He felt that he could not be loved on earth or forgiven in heaven if he denied the petition of the dying rebel; but before he granted it, he assured himself that the sufferer had no dangerous weapon in his possession.

The man was deadly pale; one of his arms hung useless by his side; and he was covered with blood.

He was a terrible-looking object, and Tom felt sick and faint as he gazed upon him.
Placing his canteen at the lips of the poor wretch, he bade him drink.

His frame quivered as he clutched the canteen with his remaining hand.

The death damp was on his forehead; but his eye lighted up with new lustre as he drank the grateful beverage.
"God bless you! God bless you!" exclaimed he as he removed the canteen from his lips.