been surprised. Many of the officers and soldiers, too, were in tents
that had been set against the cold and damp. The horses that drew the
artillery were being taken to water.

It was an awful moment and Dick's heart missed more than one beat,
but in that crisis the American, often impatient of discipline, showed
his power of initiative and his resolute courage. While that bristling
front of steel came on the soldiers formed themselves into line without
waiting for the commands of the officers. The artillerymen rushed to
their guns.

"Kneel, men! Kneel!" shouted Colonel Winchester to his own regiment.
He and all his officers were on foot, their horses having been left in
the rear the night before.

His men threw themselves down at his command, and, all along the Northern
line formed so hastily, the rifles began to crackle, sending forth a
sheet of fire and bullets.

The Northern cannon, handled as always with skill and courage, were
at work now, too, and their shells and shot lashed the Southern ranks
through and through. But Dick saw no pause in the advance of the men in
gray. They did not even falter. Without a particle of shelter they came
on through the rain of death, their ranks closing up over the slain,
their front line always presenting that bristling line of steel.

It seemed to Dick now that the points of the bayonets shone almost in
his face, gleaming through the smoke that hung between them and the foe,
a gap that continually grew narrower as the Southern line never ceased to
come.