His eyes filled; his whole soul was moved with
compassion, while he half forgot that he himself was one of them.
How much were the consolations of God needed here! how few, comparatively,
possessed them. But some there were who did, and were trying to impart
them to others. Should he stay and share in this good work? Perhaps he
ought; he almost thought so for a moment; but he remembered his country's
need; he had enlisted for the war; he must return to active service, if he
could.
Then his eye fell upon Harold. Here was a noble life to be saved; a life
that would inevitably be lost to friends, relatives, country, by but a few
weeks' longer sojourn in this horrible place. Duncan's determination was
taken: with the help of God the morning light should find them both free
and far on their way towards the Union lines.
"We'll try it, comrades, to-night," he said aloud.
"So we will," they answered with determination.
A man came staggering towards them, gesticulating wildly and swearing
horrible oaths.
"He is crazed with hunger, poor fellow," remarked Harold.
Duncan was gazing steadily at the man who had now sunk panting upon the
ground, exhausted by his own violence. Evidently he had once possessed
more than an ordinary share of physical beauty, but vice and evil passions
had set their stamp upon his features, and famine had done its ghastly
work; he was but a wreck of his former self.
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