Then there was Jashobeam the Hachmonite, one of the first three men of David's body-guard of heroes who slew with his spear three hundred men at one time. There was Eleazar, who with David fought in that bloody barley field when these two warriors single-handed dispersed a company of Philistines. There was Abishai who slew three hundred men. These were the three mighty men who were besieged with David in the cave of Adullam in the midst of a parched and burning desert and David longed and said, "Oh, that one would give me to drink of the water of the well of Bethlehem that is at the gate." The three heard what their captain said and alone they broke through the ranks of the Philistines, drew water out of the well of Bethlehem and brought it back to David. And David did not drink of it, but poured it out to the Lord and said, "Lord forbid that I should drink the blood of these men that have put their lives in jeopardy for me." When we read these and other hero-stories, we are apt to think that the time for such deeds is past and that the men of to-day can never equal the accomplishments of the fighters of olden time. Yet the Civil War shows stories just as stirring and accomplishments seemingly as impossible. There was George Wilhelm, a captain in the Ohio Infantry. At Bakers Creek he was badly wounded in the breast and after he had fallen was captured by a Confederate, forced to his feet and though faint from loss of blood marched to the Confederate camp. As he saw himself farther and farther away from his own army a Berserkir rage came over him which made him forget his wound and his weakness. With one tremendous spring he caught his captor around the neck, wrested his drawn sabre from out of his hand, slashed him over the left shoulder and then picking up the loaded revolver which had dropped from the disabled hand faced him around and marched him back to the Union lines a prisoner although, toward the end of that journey, Wilhelm was so weak that he had to lean on the shoulder of his unwilling attendant. There was William G. Whitney a sergeant in the 11th Michigan Infantry, at the battle of Chickamauga who, just as his men were about to face a fierce charge from the Confederates, found that their ammunition had given out. Outside the Union works was a shell-swept field covered with dead and wounded men. Whitney never hesitated. He leaped over the works and ran back and forth over that field, cutting off and loading himself down with cartridge-boxes, although it did not seem as if a man could live a minute in that hissing storm of bullets and shell. Just in time he brought back the ammunition which enabled his men to beat back the charge and hold their position.