“I’ve just got an awful gut-ache, from hurrying so … This is Fisher. He’s from here; Penn college. We got cut off.” He took a deep, shivering breath. “Ran into them, three or four miles out. God,” he sobbed suddenly, anguished and bitter, “you ought to see them! We haven’t got any soldiers like those.”

“Is anyone killed?”

The Fisher boy nodded. “Guess so. It all happened so quick. The regiment retreated up toward Whitmers’ farm, with most of the rebs chasing them. Those gray sons a’ bitches gobbled up most of Company B. The boys were yelling I surrender, I surrender, I won’t shoot, you got us. It was terrible. Huddlestone and I got chased off, over past some bushes.”

“We laid low,” Elijah gasped. “Then we watched our chance and cut for it. Nobody saw us, I guess. But the regiment’ll be dead or cut to pieces by night.”

Dan cried, “Take off those uniforms, right away! I’ll get you some other clothes. The rebels won’t know, if they come—”

Huddlestone shook his head. He grasped the two lower shelves on either side, and pulled himself up. He scraped around in the corner for his musket; through all their flight he and Fisher had kept their guns and ammunition, though their other accoutrements were gone. “No. We thought they’d be pushing us, but if they’re not in sight yet we’ve still got a chance.”

“A chance—?”

“We’ll get along south, towards Maryland. Our army’s down southeast of here somewhere; they can’t be sitting in Virginia all this time. Maybe we can find them, instead of getting caught. No use in our going towards Harrisburg; the Butternuts will be all over north of here, in a couple of hours … Fisher and I said we’d rather die than go to a prison pen.”

Dan said, “Now, be sensible. You’ll die if you keep running around the country this way—”

Elijah’s teeth showed in a snarl. “Come on, Tom Fisher!” He leaned heavily against the door casing.

“Wait a minute,” Dan ordered. “Stay here.” He ran through the house and out to the front gate. The rim of the western hill was smooth, unpeopled. He went back to the fugitives. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s get over to Fannings’. You’ll never reach Maryland on foot, not if the Confederates are close behind you.”

The drizzle had ceased, but clouds still blocked close above the trees, humid and oppressive. The three men climbed over the pasture fence. Huddlestone’s face was green and drawn; he moved as if his joints were grating together, and the younger soldier gazed at him with some concern. Bale put his arm under Elijah’s arm-pits, and half lifted him along the twisting path. “I’m all right,” Hud kept sighing. “Let me alone. Damn it! I can get along—” Fisher trotted ahead, carrying the two muskets.