sweat, and burned gunpowder. The thunder of the Southern cannon behind
them filled him with humiliation. Every bone in him ached after such
fierce exertion, and his eyes were dim with the flare of cannon and
rifles and the rolling clouds of dust. He was scarcely conscious that
the thick and powerful sergeant had moved up by his side and had put a
helping hand under his arm.

"Here we are at the ford!" cried Whitley. "Into it, my lad! Ah,
how good the water feels!"

Dick, despite those warning guns behind him, would have remained a while
in Bull Run, luxuriating in the stream, but the crowd of his comrades
was pressing hard upon him, and he only had time to thrust his face into
the water and to pour it over his neck, arms, and shoulders. But he was
refreshed greatly. Some of the heat went out of his body, and his eyes
and head ached less.

The retreat continued across the rolling hills. Dick saw everywhere
arms and supplies thrown away by the fringe of a beaten army, the men
in the rear who saw and who spread the reports of panic and terror.
But the regiments were forming again into a cohesive force, and behind
them the regulars and cavalry in firm array still challenged pursuit.
Heavy firing was heard again under the horizon and word came that the
Southern cavalry had captured guns and wagons, but the main division
maintained its slow retreat toward Washington.

Now the cool shadows were coming. The sun, which had shown as red as
blood over the field that day, was sinking behind the hills. Its fiery
rays ceased to burn the faces of the men. A soft healing breeze stirred
the leaves and grass. The river of Bull Run and the field of Manassas