Ed drew his chair to the fire. A chorus of supplications came from all parts of the room, and Ed laid aside his paper.
"In the early spring of 1863 we were encamped near the Pamunky River, about the time they were undermining the enemy's fort on the other side of the river. One rainy night a party of us were formed and marched out. It was well known the enemy was not far off, and I felt anything but pleasant. The rain poured down in a deluge, and we picked our way through the woods by the blinding flashes of lightning which now and then illumined the forest. The heavy rains had transformed the ground into a swamp. Near the edge of the forest we halted and separated in squads of five.
"By good luck I had charge of one squad. From under our overcoats we drew our spades and waited for the rain to slack.
"'Now, Ed,' said the lieutenant, 'you take your men and select a spot and dig a rifle pit, and if anything comes in your way bang away at it, for things are getting hot.'
"A few minutes more and the lieutenant and his party were gone. Between two huge trees we began to dig, and in a few hours we had finished our pit. The boys tumbled in and all were soon asleep, except Barry; he was a down-Easter and had been through most of the campaigns.
"The rain ceased falling, and no sound reached us save the pattering raindrops as the wind dislodged them from the trees.
"I had scarcely taken forty winks, when Barry poked me in the ribs. I awoke immediately.
"'Look there!' he whispered.
"I looked over the pit and saw a small light swaying to and fro. I thought at first it was a will-o'-the-wisp.
"'Will I fire at it?' asked Barry.