n there came on the blast the fusillade
of dropping shots from the south, where the skirmish line of one
faction engaged the rear-guard of the other, or the pickets fell within
rifle-range. Once the sullen, melancholy boom of distant cannon shook
the clouds, and then was still, and ever and again sounded that tireless
cry, "Dovinger's Rangers. Hyar's yer guidon! Rally, boys! Rally on the
guidon! Rally on the reserve!"

The senior surgeon, as the road wound near, stepped down toward it
when the horseman, still holding himself proudly erect, passed by.
"Sergeant," he hailed the guidon, "where is Captain Dovinger?"

The hand mechanically went to the boy's forehead in the usual military
salute. "Killed, sir."

"Where are the other officers of the squadron--the junior captain, the
lieutenants?"

"Killed, sir."

"What has become of the troopers?"

"Killed, sir, in the last charge."

There was a pause. Then Dr. Trent broke forth: "Are you a fool, boy? If
your command is annihilated, why do you keep up this commotion?"

The young fellow looked blank for a moment. Then, as if he had not
reasoned on the catastrophe: "I thought at first they monght be
scattered--some of 'em. But ef--ef--they _war_ dead, but could once
_see_ the guidon, sure 't would call 'em to life. They _couldn't_ be
so dead but they would rally to the guidon! Guide right!" he shouted
suddenly. "Dovinger's Rangers! Rally on the guidon, boys! Rally on the
reserve!"

It was a time that hardened men's hearts. The young soldier had no
physical hurt that might appeal to the professional sympathies of the
senior surgeon, and he turned away with a half laugh. "Let him go
along! He can't rally Dovinger's Rangers this side of the river Styx, it
seems."

But an old chaplain who had been hovering about the field hospital,
whispering a word here and there to stimulate the fortitude of the
wounded and solace the fears of the dying, recognized moral symptoms
alien to any diagnosis of which the senior surgeon was capable. The
latter did not deplore the diversion of interest, for the old man's
presence was not highly esteemed by the hospital corps at this scene of
hasty and terrible work, although, having taken a course in medicine in
early life, he was permitted to aid in certain ways. But the surgeons
were wont to declare that the men began to bleat at the very sight of
the chaplain. So gentle, so sympathetic, so paternal, was he that they
made the more of their