, and ordered to remain where they were.

"Bring the wounded to me," said Pomp, hastening back to the spot where
Withers had fallen.

Stackridge and another were lifting the fallen patriot and bearing him
to the shelter of the cave. Pomp assisted, skilfully and tenderly. Then
followed those who bore away the wounded prisoners and the guns that had
been captured. Pepperill had been ordered to help. He and Carl carried
the man whose face Cudjo had slashed. This was the only rebel who had
fought obstinately: he had not given up until an arm was broken, and he
was blinded by his own blood. Penn and Devitt brought up the rear with
the swooning soldier. When half way over they were fired upon by the
rebels rallying to the edge of the cliff. Grudd and his men responded
sharply, covering their retreat. Penn felt a bullet graze his shoulder.
It made but a slight flesh wound there; but, passing down, it entered
the heart of the wounded man, whose swoon became the swoon of death.
This was the only serious result of the confederate fire.

"I am glad I did not kill him!" said Penn, as they laid the corpse
beside the stream.

Then out of the mask of blood which covered the face of the stout fellow
who had fought so well, there issued a voice that spoke, in a strange
tongue, these words:--

"_Was hat man mir gethan? Wo bin ich, mutter?_"

But the words were not strange to Carl; neither was the voice strange.

"Fritz! Fritz!" he answered, in the same language, "is it you?"

"I am Fritz Minnevich; that is true. And you, I think, are my cousin
Carl."

They laid the wounded man near the stream, where Pomp was examining
Withers's hurt.

"O, Fritz!" said Carl, "how came you here?"

"They said the Yankees were coming to take our farm. So Hans and I
enlisted to fight. I got in here because I was ordered. We do as we are
ordered. It was we who whipped the woman. We whipped her well. I hope my
good looks will not be spoiled; for that would grieve our mother."

Thus the soldier talked in his native tongue, while Carl, in sorrow and
silence, washed the blood from his face. He remembered he was his
father's brother's son; a good fellow, in his way; dull, but faithful;
and he had not always treated him cruelly. Indeed, Carl thought not of
his cruelty now at all, but only of the good times they had had
together, in days when they were friends, and Frau Minnevich had not
taught her boys to be as ill-natured as herself.

"What for do y