Shortly after this the firing ceased for a while,
and an order came for the men to fall back to the
main line.
As the Confederates were retreating they met
Nathan Cunningham, his canteens full of water,
hurrying to relieve the thirst of the wounded men
in the trenches. He glanced over the passing
column and saw that the faded flag, which he had
carried so long, was not there. The men in their
haste to obey orders HAD FORGOTTEN OR OVERLOOKED
THE COLORS.
Quickly the lad sped to the trenches, intent
now not only on giving water to his comrades, but
on rescuing the flag and so to save the honor of
his regiment.
His mission of mercy was soon accomplished.
The wounded men drank freely. The lad then
found and seized his colors, and turned to rejoin
his regiment. Scarcely had he gone three paces
when a company of Federal soldiers appeared
ascending the hill.
``Halt and surrender,'' came the stern command,
and a hundred rifles were leveled at the
boy's breast.
``NEVER! while I hold the colors,'' was his firm
reply.
The morning sun, piercing with a lurid glare
the dense mist, showed the lad proudly standing
with his head thrown back and his flag grasped
in his hand, while his unprotected breast was
exposed to the fire of his foe.
A moment's pause. Then the Federal officer
gave his command:--
``Back with your pieces, men, don't shoot that
brave boy.
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