"I was hoping that I might
meet you, and I see, too, that you can't be hurt much, if at all."

"I haven't been touched. It's my lucky day, I suppose."

"Where's your uncle? I hope he's in some safe place, recovering from his
wound."

Victor Woodville laughed softly.

"Uncle Charles is recovering from his wound perhaps faster than you
hope," he said, "but he's not in a safe place. Far from it."

"I don't understand."

"His wound is so much better that he can walk, though with a hop, and
he's right here in the thick of this battle, leading his own Mississippi
regiment. His horse was killed under him early this morning, and he's
fought all day on foot, swearing in the strange and melodious fashion
that you know. It's hop! swear! hop! swear! in beautiful alternation!"

"Good old colonel!"

"That's what he is, and he's also one of the bravest men that ever
lived, if he is my uncle. His regiment did prodigies to-day and they'll
do greater prodigies to-morrow. The Woodvilles are well represented
here. My father is present, leading his regiment, and there are a dozen
Woodville cousins of mine whom you've never met."

"And I hope I won't meet 'em on this field. What about your aunt?"

"She's well, and in a safe place."

"I'm glad of that. Now, tell me, Victor, how did you happen to be
with Slade on that raid? Of course it's no business of mine, but I was
surprised."

"I don't mind answering. I suppose it was a taste for adventure, and a
desire to serve our cause. After I got up the bank and climbed into the
bushes, I looked back, and I think, Mason, that you may have saved me
from a bullet. I don't know, but I think so."

Dick said nothing, but despite the dusk Woodville read the truth in his
eyes.

"I shan't forget," said the young Mississippian as he moved away.

Dick turned back to his own group. They had noticed him talking to
the lad in gray, but they paid no attention, nor thought it anything
unusual. It was common enough in the great battles of the American civil
war, most of which lasted more than one day, for the opposing soldiers
to become friendly in the nights between.

"I think, sir," said Sergeant Whitley, "that we won't be able to get any
more of our wounded to-night. Now, pardon me for saying it, Lieutenant,
but we ought to have some rest, because when day comes there's going
to be the most awful attack you ever saw. Some of our spies say that
Longstreet and the last of the Virginians did not