Then Marched the Brave | Page 3

rising clear
and silvery, showed a little house near by the stream bed and almost
hidden by vines.
Everything about the house was dark and still. Andy paused and
wondered if he had a right to disturb even his one true friend.
Noiselessly, he drew near, and went around to the back of the house.
Something startled him.

"Mother!" It was a young, sweet voice, and it came from the shadow of
the little porch.
"'Tis I, Ruth!" faltered Andy.
"You, Andy! And why! Have you heard about our Sam!" The girl came
out into the moonshine. She was tall and strong, and her face was very
pretty.
"Yes; I've heard, Ruth;" then, coming close, Andy poured out his
misery to the girl who had been his lifelong friend and comrade.
She listened silently, once raising her finger and pointing toward the
house as if to warn him against arousing the others. When he had
finished there was silence. It was not Ruth's way to plunge into reply.
"Come," she whispered presently, "I am going to tell the bees. Hans
Brickman told me to-night that 'tis no fancy, but a true thing, that the
bees will leave a hive if death come unless they are told by a member
of the family. The bee-folk are overwise, I know, and I mean to take no
chances of their leaving. With the British at hand, honey is not to be
despised. Come."
Andy followed, wondering, but biding Ruth's time. She was a strange
girl in all her ways.
Without speaking, the two went through the little garden and paused
before the row of neat hives. Then Ruth bent before the first.
"Sam's dead!" she whispered, "but do not fear. We need you, so do not
leave the hive." From hive to hive she went, quite seriously repeating
the sentence in soft murmurings. Andy stood and looked, the moonlight
showing him pale and intent. At last the deed was done, and Ruth came
back to him and laid her firm, brown hand upon his shoulder. She was a
trifle taller than he, so she bent to speak.
"Not even your mother knows you as I do, Andy," she said. "She thinks
a lame leg can cripple a brave soul; but it cannot! Why, even being a

girl could not keep me back if I saw my chance, and I tell you, Andy,
your lameness may serve you well. I have been thinking of that. I do
not believe God ever wastes anything. He can use lame boys and--even
girls. Sam was not wasted. The call made him brave and good. He was
coming home a new creature just because he had heard. When I saw
him lying dead, shot by those lurking cowards, something grew in me
here,"--she touched her breast. "I have not shed one tear, but I loved
him as well as the others. Somehow I knew that since he had been
called, it was because he had a work to do, and since he is gone I mean
to be ready to do his work. Andy, I am as strong as a boy, but--" here
her eyes sought his--"I am a girl for all that, but you and I together,
Andy, can do Sam's work!" The young voice shook with excitement.
"I, Ruth? Ah! do not shame me." Andy's eyes fell before the shining
face.
"Shame you, Andy? I shame you--I who have loved you next best to
Sam! Come. Father has gone to bed, there will be time before mother
returns. I want you to see Sam."
With bated breath the two entered the living-room of the cottage. The
place had been made sacred to the young hero who was so early called
to his rest. Flowers everywhere, and among them Sam lay smiling
placidly at his easily won laurels.
For the first time Andy gazed upon the face of death. The gentle dignity
and peace of the once wild boy awed and thrilled the onlooker. He was
dressed in his Continental uniform that was unsoiled by battle's breath,
albeit, an ugly hole in the breast showed where the gallant blood had
flowed forth.
"It's--it's wonderful!" gasped Andy.
"But we're not going to let him be wasted, are we Andy?" There was a
cruel break in the girl's voice. "We'll do his work, won't we? We'll
show the Britishers how we can repay, won't we, Andy?"
"Yes," breathed the boy, unable to turn his eyes from the noble, boyish

face, that was lighted by the gleam of the one lamp; "we'll show them!"
"See, Andy" (Ruth had gone to a corner cup-board and brought forth a
three-cornered cap), "this is Sam's; I found it in the bushes. Mother
says I may have it." She placed it upon Andy's head. "It just fits!"