Hev ye seed him any whar ?" "No," said Rachel, unable to restrain her tears.
"Now, honey, don't cry for me--don't," said Aunt Debby, pulling the young face down to where she could kiss it.

"Hit's jest ez I want hit.
On'y let me know thet Bragg is whipt, an' I die happy." All day Thursday the two bruised armies lay and confronted each other, as two bulldogs, which have torn and mangled one another, will stop for a few minutes, to lick their hurts and glare their hatred, while they regain breath to carry on the fight.
Friday morning it was the same, but there was a showing of teeth and a rising fierceness as the day grew older, which was very portentous.
While standing at the door of the cabin Rachel had seen Harry Glen march down the bank at the head of the regiment, and cross the ford to the heights in front of Breckenridge.

She picked up a field-glass that lay on a shelf near, and followed the movements of the force the regiment had joined.
"What d' ye see, honey ?" called out Aunt Debby.

She was becoming very fearful that she would die before the victory was won.
"Our people," answered Rachel, "seem to be concentrating in front of Breckenridge.

There must be a division over there.