The enemy still were falling back and the boys in blue still pressed steadily forward. More prisoners were secured and were regularly being conducted to the rear. The bodies of those who had fallen and the wounded were lying among the rocks. For the first time Noel became aware that night was almost at an end. A feeling of indescribable weariness swept over him. Even the bodies of the fallen men, some of which were within ten feet of the place where he was standing, seemed to be vague and unreal. The hospitals had been established about halfway down the hill. To them the wounded wherever they were found were still being carried. Gradually the sound of the guns off to the left had been dying away. Ricketts's men were holding the fence, while the regiment in the midst of which Noel Curtis and Dennis had been struggling was resting on its arms. No mounted orderlies could be found, as they had all been withdrawn to other parts of the army. Such horses as were left were secured by being tied to the trees. After the necessary dispositions for the night had been made, the men, wrapped in their cloaks or having donned their heavier coats, in utter weariness threw themselves upon the ground. Noel was far from feeling easy in his mind. With his comrades he was fearful that the enemy might make a night attack and was afraid of what might follow in the darkness and confusion. The issue of the battle on the left was still uncertain and with this feeling of uneasiness still prevalent throughout the regiment the men sought to rest. In spite of the excitement through which they had passed and in spite of the near-by presence of the dead, not many minutes elapsed before everything was forgotten and every man was asleep. Awake early the following morning, Noel was surprised to find that his nearest sleeping comrade was Dennis. He had seen but little of the young Irishman thus far in the engagement and, indeed, he had seldom thought of his friend. Discovering that Dennis was awake, Noel in a low voice said to him, "Dennis, how is it that any of us are left alive?" "Indade, 'tis a wonder," answered Dennis. "Not so great, after all," remarked another soldier who was lying near the boys and had heard Noel's question. "The waste of ammunition in a battle is something marvelous. Our colonel told us that it takes almost a man's weight in lead to kill one soldier." "It doesn't seem so," said Noel thoughtfully, "when you hear the volleys shrieking above your head or flying close to your ears, and when men, all excited and anxious, are trying to fire just as fast as they are able. It doesn't seem possible that so many can come alive out of a fight." "You must not forget," said the soldier, "that most of the men make no pretense at taking aim." "And I guess," suggested Dennis, "that most of them don't. They act like they were aiming at nothin' and trying to hit it."