“Never—mind—me, boys,” came, with several gasps. “I’m—I’m going! Good—good—bye—to—to— Tell mother—”
He said no more, but fell back exhausted. All 143 rushed to him, but ere anybody could raise his form again he was gone from this earth forever.
Tears stood in the eyes of Ralph Sorrel, and Jeming was scarcely less affected, for both had known the sergeant intimately. “Another victim,” murmured the tall Tennesseean. “How long is this yere blamed war goin’ ter last, anyhow?”
“Not much longer, I hope,” answered Ben, in a low voice. “I, for one, have seen enough of bloodshed.” Then the young captain straightened up, for fear he might break down. “But we must attend to our duty, and get away if we can. See, the flames are eating in at the window.”
“All right, cap’n, I’m ready,” said Sorrel. “But we must carry this yere body outside fust. We can’t let it be burnt up, nohow.”
He nodded to Jeming, who understood, and covering the form of the dead man with a blanket, they marched to the door with the stiffening form. The coast seemed clear, and they darted out and deposited their grewsome burden on the grass. They were just returning to the shelter of the doorway when two shots rang out, but neither was effective.
By this time the cottage was burning so fiercely 144 that to remain inside longer would have proved highly dangerous. Accordingly, Ben called a council of war.
“I think we had best strike out for the grove of trees on the right,” he announced. “The distance is shorter than to the other shelters, and the grass is so high that perhaps we can get some benefit by stooping down as we run.”
“Right ye air, cap’n,” answered Sorrel, and Casey and Jeming nodded.
“Surrendor, you Americanos!” came in a shout from without. “Surrendor, you beasts!”