y, but he must go.

With a bitter cry he flung off his coat and cap as he ran. The honor of
a soldier's uniform was no longer for him. He paused only to take the
precious up-North letter out of the pocket and crush it into his shirt
front.

VIII.

THE COLONEL'S BODY-GUARD

Tossing his canteen across his shoulder, and seizing his gun, G. W. tore
on down the hill straight toward the gruesome place below, and right
into it. No one noticed him. The surgeons were too busy to look up as he
ran around the table scanning the faces upon the boards. The men
carrying the helpless burdens, or ministering to their wants, had no
time to question why a little black boy should suddenly be in among
them.

He made sure that he had looked into every face, and then, with a
feeling of relief, was about to turn away from the sad scene, when a
weak voice stopped him.

"G. W.! Thank God! Come here!"

G. W. turned; there upon a blanket under a tree waiting for his turn to
be taken to the table was the boy who but a few days before in camp had
told him that war was "mighty near." War had indeed drawn near in haste,
and poor young Corporal Jack had gone down before the enemy's fire.

"The Colonel," gasped Corporal Jack, as G. W. came and bent over him;
"he was shot, too. We fell side by side. We crawled back, but when the
wagon came he made them take me; there was only room for one. He's a
mile back on the roadside. G. W., get help and go for him, and tell him
God bless him!"

The weak voice ceased, for the men had come to carry him to the table.
He tried to wave cheerfully to G. W., but the effort caused him to
faint, and G. W. started away, trying to comprehend what he had heard.

"My Colonel's a mile back on the roadside!" That was all little G. W.
had for a guide. But had his Colonel been a hundred miles back, it would
have made no difference to his body-guard. There was but one aim in G.
W.'s heart: to reach his Colonel, and save him for the Boy and the
Mother up North!

On he ran, grasping his little gun in a rigid clutch. He forgot to
implore aid from those he met as he rushed. Over the rough trail he sped
like a deer. The fearful, ugly, swarming land-crabs scurried away from
before him. "Colonel!" he sobbed, "fore de Lawd, Colonel, where is you?
I'se a-comin', Colonel!--jes' you hold on!"

A wagon bearing another pitiful load came by.

"Is Colonel Austin in dar?" he cried.

Some one knew him and called an answer