Shortly afterwards the firing ceased for a while, and there came a courier with orders to fall back to the main line, a distance of over twelve hundred yards to the rear.  It had, doubtless, become evident to General Lee that Hooker had crossed the river in sufficient force to advance.

The retreating column had not proceeded far when it met the noble youth, his canteens all filled with water, returning to the sufferers, who were still lying in the distant trenches.  The eyes of the soldier-boy, who had oftentimes tenderly and lovingly gazed upon the war-worn and faded flag floating over the ranks, now saw it not.  The troops, in their hurry to obey orders and owing, probably, to the heavy mist that surrounded them, had overlooked or forgotten the colors.

On sped the color-bearer back to the trenches to relieve the thirst of his wounded companions as well as to save the honor of his regiment by rescuing its colors.

His mission of mercy was soon accomplished.  The wounded men drank freely, thanked and blessed him.  And now to seize the flag and double-quick back to his regiment was the thought and act of a moment.  But hardly had he gone ten paces from the ditch when a company of Federal soldiers appeared ascending the hill.  The voice of an officer sternly commanded him to “Halt and surrender!” The morning sun, piercing with a lurid glare the dense mist, reveals a hundred rifles levelled at his breast.  One moment more and his soul is to pass into eternity, for his answer is, “Never while I hold these colors.”

But why is he not fired upon?  Why do we still see him with the colors flying above his head, now beyond the reach of rifle-balls, when but a moment before he could have been riddled with bullets?  And now, see I he enters proudly but breathlessly the ranks, and receives the congratulations of his friends in loud acclaim.

The answer comes, because of the generous act of the Federal officer in command of that company.  When this noble officer saw that the love of honor was far dearer to the youth than life, in the impulse of a magnanimous heart he freely gave him both in the word of command,—­

“Bring back your pieces, men! don’t shoot that brave boy!”

Such nobility of character and such a generous nature as that displayed by this officer, must ever remain a living monument to true greatness; and should these lines perchance meet his eyes, let him know and feel the proud satisfaction that the remembrance of his noble deed is gratefully cherished, and forever engraved in the heart of the soldier-boy in gray.

CHAPTER V.

SALLY’S RIDE.