All Of That Day's March Faye Walked By The Side Of My Wagon, And That Allowed Him No Rest Whatever, For In Order To Make It As Easy For Me As Possible, My Wagon Had Been Placed At The Extreme End Of The Long Line.

The troops march fifty minutes and halt ten, and as we went much slower than the men marched, we

Would about catch up with the column at each rest, just when the bugle would be blown to fall in line again, and then on the troops and wagons would go, Faye was kept on a continuous tramp. I still think that he should have asked permission to ride on the wagon, part of the day at least, but he would not do so.

One evening when the camp was near a ranch, I heard Doctor Gordon tell Faye outside the tent that I must be left at the place in the morning, that I was too ill to go farther! I said not a word about having heard this, but I promised myself that I would go on. The dread of being left with perfect strangers, of whom I knew nothing, and where I could not possibly have medical attendance, did not improve my condition, but fear gave me strength, and in the morning when camp broke I assured Doctor Gordon that I was better, very much better, and stuck to it with so much persistence that at last he consented to my going on. But during many hours of the march that morning I was obliged to ride on my hands and knees! The road was unusually rough and stony, and the jolting I could not endure, sitting on the canvas or lying on the padded bottom of the wagon.

It so happened that Faye was officer of the day that day, and Colonel Fitz-James, knowing that he was under a heavy strain with a sick wife in addition to the long marches, sent him one of his horses to ride - a very fine animal and one of a matched team. At the first halt Faye missed Hal, and riding back to the company saw he was not with the men, so he went on to my wagon, but found that I was shut up tight, Cagey asleep, and the dog not with us. He did not speak to either of us, but kept on to the last wagon, where a laundress told him that she saw the dog going back down the road we had just come over.

The wagon master, a sergeant, had joined Faye, riding a mule, and the two rode on after the dog, expecting every minute to overtake him. But the recollection of the unhappy year at Baton Rouge with the hospital steward was still fresh in Hal's memory, and the fear of another separation from his friends drove him on and on, faster and faster, and kept him far ahead of the horses. When at last Faye found him, he was sitting by the smoking ashes of our camp stove, his long nose pointed straight up, giving the most blood-curdling howls of misery and woe possible for a greyhound to give, and this is saying much.

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