about, and hundreds of dark figures moving and toiling--the
fatigue-parties burying the Union dead and planting the soil of the Old
Dominion with more of that martyr seed which may yet spring up to the
redemption of the land and the glory of the nation. This would have been
a sad and harrowing sight for the young girl, after so lately leaving
her last relative to be made a prey for worms; and fortunately she was
spared it.

Perhaps half an hour after leaving the burned house, the Zouaves and
their charge reached the bivouac of the Advance Guard, half way down the
slope towards Carter's Field. The loss of the corps had been but
trifling, in spite of their furious charge; and though tired and hungry,
those who had not dropped down in their places to sleep, were merry and
jubilant. The Union forces had won one last great victory in defeat, and
they knew it and knew that the army was safe. Crawford had ever been a
favorite with his corps, respected by the men and even petted by the
officers; and he was recognized with shouts of welcome by many, as he
made his way, with his charge on his arm, towards the Colonel's tent.

"Hallo, old fellow! Safe eh, after all!" cried one who recognised him;
while another said: "Thought you had gone to Richmond, without waiting
for the rest of us!" and another, but in a lower tone that perhaps
Marion Hobart did not hear: "I say, Jack, where the deuce did you pick
up a petticoat, and a white one at that?"

Colonel Warren received the young Zouave, and heard his story, paying
all respect to the young girl under his protection. He at once promised,
at Crawford's request, that a file of soldiers should go down to the
burned house and perform the rites of burial before the corps left the
hill; whereupon the face of the young girl more fully repaid him by its
expression of true gratitude, than did even her words of sad
thankfulness. There are men who have called Colonel Warren not only a
martinet but a man devoid of feeling: let his action on this occasion
prove how little those know him who speak of him thus coldly.

"Some of the wagons are leaving for the Landing just now," he said to
Crawford, after the latter had explained the nature of his wound and
briefly told the story of the protection he had promised the young girl,
which he would have no difficulty in finding for her in the company of
his brother and sister. "Some of the wagons are going down now. You are
of no use here, and you had a