ce shots at the road as
outlined by the burn ing fences.

[Illustration: THE DEAD BEING COLLECTED AFTER THE BATTLE. 220]

Though one of his team was wounded, Abel Waite had little difficulty
in keeping his place in column until the burning lane was reached. The
regiment ahead had gone through on the double-quick, and teams as fast
as they could be lashed.

"What'll we do now?" he called out to the others in his boyish treble.
"I can't git these plugs out of a walk. If we go ahead the fire'll bust
the ammunition, and send us all sky-huntin'. If we stop here them rebels
'll git us, sure."

"Go a'ead, Habe," growled Wat, after a moment's thought. "We can't 'elp
you, but we'll stay wi' you. Hif she busts, she busts, hand that's hall
there'll be hof hit hor hof us. We'll stick by the wagon, though, till
she busts, hand then nobuddy but the crows 'll hever find hany hof hus.
Go a'ead, you bloody brat."

"Cut me one o' them young hickories for a gad," said Abel, pointing to
the brush by the side of the road, "and I'll git as good time out o'
these poor brutes as they kin make, if I skin 'em alive."

Abel lashed his animals with all the strength of his young arm,
and succeeded in keeping them in something like a trot. The men ran
alongside, and fought the fire as well as they were able. Several times
the wagon-cover caught fire from the intense heat, but it was at once
beaten out by hats and blouses, and blouses were laid over the holes to
protect them against the sparks.

They succeeded at last in getting through the fire-bordered road without
an explosion, but they were all so exhausted that they could not move
another step until they rested. The poor horse lay down and refused to
get up.

Wat and Abel looked in to see how Si and Shorty had fared. The jolting
of the wagon and the cold night air had at first revived them so that
they could speak. Then they swooned again from the effects of the heat
and the stifling smoke, and were speech less and motionless when Wat and
Abel looked in.

"We've 'ad hall hour trouble for nothink," said Wat disconsolately, as
he felt them over. "The 'eat and smoke's killed 'em."

"Not by a durned sight," slowly gasped Shorty. "Seen sicker dogs'n this
git well. Nearly dead for a drink o' water, though. Then I'll be all
right."

Abel snatched a canteen, ran to a branch a little way off, filled it,
and returning, put it to Shorty's lips.

"Jehosephat, how good that tastes," said Shor