"Venable, sir."
"All right, give him the gray. You take the bay."
The pain choked him into silence again. At last he opened his eyes.
"You'll find in my hat a small Confederate flag which a lady in Columbia, South Carolina, sent me with the request that I wear it on my horse in a battle and return it to her. Send it."
Again the agony stilled the musical voice.
"My spurs," he went on, "which I have always worn in battle, I promised to Mrs. Lilly Lee of Shepherdstown, Virginia—"
He paused.
"My sword—I leave—to—my—son."
A cannon roared outside the city. With quick eagerness he asked:
"What's that?"