Those with whom he had spoken told him they had eaten nothing since morning; and in this respect he was far better off than his companions were.  The only thing that troubled him was the thought of the anguish which his mother must suffer, when she heard of the battle.  When the regiment should be gathered together again, he would be reported as “missing,” and this would be a terrible word to her, for it meant killed, wounded, or a prisoner.  If he could only assure her that he still lived and was uninjured, he would have been happy—­happy in spite of the drenching rain—­happy in spite of the prospective dungeon, and the hardships to which he might be subjected.  He felt that he had faithfully performed his duty.  When he began to be drowsy, he settled himself in the most comfortable place he could find on the ground, and thanked God that he had been spared his life through the perils of that awful day, and more fervently that he had been enabled to do his duty like a good soldier; and then, with the Giver of all Good, the Fountain of all Mercy, in his heart, he fell asleep.

He slept several hours, and waked up to find himself as thoroughly soaked as though he had just come out of the river.  There was no help for it, and it was no use to grumble.  After walking to and fro for half an hour, he lay down again, and, between sleeping and waking, finished the night; uncomfortably, it is true, and yet without any positive suffering.  There were hundreds, if not thousands, who were enduring the agony of fearful wounds through that long night; who were lying alone and uncared for where they had fallen in the deadly strife; who were dying every hour, away from their homes and friends, and with no kind hand to minister to their necessities, with no sweet voice of a loved one to smooth their passage down to the dark, cold grave.

Tom thought of these, for he had seen them in his path, and he felt that he had no cause to complain—­that he ought to be cheerful and happy.  At the dawn of the day he and his fellow-prisoners were marched to Sudley Church, where they were to be confined until they could be sent to Richmond.  Here Tom found a captain belonging to his regiment; but neither could give any information to the other in regard to their friends.

“I shall not stay here long,” said the captain, in a whisper, when they had become better acquainted.  “I intend to leave to-night.”

“Can’t I go with you?” asked Tom.

“You can go, but we had better not go together.”

Tom thought for a while, and determined upon an attempt to escape.  During the day, he carefully examined the premises, and decided upon his mode of operations.

CHAPTER XVI.

A perplexing question.