“We'll turn and follow it. Don't say anything to the others yet.”
They curved and walked on, the colonel swinging his lantern from side to side, and now all of them heard the voice distinctly.
“What is that?” exclaimed Mrs. Mason, speaking for the first time since they had come upon the field of conflict.
“Some one shouting for help,” replied Colonel Winchester. “One could not neglect him at such a time.”
“No, that is so.”
“It's the voice of Lieutenant Warner, colonel,” whispered the sergeant.
Colonel Winchester nodded. “Say nothing as yet,” he whispered.
They walked a dozen steps farther and the colonel, swinging high the lantern, disclosed Warner sitting on the trunk of a tree that had been cut through by cannon balls. Warner, as well as they could see, was not wounded, but he seemed to be suffering from an overpowering weakness. The colonel, the sergeant and the boy alike dreaded to see what lay beyond the log, but the two women did not know Warner or that his presence portended anything.
The Vermonter saw them coming, and raised his hand in a proper salute to his superior officer. Then as they came nearer, and he saw the white woman who came with them, he lifted his head, tried to straighten his uniform a little with his left hand, and said as he bowed:
“I think this must be Mrs. Mason, Dick's mother.”