Then he tied up his bundle of clothes, filled a basket with food, and went out into his garden.

He cast a look back at the neatly kept home he had recently made fresh with paint.

He paused to pick a chilled rosebud and set it in his button-hole--a fashion copied from his adored captain.

He glanced tearfully at the glass-framed covers of the yellowing melon vines.

He had made money out of his melons, and next year would have been able to send a good many to Pittsburgh.