exhaustion, he moved forward at the urgency of his rider's heel and
hand. The soldier held a long, heavy staff planted on one stirrup, from
the top of which drooped in the dull air the once gay guidon,
battle-rent and sodden with rain, and as he went he shouted at
intervals, "Dovinger's Rangers! Rally on the guidon!" Now and again his
strident boyish voice varied the appeal, "Hyar's yer Dovinger's Rangers!
Rally, boys! Rally on the reserve!"

Indeed, despite his stalwart, tall, broad-shouldered frame, he was
scarcely more than a boy. His bare head had flaxen curls like a child's;
his pallid, though sunburned face was broad and soft and beardless; his
large blue eyes were languid and spiritless, though now and then as he
turned an intent gaze over the field they flared anew with hope, as if
he expected to see rise up from that desolate expanse, from among the
stiffening carcasses of horses and the stark corpses of the troopers,
that gallant squadron wont to follow, so dashing and debonair, wherever
the guidons might mark the way. But there was naught astir save the
darkness slipping down by slow degrees--and perchance under its cloak,
already stealthily afoot, the ghoulish robbers of the dead that haunt
the track of battle. They were the human forerunners of the vulture
breed, with even a keener scent for prey, for as yet the feathered
carrion-seekers held aloof; two or three only were descried from the
field hospital, perched on the boughs of a dead tree near the river,
presently joined by another, its splendid sustained flight impeded
somewhat by the rain, battling with its big, strong wings against the
downpour of the torrents and the heavy air.

And still through all echoed the cry, "Rally on the guidon! Dovinger's
Rangers! Rally on the reserve!"

The bridge that crossed the river, which was running full and foaming,
had been burnt; but a span, charred and broken, still swung from the
central pier. Over toward the dun-tinted west a house was blazing, fired
by some stray bomb, perhaps, or by official design, to hinder the enemy
from utilizing the shelter, and its red rage of destruction bepainted
the clouds that hung so low above the chimneys and dormer-windows. To
the east, the woods on the steeps had been shelled, and a myriad boughs
and boles riven and rent, lay in fantastic confusion. Through the
mournful chaos the wind had begun to sweep; it sounded in unison with
the battle clamors, and shrieked and wailed and