It was now full night, thrice blessed to them all, with the heat and
dust gone and no enemy near. The young recruits had recovered their
courage. The terrible scenes of the battle were hid from their eyes,
and the cannon no longer menaced on the horizon. The sweet, soothing
wind blew gently over the hills among which they lay, and the leaves
rustled peacefully.
Fires were lighted, wagons with supplies arrived, and the men began to
cook food, while the surgeons moved here and there, binding up the
wounds of the hurt. The pleasant odors of coffee and frying meat arose.
Sergeant Whitley stood up and by the moonlight and the fires scanned the
country about them with discerning eye. Dick looked at him with renewed
interest. He was a man of middle years, but with all the strength and
elasticity of youth. Despite his thick coat of tan he was naturally
fair, and Dick noticed that his hands were the largest that he had ever
seen on any human being. They seemed to the boy to have in them the
power to strangle a bear. But the man was singularly mild and gentle in
his manner.
"We're about half way to Washington, I judge," he said, "an' I expect a
lot of our camp followers and grass-green men are all the way there by
now, tellin' Abe Lincoln an' everybody else that a hundred thousand
rebels fell hard upon us on the plain of Manassas."
He laughed deep down in his throat and Dick again drew courage and
cheerfulness from one who had such a great store of both.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25