“Well, Lieutenant, we cannot know at present, but it is certain we have taught the Yanks a lesson this day. They'll never forget Johnston's brigade. They were so sure of whipping us. It was a hot battle, and three or four times I thought we had lost. Those fellows fight well, but they're no match for the South. What's the matter over there? See, our men are retreating. Don't they know we've won the day?” It was true. So many times had the victory changed hands, that it was hard to tell who had won finally and it looked as if the Confederate line was breaking. Jeff Davis' heart sank as he came up from Manassas and found that hundreds of Confederates, under the impulse of fear, were fleeing to the rear. He kept on, only to find that the Northern army was in full retreat, and the battle of Bull Run was a bitter defeat for the Federals. Ralph lay there in ambush, pale with dread. He feared capture more than death. He rose quickly as the two officers galloped away, to stay their men, and looked upon the scene. Lines of men in blue and gray stretched away in the distance, while the noise of the guns, the neighing of wounded, horses, the huzzas of the victors, drowning the groans of the wounded, made him faint with horror, and his cheeks grew white as he saw men lying on their backs, their glassy eyes staring up to the sky, {055}their faces ghastly and white, and peaceful, or else distorted with pain. Here a wounded soldier would half raise himself on one arm, and beg for water, while others, bleeding and dying, lay uncomplainingly, their eyes fixed on the blue sky, which nevermore would greet their waking vision. [Illustration: 0063] In the dim light he saw all this, and knew not where to go. The terrible sights and hideous silence which succeeded the noise of conflict sickened him, and Ralph, the brave soldier boy, actually fainted. “What's this? Why, it's Ralph! Is he killed?” The tones sounded, to the boy's benumbed senses, far away, as a {056}heavily bearded man knelt down and placed his hand upon his heart. He saw it was Bill, and the flush of mortification mounted to his brow, as he tried to rise. “I was weak--dizzy--and I--” “I know all about it!” good-humoredly laughed Bill Elliott, for he it was. “This is your first appearance, and you had a sort of a stage fright.” Ralph bit his lips with vexation. “Oh, that's nothing. You'll make a better showing next time. You'll live to be a brigadier-general. But I was kinder rattled myself when I saw you so still. I didn't know but some fellow had tuk good aim at you!” “I'm not hurt in the least, Bill.” “Well, boy, come on. We've been whipped bad, and are most unpleasantly nigh those fellows with the guns over thar, and as I'm pretty tall, they might choose me for a mark, just to keep their hands in.”