He made sure that he had looked into every face, and then, with a feeling of relief, was about to turn away from the sad scene, when a weak voice stopped him.
"G. W.! Thank God! Come here!"
G. W. turned; there upon a blanket under a tree waiting for his turn to be taken to the table was the boy who but a few days before in camp had told him that war was "mighty near." War had indeed drawn near in haste, and poor young Corporal Jack had gone down before the enemy's fire.
"The Colonel," gasped Corporal Jack, as G. W. came and bent over him; "he was shot, too. We fell side by side. We crawled back, but when the wagon came he made them take me; there was only room for one. He's a mile back on the roadside. G. W., get help and go for him, and tell him God bless him!"
The weak voice ceased, for the men had come to carry him to the table. He tried to wave cheerfully to G. W., but the effort caused him to faint, and G. W. started away, trying to comprehend what he had heard.
"My Colonel's a mile back on the roadside!" That was all little G. W. had for a guide. But had his Colonel been a hundred miles back, it would have made no difference to his body-guard. There was but one aim in G. W.'s heart: to reach his Colonel, and save him for the Boy and the Mother up North!
On he ran, grasping his little gun in a rigid clutch. He forgot to implore aid from those he met as he rushed. Over the rough trail he sped like a deer. The fearful, ugly, swarming land-crabs scurried away from before him. "Colonel!" he sobbed, "fore de Lawd, Colonel, where is you? I'se a-comin', Colonel!—jes' you hold on!"
A wagon bearing another pitiful load came by.
"Is Colonel Austin in dar?" he cried.
Some one knew him and called an answer: "No, G. W., your Colonel isn't here!"