scene of mortal
strife to breathe their last in this holy sanctuary of nature, or to
escape from the death-dealing shot, and the mangling wheels that rumbled
over the dead and the dying. Close by the soldier boy's retreat lay one
who was moaning piteously for water. Tom had filled his canteen at a brook
on the way, and he crawled up to the sufferer to lave his dying thirst. On
reaching the wounded man, he found that he was a rebel, and the fate of
the Zouave who had done a similar kindness only a short time before
presented itself to his mind.

"Water! Water! For the love of God, give me a drop of water," moaned the
dying soldier.

Tom thought of the Zouave again, and had almost steeled his heart against
the piteous cry. He turned away.

"Water! Water! If you are a Christian give me some water," groaned the
sufferer.

Our soldier boy could no longer resist the appeal. He felt that he could
not be loved on earth or forgiven in heaven if he denied the petition of
the dying rebel; but before he granted it, he assured himself that the
sufferer had no dangerous weapon in his possession. The man was deadly
pale; one of his arms hung useless by his side; and he was covered with
blood. He was a terrible-looking object, and Tom felt sick and faint as he
gazed upon him.

Placing his canteen at the lips of the poor wretch, he bade him drink. His
frame quivered as he clutched the canteen with his remaining hand. The
death damp was on his forehead; but his eye lighted up with new lustre as
he drank the grateful beverage.

"God bless you! God bless you!" exclaimed he as he removed the canteen
from his lips. "You are a Yankee," he added, as he fixed his glazing eyes
upon Tom's uniform. "Are you wounded?"

"No; I am worn out. I have eaten nothing since daylight, and not much
then. I am used up."

"Put your hand in my haversack. There is something there," gasped the
dying man.

Tom bent over him to comply with the invitation; but, with a thrill of
horror, he started back, as he listened to the death-rattle in the throat
of the rebel, and saw his eyes fixed and lustreless in death. It was an
awful scene to the inexperienced youth. Though he had seen hundreds fall
in the battle of that day, death had not seemed so ghastly and horrible to
him as now, when he stood face to face with the grim monster. For a few
moments he forgot his own toil-worn limbs, his craving hunger, and his
aching head.

He gazed upon the silent form be