Tossing his canteen across his shoulder, and seizing his gun, G. W. tore on down the hill straight toward the gruesome place below, and right into it. No one noticed him. The surgeons were too busy to look up as he ran around the table scanning the faces upon the boards. The men carrying the helpless burdens, or ministering to their wants, had no time to question why a little black boy should suddenly be in among them. He made sure that he had looked into every face, and then, with a feeling of relief, was about to turn away from the sad scene, when a weak voice stopped him. "G. W.! Thank God! Come here!" G. W. turned; there upon a blanket under a tree waiting for his turn to be taken to the table was the boy who but a few days before in camp had told him that war was "mighty near." War had indeed drawn near in haste, and poor young Corporal Jack had gone down before the enemy's fire. "The Colonel," gasped Corporal Jack, as G. W. came and bent over him; "he was shot, too. We fell side by side. We crawled back, but when the wagon came he made them take me; there was only room for one. He's a mile back on the roadside. G. W., get help and go for him, and tell him God bless him!" The weak voice ceased, for the men had come to carry him to the table. He tried to wave cheerfully to G. W., but the effort caused him to faint, and G. W. started away, trying to comprehend what he had heard. "My Colonel's a mile back on the roadside!" That was all little G. W. had for a guide. But had his Colonel been a hundred miles back, it would have made no difference to his body-guard. There was but one aim in G. W.'s heart: to reach his Colonel, and save him for the Boy and the Mother up North! On he ran, grasping his little gun in a rigid clutch. He forgot to implore aid from those he met as he rushed. Over the rough trail he sped like a deer. The fearful, ugly, swarming land-crabs scurried away from before him. "Colonel!" he sobbed, "fore de Lawd, Colonel, where is you? I'se a-comin', Colonel!—jes' you hold on!" A wagon bearing another pitiful load came by. "Is Colonel Austin in dar?" he cried. Some one knew him and called an answer: "No, G. W., your Colonel isn't here!" On, on, again. What was that? A roar of cannon! G. W. shuddered, but gripped his gun and kept on, making forward. Presently he began to meet more wounded men, singly, or in groups of two or three, trying with what strength remained in them to reach the rear. Occasionally a man knew the boy, and gave him a friendly smile; once one asked him for a drink. "Don't youse take much of it, Captain," G. W. pleaded, holding the canteen to the parched lips, "cose dis is fur my Colonel Austin." Be it to the man's eternal credit that, almost dying of thirst as he was, he handed back all but a mouthful of the blessed water. "Thank you; that will help me to the camp. Colonel Austin is to the right of the road, a little further back, behind some bushes; he tried to come on with me, but fell. I'll send you help, for he cannot walk. God bless you, G. W." On through awful scenes the little black boy went. No one looked upon him with surprise. The small, familiar figure was part of the camp-life and war. Again the little rescuer dashed on. And oh, go quickly now, G. W.! Among the tangled bushes is a slinking, leaf-covered figure running as rapidly as you! Hurry, tired feet! Steady, little dusky hand! there is a deed for you to do which will make your name blessed up North, if only you are in time! Ah, hist! A crackling among the bushes made G. W. pause. What was it? With a sudden impulse the boy crouched in the jungle and listened. After a moment a form, covered with leaves, half crawled, half ran, near where he was hidden. G. W. held his breath, and got his gun in position. He understood. He had heard of the foes' trick of covering themselves with leaves to escape attention, and he knew at once what he had to deal with. Never was he calmer than he grew at that moment. But oh, look! the crawling form, in the open now, stopped, raised his gun, and took deliberate aim at something beyond. G. W. was as quick; and before there was time for the leafy form to draw the trigger, his own small sure hand had flashed forth a bullet! With a cry the wretched creature flung up his arms and fell back. G. W. stood up and wiped the perspiration from his cold, drawn face. His eyes were blazing, but the strange new calmness still possessed him. He pushed forward to find the object at which the Spaniard's gun had been aimed. That it was "one of our boys" little G. W. of course knew; but he was not prepared for the sight that presently rose before him. A bit beyond, leaning against a tree, bloodstained, dirt-begrimed, and faint, sat his Colonel. At the first glimpse of him something like the ice of winter gave way in G. W.'s breast. The blood began to flow through his veins; the past was but a bad dream—he was once more a glad and loving little fellow. "Colonel!" he whispered, like one coming out of sleep. "Colonel, I'se here!" But Colonel Austin took no heed of the tender voice. |