Alfred was too fatigued to care where he slept. Ralph, on the other hand, was able to only after he became accustomed to the rolling motion of the heavy ordnance wagon.
At six o'clock he was up, and looking around was gratified to see Roland, who greeted the boy with the greatest enthusiasm.
"Are you looking for Alfred?" the latter inquired.
"Yes, do you know where he is?" asked Ralph.
"Poor fellow, he is almost dead with fatigue. You will find him on the straw to the left."
Ralph was over in an instant, and there was Alfred, lying on his side, sleeping as peacefully as though dead.
What he now noticed for the first time was the condition of Alfred's clothing. There was not a clean thread on the boy. The trousers had holes in the knees, the shoes were badly jagged, and the toes worn through. It would have been hard to recognize the hat, as it had no semblance of its former shape.
After gazing awhile he thought of his own clothing. It was no better, although strange that he had never noticed its dilapidated condition before. He remembered how they had to crawl through the brush, and along the hedges, and it was not remarkable that their clothing hung in threads.
No, he would not waken Alfred, much as he had to tell him, so he quietly wended his way back to the caisson. As he did so he passed the commandant's quarters, and that officer greeted him.
"And you are the wounded boy?" he said.