Soldiers, some of them weeping, some of them bleeding, arrived constantly to inquire after their commander, only to be sent quietly back to their ranks or to the rear. Around lay other men--dead men, and senseless, groaning men--all for the present unnoticed. Everything, except the distant pursuit of the cavalry, waited for Wal-dron to die. Fitz Hugh looked on silently with the tears of mingled emotions in his eyes, and with hopes and hatreds expiring in his heart. The surgeon supported the expiring victor’s head, while Chaplain Colquhoun knelt beside him, holding his hand and praying audibly. Of a sudden the petition ceased, both bent hastily toward the wounded man, and after what seemed a long time exchanged whispers. Then the Chaplain rose, came slowly toward the now advancing group of officers, his hands outspread toward heaven in an attitude of benediction, and tears running down his haggard white face. “I trust, dear friends,” he said, in a tremulous voice, “that all is well with our brother and commander. His last words were, ‘God is with us.’” “Oh! but, man, _that_ isn’t well,” broke out Gahogan, in a groan. “What did ye pray for his soul for? Why didn’t ye pray for his loife?” Fitz Hugh turned his horse and rode silently away. The next day he was seen journeying rearward by the side of an ambulance, within which lay what seemed a strangely delicate boy, insensible, and, one would say, mortally ill. End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Brigade Commander, by J. W. Deforest