"For Heaven's sake, get me some water!" said a rebel, who was wounded in the leg, to a Zouave, who passed near him.
"You are a rebel, but I will do that for you," replied the Zouave; and he gave him a canteen filled with water.
The rebel drank a long, deep draught, and then levelled his musket at the head of his Samaritan enemy and fired. This transaction had occupied but a moment, and Tom saw the whole. His blood froze with horror at the unparalleled atrocity of the act. The Zouave, whom Tom had followed, uttered a terrible oath, and snatching the musket from the hands of the soldier boy, he rushed upon the soulless miscreant, and transfixed him upon the bayonet. Uttering fierce curses all the time, he plunged the bayonet again and again into the vitals of the rebel, till life was extinct.
"Boy, I used to be human once," said the Zouave, when he had executed this summary justice upon the rebel; "but I'm not human now. I'm all devil."
"What a wretch that rebel was!" exclaimed Tom, who seemed to breathe freer now that retribution had overtaken the viper.
"A wretch! Haven't you got any bigger word than that, boy? He was a fiend! But we mustn't stop here."
"Human? That isn't the first time to-day I've seen such a thing as that done. Come along, my boy; come along."
Tom followed the Zouave again; but he was too much exhausted to run any farther. Even the terrors of the Black Horse Cavalry could not inspire him with strength and courage to continue his flight at any swifter pace than a walk.
"Yes, you can; pull up! pull up! You will be taken if you stop here."
"I can't help it. I can go no farther. I am used up."
"But I don't want to leave you here. They'll murder you--cut your throat, like a dog."
"I will hide myself in the bushes till I get a little more strength."
"Try it a little longer. You are too good a fellow to be butchered like a calf," added the generous Zouave.
But it was no use to plead with him, for exhausted nature refused to support him, and he dropped upon the ground like a log.
"Poor fellow! I would carry you in my arms if I could."
"Save yourself if you can," replied Tom, faintly.
The kind-hearted fireman was sorry to leave him, but he knew that one who wore his uniform could expect no mercy from the rebels. They had been too terrible upon the battle-field to receive any consideration from those whom they had so severely punished. He was, therefore, unwilling to trust himself to the tender mercies of the cavalry, who were sweeping the fields to pick up prisoners; and after asking Tom's name and regiment, he reluctantly left him.