The Washington times. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1902-1939, 1911-06-28
THE TIMES DAILY SERIAL STORY
THE WHIT AGE
Copyright, 1911, The Frank A. Munsey Company.

, You're an angel, miss" And one
enthusiastic Irishman. whose lungs
were pierced by ball, drew her down
hair of her head might be wax taper
| to light her on her way to glory.
To both the blue and gray she gave
freely, nor seemed to heed what uni
form the stricken one wore, save that
when some ragged lad in butternut
| spoke to her with the soft dTawl OF her
own Virginia, the cup she dipped up
for him might be little fuller.
Still the stretchers came steadily in.
The wounded who could walk or hobble
along kept streaming out of the dark
ness to join their fellows IN the church
yard. The Pickering lanterns revealed
hundreds lying about on Che grass.
Some repressed all cries OF pain be-
hind all bent brows and clenched teeth;
some filled their pipes and smoked
while they waited; some filled the night
with groans; many moaned family;
sang or babbled of far-off scenes. There
Were even a few that TESTED and
laughed, and told joyous stories Of the
fight.
About o'clock four begrimed caval-
rymen came out of the woods carrying
the body of an officer on a blanket.
They would not let the surgeons help
| ers take 1t from them Against loud
and profane protests from those they
I forced out of their way, they brought
their burden into the church.
Hey, doc! Here's our colonel! Been
| shot up bad!'
wait your turn! Get back therew
shouted the nearest surgeon, pausing
from swabbing a mans shoulder with
absorbent cotton. Don't block up that
passageT
why, it's our colonel we've got
here!" replied a sergeant in the squad
| mutinously. He's got to be tended to
quick" And he stood tugging wrath
| fully with his disengaged nand at the
brass buttons of his blouse.
1T amt right to let him die" another
Of the bearers said, ''wnile all this
cheap infantry help is gittin' patched
up"
Il tell you to waltz roared the sur
geon.
third of the unruly squad, who looked
shrewdly added, that DR.. McFarlan
Is as superior to the others in politeness
| as he is in skill"
The big, red-beared surgeon over by
the pulpit looked up with laugh, and
] tossed an amputated leg upon pile
| beside him.
Halo. Clark" he called out. ''Who've
IT'S a friend of yours. DOCTOR" the
boy replied. Its Colonel Grlgg."
Jim Grigg? Well. wait till get this
artery tied
| They waited, blocking UP the aisle.
| While they stoutly held their ground.
shielding their burden from those who
! tried to shove by, the sergeant of the
| squad felt some one twitching the yell
! low chevrons on his sleeves. He looked
around in the midst of forcible bit Of
| language, and discovered a pair Of
wide, terrified eyes and a girls pale
face.
please, please" the girl was whis-
pering, did you say Colonel Grigg?"
"Yes'm; but he don't need no water
| now-he's all out"
lis it the one WHO'S his first name
| was he in Richmond last-oh, is 1t her
And before the sergeant could under
| stand her incoherent questions, before
| any Of them could prevent her, she had
plucked the stained cloth from the still
face.
Hold on! Don't do that"' they OBJ
jected awkwardly, too late.
| Strong and stern and wholly master
| of the situation even yet the warrior
looked as he lay there in his blue uni
form, booted and sashed, with his saber
beside him. The pulpit lamps glim-
mered on the eagles that adorned his
shoulders and on the brass buttons of
his coat. His followers had torn open
his clothing at the throat, where the
worst wound was, and the light
streamed over his naked chest, bloody
and powder blackened.
The girl swayed backward with a
faint cry.
explain"
Not if that bone-artist gifts busy.
Friend Of yours? Here, miss, ketch
hold Of my arm. The smell of this
durn placed turn most anybody sick.
You see, that pair of mittens he wore
on that string around his neck sorter
stanched the blood. Them mittens
mustve been a present from mis- girl up
North"