: "No, G. W., your Colonel isn't
here!"

On, on, again.

What was that? A roar of cannon! G. W. shuddered, but gripped his gun
and kept on, making forward.

Presently he began to meet more wounded men, singly, or in groups of two
or three, trying with what strength remained in them to reach the rear.
Occasionally a man knew the boy, and gave him a friendly smile; once one
asked him for a drink.

"Don't youse take much of it, Captain," G. W. pleaded, holding the
canteen to the parched lips, "cose dis is fur my Colonel Austin."

Be it to the man's eternal credit that, almost dying of thirst as he
was, he handed back all but a mouthful of the blessed water. "Thank you;
that will help me to the camp. Colonel Austin is to the right of the
road, a little further back, behind some bushes; he tried to come on
with me, but fell. I'll send you help, for he cannot walk. God bless
you, G. W."

On through awful scenes the little black boy went. No one looked upon
him with surprise. The small, familiar figure was part of the camp-life
and war.

Again the little rescuer dashed on. And oh, go quickly now, G. W.! Among
the tangled bushes is a slinking, leaf-covered figure running as rapidly
as you!

Hurry, tired feet! Steady, little dusky hand! there is a deed for you to
do which will make your name blessed up North, if only you are in time!

Ah, hist! A crackling among the bushes made G. W. pause.

What was it? With a sudden impulse the boy crouched in the jungle and
listened. After a moment a form, covered with leaves, half crawled, half
ran, near where he was hidden.

G. W. held his breath, and got his gun in position. He understood. He
had heard of the foes' trick of covering themselves with leaves to
escape attention, and he knew at once what he had to deal with. Never
was he calmer than he grew at that moment.

But oh, look! the crawling form, in the open now, stopped, raised his
gun, and took deliberate aim at something beyond. G. W. was as quick;
and before there was time for the leafy form to draw the trigger, his
own small sure hand had flashed forth a bullet! With a cry the wretched
creature flung up his arms and fell back.

G. W. stood up and wiped the perspiration from his cold, drawn face. His
eyes were blazing, but the strange new calmness still possessed him. He
pushed forward to find the object at which the Spaniard's gun had been
aimed.

That it was "one of our boys" little G. W. of course knew; but