Part 104 (1/2)

When he was released and walked out of the court room cheer after cheer swept the struggling crowd that greeted him. Senator Barton took the driver's place on the box while thousands followed to the hotel shouting themselves hoa.r.s.e. For three hours he stood shaking the hands of weeping men and women. No sublimer tribute was ever paid to human worth. It came with healing to his wounded soul. The anguish of the past was as if it had never been.

Jennie Barton gazed with astonishment when Socola grasped his outstretched hand. She was standing near enough to hear his voice.

”I want to thank you, young man,” he said gratefully, ”for all you've done for me and mine. Mr. O'Connor tells me that your services have been invaluable. For myself, my wife and babies and my people, I thank you again. I wish I might do something to repay you--”

”I've only done my duty,” was the modest response. ”But I think you might help me a little--”

”If it's within my power--”

”You remember Miss Barton?”

”I've just shaken hands with her--she is here!”

”Would you mind putting in a word--”

”I'll do more, sir--I'm in command to-day. I'll issue positive orders--”

Jennie moved, he saw her and beckoned. She came, blus.h.i.+ng.

”What's this, my little comrade?” he whispered, seizing her hands. ”The war is over. I've shaken hands with Horace Greeley and Gerrit Smith to-day. There can be no stragglers in our camp, I owe my life to this young man.”

He took Jennie's hand, placed it on Socola's arm, and he led her silent and blus.h.i.+ng from the crowd to an alcove in the far corner of the hall.

She looked up into his face with tenderness.

”You've done a n.o.ble and beautiful thing in the gift of your life to our Chief for these two miserable years--”