l firing, as strong detachments skirmished with one
another, but the Winchester men as yet paid little attention to it. They
said grimly to one another that two days in the infernal regions were
enough for one time. They looked back at the vast battlefield and the
clumps of pines burning now like funeral torches, and shuddered.

The retreat of Thomas was harried incessantly. Longstreet and Forrest
were eager to push the attack that night and the next day and make the
victory complete. They and men of less rank dreamed of a triumph which
should restore the fortunes of the Confederacy to the full, but Bragg
was cautious. He did not wish to incur the uttermost risk, and the roll
of his vast losses might well give him pause also.

Nevertheless Southern infantry and cavalry hung on the flanks and rear
of the withdrawing Union force. The cloudy moon gave sufficient light
for the sharpshooters, whose rifles flashed continuously. The lighter
field guns moved from the forests and bushes, and the troops of Thomas
were compelled to turn again and again to fight them off.

The Winchester regiment was on the extreme flank, where the men were
exposed to the fiercest attacks, but fortunately the thickets and hills
gave them much shelter. At times they lay down and returned the fire
of the enemy until they beat him off. Then they would rise and march on
again.

All the officers had lost their horses, and Colonel Winchester strode
at the head of his men. Just behind were Dick, Pennington and some other
members of his staff. The rest had fallen. Further back was Sergeant
Whitley, his head in a red bandage, but all his faculties returned.
In this dire emergency he was taking upon himself the duties of a
commissioned officer, and there was none to disobey him. Once more was
the wise veteran showing himself a very bulwark of strength.

Despite the coolness of the night, they had all suffered on the second
day of the battle from a burning thirst. And now after their immense
exertions it grew fiercer than ever. Dick's throat and mouth were
parched, and he felt as if he were breathing fire. He felt that he must
have water or die. All the men around him were panting, and he knew they
were suffering the same torture.

"This country ought to be full of brooks and creeks," he said to
Pennington. "If I see water I mean to make a dash for it, Johnnies or no
Johnnies. I'm perfectly willing to risk my life for a drink."

"So am I," said Warner,