possible, but not so quickly that they could avoid grazing my skin."

Dick and Pennington laughed. Warner's fooling amused them and relieved
the painful tension of their minds.

"But, George," said Pennington, "suppose one of the bullets failed to
turn aside and killed you. What could we say then for you?"

"That it was a silly, ignorant bullet not knowing whence it came, or
where it was going. Ah, there's light in the darkness! Look across the
hill and see that shining flame!"

Dick rose and then the three walked to the brow of the hill, where
Colonel Winchester stood, using his glasses as well as he could in the
dusk.

"It's the pine forest on fire in places," he said. "The shells did it,
and it's been burning for some time, spreading until it has now come into
our own sight."

But they were detached fires, and they did not fuse into a general mass
at any time. Clumps of trees burnt steadily like vast torches and sent
up high flames. Bands of men from either side worked silently, removing
as many of the wounded as they could. It was a spontaneous movement,
as happened so often in this war, and Dick and his comrades took a part
in it.

North and South met in friendliness in the darkness or by the light of
the burning pines, and talked freely as they lifted up their wounded.
Dick asked often about Colonel Kenton, meeting at last some Kentuckians,