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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Western Crisis"

But these trifles did not disturb him. It was so sweet to
rest! Nothing could be more heavenly than merely to lie there in the
long, soft grass and gaze up at the luminous sky, into which the stars
now stole to twinkle down at him peacefully.
"Don't go to sleep, Dick," said a voice near him. "I admit the
temptation is strong. I feel it myself, but General Grant may have to
send you and me forward to-night to win another battle."
"George, I'm glad to hear your preachy voice over there. Hurt any?"
"No. A million cannon balls brushed my right cheek and another million
brushed my left cheek, but they didn't touch me. They scared me to death,
but in the last few minutes I've begun to come back to life. In a
quarter of an hour I'll be just as much alive as I ever was."
"Do you know anything of Pennington?"
"Yes. The rascal is lying about six feet beyond me, sound asleep.
In spite of all I could do he wouldn't stay awake. I've punched him all
over to see if he was wounded, but as he didn't groan at a single punch,
he's all right."
"That being the case, I'm going to follow Pennington's example.


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