“The houses have filled up already, I believe,” she said, “but there is a nice dry stable up the street which has just been cleaned out for a hospital. Carry your master up the next square and then into the alley a few steps where you will find a physician. I am going now for food and bandages.” She hurried on, and Big Abel, seizing Dan beneath the arms, dragged him breathlessly along the street. “A stable! Huh! Hit's a wunner dey ain' ax us ter step right inter a nice clean pig pen,” he muttered as he walked on rapidly. “Oh, I don't mind the stable, but this pace will kill me,” groaned Dan. “Not so fast, Big Abel, not so fast.” “Dis yer ain' no time to poke,” replied Big Abel, sternly, and lifting the young man in his arms, he carried him bodily into the stable and laid him on a clean-smelling bed of straw. The place was large and well lighted, and Dan, as he turned over, heaved a grateful sigh. “Let me sleep--only let me sleep,” he implored weakly. And for two days he slept, despite the noise about him. Dressed in clean clothes, brought by the lady of the morning, and shaved by the skilful hand of Big Abel, he buried himself in the fresh straw and dreamed of Chericoke and Betty. The coil of battle swept far from him; he heard none of the fret and rumour that filled the little street; even the moans of the men beneath the surgeons' knives did not penetrate to where he lay sunk in the stupor of perfect contentment. It was not until the morning of the third day, when the winds that blew over the Potomac brought the sounds of battle, that he was shocked back into a troubled consciousness of his absence from the army. Then he heard the voices of the guns calling to him from across the river, and once or twice he struggled up to answer. “I must go, Big Abel--they are in need of me,” he said. “Listen! don't you hear them calling?” “Go way f'om yer, Marse Dan, dey's des a-firin' at one anurr,” returned Big Abel, but Dan still tossed impatiently, his strained eyes searching through the door into the cloudy light of the alley. It was a sombre day, and the oppressive atmosphere seemed heavy with the smoke of battle. “If I only knew how it was going,” he murmured, in the anguish of uncertainty. “Hush! isn't that a cheer, Big Abel?” “I don' heah nuttin' but de crowin' er a rooster on de fence.” “There it is again!” cried Dan, starting up. “I can swear it is our side. Listen--go to the door--by God, man, that's our yell! Ah, there comes the rattle of the muskets--don't you hear it?” “Lawd, Marse Dan, I'se done hyern dat soun' twel I'm plum sick er it,” responded Big Abel, carefully measuring out a dose of arsenic, which had taken the place of quinine in a country where medicine was becoming as scarce as food. “You des swallow dis yer stuff right down en tu'n over en go fas' asleep agin.” Taking the glass with trembling hands, Dan drained it eagerly.