Now he came to a region where the dead and
wounded were so thick that he dismounted and led his horse, lest a hoof
be planted upon any one of them. But he noticed that here as in other
battles the wounded made but little complaint. They suffered in silence,
waiting for their comrades to take them away.
Then he passed around a section of forest that was burning fiercely.
Here Southern and Union soldiers had met on terms of peace and were
making desperate efforts to save their helpless comrades. Harry would
have been glad to give aid himself, but he was too well trained now to
turn aside when he rode for Lee.
He saw many dark figures passing before the flaming background, and as
he walked more slowly than he thought, he saw one that looked remarkably
familiar to him. It was impossible to see the face, but he knew the
walk and the lift of the shoulders. Discipline gave way to impulse now,
and he ran forward crying:
"Dick! Dick!"
Dick Mason, who had just dragged a wounded man beyond the range of the
flames, turned at the sound of the voice. Even had Harry seen his face
at first he would not have known him nor would Dick have known Harry.
Both were black with ashes, smoke and burned gunpowder.
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