Startled as Noel Curtis was by the sight of the little sutler, whom he believed to be true to neither side, his feeling speedily gave way to a great rush of anger. Almost unmindful of what he was doing, Noel rushed upon Levi and seizing him by his shoulders shook the little sutler until both he and his prisoner were nearly breathless.

"You rascal! You little villain! What do you mean by this work? It's bad enough for you to be false to the living, but when you try to rob the dead! I'll try to see that you receive your just deserts!" shouted Noel.

"But—"

"Don't talk!" roared Noel, again shaking his prisoner. "What are you doing here? How did you come?"

Unmindful of the fact that Noel had forbidden his prisoner to speak, and yet at the same time had told him he must explain his presence and actions on the battle-field, he glared into the face of the breathless and frightened Levi in a manner that increased the latter's terror.

"I'll tell you," shouted Noel, "what I'm going to do with you! I'm going to turn you over to the boys after I have told them that you were trying to cut the ring from the finger of one of the dead soldiers! I'll leave you with them. I guess they'll know what to do with you."

"Oh, do not! Please do not! Dey vill be very angry mit me."

"Do you really think so? Maybe so. At all events, I'll turn you over and we'll see what comes."

Securing a firmer hold upon the shoulder of his little prisoner, Noel speedily withdrew from the place and soon placed the miscreant in the hands of the proper authorities.

Only a partial explanation was given by the young soldier, and as he hastened back to his place on the field his anger against the little sutler soon was in a measure forgotten in the task that still confronted him.

The division in which Noel and Dennis were fighting was on the flank of the Union army. Because of this fact they were not among the first to start in pursuit of the Confederates that Monday morning. It was necessary for the greater part of the army to cross South Mountain by one road, the turnpike.

Noel, who had been greatly depressed by the struggle through which he had gone the preceding day, was surprised to find that Dennis and many of his comrades were highly elated. They had succeeded in driving the rebels from the strong position which they had held on South Mountain, and up its steep and rocky sides they had forced their way against fearful odds. If they could do so well where rocks and steep ascents had to be overcome, what might they not be able to do in the valley beyond the mountain?

A spirit of confidence at this time, indeed, of overconfidence, as later events proved, possessed the soldiers. They had jumped to the conclusion already that General Lee had been beaten, and therefore the overwhelming defeats suffered by the Union army at Bull Run now were balanced.

The rejoicing which had come to the army was modified somewhat when the men found that no response was given to their inquiry as to the whereabouts of the enemy. They were not aware that the Confederates at this time had withdrawn beyond South Mountain.

In the task in which Noel had been engaged he had discovered how closely together the desperate charges had brought the men of the two contending armies. There were cases where not more than ten paces intervened between the fence and the place where some of the poor fellows were lying in their last sleep.

In the presence of such scenes the bitterness of the struggle was almost forgotten, and the eyes of the dead, that were staring upward so fixedly in the gray of the morning hour, neither expressed nor aroused any emotion except sorrow.

Unaware of the cause, the young soldier's feelings were somewhat numb from the tension of the preceding hours. Even Levi now was almost forgotten and the husband of Sairy Ann's sister had faded from his thoughts.

At last about ten o'clock, after many protests and much growling on the part of the boys in blue over what they were pleased to call an unnecessary delay, orders were received for the division to be marched toward Boonesborough.

Noel and Dennis were marching side by side, but the most of their comrades were unknown.

As the men advanced, Noel saw that the turnpike far ahead was filled with troops, artillery and wagons that were hurrying up the pass. The fields on either side were white with army wagons and far down the road that extended toward Frederick City a moving, living, advancing tide of men was pushing steadily forward.

Suddenly some one broke into a song, and in a moment "Maryland, My Maryland" was taken up by the soldiers, although the words frequently changed to suit the feelings of the different singers. Even Noel, heavy-hearted as he was, smiled as he heard Dennis shouting, "My Maryland," with special emphasis upon the "My."

"Dennis, what are you doing?" inquired Noel as the line halted for a brief respite.

"Singin', sor."

"You call that singing, do you?"

"Shure, and what is it, if it isn't singin'?"

"That's what I wanted to find out. That was the reason why I asked my question. If you call it singing, why, I suppose I shall have to take your word for it."

"'Tis a beautiful country," said Dennis as he surveyed the scene which extended far on either side. Fertile fields and a rolling plateau that terminated in the distant hills appeared doubly beautiful in the soft light of that September day.

At their next halt, which was at the home of a family that proved to be loyal to the Union cause, the good woman of the house brought forth all the food she possessed and divided it among the soldiers.

Laughingly she was telling some of the boys in blue of one of her own relatives who had been in her home two days before the battle of South Mountain. Apparently all that he feared was that the demoralized army of the North, which had been driven from the Peninsula and out of Virginia, could not now be induced to enter into a contest.

"We are going to wipe them out this time, once and for all," the man had said. "And then for Philadelphia and New York! These Yankees will find out for the first time what war means when we get into their country! As for Maryland, we'll lose the last man before we'll retreat."

