band, and that I brought
down from the tree to pay for it. He never'll git into another tree,
without his soul goes into a gobble-turkey, as I should think it might,
and flies up in one to roost!"

"And the bullet!----"

"As I was going to tell ye, it's been found. It went through the Bible
that you gave him (and that Frank's preserving for you now, I believe),
and lodged in his body, the doctor couldn't tell where. But one night Mr.
Egglestone,--the fighting minister, you know, that merried you,--he was
bathing Abe's back, and what did he find but a bunch, that Abe said was
sore. 'Doctor!' says he, 'I've found the bullet!' And, sure enough! the
doctor come and cut out the lead. It had gone clean through the poor
feller,--into his breast, and out under his side!--Hello!" said Seth, "I
shall hev to turn out and wait for that company to march by. I swan to
man ef 'tain't my company,--or a part on't, at least! They're drumming
out a coward, to the tune of the _Rogue's March_!"

The women were all impatience to get on; and Mrs. Manly felt but the
faintest gleam of interest in the procession, until, as it drew near, in
a wretched figure, wearing, in place of the regimental uniform, a suit of
rags that might have been taken from some contraband, with drummers
before and fixed bayonets behind, she recognized--Jack Winch!

"Wal!" said Seth, "I'd ruther go into a fight and be shot dead than go
out of camp in that style! See that label, 'COWARD,' on his back? But he
deserves it, ef ever a chap did!"

And Seth, as he drove on, related the story of Jack's miserable boasting
and poltroonery. Much as she pitied the wretch, Mrs. Manly could not help
remembering his treachery towards her son, and feeling that Frank was now
amply avenged.

XXXIV.

THE HOSPITAL.

Let us pass on before, and take a peep into the hospital. There we find
Ned Ellis, playing dominoes with one hand, and joking to keep up the
spirits of his companions. There lies Frank on his cot, with blanched
countenance, eyes closed, and pale lips smiling, as if in dreams. Of his
two friends, Atwater and the old drummer, only one, as Seth Tucket said,
remains. One was carried out last night--in a coffin his cold form is
laid--life's fitful fever is over with him.

And the other? Very still, very pale, stretched on his narrow bed, no
motion of breathing perceptible, behold him! What is it we see in