The long
drouth would be broken, but whether by natural change or so much firing
Colonel Winchester did not know. Despite the lateness of the season dim
lightning was seen on the horizon. The great heat was broken by a cool
wind that began to blow from the northwest.
The five advanced in silence, the two men and the boy still leading and
the two women following close behind. Colonel Winchester's heart began
to sink yet farther. He had not felt much hope at first, and now he felt
scarcely any at all. A few moments later, however, the sergeant suddenly
held up his hand.
"What is it?" asked the colonel.
"I think I hear somebody calling."
"Like as not. Plenty of wounded men may be calling in delirium."
"But, colonel, I've been on battlefields before, and this sounds like the
voice of some one calling for help."
"Which way do you think it is?"
"To the left and not far off. It's a weak voice."
"We'll turn and follow it. Don't say anything to the others yet."
They curved and walked on, the colonel swinging his lantern from side to
side, and now all of them heard the voice distinctly.
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