The Northern left wing had been
driven back, but the Northern right wing had held firm against every
attack of the enemy.
Pennington, when he lay panting on the ground with the remnant of the
Winchesters, knew little about the result of the combat. He knew that
their own division had suffered terribly. The Ohio recruits had been cut
almost to pieces, and the Winchester regiment had been reduced by half
again. He was so tired that he did not believe he could stir for a long
time. He felt no wound, but every bone ached from weariness, and his
throat and mouth seemed to burn with smoke and dust.
Pennington did not see either Dick or Warner, but as soon as he got a
little strength into his limbs he would look for them. No doubt they
were safe. A special providence always watched over those fellows.
It was true that Warner had been wounded at the Second Manassas, but a
hidden power had guided Dick to him, and he got well so fast that he was
able to fight soon afterward at Antietam.
Pennington lay still, and he heard all around him the deep breathing
of men who, like himself, were so worn that they could scarcely move.
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