And now a magnificent exhibition of courage was shown by Sumner. He expected orders to go to the rescue, and his men were drawn up in line ready for the summons. One bridge alone remained with which to cross the river, and its approaches were under water. Some of its supports were gone, and as the soldiers stepped upon it, the frail structure swayed to and fro, mid the rushing waters, but they passed over as speedily and safely as though it were a solid piece of masonry. General Sumner's appearance was most opportune. He met the flank attack, and was victorious. The slaughter was fearful. In this battle 12,000 men gave up their lives--5,000 Northern men, and 7,000 Southern. General Johnston fell, a Federal shot having taken effect. He was carried off the field, and at first it was feared by the Confederates that his wound was mortal, but after some months of suffering and enforced retirement he recovered, and a year after assumed command of the Confederate forces of the Mississippi. Ralph was sent with one of the details to bury the dead and bring in the wounded. Trenches were dug, and the dead piled in them. Many were left where the last shot had struck them down, and earth was heaped upon them. The ground was literally blood-soaked. The dead were everywhere--the battle-field was one vast graveyard, with its tenants left unburied. Ralph entered a little log house in a pasture near the railroad, and seated himself on a bench for a moment's rest. Just outside the door, he found the dead and the wounded packed so close that he could scarcely avoid stepping on them. To distinguish {113}them was a hard task, for the wounded lay there so quiet and motionless, fast in that silent resignation born of despair, that, save for the dull blackness that covered the faces of those from whom life had fled, it would be easy to mistake the living for the dead. [Illustration: 0121] All sorts and ages were there, in one mass--the boy, who had gone from home, ardent and hopeful, the old man who had left the record of an honorable life behind him; officers who had cheered their commands on to victory, privates who had fought fearlessly--all lay there, while horses had fallen dead across their riders, or were struggling in agony. The picture was horrible! He was r e minded of h is duty by the voice of an old man, who came into the room where he was musing. “This is a cruel war, sir!” he said to Ralph. “I've been raised here, man and boy, nigh onto seventy years, and I never thought, when I played in these fields, that I should ever live to see them desecrated with human blood.” Ralph {114}raised his head, and looked at him earnestly. “No,” the old man continued, “I have looked for the coming of the Lord' these many years, but I never thought He would come in blood and smoke, and the noise of battle.” “What do you mean?” the boy asked, breathlessly. “How has the Lord come?”