In spite of the excitement through which they had passed and in spite of the near-by presence of the dead, not many minutes elapsed before everything was forgotten and every man was asleep.
Awake early the following morning, Noel was surprised to find that his nearest sleeping comrade was Dennis. He had seen but little of the young Irishman thus far in the engagement and, indeed, he had seldom thought of his friend.
Discovering that Dennis was awake, Noel in a low voice said to him, "Dennis, how is it that any of us are left alive?"
"Indade, 'tis a wonder," answered Dennis.
"Not so great, after all," remarked another soldier who was lying near the boys and had heard Noel's question. "The waste of ammunition in a battle is something marvelous. Our colonel told us that it takes almost a man's weight in lead to kill one soldier."
"It doesn't seem so," said Noel thoughtfully, "when you hear the volleys shrieking above your head or flying close to your ears, and when men, all excited and anxious, are trying to fire just as fast as they are able. It doesn't seem possible that so many can come alive out of a fight."
"You must not forget," said the soldier, "that most of the men make no pretense at taking aim."
"And I guess," suggested Dennis, "that most of them don't. They act like they were aiming at nothin' and trying to hit it."
"It is strange," said Noel, "how still the wounded men were. I didn't hear many who were groaning or making any cry. The most of them were either limping off, or being carried to the rear, or they were lying down where they fell, all quiet and still."
"The worst shock I got," suggested Dennis, "was when I stumbled over the bodies of some of the dead boys. That shook my nerves and made me tremble like a leaf."