The second day dragged onward, its hours bringing no change for the

better, no relief, no slightest ray of hope. The hot sun scorched them

pitilessly, and two of the wounded died delirious. From dawn to dark

there came no slackening of the savage watchfulness which held the

survivors helpless behind their coverts. The merest uplifting of a

head, the slightest movement of a hand, was sufficient to demonstrate

how sharp were those savage eyes. No white man in the short

half-circle dared to waste a single shot now; all realized that their

stock of ammunition was becoming fearfully scant, yet those scheming

devils continually baited them to draw their fire.

Another long black night followed, during which, for an hour or so in

turn, the weary defenders slept, tossing uneasily, and disturbed by

fearful dreams. Then gray and solemn, amid the lingering shadows of

darkness, dawned the third dread day of unequal conflict. All

understood that it was destined to be their last on this earth unless

help came. It seemed utterly hopeless to protract the struggle, yet

they held on grimly, patiently, half-delirious from hunger and thirst,

gazing into each other's haggard faces, almost without recognition,

every man at his post. Then it was that old Gillis received his

death-wound, and the solemn, fateful whisper ran from lip to lip along

the scattered line that only five cartridges remained.

For two days Wyman had scarcely stirred from where he lay bolstered

against the rock. Sometimes he became delirious from fever, uttering

incoherent phrases, or swearing in pitiful weakness. Again he would

partially arouse to his old sense of soldierly duty, and assume

intelligent command. Now he twisted painfully about upon his side,

and, with clouded eyes, sought to discern what man was lying next him.

The face was hidden so that all he could clearly distinguish was the

fact that this man was not clothed as a soldier.

"Is that you, Hampton?" he questioned, his voice barely audible.

The person thus addressed, who was lying flat upon his back, gazing

silently upward at the rocky front of the cliff, turned cautiously over

upon his elbow before venturing reply.

"Yes; what is it, sergeant? It looks to be a beauty of a morning way

up yonder."

There was a hearty, cheery ring to his clear voice which left the

pain-racked old soldier envious.

"My God!" he growled savagely. "'T is likely to be the last any of us

will ever see. Was n't it you I heard whistling just now? One might

imagine this was to be a wedding, rather than a funeral."




readonlinefreebook.com Copyright 2016 - 2024