ourselves to the care of the wounded.

CHAPTER XXVIII

THE ROAD TO PHILADELPHIA

It must have been ten o'clock, and, if I had slept at all, I was scarcely
conscious of it. All about me the men lay outstretched upon the ground,
still in their shirt-sleeves, as they had fought, their guns beside them.
The night was clear and hot, scarcely a breath of air moving. Here and
there against the sky-line passed the dark silhouette of a sentinel.
There was no sound of firing, only an occasional footfall to break the
silence of the night. The wounded had been taken to the field hospitals
at the rear; down in our front lay the bodies of the dead, and among
these shone the dim lights of lanterns where the last searching parties
were yet busy at their grewsome task. I was weary enough to sleep, every
muscle of my body aching with fatigue, but the excitement of the day, the
possibility of the morrow, left me restless. I had received no wound,
other than a slight thrust with a bayonet, yet felt as though pummelled
from head to foot. The victory was ours--the army realized this truth
clearly enough; we had repulsed the Red-coats, driven them back with
terrible losses; we had seen their lines shrivel up under our fire,
officers and men falling, and the remnant fleeing in disorder. It meant
nothing now that a force outnumbering us yet remained intact, and in
strong position. Flushed with victory, knowing now we could meet the best
of them, we longed for the morrow to dawn so we might complete the task.

I reviewed the vivid incidents of the day, looking up at the stars, and
wondered who among those I knew were yet living, who were dead. I thought
of others in those lines of the enemy, whom I had known, speculating on
their fate. Then along our rear came a horseman or two, riding slowly. A
sentry halted them, and I arose on one elbow to listen.

"Lawrence? Yes, sir, Major Lawrence is lying over there by the scrub
oak."

I got to my feet, as the first rider approached.

"This you, Lawrence?" asked a voice I instantly recognized as Hamilton's.
"You fellows all look alike to-night. Where is your horse, Major?"

"I have been on foot all day, sir," I answered saluting.

"Ah, indeed; well, you will have need for a horse to-night. Wainwright,"
turning to the man with him, "is your mount fresh?"

"Appears to be, sir; belonged to a British Dragoon this morning."

"Let Major Lawrence have him. Major, ride with me."

We passed