It was nightfall before Andy found the Grays, encamped on the edge of a patch of woods near the Nine Mile Road. Captain Montgomery had gone to the hospital tent to have his wound taken care of, and the first lieutenant was in charge. To this officer and several others Andy told his story, to which all listened with keen interest. “Gracious! what a couple of hayseeds,” said Leroy Wellington. “Won’t they feel cheap when they learn how they have been sold?” “Most likely they never will find out,” answered Andy. Fortunately, Andy had no picket duty to do that night, and, huddled up close to Leroy, he slept “like a rock,” despite the fact that fighting still kept up at a distance and the battle was to be renewed early in the morning. “To horse! To horse!” This was the cry which awoke the young Confederate cavalryman at daybreak. Leroy had already crawled from the shelter of the tent. Soon the Montgomery Grays were mounted and eating their breakfast in the saddle. To relate all of Andy’s varied experiences that day would fill a volume in itself. Between eight o’clock and noon the Grays made three terrific charges, capturing one Union battery and holding it for over an hour. But the Union forces now attacked along the whole line, as previously described, and slowly but surely the Confederates were driven back up the road towards Richmond. By two o’clock the firing ceased, and the battle of Fair Oaks, or Seven Pines, was at an end, and then began the harrowing work of caring for the dead and the dying. Andy took part in this work and never were the true horrors of war brought closer to his young heart. The scenes were pitiable beyond description and his eyes refused to keep dry, as he moved here and there, looking for comrades and giving aid and comfort to the unknown sufferers. He had just found one of the Grays’ men, down with a bullet through his thigh, and was looking around for a stretcher, when a groan almost at his feet made him turn. There, in the brush and mud, rested a Union soldier, shot through the shoulder. “Give me a drink, for the love of heaven!” came the murmur, and having his canteen handy, Andy poured forth the desired water and held the cup to the sufferer’s lips. “Thank you, Grayback,” came in a short gasp. “Now, you’ve been so kind, won’t you prop me up ag’in that tree? I can’t stand it down here in the cold mud.” “Certainly I’ll prop you up,” answered Andy, and lifted the wounded soldier as carefully as he could. As he worked he caught sight of the man’s uniform and markings. “You’re a Pennsylvania man,” he said. “Know anything about the Goreville Volunteers?” “I’m a Goreville Volunteer,” came the surprising reply. “Indeed? Do you know Louis Rockford? He used to be a friend of mine--in fact, he’s a friend still, personally--a close friend.” “O’ course I know Louis--everybody does. I owned a farm near his place. My name is Coomber.” “And how is Louis?”