In the presence of such scenes the bitterness of the struggle was almost forgotten, and the eyes of the dead, that were staring upward so fixedly in the gray of the morning hour, neither expressed nor aroused any emotion except sorrow. Unaware of the cause, the young soldier's feelings were somewhat numb from the tension of the preceding hours. Even Levi now was almost forgotten and the husband of Sairy Ann's sister had faded from his thoughts. At last about ten o'clock, after many protests and much growling on the part of the boys in blue over what they were pleased to call an unnecessary delay, orders were received for the division to be marched toward Boonesborough. Noel and Dennis were marching side by side, but the most of their comrades were unknown. As the men advanced, Noel saw that the turnpike far ahead was filled with troops, artillery and wagons that were hurrying up the pass. The fields on either side were white with army wagons and far down the road that extended toward Frederick City a moving, living, advancing tide of men was pushing steadily forward. Suddenly some one broke into a song, and in a moment "Maryland, My Maryland" was taken up by the soldiers, although the words frequently changed to suit the feelings of the different singers. Even Noel, heavy-hearted as he was, smiled as he heard Dennis shouting, "_My_ Maryland," with special emphasis upon the "My." "Dennis, what are you doing?" inquired Noel as the line halted for a brief respite. "Singin', sor." "You call that singing, do you?" "Shure, and what is it, if it isn't singin'?" "That's what I wanted to find out. That was the reason why I asked my question. If you call it singing, why, I suppose I shall have to take your word for it." "'Tis a beautiful country," said Dennis as he surveyed the scene which extended far on either side. Fertile fields and a rolling plateau that terminated in the distant hills appeared doubly beautiful in the soft light of that September day. At their next halt, which was at the home of a family that proved to be loyal to the Union cause, the good woman of the house brought forth all the food she possessed and divided it among the soldiers. Laughingly she was telling some of the boys in blue of one of her own relatives who had been in her home two days before the battle of South Mountain. Apparently all that he feared was that the demoralized army of the North, which had been driven from the Peninsula and out of Virginia, could not now be induced to enter into a contest. "We are going to wipe them out this time, once and for all," the man had said. "And then for Philadelphia and New York! These Yankees will find out for the first time what war means when we get into their country! As for Maryland, we'll lose the last man before we'll retreat."