"No, mother. Were you hit?"
"No, Marion."
"Where did the shot strike?"
"Through the sitting room, I believe."
Both ran to investigate, and in the sitting room a sight met their gaze calculated to stun the stoutest heart.
Plaster and splinters lay in all directions, and the wounded soldiers were crying for aid and for mercy, thinking the enemy close at hand.
Under a mass of wreckage on the floor lay George Walden, senseless, and with the blood flowing from a wound in his temple.
"Oh, Mr. Walden is hurt, mamma!" shrieked Marion, and ran to raise him up.
They carried the wounded soldier to another part of the house and laid him on a fresh cot. Then, while Marion cared for him, Mrs. Ruthven went back to aid the others. In the meantime Old Ben was instructed to hoist the hospital flag to a higher point on the mansion.
The shot appeared to be about the last fired in that vicinity, and soon the shooting came from a distance, as Federals and Confederates withdrew in the direction of the mountains.