In an open space near by, many soldiers were drilling. The drum and the fife could be heard in all directions. Wagons were coming and going. A line of unarmed men, a thousand, I guessed, marched by, going somewhere. They had no uniform; I supposed they were recruits. A group of mounted men attracted me; I had little doubt that here was some general with his staff. Flags were everywhere--red flags, with diagonal crosses marked by stars.
A man came toward me. His clothing was somewhat like my own. I started to go away, but he spoke up, "Hold on, my friend!"
He was of low stature,--a thick-set man, brown bearded.
When he was nearer, he asked, "Do you know where Gregg's brigade is?"
"No; I do not," said I; "but you can find out down there at the hospital tents, I suppose."
"I was told that the brigade is on the line somewhere about here," said he.
"I will go with you to the tent," said I.
"I belong to the First," he said, "I've been absent for some days on duty, and am just getting back to my company. Who is in charge of the hospital?"
"Dr. Frost," said I.
"Oh, Frank?" said he; "I'll call on him, then. He was our orderly-sergeant."