Fierce and bitter words
rose to his lips, but he did not utter them.
Dick lay a long time, with his eyes open, and the night was passing as
peacefully as if there would be no red dawn. Occasionally he heard a
faint stir near him, as some restless soldier turned on his side in his
sleep, and now and then a muttered word from an officer who passed near
in the darkness.
Hours never passed more slowly. Colonel Kenton had gone back toward the
Northern lines, and the boy surmised that he would be one of the first
in the attack at dawn. He began to wonder if dawn would ever really
come. Stars and a fair moon were out, and as nearly as he could judge
from them it must be about three o'clock in the morning. Yet it seemed
to him that he had been lying there at least twelve hours.
He shut his eyes again, but sleep was as far from him as ever. After
another long and almost unendurable period he opened them once more,
and it seemed to him that there was a faint tint of gray in the east.
He sat up, and looking a long time, he was sure of it. The gray was
deepening and broadening, and at its center it showed a tint of silver.
The dawn was at hand, and every nerve in the boy's body thrilled with
excitement and apprehension.
A murmur and a shuffling sound arose all around him. The sleepers were
awake, and they stood up, thousands of them. Cold food was given to
them, and they ate it hastily. But they fondled their rifles and
muskets, and turned their faces toward the point where the Northern
army lay, and from which no sound came.
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