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armed； too； for the cow and the horse and wished they were hidden in the swamp； instead of tied in the woods at the bottom of the pasture。 If the commissary took her stock； Tara could not possibly live through the winter。 There would be no way of replacing them。 As to what this army would eat； she did not care。 Let the army feed the army—if it could。 It was hard enough for her to feed her own。
The men added as dessert some “ramrod rolls” from their knapsacks； and this was the first time Scarlett had ever seen this Confederate article of diet about which there were almost as many jokes as about lice。 They were charred spirals of what appeared to be wood。 The men dared her to take a bite and； when she did； she discovered that beneath the smoke…blackened surface was unsalted corn bread。 The soldiers mixed their ration of corn meal with water； and salt too when they could get it； wrapped the thick paste about their ramrods and roasted the mess over camp fires。 It was as hard as rock candy and as tasteless as sawdust and after one bite Scarlett hastily handed it back amid roars of laughter。 She met Melanie’s eyes and the same thought was plain in both faces。 。。。 “How can they go on fighting if they have only this stuff to eat？”
The meal was gay enough and even Gerald； presiding absently at the head of the table； managed to evoke from the back of his dim mind some of the manner of a host and an uncertain smile。 The men talked； the women smiled and flattered—but Scarlett turning suddenly to Frank Kennedy to ask him news of Miss Pittypat； caught an expression on his face which made her forget what she intended to say。
His eyes had left Suellen’s and were wandering about the room； to Gerald’s childlike puzzled eyes； to the floor； bare of rugs； to the mantelpiece denuded of its ornaments； the sagging springs and torn upholstery into which Yankee bayonets had ripped； the cracked mirror above the sideboard； the unfaded squares on the wall where pictures had hung before the looters came； the scant table service； the decently mended but old dresses of the girls； the flour sack which had been made into a kilt for Wade。
Frank was remembering the Tara he had known before the war and on his face was a hurt look； a look of tired impotent anger。 He loved Suellen； liked her sisters； respected Gerald and had a genuine fondness for the plantation。 Since Sherman had swept through Georgia； Frank had seen many appalling sights as he rode about the state trying to collect supplies； but nothing had gone to his heart as Tara did now。 He wanted to do something for the O’Haras； especially Suellen； and there was nothing he could do。 He was unconsciously wagging his whiskered head in pity and clicking his tongue against his teeth when Scarlett caught his eye。 He saw the flame of indignant pride in them and he dropped his gaze quickly to his plate in embarrassment。
The girls were hungry for news。 There had been no mail service since Atlanta fell； now four months past； and they were in complete ignorance as to where the Yankees were； how the Confederate Army was faring； what had happened to Atlanta and to old friends。 Frank； whose work took him all over the section； was as good as a newspaper； better even； for he was kin to or knew almost everyone from Macon north to Atlanta； and he could supply bits of interesting personal gossip which the papers always omitted。 To cover his embarrassment at being caught by Scarlett； he plunged hastily into a recital of news。 The Confederates； he told them； had retaken Atlanta after Sherman marched out； but it was a valueless prize as Sherman had burned it completely。
“But I thought Atlanta burned the night I left；” cried Scarlett； bewildered。 “I thought our boys burned it！”
“Oh； no； Miss Scarlett！” cried Frank； shocked。 “We’d never burn one of our own towns with our own folks in it！ What you saw burning was the warehouses and the supplies we didn’t want the Yankees to capture and the foundries and the ammunition。 But that was all。 When Sherman took the town the houses and stores were standing there as pretty as you please。 And he quartered his men in them。”
“But what happened to the people？ Did he—did he kill them？”
“He killed some—but not with bullets；” said the one…eyed soldier grimly。 “Soon’s he marched into Atlanta he told the mayor that all the people in town would have to move out； every living soul。 And there were plenty of old folks that couldn’t stand the trip and sick folks that ought not to have been moved and ladies who were—well； ladies who hadn’t ought to be moved either。 And he moved them out in the biggest rainstorm you ever saw； hundreds and hundreds of them； and dumped them in the woods near Rough and Ready and sent word to General Hood to come and get them。 And a plenty of the folks died of pneumonia and not being able to stand that sort of treatment。”
“Oh； but why did he do that？ They couldn’t have done him any harm；” cried Melanie。
“He said he wanted the town to rest his men and horses in；” said Frank。 “And he rested them there till the middle of November and then he lit out。 And he set fire to the whole town when he left and burned everything。”
“Oh； surely not everything！” cried the girls in dismay。
It was inconceivable that the bustling town they knew； so full of people； so crowded with soldiers； was gone。 All the lovely homes beneath shady trees； all the big stores and the fine hotels—surely they couldn’t be gone！ Melanie seemed ready to burst into tears； for she had been born there and knew no other home。 Scarlett’s heart sank because she had come to love the place second only to Tara。
“Well； almost everything；” Frank amended hastily； disturbed by the expressions on their faces。 He tried to look cheerful； for he did not believe in upsetting ladies。 Upset ladies always upset him and made him feel helpless。 He could not bring himself to tell them the worst。 Let them find out from some one else。
He could not tell them what the army saw when it marched back into Atlanta； the acres and acres of chimneys standing blackly above ashes； piles of half…burned rubbish and tumbled heaps of brick clogging the streets； old trees dying from fire； their charred limbs tumbling to the ground in the cold wind。 He remembered how the sight had turned him sick； remembered the bitter curses of the Confederates when they saw the remains of the town。 He hoped the ladies would never hear of the horrors of the looted cemetery； for they’d never get over that。 Charlie Hamilton and Melanie’s mother and father were buried there。 The sight of that cemetery still gave Frank nightmares。 Hoping to find jewelry buried with the dead； the Yankee soldiers had broken open vaults； dug up graves。 They had robbed the bodies； stripped from the coffins gold and silver name plates； silver trimmings and silver handles。 The skeletons and corpses； flung helter…skelter among their splintered caskets； lay exposed and so pitiful。
And Frank couldn’t tell them about the dogs and the cats。 Ladies set such a store by pets。 But the thousands of starving animals； left homeless when their masters had been so rudely evacuated； had shocked him almost as much as the cemet