Winchesters, knew little about the result of the combat. He knew that
their own division had suffered terribly. The Ohio recruits had been cut
almost to pieces, and the Winchester regiment had been reduced by half
again. He was so tired that he did not believe he could stir for a long
time. He felt no wound, but every bone ached from weariness, and his
throat and mouth seemed to burn with smoke and dust.

Pennington did not see either Dick or Warner, but as soon as he got a
little strength into his limbs he would look for them. No doubt they
were safe. A special providence always watched over those fellows. It
was true that Warner had been wounded at the Second Manassas, but a
hidden power had guided Dick to him, and he got well so fast that he was
able to fight soon afterward at Antietam.

Pennington lay still, and he heard all around him the deep breathing of
men who, like himself, were so worn that they could scarcely move. The
field in front of him darkened greatly, but he saw lights moving there,
and he knew that they belonged to little parties from either army
looking for the wounded. He began to wonder which side had won the
battle.

"Ohio," he said to one of the Ohio lads who lay near, "did we lick the
Johnnies, or did the Johnnies lick us?"

"Blessed if I know, and I don't care much, either. Four fellows that I
used to play with at school were killed right beside me. It was my first
battle, and, Oh, I tell you, it was awful!"

He gulped suddenly and began to cry. Pennington, who was no older than
he, patted him soothingly on the shoulder.

"I know that you were the bravest of the brave, because I saw you," he
said.

"I don't know about that, but I do know that I can never get used to
killing men and seeing them killed."

Pennington was surprised that Dick and Warner had not appeared. They
would certainly rejoin their own regiment, and he began to feel uneasy.
The last shot had been fired, the night was darkening fast and a
mournful wind blew over the battlefield. But up and down the lines they
were lighting the cooking fires.

Pennington rose to his feet. He saw Colonel Winchester, standing a
little distance away, and he was about to ask him for leave to look for
his comrades, when he was startled by the appearance of a woman, a woman
of thirty-eight or nine, tall, slender, dressed well, and as Pennington
plainly saw, very beautiful. But now she was dusty, her face was pale,
and her eyes shone with