rrors of the Black Horse Cavalry could not inspire him
with strength and courage to continue his flight at any swifter pace than
a walk.

"I can go no farther," said he, at last.

"Yes, you can; pull up! pull up! You will be taken if you stop here."

"I can't help it. I can go no farther. I am used up."

"Pull up, pull up, my boy!"

"I can't."

"But I don't want to leave you here. They'll murder you--cut your throat,
like a dog."

"I will hide myself in the bushes till I get a little more strength."

"Try it a little longer. You are too good a fellow to be butchered like a
calf," added the generous Zouave.

But it was no use to plead with him, for exhausted nature refused to
support him, and he dropped upon the ground like a log.

"Poor fellow! I would carry you in my arms if I could."

"Save yourself if you can," replied Tom, faintly.

The kind-hearted fireman was sorry to leave him, but he knew that one who
wore his uniform could expect no mercy from the rebels. They had been too
terrible upon the battle-field to receive any consideration from those
whom they had so severely punished. He was, therefore, unwilling to trust
himself to the tender mercies of the cavalry, who were sweeping the fields
to pick up prisoners; and after asking Tom's name and regiment, he
reluctantly left him.

Tom had eaten nothing since daylight in the morning, which, added to the
long march, and the intense excitement of his first battle-field, had
apparently reduced him to the last extremity. Then, for the first time, he
realized what it was to be a soldier. Then he thought of his happy
home--of his devoted mother. What must she not suffer when the telegraph
should flash over the wires the intelligence of the terrible disaster
which had overtaken the Union army! It would be many days, if not weeks or
months, before she could know whether he was dead or alive. What anguish
must she not endure!

He had but a moment for thoughts like these before he heard the sweep of
the rebel cavalry, as they dashed down the road through the woods. He must
not remain where he was, or the record of his earthly career would soon be
closed. On his hands and knees he crawled away from the road, and rolled
himself up behind a rotten log, just in season to escape the observation
of the cavalrymen as they rode by the spot.

Here and there in the woods were the extended forms of Federals and
rebels, who had dragged their wounded bodies away from the