WHAT CAME OF IT ALL.
When we found him, he was lying completely covered by the body of the
elder boy, and if we had not come up when we did, he must have been
suffocated. The sergeant of the firing party, a rough brute, who was
captured, and who explained the matter to us and pointed out the boys,
said, with tears in his eyes, that he had never seen such a piece of
heroism. Ephraim had evidently caught sight of some of our men in the
wood, and knew that in a moment or two the fight must begin. At the same
time he believed that the movement would be too late to stop the fire of
the platoon, and even as the word was upon the sergeant’s lips, flung
himself in front of Lucius, deliberately offering his own life to save
that of his friend. As a matter of fact, all his wounds are from our men
and in the back; but for all that, they are as glorious as any received
in front by our brave fellows to-day.’
‘“Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for
his friend.” It was splendid!’
The full, earnest voice stirred a faint memory in Luce’s dull brain. He
looked wearily up into the kind face bent anxiously over him. ‘My
General!’ he murmured, and closed his eyes again.
Stonewall Jackson laid his hand caressingly upon the fair, curly head.
‘Poor fellow!’ he said. ‘Will he pull through, doctor, do you think?’
‘Oh yes; I trust so,’ replied the surgeon. ‘His ankle is badly
shattered, and he will limp for the rest of his days; but I think we
shall be able to save the foot.’
‘And Ephraim?’ asked the General.
‘Ah!’
The mournful sigh smote heavily on Luce’s ear. He was still drowsy and
stupid from the combined effect of shock and the chloroform which had
been administered to him before the ball had been extracted from his
leg; but at the sound of that dreary monosyllable his senses quickened,
he opened his eyes again, and looked vacantly round.
For an instant the unfamiliar surroundings of the field hospital
confused him; but in a flash full consciousness returned, the whole of
the terrible scene in which he had lately borne a part rose before him,
and with a shriek he struggled up on his mattress, supporting himself
upon his hands.
‘Ephraim! Ephraim!’ he wailed. ‘Where are you? You are not dead. You
can’t be dead. Oh, and you died for me!’
Then, as his eyes fell upon something stretched beside him, very calm
and still, he writhed round, regardless of the pain of his wound, and
flung himself upon the quiet form, raining tears and kisses upon the
white, pathetic face.
Was it a dream? The pale lips parted in a feeble smile, and a weak
voice, almost drowned in the groans of the wounded and dying, whispered
faintly: ‘Hold up, Luce! Keep up yer sperrits! I’ll git ye thar!’
* * * * *
It was the fall of 1862, and the tender light of the exquisite Indian
summer lay on the deep Virginian woods and glorified the rolling hills
of the Blue Ridge. In a secluded part of the beautiful grounds of
Markham Hall, a tall, thin young man, with a white, wasted face,
reclined in a comfortable wheel-chair, dreamily enjoying the warm
sunshine, and inhaling the fragrance of the ripe, red apples that hung
from the laden boughs in the orchard.
Presently a fair-haired boy came through the trees. In one hand he bore
a bowl of broth, and with the other he supported himself upon a stick as
he limped along.
‘Hello, Grizzly!’ cried the new-comer. ‘How do you feel now? Here’s your
soup. Aren’t you ready for it?’
‘I reckon!’ answered Ephraim, smiling in his own old way. ‘Ef this
weather holds, I’ll be around agen in no time. My! It’s jest glorious
ter be hyar. But what a lot of trouble I’m givin’ ye all, Luce. I ain’t
wuth it, ye know.’
Still thinking of others and careless of himself, the grand old Grizzly.
Lucius flushed deeply.
‘See here, Grizzly,’ he said, setting down the bowl upon a rustic table,
and placing his arm affectionately round his friend’s neck, ‘don’t you
ever say that again. If there is anything good enough for you in the
wide world, the Markhams have got to find it out. Just you remember
that. Where should I be to-day if it hadn’t been for you? Lying under
the ground alongside that pesky colonel, as you called him.’ Then as
Ephraim was silent, he went on: ‘I can’t do much, you know, Grizzly, for
I’m only a boy, and a lame one at that; but I’ve got a piece of news for
you, just to show that we are not ungrateful. Father has arranged with
Mr Coulter that, as soon as you are able for it, you are to go into the
works as assistant mechanical engineer. Then, when the war is through,
he’s going to send you to college, so the loss of the pile doesn’t
matter after all. Meantime, till you go to college, you are to live with
us.’
Ephraim’s great eyes swam in tears. He caught Luce’s hand in both his
own and fondled it.
‘Shucks! Luce,’ he muttered brokenly. ‘What a fuss ter make about a
little thing. I han’t never took any count er thet, seein’ it war done
fer you.’
THE END.
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TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES
1. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.
2. Archaic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings retained as printed.
3. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.