n the army to withdraw it
now; this position must be held till night."

And he made good his resolve. The Southern masses attacked once more
with frightful violence, and once more Thomas withstood them. The field
was now darkening in the twilight, and, having saved the Union army
from rout and wreck, Thomas, impervious to attack, fell back slowly to
Chattanooga.

The greatest battle of the West, one of the most desperate ever fought,
came to a close. Thirty-five thousand men, killed or wounded, had fallen
upon the field. The South had won a great but barren victory. She had
not been able to reap the fruits of so much skill and courage, because
Thomas and his men, like the Spartans at Thermopylae, had stood in the
way. Never had a man more thoroughly earned the title of honor that he
bore throughout the rest of his life, "The Rock of Chickamauga."

Chickamauga, though, was a sinister word to the North. Gettysburg and
Vicksburg had stemmed the high tide of the Confederacy, and many had
thought the end in sight. But the news from "The River of Death" told
them that the road to crowning success was still long and terrible.

CHAPTER XV. BESIDE THE BROOK

When the slow retreat began Dick looked for the sergeant. But a stalwart
figure, a red bandage around the head, rose up and confronted him. It
was Sergeant Whitley himself, a little unsteady yet on his feet, but
soon to be as good as ever.

"Thank you for looking for me, Mr. Mason," he said, "but I came to, some
time ago. I guess the bullet found my skull too hard, 'cause it just ran
'roun' it, and came out on the other side. I won't even be scarred, as
my hair covers up the place."

"Can you walk all right?" asked Dick, overjoyed to find the sergeant was
not hurt badly.

"Of course I can, Mr. Mason, an' I'm proud to have been with General
Thomas in such a battle. I didn't think human bein's could do what our
men have done."

"Nor did I. It was impossible, but we've done it all the same."

Colonel Winchester rejoiced no less than the lads over the sergeant's
escape. All the officers of the regiment liked him, and they had an
infinite respect for his wisdom, particularly when danger was running
high. They were glad for his own sake that he was alive, and they were
glad to have him with them as they retreated into Chattanooga, because
the night still had its perils.

The moon, though clouded, was out as they withdrew slowly. On their
flanks there was stil