t overborne and forced back again. As they were on the eve of
retreating, a tall, ragged ruffian came up to James, and demanded the
watch and money of the captain.

"You will not rob a dying man?" said the little boy, looking up to him
imploringly.

"Wall, I woan't!" was the Rebel's brutal reply, as he aimed his bayonet
straight at the captain's heart.

By a quick, dexterous movement, James parried the blow; but, turning
suddenly on the poor boy, the ruffian, with another thrust of his
bayonet, ran him directly through the body. His head sunk back to the
ground, and he fainted.

How long he lay there unconscious he does not know, but when he came to
himself the moon had gone down, and the stars had disappeared, and
thick, black clouds were filling all the sky. It did not rain, but the
cold wind moaned among the trees, and chilled him through and through.
He tried to rise, but a sharp pain came in his side, and for the first
time he thought of his wound. Passing his hand to it, he found it was
clotted with blood. The cold air had stopped the bleeding, and thus
saved his life. Though the bayonet had gone clear through him, his hurt
was not mortal, for no vital part was injured.

He thought of the captain, and spoke his name; but no answer came. Then
he reached out his hand to find him. He was there, but his face was
cold,--colder than the cold night that was about them. He was dead.

The wounded lay all around, and all this while their cries and groans,
as they called piteously for water, or moaned aloud in their agony, came
to his ear, and went to his very soul. He had heard their cries the
night before, as he crept about among them in the thick woods; but then
they had not sounded so sad, so pitiful, as now, and that night was not
so cold, so dark, so cheerless as this was. Soon he knew the full extent
of their agony. An intolerable thirst came upon him. Hot, melted lead
seemed to run along his veins, and a burning heat, as of a fire of hot
coals kindling in his side, almost consumed him. He cried out for help,
but no help came,--for water, but still he thirsted. Then he
prayed,--prayed to the Good Father, who he knew was looking pitifully
down on him through the thick darkness, to come and help him.

And He came. He always comes to those who ask for Him. Soon the clouds
grew darker, the wind rose higher, and the rain--the cooling, soothing,
grateful rain--poured down in torrents. It wet him through and through,