It seemed as if
they slept, but Dick knew that all were dead. He and Colonel Winchester
gazed again at each other and shuddering turned away lest they disturb
the sleep of the dead.
When they returned to a position behind the guns they heard others coming
in with equally terrible tales. A sunken lane that ran between the
hostile lines was filled to the brim with dead. Boys, yet in their teens,
with nerves completely shattered for the time, chattered hysterically of
what they had seen. The Antietam was still running red. Both Lee and
Stonewall Jackson had been killed and the whole Confederate army would be
taken in the morning. Some said, on the other hand, that the Southerners
still had a hundred thousand men, and that McClellan would certainly be
beaten the next day, if he did not retreat in time.
None of the talk, either of victory or defeat, made any impression upon
Dick. His senses were too much dulled by all through which he had gone.
Words no longer meant anything. Although the night was warm he began to
shiver, as if he were seized with a chill.
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