three o'clock in the afternoon
High Top loomed behind . The infantry could see the cavalry , creeping up Bear Garden , moving slowly , slowly , bent before the blast , wraith-like through the falling snow . From far in the rear , back of the Stonewall Brigade , back of Loring , came a dull sound -- the artillery and the wagon train climbing Sleepy Creek Mountain . It was three o'clock in the afternoon -- oh , leaden weariness , hunger , cold , sickness , worn-out shoes -- Back upon the mountain top , in the ambulance taken at Manassas , Mr. Corbin Wood , better than he had been for several days , but still feverish , propped himself upon the straw and smiled across at Will Cleave , who , half carried by his brother , had appeared beside the ambulance an hour before . Swaying as he stood , the boy protested to the last that he could march just as well as the other fellows , that they would think him a baby , that Richard would ruin his reputation , that he was n't giddy , that the doctor in Winchester had told him that after you got well from typhoid fever you were stronger than you ever had been before , that Mr. Rat would think he was malingering , that -- that -- that -- Richard lifted him into the ambulance and laid him upon the straw which several of the sick pushed forward and patted into place . The surgeon gave a restorative . The elder brother waited until the boy 's eyes opened , stooped and kissed him on the forehead , and went away .