Adam Colfax, stern man that he was, shuddered. But he would not flinch. He
was the first to spring ashore. The forest assumed its most somber aspect.
The trees were weird and ghostly, and there was no sound at all but the
gentle drip, drip of the rain. Here the vapors and mists seemed to be
imprisoned by the boughs and foliage, and the odors were heavy and acrid.
He had landed upon a little neck of land, and some one remarked: "It was
here that the Kentuckians landed." But there was no sound in the forest
and the scouts had reported already that the enemy had gone away. A great
fear gripped at the heart of Adam Colfax. "They are all dead," he thought.
Men brought torches, as they no longer had any fear of sharpshooters; and
Adam Colfax, followed by twenty others, entered the forest. The wind rose
slightly and whipped the rain in his face, but he stepped into the
deepest shadow, and, taking a torch from one of the men, held it aloft
with his own hand. The light fell upon a little open space and, despite
himself, Adam Colfax uttered a cry.
A figure lay outstretched under the shelter of arching boughs and bushes,
and four more beside it were still and silent, leaning against a fallen
log. There was such an absolute lack of motion, that Colfax at first
thought that the soul of every one was sped.
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