upward they saw the men of the Fourteenth running confusedly toward the
summit. Without a word the brigade commander struck spurs into his
horse and dashed up the long slope at a run, closely followed by his
enemy and aid. What they saw when they overtook the straggling,
running, panting, screaming pell-mell of the Fourteenth was victory!

The entire right wing of the Confederates, attacked on three sides at
once, placed at enormous disadvantage, completely outgeneraled, had
given way in confusion, was retreating, breaking, and flying. There
were lines yet of dirty gray or butternut; but they were few, meagre,
fluctuating, and recoiling, and there were scattered and scurrying men
in hundreds. Three veteran and gallant regiments had gone all to wreck
under the shock of three similar regiments far more intelligently
directed. A strong position had been lost because the heroes who held
it could not perform the impossible feat of forming successively two
fresh fronts under a concentric fire of musketry. The inferior brain
power had confessed the superiority of the stronger one.

On the victorious side there was wild, clamorous, fierce exultation.
The hurrying, shouting, firing soldiers, who noted their commander
riding among them, swung their rifles or their tattered hats at him,
and screamed "Hurrah!" No one thought of the Confederate dead
underfoot, nor of the Union dead who dotted the slope behind. "What are
you here for, Colonel?" shouted rough old Gildersleeve, one leg of his
trousers dripping blood. "We can do it alone."

"It is a battle won," laughed Fitz Hugh, almost worshiping the man whom
he had come to slay.

"It is a battle won, but not used," answered Waldron. "We haven't a gun