“Who were killed, and who were wounded?  I haven’t heard a word about the affair, you know,” asked Tom.

“Sergeant Bradford was wounded and taken prisoner.  Sergeant Brown was hit by a shell, but not hurt much.  The second lieutenant was wounded in the foot, and—­”

A loud laugh from the men interrupted the statement.

“What are you laughing at?” demanded Tom.

“He resigned,” added Bob Dornton, chuckling.

“You said he was wounded?”

“I didn’t say so; the lieutenant said so himself, and hobbled about with a big cane for a week; but as soon as his resignation was accepted, he threw away his stick, and walked as well as ever he could.”

The boys all laughed heartily, and seemed to enjoy the joke prodigiously.  Tom thought it was a remarkable cure, though the remedy was one which no decent man would be willing to adopt.

“How’s Captain Benson?”

“He’s better; he felt awful bad because he wasn’t in that battle.  The colonel has gone home, sick.  He has more pluck than body.  He was sun-struck, and dropped off his horse, like a dead man, on the field.  It’s a great pity he hasn’t twice or three times as much body; if he had, he’d make a first-rate officer.”

It was now Tom’s turn to relate his adventures; and he modestly told his story.  His auditors were deeply interested in his narrative, and when he had finished, it was unanimously voted that Tom was a “trump;” which I suppose means nothing more than that he was a smart fellow—­a position which no one who has read his adventures will be disposed to controvert.

A long period of comparative inactivity for the regiment followed the battle of Bull Run.  General McClellan had been called from the scene of his brilliant operations in Western Virginia, to command the army of the Potomac, and he was engaged in the arduous task of organizing the vast body of loyal troops that rushed forward to sustain the government in this dark hour of peril.

While at Bladensburg the —­th regiment with three others were formed into a brigade, the command of which was given to Hooker—­a name then unknown beyond the circle of his own friends.

About the first of November the brigade was sent to Budd’s Ferry, thirty miles below Washington, on the Potomac, to watch the rebels in that vicinity.  The enemy had, by this time, closed the river against the passage of vessels to the capital, by erecting batteries at various places, the principal of which were at Evansport, Shipping Point, and Cockpit Point.  Budd’s Ferry was a position in the vicinity of these works, and the brigade was employed in picketing the river, to prevent the enemy on the other side from approaching, and also to arrest the operations of the viler traitors on this side, who were attempting to send supplies to the rebels.