They ate the hard biscuits and drank the well-water. The air was still and sultry; through the windows they heard, afar off, the bugles—their own and those of the foe.
| "High, over all the melancholy bugle grieves." |
Moths came in to the candle. With his hand Cary warned them away. One lit on his sleeve. "I wonder what you think of it," he said, and put him out of window. There was a stir at the door. A sergeant appeared. "We're gathering up the wounded, general—and we found a Yankee officer under the trees just here—and he said you'd know him—but he's fainted dead away—" He moved aside. "Litters gave out long ago, so we're taking U. S. blankets—"
Four men, carrying by the corners a blanket with an unconscious man upon it, came into the room. The Confederate officers looked. "No, I don't know him. Why, wait—Yes, I do! It's Clitz—Clitz that was so young and red-cheeked and our pet at the Point!... Yes, and one day in Mexico his regiment filed past, going into a fight, and he looked so like a gallant boy that I prayed to God that Clitz might not be hurt!... Reid, have him put in a room here! See that Dr. Mott sees him at once.—O God, Cary, this fratricidal war! Fighting George Sykes all day, and now this boy—"
"Yes," said Cary. "Once to-day I was opposed to Fitz John Porter. He looked at me out of a cloud, and I looked at him out of one, and the battle roared between. I always liked him." He walked across the room, looked out of the window upon the battlefield, and came back. "But," he said grimly, "it is a war of invasion. What do you think is wrong with Jackson?"
The other looked at him with his fine, kindly eyes. "Why, let me tell you, Cary,—since it won't go any further,—I am as good a Presbyterian as he is, but I think he has prayed too much."
"I see!" said Cary. "Well, I would be willing to put up a petition of my own just now.—Delay! Delay! We have set opportunity against a wall and called out the firing party." He rose. "Thanks for the biscuits. I feel another man. I'll go now and look after my wounded. There are enough of them, poor souls!"
Another stir occurred at the door. The aide appeared. "They've taken some prisoners in the wood at the foot of the hill, sir. One of them says he's General Reynolds—"
"Reynolds! Good God, Reynolds! Bring him in—"
General Reynolds came in. "Reynolds!"—"Hill!"—"How are you, Reynolds?"—"Good Lord, it's Fauquier Cary!"