"Captain Morris, sir."

"Ah, another brave man! One of our best officers! How many we have lost in this terrible fight! Will he live, doctor?"

"I hope so. He is not conscious, but he opened his eyes just now."

"Thank G.o.d! You must do your best for him."

"I will, sir."

They placed him on a settee on one side of the room, and the doctor dressed his wounds.

"I saw him fall," came in a low tone from a man in the opposite corner, whose foot had been shot off. He had fainted from loss of blood and the leg had been bound up until it could be properly dressed. "I belong to his company. Twice we were driven back--half our men had fallen--but he drew his sword and rushed on again, calling us to follow him--then a Yankee officer struck at him, so he knocked his sword back and ran him through--but a couple of sogers came at the Captain with their bayonets--that's the last I saw, for I got dizzy and fell--I didn't think I was hurt."

"You've said enough," said the doctor sharply. "We don't want you to faint again."

"All right, sir."

There was a deep flesh wound in Captain Morris' thigh and a bayonet thrust in his body, while the top of his scalp had been torn to the skull by a bullet.

"Pretty badly knocked out," said the doctor, "but not hopeless. His pupils are still sensitive."

The General expressed satisfaction as with Battersby he left the house.

Several other shanties near by were being utilized for the wounded.

"I suppose the owners all fled on the approach of battle," said the General to Colonel Scott, who had charge of the relief department.

"Yes," was the answer. "This battle has been impending for days, and orders were issued to the people to escape to the back districts without delay."

"They may as well stay away now," said Drummond. "There are hundreds of wounded, and our first care must be for them. We may have beaten the enemy, but it has been at terrible cost."

"Your arrival, General, was a G.o.d-send. If your men had not come I don't know where we would have been."

"Your own vanguard helped to save us though. But the horror of it all--a thousand men have bit the dust."

"If we have fights like this, thousands more may do it yet before we are through."

"True, but it is a fight to the finish. We must hold our own. Never relinquish an inch."

For more than an hour Captain Morris remained unconscious. His continued insensibility caused much concern, and Sergeant Dennis, his faithful subaltern, was placed beside him to watch.

After a while, he opened his eyes and looked vacantly around him through the dim light. Gradually he took in the situation.

"Ah!" he exclaimed at last, fixing his eyes on Dennis and looking at his bandages. "I got hurt--did I?"

"Yes, Captain, a trifle," was the answer.

"And the battle--is it over?"

"Yes, Captain; keep still."

"Thank heaven!"

For a time there was a pause, and the Sergeant put some whiskey and water to his lips.

"I must be badly knocked out," he ventured again, after a while.

"Not so bad as some," was the answer.

"Bad enough."

"I will call the doctor or Colonel Battersby," said the sergeant. "I had orders to report."

"Wait a minute, Sergeant, it can't be three yet."

"It is, nearly."

"There is something you can do for me."

"I will do anything in the world for you, Captain."

"Thanks--you will be with me all night, won't you?"

"Yes, till daylight."

"Well, I'll tell you later--after the doctor comes."

"He's here now."

So the communication was delayed.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

Half an hour later, the Sergeant again had charge of the Captain. He was weak and pallid, but his mind was clear, and he fixed his eyes on the Sergeant's face.

"Now, I can tell you," he said at last, with some difficulty.

"You had better not," returned the man. "The doctor says you must sleep before you try to talk again."

"It will only take a minute--I've got to say it now," said Morris.

"Very well," said the Sergeant, bending over him. "Speak low, Captain.

Don't say more than you can help."

"It is only about two letters--they are in my wallet, and I want you without fail to send them on. One is directed to Penetang--I intended to forward it from York--but it was in the bottom of my wallet--and in the hurry of leaving I did not do it. The other is one of my own to Halifax.

It, too, should have been sent on before we crossed the lake--but the order to march was so sudden that I had not time. Do you understand?"