows where he is," she sobbed.
Each knew how great was the other's loss, and in sympathy with
another's grief found consolation for her own.