to-day!" he gasped. The remembrance that his mammy had said that if he wanted to be a hero he would have the "chance" filled him with a wild delight. For a moment he could not move, so great was his glad feeling—then with a cheery whistle he plodded on straight toward his hill-top. It was an unlikely spot for "chances." It was too near camp for the foe to be there; but irresistibly G. W.'s feet carried him forward.

Overcome at length by the heat, G. W. reached the summit, only to sink down at once in the tangle of bushes and pant and puff. But after a while he revived; and then peering through the undergrowth he gazed down upon the plain below that stretched beyond his limit.

What had happened since last he had seen the spot? Was he dreaming, or actually looking down upon something that was really taking place? G. W. stood up and steadying himself against a tree continued to gaze and gaze below.

There was a big rude tent, with all sides open. Within was a long table around which figures moved restlessly or stood strangely still. Wagons were rolling up to this tent bringing burdens which turned poor little G. W. ill as he realized what they were. They were men! Sick or wounded men! Ready hands lifted the limp forms from the carts and laid them in long rows upon the ground; then, over and over again, as the fear-filled little watcher on the hill strained his eyes, he saw a man singled out from the lines and borne to the table. G. W. grew chill under the blazing sun as he looked, not comprehending what it meant.

"I can't—think—what—dat—means!" he said aloud; "'pears like I am habin' a dream standin' up out-doors wid my clo'es on. Lawd! how—I—does—wish—I—knew—what—dat—dar—means!"

The poor little fellow rubbed his head in a hopeless, forlorn way, while his heart beat fast and chokingly. Suddenly it came to him; like a flash the meaning became clear.

There had been a battle! They were bringing in the dead and wounded from the front to that fearsome spot below. Then G. W. shuddered as a new thought broke upon his brain. Perhaps his Colonel was there! The sudden idea took the form of a frenzy. He flung his arms up with a wild gesture, and then, alone on the hill-top, there was a battle on for G. W.—an exceedingly hard battle.

"Obey!" cried Honor; "'tis the thing you are called to do! 'Tis the thing you have promised!"

"But the Colonel may lie in the long row," pleaded Love; "no one near him to tend just him; no one to give him a drink or hold his head or his hand; to follow him and stay by him. He is just one of a row!"

G. W.'s sad little face turned gray.

"You promised!" Honor admonished. "He trusted you, with no doubt of your obedience!"

"But they may have forgotten him. He may be lying out on the battle-field—and no one could find him as surely as you!" Love sobbed in his ears.

With a pitiful moan, the little body-guard gave up his promise! A disobedient, loving little black boy sped down from the hill-top, on the forbidden side, sobbing and crying. He flung all but his love for the Colonel to the hot winds. He might be shot, he might lose his way endlessly, but he must go.

With a bitter cry he flung off his coat and cap as he ran. The honor of a soldier's uniform was no longer for him. He paused only to take the precious up-North letter out of the pocket and crush it into his shirt front.