Warner, his comrade, knitted to him by ties of hardship and danger, was missing, dead no doubt in the battle.

For the moment he forgot about the defeat.

All his thoughts were for the brave youth who lay out there somewhere, stretched on the dusty field.
Dick strained his eyes into the darkness, as if by straining he might see where Warner lay.

He saw, indeed, dim fires here and there along a long line, marking where the Confederates now stood, or rather lay.

Then a bitter pang came.