Won't somebody tell General McClellan how brave they were?
If he knew, he would never leave them here." The Lancers looked down at her miserably as they rode; Colonel Arran passed her, saluting, but with heavy, flushed face averted; Berkley, burning with fever, leaned from his saddle, cap in hand.
"We can't help it, Sister.

The same thing may happen to us in an hour.

But we'll surely come back; you never must doubt that!" Farther on they came on a broken-down ambulance, the mules gone, several dead men half buried in the wet straw, and two Sisters of Charity standing near by in pallid despair.
Colonel Arran offered them lead-horses, but they were timid and frightened; and Burgess gave his horse to the older one, and Berkley took the other up behind him, where she sat sideways clutching his belt, white coiffe aflutter, feet dangling.
At noon the regiment halted for forage and rations procured from a waggon train which had attempted to cross their line of march.

The rain ceased: a hot sun set their drenched clothing and their horses' flanks steaming.

At two o'clock they resumed their route; the ragged, rain-blackened pennons on the lance heads dried out scarlet; a hot breeze set in, carrying with it the distant noise of battle.
All that afternoon the heavy sound of the cannonade jarred their ears.