tar, but his captivity had reduced his weight greatly. He had told Walter that he had not had a square meal for several weeks.
"And not a single chaw of tobacco," he had added. "And that was as bad as no eating."
"Well, I wouldn't miss the tobacco," Walter had returned, "for I don't use the weed. But I know what hunger is, too." And at intervals he had told the details of his story.
What to do next neither knew. It was out of the question for Walter to journey far, if indeed he could walk at all, and they must find something to eat. Water was at hand, and this was the only comforting thing they possessed.
As the sun mounted in the sky, Palmer broached the subject of returning to the scene of the fight.
"I'll sneak up like a cat," he said. "More than likely the rebels have moved on, and if that's so, I'll see if I can't find something to eat lying around." He was soon gone, taking the rifle Walter had captured with him. The wounded lad listened to his retreating footsteps, and then all became as silent as a
tomb. Half an hour went by,—to Walter it seemed half
