here the North came back with a
like triumph.

CHAPTER XII. GRANT'S GREAT VICTORY

The night, early and wintry, put an end to the conflict, the fiercest
and greatest yet seen in the West. Thousands of dead and wounded lay
upon the field and the hearts of the Southern leaders were full of
bitterness. They had seen the victory, won by courage and daring, taken
from them at the very last moment. The farmer lads whom they led had
fought with splendid courage and tenacity. Defeat was no fault of
theirs. It belonged rather to the generals, among whom had been a want
of understanding and concert, fatal on the field of action. They saw,
too, that they had lost more than the battle. The Union army had not
only regained all its lost positions, but on the right it had carried
the Southern intrenchments, and from that point Grant's great guns could
dominate Donelson. They foresaw with dismay the effect of these facts
upon their young troops.

When the night fell, and the battle ceased, save for the fitful boom of
cannon along the lines, Dick sank against an earthwork, exhausted. He
panted for breath and was without the power to move. He regarded vaguely
the moving lights that had begun to show in the darkness, and he heard
without comprehension the voices of men and the fitful fire of the
cannon.

"Steady, Dick! Steady!" said a cheerful voice. "Now is the time to
rejoice! We've won a victory, and nothing can break General Grant's
death grip on Donelson!"

Colonel Winchester was speaking, and he put a firm and friendly hand
on the boy's shoulder. Dick came back to life, and, looking into
his colonel's face, he grinned. Colonel Winchester could have been
recognized only at close range. His face was black with burned
gunpowder. His colonel's hat was gone and his brown hair flew in every
direction. He still clenched in his hand the hilt of his sword, of which
a broken blade not more than a foot long was left. His clothing had been
torn by at least a dozen bullets, and one had made a red streak across
the back of his left hand, from which the blood fell slowly, drop by
drop.

"You don't mind my telling you, colonel, that you're no beauty," said
Dick, who felt a sort of hysterical wish to laugh. "You look as if the
whole Southern army had tried to shoot you up, but had merely clipped
you all around the borders."

"Laugh if it does you good," replied Colonel Winchester, a little
gravely, "but, young sir, you must give m