come until night or
nearly night and that Longstreet himself will lead the attack on us."

"Do you think, Sergeant, that it will be made first on our own corps?"

"I don't know, Mr. Mason. We've stood firmest, and them rebel generals
are no fools. They'll crash in where we've shown the most weakness."

The sergeant walked on, carrying the corner of a litter. Warner, who had
stood by, whispered to Dick:

"There goes a general, but he'll never have the title. He's got a
general's head on his shoulders, and he thinks and talks like a general,
but he hasn't any education, and men with much poorer brains go past
him. Let it be a lesson to you, Dick, my son. After this war, go to
school, and learn something."

"Good advice, George, and I'll take it," laughed Dick. "But he isn't so
badly off. I wonder if those fires in the pine forest are going to burn
all night?"

"Several of 'em will. The big one on our left will be blazing when
day comes, and I'm glad of it since no wounded are now in its way. The
night's cold. That's a sharp and searching wind, and the sight of flames
makes one feel warm even if they are far away."

It would not be long until day now, and the axes ceased to ring in the
forest. A long and formidable line of abattis had been made, but the men
were compelled to seek some rest. Despite the cold they suffered from a
burning thirst, and they could reach no water, not even the red
stream of the Chickamauga. Dick suffered like the rest, but he was
philosophical.

"I fancy that after sunrise we won't have time to think about water," he
said.

But Dick was not destined to sleep. He lay down for a while, and he saw
hundreds of others around him lying motionless as if dead. Warner and
Pennington were among them, but he could not close his own eyes. His
brain was still hot and excited, and to calm himself if possible he
walked along the slope until he saw a faint light in the valley behind
it. A tall figure, which he recognized as that of Colonel Winchester,
was going toward the light.

Dick, being on such good terms with his colonel, would have followed
him, but when he came to the edge of the glade he drew back. General
Thomas was sitting on the huge, upthrust root of an oak, and he was
writing dispatches by the light of a flickering candle held by an aide.
Officers of high rank, one of whom Dick recognized as the young general,
Garfield, stood around him. Colonel Winchester joined the group, and
stood