t George down on a rude cot,
within the shelter of one of the tents.

"He's my friend," he said to a young doctor, "and I wish you'd save
him."

"There are hundreds of others who have friends also, but I'll do my
best. Shot just under the right shoulder, but the bullet, luckily, has
turned and gone out. It's loss of blood that hurt him most. You soldiers
kill more men than we doctors can save. I'm bound to say that. But your
friend won't die. I'll see to it."

"Thank you," said Dick. He saw that the doctor was kind-hearted, and a
marvel of endurance and industry. He could not ask for more at such a
time, and he went out of the tent, leaving George to his care.

It was still raining, but the soldiers managed to keep many fires
going, despite it, and Dick passed between them as he sought Colonel
Winchester, and the fragments of his regiment. He found the colonel
wrapped in a greatcoat, leaning against a tree under a few feet of
canvas supported on sticks. Pennington, sound asleep, sat on a root of
the same tree, also under the canvas, but with the rain beating on his
left arm and shoulder.

Colonel Winchester looked inquiringly at Dick, but said nothing.

"I've been away without leave, sir," said Dick, "but I think I have
sufficient excuse."

"What is it?"

"I've brought in Warner."

"Ah! Is he dead?"

"No, sir. He's had a bullet through him and he's feverish and
unconscious, but the doctor says that with care he'll get well."

"Where did you find him?"

"Over there by the edge of the wood, sir, within what is now the
Confederate lines."

"A credit to your courage and to your heart. Sit down here. There's a
little more shelter under the canvas, and go to sleep. You're too much
hardened now to be hurt seriously by wet clothes."

Dick sat down with his back against the tree, and, despite his soaked
condition, slept as soundly as Pennington. When he awoke in the morning
the hot sun was shining again, and his clothes soon dried on him. He
felt a little stiffness and awkwardness at first, but in a few minutes
it passed away. Then breakfast restored his strength, and he looked
curiously about him.

Around him was the Northern army, and before him was the vast
battlefield, now occupied by the foe. He heard sounds of distant rifle
shots, indicating that the skirmishers were still restless, but it was
no more now than the buzzing of flies. Pennington, coming back from the
hospital, hailed him.

"George has c