It was the morning of the eventful twenty-first of July, and it was only
two o'clock when the regiment was roused from its slumbers; but there was
no great hardship in this fact, for most of the men had been sleeping the
greater portion of the time during the preceding two days. Tom Somers was
ready to take his place in the line in a few moments.

"Come, fellows, hurry up," said he to his tardy companions. "The time has
come, and, I tell you, there'll be music before many hours."

"Where are we going, Tom? Have you any idea?" asked Fred.

"Going down to Manassas Junction, I suppose. That's where the rebels are."

"Do you suppose we shall get into a fight?" asked Ben.

"I don't know; I hope so."

"So do I," returned Ben, faintly; "but I don't like to be broke of my rest
in this way."

Tom, full of excited anticipations in regard to the events of the day,
laughed heartily at this reply, and left the tent. The regiment was formed
in line, but there were two vacancies in the section to which he belonged.
Fred and Ben had answered to their names at roll call. On some pretence
they had asked permission to leave the line for a few moments, and that
was the last that had been seen of them.

"Where do you suppose they are?" said Tom to Hapgood.

"I don't know. I hain't got much confidence in Ben's pluck, and I