s other hand, and started
off in the rear of the regiment, accompanied by the purblind Abe.

Rachel's heart sank, as she saw them move off, but it rose again when
the firing died down as suddenly as it had flamed up.

Soon Dr. Denslow took the wagon off to a cabin on a high bank of Stone
River, which he was using as a hospital.

She called some question to him, as he turned away to direct the
preparation of the flour into food for his patients, when some one cried
out from the interior of the cabin:

"Rachel Bond! Is that you? Come in heah, honey."

She entered, and found Aunt Debby lying on the rude bed of the former
inhabitants of the cabin.

"O my love--my darling--my honey, is that you?" said the elderly woman,
with streaming eyes, reaching out her thin arms to take Rachel to her
heart. "I never expected ter see ye ag'in! But God is good."

"Aunt Debby, is it possible? Are you hurt, dear?"

"No, not hurt child; on'y killed," she answered with a sweet radiance on
her face.

"Killed? It is not possible."

"Yes, honey, it is possible. It is true. The gates open for me at last."

"How did it happen?"

"I got through Breckenridge's lines all right, an' reached the river,
but thar was a picket thar, hid behind a tree, and ez he heered my
hoss's feet splash in the ford, he shot me through the back. An'
I didn't get through in time," she added, with the first shade of
melancholy that had yet appeared in her face. "Did YOU?"

"No, I was too late, too."

"An' Jim must've been, too. Hev ye seed him any whar?"

"No," said Rachel, unable to restrain her tears.

"Now, honey, don't cry for me--don't," said Aunt Debby, pulling the
young face down to where she could kiss it. "Hit's jest ez I want hit.
On'y let me know thet Bragg is whipt, an' I die happy."

All day Thursday the two bruised armies lay and confronted each other,
as two bulldogs, which have torn and mangled one another, will stop for
a few minutes, to lick their hurts and glare their hatred, while they
regain breath to carry on the fight.

Friday morning it was the same, but there was a showing of teeth and a
rising fierceness as the day grew older, which was very portentous.

While standing at the door of the cabin Rachel had seen Harry Glen march
down the bank at the head of the regiment, and cross the ford to the
heights in front of Breckenridge. She picked up a field-glass that lay
on a shelf near, and followed the movements of the force the