The field in front of him darkened greatly, but he saw lights moving
there, and he knew that they belonged to little parties from either army
looking for the wounded. He began to wonder which side had won the
battle.
"Ohio," he said to one of the Ohio lads who lay near, "did we lick the
Johnnies, or did the Johnnies lick us?"
"Blessed if I know, and I don't care much, either. Four fellows that I
used to play with at school were killed right beside me. It was my first
battle, and, Oh, I tell you, it was awful!"
He gulped suddenly and began to cry. Pennington, who was no older than
he, patted him soothingly on the shoulder.
"I know that you were the bravest of the brave, because I saw you,"
he said.
"I don't know about that, but I do know that I can never get used to
killing men and seeing them killed."
Pennington was surprised that Dick and Warner had not appeared. They
would certainly rejoin their own regiment, and he began to feel uneasy.
The last shot had been fired, the night was darkening fast and a mournful
wind blew over the battlefield.
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