“Jacquelin Gray. No.—. Ward ten,” he muttered wearily, as he used to do in the hospital, and was closing his eyes again when he awaked fully. Two or three Federal soldiers, one of them an officer, a little fellow with blue eyes, were leaning over him, and a cavalry company was yonder at rest, in the road below him. He was free after all, back in the old county.
The Lieutenant asked him his name and how he came there, and he told them.
“Where are you going?”
“Home!” with a little flash in his eye.
“Where is that?”
“Above here, across the country, in the Red Rock neighborhood—beyond Brutusville.”
“Why, we are going that way ourselves—we were going to give you a decent burial; but maybe we can do you a better turn if you are not ready for immortality; we’ve an ambulance along, and here’s the best substitute for the honor we offered you.”
The little Lieutenant was so cheery as he pressed the canteen to Jacquelin’s lips that the latter could not help feeling better.
The Captain, who had remained with the company, came over, on his handsome horse, picking his way through the débris lying about.
“So he is alive after all?” he asked as he rode up.