The dead lay in windrows between the two armies which were waiting to
fight on the dawn. Dick and the colonel walked toward the field where
the corn had been waving high that morning, and where it was now mown by
cannon and rifles to the last stalk. In the edge of the wood the boy
paused and grasping the man suddenly by the arm pulled him back.
"Look! Look!" he exclaimed in a sharp whisper. "The Confederate
skirmishers! The woods are full of them! They are making ready for a
night attack!" Both he and Colonel Winchester sprang back behind a big
tree, sheltering themselves from a possible shot. But no sound came,
not even that of men creeping forward through the undergrowth. All they
heard was the moaning of the wind through the foliage. They waited,
and then the two looked at each other. The true reason for the
extraordinary silence had occurred to both at the same instant, and they
stepped from the shelter of the tree.
Awed and appalled, the man and the boy gazed at the silent forms which
lay row on row in the woods and in the shorn cornfield.
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