"'Just time enough for you to go to your camp to convey the terms and return.'
"Off went the rebel. We waited fifteen minutes. Then we pushed on again. That movement quickened their deliberations; and out came Colonel Shaw, the commander, and says to General Foster,—
"'I give up my sword, and surrender five thousand men!' For he didn't know some two thousand of his force had escaped. What we have got is about three thousand prisoners, and all their forts and quarters, which we call a pretty good bag."
The boys forgot their wounds, they forgot their dead and dying comrades, listening to this recital. But short-lived was the enthusiasm of one, at least. Scarce was Gray gone, when Frank saw four men with a stretcher, bringing upon it a grizzled, pallid old man.
"O, Mr. Sinjin! O, my dear, dear friend! You too!"
"Is it my boy?" said the veteran, with a wan smile. "Yes, I too! They have done for me, I fear."
"But nobody told me. How—where——" The boy's grief choked his voice.
"An impertinent cannon-ball interrupted my conversation with Mr. Egglestone," said the old man, stifling his agony as the men removed him to a cot. "And took a—" he groaned in spite of himself—"a greedy mouthful out of my side—that's all."
Frank knew not what to say or what to do, he was so overcome.
"There, my boy," said the old man, to comfort him, "no tears for me! It is enough to see you again. They told me you were hurt—" looking at the lad's disabled arm. "I am glad it is no worse." And the wan veteran smiled content.