"Pull down some of those boxes, and fix a place to lay the Colonel till we can make other arrangements," said a familiar voice.Rachel looked up, and with some difficulty reconciled a grimy-faced man in torn clothes with the trim Hospital Surgeon she had known.
"Can that be you, Dr.Denslow?" she said.
He had equal difficulty in recognizing her.
"Is it possible that it is you, Miss Bond?" he said in amazement, after she had spoken to him again."Yes, this is I, or as much as is left of me.And here," and his voice trembled, "is about all that is left of the regiment.The rest are lying about the roots of those accursed cedars, a full mile from here.""And Harry Glen--where is he?" she said, rising hurriedly from the boxes and passing along the line of stretchers, scanning each face.
A new pain appeared in the Doctor's face, as he watched her.
"You'll not find him there," he said."The last I saw of him he was forming a handful of the regiment that were still on their feet, to retake cannon which the Rebels had captured.I was starting off with the Colonel here, when they dashed away.""Come," he said, after making some temporary provisions for the comfort of his wounded."You must get away from here as quickly as possible.I fear the army is badly defeated, and it may be a rout soon.You must get away before the rush begins, for then it will be terrible."He took her over the pike, and across it to where some wagons were standing.As he was about to put Rachel in one of these their attention was arrested by an officer, apparently acting as Provost Marshal, dragging from behind a huge rock a Lieutenant who was skulking there.They were too far away to hear what was said, but not so far that they could not recognize the skulker as Lieutenant Jacob Alspaugh.The Provost Marshal apparently demanded the skulker's name, and wrote it in a book.Alspaugh seemed to give the information, and accompanied it with a lugubrious pointint to a bandage around his knee.The Provost Marshal stooped and took the handkerchief off, to find that not even the cloth of the pantaloons had been injured.He contemptuously tore the straps from Alspaugh's shoulders, and left him.
"The rascal's cowardice is like the mercy of God," said Denslow, "for it endureth forever."He put Rachel in the wagon, and ordered the driver to start at once for Nashville with her.She pressed his hand, as they separated with fatigue and grief.
How had it been faring all this time with Harry Glen and those with him?
The fierce wave had dashed against the regiment early in the morning, and although the first fire received from the Rebels made gaps in the ranks where fifty men fell, it did not recoil a step, but drove its assailants back with such slaughter that their dead, lying in the open ground over which they crossed, were grimly compared by Abe Bolton to "punkins layin' in a field where the corn's been cut off."Then the fight settled into a murderous musketry duel across the field, in which the ranks on both sides melted away like frost in the sun.In a few minutes all the field officers were down, and the only Captain that remained untouched took command of the regiment, shouting to Harry Glen at the same moment to take command of the two companies on the right, whose Captains, and Lietenants had fallen.Two guns escaping from the crush at the extreme right, had galloped down, and opened gallantly to assist the regiment.
Almost instantly horses and men went down under the storm of bullets.
An Aide broke through the cedars behind.
"Fall back--fall back, for God's sake!" he shouted."The Rebels have got around the right, and will cut you off.""Fall back, boys," shouted the Captain in command, "but keep together, listen to orders, and load as you go." The same instant he fell with a ball through his chest.
"Sergeant Glen, you're in command of the regiment, now," shouted a dozen voices.
The Lieutenant of the battery--a mere boy--ran up to Harry.Astream of blood on his jacket matched its crimson trimmings.
"Don't go off and leave my guns, after I've helped you.Do not, for the love of Heaven! I've saved them so far.Bring them off with you."Harry looked inquiringly around upon the less than one hundred survivors, who gathered about him, and had heard the passionate appeal.Every face was set with mortal desperation.An Irish boy on the left was kissing a cross which he had drawn from his bosom.
The tears which strong men shed in wild fits of rage were rolling down the cheeks of Edwards, Bolton, and others.
"I don't want to live always!" shouted Kent with an oath; "let's take the ----- guns!""I don't want no better place to die than right here!" echoed Abe, still more savagely profane."Le's have the guns, or sink into hell getting 'em!"The remnant of the Rebel regiment had broken cover and rushed for the guns.
"Attention!" shouted Harry."Fix bayonets!"The sharp steel clashed on the muzzles.
"FORWARD, CHARGE!"
For one wild minute shining steel at arm's length did its awful work.Then three-score Rebels fled back to their leafy lair, and as many blue-coats with drew into the cedars, pulling the guns after them.
"Pick up the Lieutenant, there, some of you who can do a little lifting," said Kent, as they came to where the boy-artillerist lay dead."This prod in my shoulder's spoilt my lifting for some time.Lay him on the gun and we'll take himj back with us.He deserves it, for he was game clear through.Harry, that fellow that gave you that beauty-mark on the temple with his saber got his discharge from the Rebel army just afterwards, on the point of Abe's bayonet.""Is that so? Did Abe get struck at all?""Only a whack over the nose with the butt of a gun, which will doubtless improve his looks.Any change would.""Guess we can go back now with some peace and comfort," said Abe, coming up, and alluding to the cessation of the firing in their front."That last round took all the fight out of them hell-hounds across the field.""Some of you had better go over to the camp there and get our axes.
