The roar of battle had ceased, and the calm of death seemed to have settled upon the scene of strife.

Tom's bones still ached; but he was wonderfully refreshed by the nap he had taken.

He had no idea of the time, and could not tell whether he had slept one hour or six.

He was strong enough to walk now, and the first consideration was to escape from the vicinity of the rebel camps; but he had no conception of where he was, or what direction would lead him to the Federal lines.
A kind Providence had watched over him thus far; had spared his life in the fury of battle; had fed him in the wilderness, like Elijah of old; and restored his wasted strength.

He could only trust to Providence for guidance, and, using his best judgment in choosing the direction, he entered upon the difficult task of finding his way out of the woods.