In the world and that in itself was startling these days, when

other men wore such worried, preoccupied, grim looks. His brown

face was bland and his mouth, red lipped, clear cut as a woman's,

frankly sensual, smiled carelessly as he lifted her into the

carriage.

The muscles of his big body rippled against his well-tailored

clothes, as he got in beside her, and, as always, the sense of his

great physical power struck her like a blow. She watched the swell

of his powerful shoulders against the cloth with a fascination that

was disturbing, a little frightening. His body seemed so tough and

hard, as tough and hard as his keen mind. His was such an easy,

graceful strength, lazy as a panther stretching in the sun, alert

as a panther to spring and strike.

"You little fraud," he said, clucking to the horse. "You dance all

night with the soldiers and give them roses and ribbons and tell

them how you'd die for the Cause, and when it comes to bandaging a

few wounds and picking off a few lice, you decamp hastily."

"Can't you talk about something else and drive faster? It would be

just my luck for Grandpa Merriwether to come out of his store and

see me and tell old lady--I mean, Mrs. Merriwether."

He touched up the mare with the whip and she trotted briskly across

Five Points and across the railroad tracks that cut the town in

two. The train bearing the wounded had already come in and the

litter bearers were working swiftly in the hot sun, transferring

wounded into ambulances and covered ordnance wagons. Scarlett had

no qualm of conscience as she watched them but only a feeling of

Vast relief that she had made her escape.

"I'm just sick and tired of that old hospital," she said, settling

her billowing skirts and tying her bonnet bow more firmly under her

chin. "And every day more and more wounded come in. It's all

General Johnston's fault. If he'd just stood up to the Yankees at

Dalton, they'd have--"

"But he did stand up to the Yankees, you ignorant child. And if

he'd kept on standing there, Sherman would have flanked him and

crushed him between the two wings of his army. And he'd have lost

the railroad and the railroad is what Johnston is fighting for."

"Oh, well," said Scarlett, on whom military strategy was utterly

lost. "It's his fault anyway. He ought to have done something

about it and I think he ought to be removed. Why doesn't he stand

and fight instead of retreating?"

"You are like everyone else, screaming 'Off with his head' because

he can't do the impossible. He was Jesus the Savior at Dalton, and

now he's Judas the Betrayer at Kennesaw Mountain, all in six weeks.

Yet, just let him drive the Yankees back twenty miles and he'll be

Jesus again. My child, Sherman has twice as many men as Johnston,

and he can afford to lose two men for every one of our gallant

laddies. And Johnston can't afford to lose a single man. He needs

reinforcements badly and what is he getting? 'Joe Brown's Pets.'

What a help they'll be!"

"Is the militia really going to be called out? The Home Guard,

too? I hadn't heard. How do you know?"

"There's a rumor floating about to that effect. The rumor arrived

on the train from Milledgeville this morning. Both the militia and

the Home Guards are going to be sent in to reinforce General

Johnston. Yes, Governor Brown's darlings are likely to smell

powder at last, and I imagine most of them will be much surprised.

Certainly they never expected to see action. The Governor as good

as promised them they wouldn't. Well, that's a good joke on them.

They thought they had bomb proofs because the Governor stood up to

even Jeff Davis and refused to send them to Virginia. Said they

were needed for the defense of their state. Who'd have ever

thought the war would come to their own back yard and they'd really

have to defend their state?"

"Oh, how can you laugh, you cruel thing! Think of the old

gentlemen and the little boys in the Home Guard! Why, little Phil

Meade will have to go and Grandpa Merriwether and Uncle Henry

Hamilton."

"I'm not talking about the little boys and the Mexican War