It was all over--'an affair of
out-posts.'
The line was re-established with fresh men, the
roll called, the stragglers were re-formed. The Fed-
eral commander, with a part of his staff, imperfectly
clad, appeared upon the scene, asked a few ques-
tions, looked exceedingly wise and retired. After
standing at arms for an hour the brigade in camp
'swore a prayer or two' and went to bed.
Early the next morning a fatigue-party, com-
manded by a captain and accompanied by a surgeon,
searched the ground for dead and wounded. At the
fork of the road, a little to one side, they found two
bodies lying close together--that of a Federal of-
ficer and that of a Confederate private. The officer
had died of a sword-thrust through the heart, but
not, apparently, until he had inflicted upon his
enemy no fewer than five dreadful wounds. The dead
officer lay on his face in a pool of blood, the weapon
still in his heart. They turned him on his back and
the surgeon removed it.
'Gad!' said the captain--'It is Byring!'--add-
ing, with a glance at the other, 'They had a tough
tussle.'
The surgeon was examining the sword. It was that
of a line officer of Federal infantry--exactly like the
one worn by the captain. It was, in fact, Byring's
own. The only other weapon discovered was an un-
discharged revolver in the dead officer's belt.
The surgeon laid down the sword and approached
the other body.
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