"But I shall be. I was shot when I was on the Peninsula almost the first chance I got. I was only slightly wounded there, but this time I shall be killed. I know it."
"Shure, 'tis only a foolish notion that's got into your head," protested Dennis. "Get rid of it, yer Riverence! Cheer up! Shure, you'll come out all right."
"I wish I might think so. If I fall I shall fall doing my duty."
"Niver a doubt about that. Every man of us knows that you won't be shot in the back."
The kind-hearted man soon passed on, but the impression he had made upon the mind of Noel was one which the boy was unable to shake off. He, too, was fearful of the coming contest. He was doing his utmost to repress the feeling and was striving hard to hold himself to the line which had been mapped out for him.
Apparently there were no rebel battalions now threatening the passage. No cannon warned the advancing army from the narrow entrance between the hills which they were approaching. These hills on either side of the pass now were crowned with the glories of the approaching sunset. A few clouds were seen in the sky, and in the distance occasional quick rushes of smoke-puffs arose just above the trees and then the sight was followed by the sound of a heavy boom.
Far to the left there were other puffs, and as they were faintly seen in the distance there were quick responses from the Union artillery.
"Shure," muttered Dennis, "the artillery is beyond and with the help of the infantry they'll drive the Johnnies out o' the way."
A rattle of musketry only faintly heard confirmed the words of the young Irish soldier.
Above them and beyond were forests. Unseen foes without doubt were lurking within the shelter of the great trees. Even now the opposing armies might be preparing to rush madly against each other. Somehow the smooth white turnpike began to lose its peaceful aspect in the eyes of Noel Curtis.