Before day broke that morning this woman had been aroused by a band of half-starved and weaponless men, clad in suits of ragged gray who stopped near her residence begging for food. A panic apparently had seized upon the men. She had heard one of these soldiers say that if he could only be taken prisoner he would be happy. In this crowd she had discovered the relative who confidently and positively had foretold the dire results of the coming battle for the Yankees.

"Why, John, is that you?" she had inquired. "I thought you were going to Philadelphia."

"It's no use talking about that, aunt," he replied foolishly. "We have been badly whipped, and I don't know where a single man or a single gun of my battery can be found to-day."

At this time a small body of men was seen approaching bearing a flag of truce. At its head rode a Confederate surgeon in a gray uniform which had been highly ornamented. On the end of a stick, which he held high, was a white handkerchief. The surgeon was accompanied by four soldiers carrying a blood-stained stretcher, while in charge of the little band was one of the boys in blue. Upon its arrival the leader requested to see the ranking official.

In response to his expressed wish the surgeon was taken to General Hooker and by him was granted permission to secure and bear off the body of one of the rebel colonels, who supposedly had fallen in the fight.

The long waiting by the division continued. Hunger as well as thirst now tormented the men. When the division at last moved forward, it was discovered that the advance then was to be to Keedysville, about six miles distant.

The little hamlet presented a strange appearance upon the arrival of the soldiers. The few stores and hotels were filled to overflowing with men clad in uniform. When night fell it seemed as if the train of wagons that steadily was moving past was almost unending. On the following day, when the men reached Keedysville, their progress was halted by a counter-current of cavalry and artillery moving to the right of what later proved to be a great battle-field.

At this time no one seemed to be positive as to just the position the enemy were occupying. Many of the boys in their enthusiasm believed that they had fled across the Potomac. Such opinions, however, were met by those who believed that the armies were on the eve of a desperate conflict.

When daylight came the following morning (Wednesday September 17, 1862), a frequent discharge of artillery, apparently about two miles to the right, soon gave place to a roar that was incessant, and then every one in the army knew that a battle already was beginning. The straggling little village was filed with orderlies and officers rushing hither and thither on various duties.

The division advanced until it was on the east side of the Antietam Creek. Beyond, were the enemy, flanked by the Potomac River. It seemed at first like an unfavorable position and one filled with deadly peril for the men in gray.

At this time Noel was not able to see any indication of a hidden force in the fields and woods opposite the position where his division had taken their stand. As yet, too, very few missiles had come as far as the place which he and his comrades were occupying. Ambulances could now be seen carrying off the more desperately wounded, or on their way back to the field for their new freights of agony.

The fighting seemed to be going on mostly on the right. The roar of the artillery and of the infantry became louder and more terrifying. As Noel advanced with his comrades he passed improvised hospitals sheltered in a little valley. Farmhouses and barns were all occupied now, and still the stretcher-bearers brought in from the front a constant and fresh addition of suffering men.

It was no time for faint-heartedness, however. Into the smoke and the din of battle, out of which the bleeding forms had come, Noel and Dennis must enter.

So many were the stragglers from the field that the cavalry was brought up and stationed on the Hagerstown Turnpike and with drawn sabers prevented the withdrawal of any more.

On his right Noel saw troops drawn up in line of battle. On his left were other troops in a grove near the road. To his surprise as they advanced he saw some of the troops apparently falling back. A cry passed through the ranks that General Hooker, who was in command of the division, had been wounded and that the right wing had been compelled to fall back. There were rumors also that the enemy far outnumbered the right wing and that there was great danger also for the left.

Beyond all that, Stonewall Jackson, a name that every Yankee soldier had come to respect, had sheltered his reserves behind some rocky ledges and had thrown up long lines of fence-rail breastworks.

A feeling of intense and bitter disappointment now took possession of the Union men. The division was sent ahead and drawn up in line of battle on both sides of the Hagerstown Turnpike. It seemed at that moment as if the Confederate soldiers were about to break through the army of the North and repeat the successes which they had won on the field of Bull Run.

One of the batteries in Noel's division had lost thirty-eight officers and men and twenty-eight horses. Two of his comrades had tried to appease their desperate feeling of hunger by a hoe-cake which they had taken from the haversack of a dead rebel soldier. One general in the division had leaped forward in a critical moment and personally sighted the guns when the enemy was almost upon him. Another general, of a different division, had ordered his brigade to advance, but he himself had remained behind.

Apparently matters once more were moving well, but just as Dennis and Noel were pushing with their comrades into some woods, they found themselves with others confronted by fresh troops who instantly stopped them with volleys so terrible that a retreat was unavoidable. Neither Noel nor Dennis knew at this time that the battle of Antietam really was nearly over. As yet, to both boys there seemed to have been set only the first act of the tragedy.

On the left the din of battle had long been heard and out in front the cannon thundered, and every moment an attack was expected on the division where Noel and Dennis were.

The cavalry now rested upon the ground in long lines. Its ranks were somewhat broken and thin. Steadily in their rear, the various reserves were being stationed to aid in resisting the attack which was expected. The men of each brigade in turn were stacking their arms and then were lying down.