“Why, how did that happen?” asked Leon in surprise.
“Well, you must know that all the shooting that was done wasn’t confined to our men,” said Tom. “The rebels rallied two or three times, and every time they poured in a volley.”
“But how did Mr. Smith get hit? Wasn’t he under cover?”
“Yes; he was in the hotel with your father, but he came out. He was just getting all ready to fire when a bullet took him in the side and over he went.”
Leon was very sorry to hear this. He remembered that Mr. Smith had told him particularly that he had something to say to him, and he had not been near him since. Perhaps if he went directly home he would get there in time to hear what he had to say. He didn’t think it anything worth listening to, but he would show his good-will. While he was looking around at the dead and wounded Confederates lying there—and he was really surprised when he saw what a havoc ten guns had made in the assaulting column—he became aware that there was a man leaning on a rifle and keeping guard over several prisoners. Among them were Dan and Cale. One’s arm and the other’s face had been bandaged after a fashion, and they were waiting until the rebels were all gathered up, when they would go on to Ellisville and be placed under the care of the doctor. Leon gave his horse the rein and rode up and accosted Dan.
“Well, old fellow, I am sorry to see you in this fix,” said he.
“Yes, no doubt you are glad of it,” whined Dan, moving his wounded arm to a better place.
“I am, really. I was in hopes that you and I would come together again, and I wanted you to see that you couldn’t take me down as easy as you did before. You handled me as easy as though I wasn’t there.”
“I can do it all the time,” replied Dan, snappishly, for just then his arm pained him and he moved it to another position. “I can get away with you the best day you ever saw.”
“Oh, it is very easy for you to talk that way now, but if you had two good arms I would try you right here.”