“What!”

“Yes,” said he; “all these great events required more than eight months.”

“More than a year!” I exclaimed; “what year is this?”

“Here is my record,” said he; “here is yesterday’s record.”

He opened it at a page opposite which was a blank page.  The written page was headed June 3,1862.  Below the heading were written some eight or ten names,—­Private Such-a-one, of Company A or B, such a regiment; Corporal Somebody of another regiment, and so on.  Upon one line there was nothing written except B.  Jones.

Then the doctor brought me a newspaper, and showed me the date.  The paper was the Richmond Examiner; the date, Wednesday, June 4, 1862.

“This is to-day’s paper,” said the doctor.

I laughed.

He continued:  “Yes, war has been going on for more than a year.  The great effort of the United States army is to take Richmond, and the Confederates have an army here to defend Richmond.  Here,” he added, “I will show you.”

He went to the door of the tent and held back the canvas on both sides.

“Look!”

I looked with all my eyes.  My vision was limited to a narrow latitude.  I could see tents, their numbers increasing as perspective broadened the view.  I could see many men passing to and fro.

“You see a little of it,” said he; “the lines extend for miles.”

I did not laugh.  My hands for the first time went up to my face; I wanted to hide my eyes from a mental flash too dazzling and too false; at once my hands fell back.

I had found a beard on my face, where there had been none before.

XXI

ONE MORE CONFEDERATE

     “Thy mind and body are alike unfit
     To trust each other, for some hours, at least;
     When thou art better, I will be thy guide—­
          But whither?”—­BYRON.

I awoke from an uneasy sleep, superinduced, I thought, by the surgeon’s repeated potions.  My head was light and giddy, but the pain had almost gone.  My stomach was craving food.

It was night.  Candles were burning on a low table in the middle of the tent.  The pallets, other than mine, had disappeared; my dream had changed; the tent seemed larger.

The doctor and two strange men were sitting by the table.  I had heard them talking before I opened my eyes.

“I should like to have him, Frank.”

Then the doctor’s voice said:  “I have made inquiry of every adjutant in the brigade, and no such man seems to be missing.  But he knows that he is from South Carolina—­in fact, his buttons are sufficient proof of that.  Then the diary found in his pocket shows the movements of no other brigade than Gregg’s.  Take him into your company, Captain.”

“Can I do that without some authority?”

“You can receive him temporarily; when he is known, he will be called for, and you can return him to his company.”