He stood at Jack's left hand, and a little behind him. Jack, too much agitated to respond to the unseasonable jest, threw up the barrel of his piece, in order to prime, when a bullet came, from nobody knew where, aslant, and put an end to jesting for the present. Jack felt a benumbing shock, and dropped his gun, the stock of which had been shivered in his grasp. At the same instant Ellis dropped his gun also, and threw out his hands wildly, exclaiming,-- "I am shot!" And both fell to the ground together. "That's what ye call two birds with one stun!" said Tucket, a flash of ferocity kindling his face as he saw his comrades fall. "Pay 'em for that, boys! Pay 'em for that!" And hearing the order to charge the thicket, he went forward with a yell, taking strides that would have done credit to a moose in his own native woods of Maine. Ellis had by this time got upon his feet again. But Jack lay still, his neck bathed in blood. XXVIII. JACK WINCH'S CATASTROPHE. Several companies were by this time engaged driving in the rebel skirmishers, and three or four men had been disabled. It was impracticable to take the stretchers, or litters for the wounded, into such a wilderness of bogs and thickets; and accordingly the most forward and courageous of the carriers leaped into the swamps without them. As soon as Frank heard that some of his company had been wounded, all sense of danger to himself was forgotten, and no remonstrance from his friend the drum-major could prevent his rushing in to assist in bringing them off. Finding that the boy, whose welfare was so precious to him, could not be restrained, Mr. Sinjin plunged in with him, and kept at his side, scrambling through mud and brush and water, and over logs and roots, in the direction of the firing. They had not gone far when they met a wounded soldier coming out. His right hand hung mangled and ghastly and bleeding at his side. A slug from a rifle musket had ploughed it through, nearly severing the fingers from the wrist. "Ellis!" cried Frank--"you hurt?" Ned swung the disabled and red-dripping member up to view, with a sorry smile. "Not so bad as might be!" he said, with a rather faint show of gayety. "Jack has got it worse." "Jack who?"--for there were several Jacks in the company. "Winch," said Ellis, whilst the old drummer was binding up his hand to stop the blood. "Is he killed?" asked Frank, with a strange feeling--almost of remorse, remembering his late bitter and vindictive thoughts towards John. "I don't know. We were both hit by the same ball, I believe. It must have passed through his neck. It came from one side, and we tumbled both together. What I tumbled for, I don't know. It didn't take me long to pick myself up again!" "And Jack?" "There he lies, with blood all over his face." "And nobody caring for him?" "The boys have something else to think of!" said Ellis, with a pallid smile.