The door was suddenly opened, and before them stood a man, his features so obscured by the dust, mud, and blood which plastered him from head to foot, that he could not be recognized at first glance in the semi-darkness of the room. He looked at them wildly and burst into a hysterical laugh. “We ran,” he said, “all of us. We ran pell-mell, head over heels, every mother’s son of us.” There was the sound of a choking sob, and he drew his dusty sleeve across his eyes and sank into a chair, breathing heavily. Lettice ran to him. “William, Brother William,” she cried, “it is you! Are you hurt?” She peered anxiously down into his face. “Hurt? No; didn’t I tell you I ran? How could I be hurt?” He fairly snapped out the words, and she looked at him bewildered. “You poor boy,” she said gently, after a pause. “What a sight you are. You must be worn out. Come, get freshened up a little and tell us all about it.” She urged him into the next room, and they waited his return in silence. Once Patsey said, “Do you suppose he is crazed, Lettice?” She gave a short sob. “I don’t know. It is not unlikely, after this day’s heat and fatigue. He never spoke so to me in all his life. Oh, Patsey, did you see the blood?” Both shuddered, and again silence fell till William appeared, looking somewhat more like himself. He stood gazing fixedly at the wall and, without their questioning, began in a hard voice:-- “We were marched and marched from pillar to post for no purpose but to be kept marching it seemed. It was at Bladensburg that the British were. We scarcely believed they were anywhere, but suddenly, when we were exhausted with the heat and the dust and the fatigue of marching, we went out to meet the enemy. Nobody seemed to know anything. All was confusion and want of discipline. We began well enough, but somebody cried, ‘Run,’ and there was a sudden panic. We did rally from that and stayed our troops, but it was no use; some fool cried out that we were beaten. We were not! We were not! By Heaven, it is too much! We were holding our own well, but the idiots who started the stampede kept up the cry, and, like a flock of sheep, one followed another till the flight was complete. Barney’s marines fought well, I’ll say that for them. I tried to get to them, for I had a dim sort of idea that I could do my part, and at least save my honor by fighting with the sailors, but I was swept along with the rest, and by and by became possessed only with the notion of getting on as fast as I could. It seemed to be the universal intention.” He laughed again mirthlessly. “We were raw, undisciplined troops, to be sure, and our enemy had fought under Wellington against Napoleon, but we could have beaten them, I am sure of it. Why didn’t we? Why didn’t we?” He clenched his hands and strode up and down the room.