r two days of
tremendous exertion, excitement and anxiety. He did not move for eight
or ten minutes, blind to everything that was going on about him, and
then through the darkness he saw Colonel Winchester standing by and
looking down at him.

"Are you all right, Dick, my boy?" the colonel asked.

"Yes, sir," replied Dick, as his pride made him drag himself to his
feet. "I'm not wounded at all. I was just clean played out."

"You're lucky to get off so well," said the colonel, smiling sadly.
"We've lost many thousands and we've lost the battle, too. The killed or
wounded in my regiment number more than two-thirds."

"Have you seen anything of Warner and Pennington, sir? I lost sight of
them in that last terrible attack."

"Pennington is here. He has had a bullet through the fleshy part of his
left arm, but he's so healthy it won't take him long to get well. I'm
sorry to say that Warner is missing."

"Missing, sir? You don't say that George has been killed?"

"I don't say it. I'm hoping instead that he's been captured."

Dick knew what the colonel meant. In Colonel Winchester's opinion only
two things, death or capture, could keep Warner from being with them.

"Maybe he will come in yet," he said. "We were mixed up a good deal when
the darkness fell, and he may have trouble in finding our position."

"That's true. There are not so many of us left, and we do not cover any
great area of ground. Lie still, Dick, and take a little rest. We
don't know what's going to happen in the night. We may have to do more
fighting yet, despite the darkness."

The colonel's figure disappeared in the shadow, and Dick, following his
advice, lay quiet. All around him were other forms stretched upon the
earth, motionless. But Dick knew they were not dead, merely sleeping.
His own nervous system was being restored by youth and the habit
of courage. Yet he felt a personal grief, and it grew stronger with
returning physical strength. Warner, his comrade, knitted to him by ties
of hardship and danger, was missing, dead no doubt in the battle. For
the moment he forgot about the defeat. All his thoughts were for the
brave youth who lay out there somewhere, stretched on the dusty field.

Dick strained his eyes into the darkness, as if by straining he might
see where Warner lay. He saw, indeed, dim fires here and there along a
long line, marking where the Confederates now stood, or rather lay. Then
a bitter pang came. It was ground upon