He had lost his regiment, and, as he went on, he began
calling out familiar names, listening with strained ears for an answer that
would tell of a friend's escape. At last he caught the outlines of a
gigantic figure relieved on a hillock against the pale green west, and,
with a shout, he hurried through the swarm of fugitives, and overtook
Pinetop, who had stooped to tie his shoe on with a leather strap.
"Thank God, old man!" he cried. "Where are the others?"
Pinetop, panting yet imperturbable, held out a steady hand.
"The Lord knows," he replied. "Some of 'em air here an' some ain't. I was
goin' back agin to git the flag, when I saw you chased like a fox across
the creek with it hangin' on yo' back. Then I kinder thought it wouldn't do
for none of the regiment to answer when Marse Robert called, so I came
along right fast and kep' hopin' you would follow."
"Here I am," responded Dan, "and here are the colours." He twined the silk
more closely about his arm, gloating over his treasure in the twilight.
Pinetop stretched out his great rough hand and touched the flag as gently
as if it were a woman.
"I've fought under this here thing goin' on four years now," he said, "and
I reckon when they take it prisoner, they take me along with it."
"And me," added Dan; "poor Granger went down, you know, just as I took it
from him. He fell fighting with the pole."
"Wall, it's a better way than most," Pinetop replied, "an' when the angel
begins to foot up my account on Jedgment Day, I shouldn't mind his cappin'
the whole list with 'he lost his life, but he didn't lose his flag.
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