He gave rapid orders to all his officers and aides, and in fifteen minutes the troops were aboard the train again, the cannon were lifted upon the trucks, Canby and his assistants had all steam up, and the train with its usual rattle and roar resumed its flight into the west.

Dick and Warner were in the first coach near Colonel Newcomb, ready for any commands that he might give.  Both had come through the defense of the ford without injury, although a bullet had gone through Dick’s coat without touching the skin.  Sergeant Whitley, too, was unharmed, but the regiment had suffered.  More than twenty dead were left in the valley for the enemy to bury.

Despite all the commands and efforts of the officers there was much excited talk in the train.  Boys were binding up wounds of other boys and were condoling with them.  But on the whole they were exultant.  Youth did not realize the loss of those who had been with them so little.  Scattered exclamations came to Dick: 

“We beat ’em off that time, an’ we can do it again.”

“Lucky though we had that little river before us.  Guess they’d have rode us right down with their horses if it hadn’t been for the stream an’ its banks.”

“Ouch, don’t draw that bandage so tight on my arm.  It ain’t nothin’ but a flesh wound.”

“I hate a battle in the dark.  Give me the good sunshine, where you can see what’s goin’ on.  My God, that you Bill!  I’m tremendous glad to see you!  I thought you was lyin’ still, back there in the grass!”

Dick said nothing.  He was in a seat next to the window, and his face was pressed against the rain-marked pane.  The rifle that he had picked up and used so well was still clutched, grimed with smoke, in his hands.  The train had not yet got up speed.  He caught glimpses of the river behind which they had fought, and which had served them so well as a barrier.  In fact, he knew that it had saved them.  But they had beaten off the enemy!  The pulses in his temples still throbbed from exertion and excitement, but his heart beat exultantly.  The bitterness of Bull Run was deep and it had lasted long, but here they were the victors.

The speed of the train increased and Dick knew that they were safe from further attack.  They were still running among mountains, clad heavily in forest, but a meeting with a second Southern force was beyond probability.  The first had made a quick raid on information supplied by spies in Washington, but it had failed and the way was now clear.

Ample food was served somewhat late to the whole regiment, the last wounds were bound up, and Dick, having put aside the rifle, fell asleep at last.  His head lay against the window and he slept heavily all through the night.  Warner in the next seat slept in the same way.  But the wise old sergeant just across the aisle remained awake much longer.  He was summing up and he concluded that the seven hundred lads had done well.  They were raw, but they were being whipped into shape.