"Some of it comes back to me now," said the patient, as he looked about him as if to ascertain where he was; for his companion had not informed him on this point. "I had just struck down a trooper with my sabre when I heard the tramp of a horse behind me. I was about to wheel so as to face him, when I felt a blow on my head, and I can remember nothing more." "You fell on the field, as I had before you." "Are you wounded, Fronklyn?" "I am slightly; and my case seems to be something like yours, though it was a pistol-ball that brought me down. I saw the trooper aim a great horse-pistol that might have been a hundred years old, and I have no doubt that the bullet was as big as they fire in those ancient flint-lock muskets. It stunned me for the moment; but I was on my feet at once, and saw you fall," the sergeant explained. "Are you much hurt, Fronklyn?" asked Deck. "Only a flesh-wound that will heal up in a week, or less. When I can get at my knapsack I will put a plaster on it." "But you have not told me where we are, Fronklyn, and I cannot tell for the life of me," continued the lieutenant, looking around him again. "Don't you remember that we were in the enemy's fortification when the fight went on?" "I remember that. We had been crowded into the enemy's intrenchments by the crazy mob. A Southern captain claimed our platoon as the prisoners of his company; and that made me so mad that I ordered our men to charge upon them, and fight their way out of the fort," returned the wounded officer, whose mind seemed to be clear enough by this time. "And that was just what we were doing when both of us went down; though I was on my feet soon enough to drag you out of the fight," replied the sergeant. "What has become of the platoon?" "You were on the flank, and Life Knox got in at the head of the men, dropping every Confederate that came in front of him; and the rest of our fellows were not far behind him. None of them were captured; but two were killed, and probably some of them were slightly wounded." "The men are not prisoners, then?" "They are not." "How is it with us?" "I suppose we are prisoners, for we are within the enemy's lines; but no person has been near us as we lay here. I think the Southerners have all they can attend to at present, and doubtless they are getting ready for a fight to-morrow morning; for General Thomas will certainly clean them out before he has done with them." "What is to be done with us?" suggested Deck. "That is a question, Lieutenant." "Well, the next business in order is to get away, for I have no fancy for being taken to the South, since the Confederates have no provisions for their own men, and as prisoners we would starve with them," said Deck. "I haven't had my supper yet, and I feel a little faint. I have enough to eat in my haversack."