CHAPTER XL.
ON THE BATTLE-FIELD.
’Twas the battle-field, and the starless night
Hung dark o’er the dead and the dying,
And the wind passed by, with a dirge and a moan,
Where the young and the brave were lying.—L. E. L.
It was the night after the terrible battle of Cold Harbor. Both armies had fallen back. The dead and wounded lay where they had dropped. Among the latter was Colonel Rosenthal, who had been struck down while charging in front of his regiment. Young Wing, at the hazard of life and even of dearer honor, went in search of his colonel. Wandering in the darkness over that field of blood, he came suddenly upon a fallen horse and rider, and knew by the instinct of affection that he had found whom he sought.
“Is that you, Wing?” hoarsely whispered a feeble voice, as the young officer threw himself down on the ground.
“Yes, yes, my colonel, it is I,” sobbed Wing.
“How did you find me, my boy, on this chaotic field, under this dark sky?”
“How? Oh, how does the faithful dog find his fallen master amid such confusion? I saw you when you fell. I noticed where you lay. I could not come to you in the hurly-burly of that charge—”