"G.o.d bless you, comrade!" he whispered. "You've lightened many a burden for us all since you came among us. I trust you and I may be spared to meet again."

Then G. W. saw the tall form of the best friend he had on earth pa.s.s out of the tent, and fade away into the confusion and unreality of the moonlit night.

VII.

THE BATTLE ON THE HILL-TOP.

A strange atmosphere hung over the camp, an air of expectant waiting.

The sick men tossed upon their beds bewailing their inability to be up and doing, and calling feverishly for "news!" But no news came; nothing to break the dismal monotony.

Everybody utilized G. W. The cook taught him to cook, and the nurses made him useful. The sick men smiled up at him as their only diversion.

It was well for the boy that his days were filled with labor, and that he was too utterly weary at night to stay awake long. His dreams were filled far oftener than his waking thoughts with visions of the Colonel.

His dreams were always happy ones--then the Colonel appeared well and jolly as G. W. had first known him. The little fellow hailed bed-time as the release from wretchedness.

"Now, then!" he would say to himself, as his lids grew heavy, "now I'se goin' ter see my Colonel Austin!" Sometimes he would laugh aloud in his sleep, so very jolly was he, but there was no one to hear the sound in the empty tent. Little G. W. had no folks now. His only good-night was the bugle-call, "All lights out!"

But in the trenches at the front a brave man always included G. W. in his loving thoughts of home and dear ones; and up North the Mother and the Boy ended their evening prayer, "G.o.d bless Daddy and G. W. Keep them safe and bring them home to us very soon!"

No one questioned G. W.'s goings and comings. If any thought was given, it was that he was probably obeying orders which Colonel Austin had left, and that he was proving himself a blessing where most boys would have been an annoyance and burden.

So one day when he sauntered away from the cl.u.s.ter of tents, no one asked him where he was bound, or how soon he would be back. He pa.s.sed along walking very straight as became a uniformed soldier, whistling a march-tune, now and then interrupting himself to introduce a clear flute-like note.

Something had happened to G. W. The day was oppressively hot, but his languor and sadness had vanished. He felt strong and happy; everything was beautiful, life was full of keen interest.

"I 'low somethin' is goin' ter occur!" he said to himself; "I has feelin's like my mammy used ter have. Sure's I'se a-walkin' here, the front is off dere 'yond de hill! Dat's whar de Colonel always went, an'

dat's why he fix de top like a stun wall fur me. I 'clar I'se goin' up ter jes' look. What's I worth if I doan't take some chances ter find out news 'bout my Colonel Austin? Lawd! it seems like forty-seben years since he done walk away like a dream!"

Now, strange to say, before G. W. had started on this tramp, besides donning his entire uniform, he had taken his gun, a small but perfect one that some of the officers had given him as a reward for excellent target-shooting; and also he had filled his canteen with water in true soldier fashion.

Under the blazing sun his hot coat and trousers became almost unendurable, and except for his new feeling of strength and joyousness, his precious gun would have become a burden.

Suddenly he stood still, and his face became rapt and eager. He gazed up to the tall trees under which he stood.

"I'se clean forgot 'bout dat 'chance' ob mine fur ages; but, Lawd! jes'

s'pose it should come to-day!" he gasped. The remembrance that his mammy had said that if he wanted to be a hero he would have the "chance"

filled him with a wild delight. For a moment he could not move, so great was his glad feeling--then with a cheery whistle he plodded on straight toward his hill-top. It was an unlikely spot for "chances." It was too near camp for the foe to be there; but irresistibly G. W.'s feet carried him forward.

Overcome at length by the heat, G. W. reached the summit, only to sink down at once in the tangle of bushes and pant and puff. But after a while he revived; and then peering through the undergrowth he gazed down upon the plain below that stretched beyond his limit.

What had happened since last he had seen the spot? Was he dreaming, or actually looking down upon something that was really taking place? G. W.

stood up and steadying himself against a tree continued to gaze and gaze below.

