When the last of the Southern regiments disappeared in the deep woods, Dick and many of those around him sank exhausted upon the ground. Even had they been ordered to follow they would have been incapable of it. Complete nervous collapse followed such days and nights as those through which they had passed.
Nor did Grant and Buell wish to pursue. Their armies had been too terribly shaken to make another attack. Nearly fifteen thousand of their men had fallen and the dead and wounded still lay scattered widely through the woods. The South had lost almost as many. Nearly a third of her army had been killed or wounded in the battle, and yet they retired in good order, showing the desperate valor of these sons of hers.
The double army which had saved itself, but which had yet been unable to destroy its enemy, slept that night in the recovered camp. The generals discussed in subdued tones their narrow escape, and the soldiers, who now understood very well what had happened, talked of it in the same way.
“We knew that it was going to be a big war,” said Dick, “but it’s going to be far bigger than we thought.”
“And we won’t make that easy parade down to the Gulf,” said Warner. “I’m thinking that a lot of lions are in the path.”
“But we’ll win!” said Dick. “In the end we’ll surely win!”
Then after dreaming a little with his eyes open he fell asleep, gathering new strength for mighty campaigns yet to come.
The End