Waller was up and devoting himself
to the needs of his patients, and Dade had coffee ready for the general
and his single aide-de-camp, but not a sip would the general take until
he had seen the stricken troopers. He knew Field by reputation, well and
favorably. He had intimately known Field's father in the old days, in
the old army, when they served together on the then wild Pacific shores
"where rolls the Oregon." The great civil war had divided them, for
Field had cast his soldier fortune with his seceding State, but all that
was a thing of the past. Here was the son, a loyal soldier of the flag
the father had again sworn allegiance to when he took his seat in the
House of Representatives. The general thought highly of Field, and was
sore troubled at his serious condition. He knew what despatches would be
coming from the far South when the telegraph line began the busy
clicking of the morning. He was troubled to find the lad in high fever
and to hear that he had been out of his head. He was more than troubled
at the concern, and something like confusion, in the old doctor's face.
"You don't think him dangerously wounded, do you?" he asked.
"Not dangerously, general," was the reply.
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