which the Union army had stood in
the morning.

The rifle fire, which had died down, began again in a fitful way. Far
off, skirmishers, not satisfied with the slaughter of the day, were
seeing what harm they could do in the dark. Somewhere the plumed and
unresting Stuart was charging with his horsemen, driving back some
portion of the Union army that the Confederate forces might be on their
flank in the morning.

But Dick, as he lay quietly and felt his strength, mental and physical,
returning, was taking a resolution. Down there in front of them and in
the darkness was the wood upon which they had made five great assaults,
all to fail. In front of that mournful forest, and within its edge, more
than ten thousand men had fallen. He had no doubt that Warner was among
them.

His sense of direction was good, and, as his blurred faculties regained
their normal keenness, he could mark the exact line by which they
had advanced, and the exact line by which they had retreated. Warner
unquestionably lay near the edge of the wood and he must seek him. Were
it the other way, Warner would do the same.

Dick stood up. He was no longer dizzy, and every muscle felt steady and
strong. He did not know what had become of Colonel Winchester, and his
comrades still lay upon the ground in a deep stupor.

It could not be a night of order and precision, with every man numbered
and in his place, as if they were going to begin a battle instead of
just having finished one, and Dick, leaving his comrades, walked calmly
toward the wood. He passed one sentinel, but a few words satisfied him,
and he continued to advance. Far to right and left he still heard the
sound of firing and saw the flash of guns, but these facts did not
disturb him. In front of him lay darkness and silence, with the horizon
bounded by that saddest of all woods where the heaped dead lay.

Dick looked back toward the Henry Hill, on the slopes of which were the
fragments of his own regiment. Lights were moving there, but they were
so dim they showed nothing. Then he turned his face toward the enemy's
position and did not look back again.

The character of the night was changing. It had come on dark and heavy.
Hot and breathless like the one before, he had taken no notice of the
change save for the increased darkness. Now he felt a sudden damp touch
on his face, as if a wet finger had been laid there. The faintest of
winds had blown for a moment or two, and when Dick look