TO Vassar sleep had been impossible for the past two nights. He dozed for an hour during the day from sheer exhaustion, but the nearer the hour came for the test of strength between the opposing armies on which hung the fate of a hundred million people, the deeper became his excitement.

All life seemed to mirror itself in a vast luminous crystal before his eyes—the past, the present, the future.

He nodded in the saddle as he watched the construction of the second line of entrenchments five miles in the rear of the first. He wondered at the long reach of that first possible retreat. It was an ominous sign. It revealed the fear in the heart of the American commander.

He fell into a fevered dream. Far up in the sky he saw the sneering face of the Devil bending low over our shores and from his right hand shaking dice. The dice were the skulls of men. They rattled over the wide plain of our coming battlefield. The hideous face twisted with demoniac laughter as he shook the skulls and threw again.

He watched the game with bated breath. The count was made at last and we had lost!

And yet somehow it was well with the dreamer’s soul. An angel took him by the hand and led him from the field on which the skulls lay.

He looked at the angel and it was the face of his beloved. With a cry of joy he woke to find a courier by his side with a message from General Hood.

He rubbed his eyes and smiled for the joy of the dream that still lingered in his heart and quickly read the order.

To Colonel Vassar:

Please report immediately to the officer in command at Babylon and tell him to entrench his men at once. We shall make our third and last stand there.

(Signed) Hood.

Vassar scribbled a reply and turned his horse’s head to the staff headquarters.

Babylon was home! He would see his little girls on the eve of battle—but more than all he hoped to see Virginia.

He was still hoping and fearing as he delivered his horse to the hostler and ordered an automobile.

He was just leaping into the machine when Billy appeared on his motor-cycle and handed him a crumpled sealed note.

The boy saluted, smiled and turned back.

It was too good to be true—and yet there it was in his hand—a letter from Virginia!

He waved to the chauffeur:

“To Babylon—headquarters—third reserves—”

The machine swept down the white smooth turnpike and he settled into his seat still holding the precious message unopened.

He broke the seal at last and read through dimmed eyes:

“Come to me at the earliest possible moment. I have much to tell you. I can’t write—”

There was no formal address. There was no name signed. He kissed the delicately lined words and placed the note in his inside pocket.

What did the foolish happiness in his soul mean? Could fate mock him with an hour’s joy and send him to his death tomorrow? He would ride where men were falling like leaves before the sun should set—there could be no doubt of that. He shut his eyes and could see only the face of the woman he loved. He wondered what she would say? He wondered if............