There was a big rude tent, with all sides open. Within was a long table around which figures moved restlessly or stood strangely still. Wagons were rolling up to this tent bringing burdens which turned poor little G. W. ill as he realized what they were. They were men! Sick or wounded men! Ready hands lifted the limp forms from the carts and laid them in long rows upon the ground; then, over and over again, as the fear-filled little watcher on the hill strained his eyes, he saw a man singled out from the lines and borne to the table. G. W. grew chill under the blazing sun as he looked, not comprehending what it meant.

"I can't--think--what--dat--means!" he said aloud; "'pears like I am habin' a dream standin' up out-doors wid my clo'es on. Lawd!

how--I--does--wish--I--knew--what--dat--dar--means!"

The poor little fellow rubbed his head in a hopeless, forlorn way, while his heart beat fast and chokingly. Suddenly it came to him; like a flash the meaning became clear.

There had been a battle! They were bringing in the dead and wounded from the front to that fearsome spot below. Then G. W. shuddered as a new thought broke upon his brain. Perhaps his Colonel was there! The sudden idea took the form of a frenzy. He flung his arms up with a wild gesture, and then, alone on the hill-top, there was a battle on for G.

W.--an exceedingly hard battle.

"Obey!" cried Honor; "'tis the thing you are called to do! 'Tis the thing you have promised!"

"But the Colonel may lie in the long row," pleaded Love; "no one near him to tend just him; no one to give him a drink or hold his head or his hand; to follow him and stay by him. He is just one of a row!"

G. W.'s sad little face turned gray.

"You promised!" Honor admonished. "He trusted you, with no doubt of your obedience!"

"But they may have forgotten him. He may be lying out on the battle-field--and no one could find him as surely as you!" Love sobbed in his ears.

With a pitiful moan, the little body-guard gave up his promise! A disobedient, loving little black boy sped down from the hill-top, on the forbidden side, sobbing and crying. He flung all but his love for the Colonel to the hot winds. He might be shot, he might lose his way endlessly, but he must go.

With a bitter cry he flung off his coat and cap as he ran. The honor of a soldier's uniform was no longer for him. He paused only to take the precious up-North letter out of the pocket and crush it into his shirt front.

VIII.

THE COLONEL'S BODY-GUARD

Tossing his canteen across his shoulder, and seizing his gun, G. W. tore on down the hill straight toward the gruesome place below, and right into it. No one noticed him. The surgeons were too busy to look up as he ran around the table scanning the faces upon the boards. The men carrying the helpless burdens, or ministering to their wants, had no time to question why a little black boy should suddenly be in among them.

He made sure that he had looked into every face, and then, with a feeling of relief, was about to turn away from the sad scene, when a weak voice stopped him.

"G. W.! Thank G.o.d! Come here!"

G. W. turned; there upon a blanket under a tree waiting for his turn to be taken to the table was the boy who but a few days before in camp had told him that war was "mighty near." War had indeed drawn near in haste, and poor young Corporal Jack had gone down before the enemy's fire.

"The Colonel," gasped Corporal Jack, as G. W. came and bent over him; "he was shot, too. We fell side by side. We crawled back, but when the wagon came he made them take me; there was only room for one. He's a mile back on the roadside. G. W., get help and go for him, and tell him G.o.d bless him!"

The weak voice ceased, for the men had come to carry him to the table.

He tried to wave cheerfully to G. W., but the effort caused him to faint, and G. W. started away, trying to comprehend what he had heard.

"My Colonel's a mile back on the roadside!" That was all little G. W.

had for a guide. But had his Colonel been a hundred miles back, it would have made no difference to his body-guard. There was but one aim in G.

W.'s heart: to reach his Colonel, and save him for the Boy and the Mother up North!

On he ran, grasping his little gun in a rigid clutch. He forgot to implore aid from those he met as he rushed. Over the rough trail he sped like a deer. The fearful, ugly, swarming land-crabs scurried away from before him. "Colonel!" he sobbed, "fore de Lawd, Colonel, where is you?

I'se a-comin', Colonel!--jes' you hold on!"