MY LADY OF THE SOUTH
horribly as I first attempted to move my body. Above me was the black breech of the gun, and my extended hand touched the single wheel upholding it, the spokes ragged from splinters. It hurt me so desperately to turn over that I remained motionless for a long time, staring straight up at the sky, listening intently for each sound, and endeavoring to think. In a measure the situation soon became sufficiently clear—that fierce charge of the enemy had reached us unchecked, and we had lost the guns. Of this there could be no doubt; but what more? Had we also lost the battle?
How deadly still the night was; not a shot echoing anywhere, not a footstep, not a voice; only that awful gurgling breathing yonder to the left. One of my feet pressed against a body, and I moved it carefully, although even this slight action resulted in a sharp twinge of pain. I could perceive another form huddled in a shapeless heap against the wheel, and, as my hand reached out groping toward the right, it touched an ice-cold face. Someway my ordinarily reckless nerve had totally deserted me, and I drew back shuddering, a nameless fear clutching at my heart. I was afraid to ascertain the truth. Had I been badly injured? Was I crippled for life? To my mind that would have been far worse than death, and had ever been my dread in battle. Now I feared the reality had reached me. At length, mustering sufficient courage for the effort, my teeth clinched in final determination to know the worst, I endeavored to feel along my side where the twinges of pain seemed most severe, but only to discover my rough woollen shirt stiff from congealed blood.
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