The distant fire increased, and, standing on a hillock, Dick looked
long through his glasses. A faint haze which had hung in the south was
clearing away. The rays of the sun were intensely bright. The brown
of autumn glowed like gold, and the red splashes here and there burned
scarlet. He saw pink dots appearing on a long line and he knew that the
skirmishers were active and wary.

"There can be no doubt of the advance!" he said to Warner. "A strong
body of our cavalry disclosed their forward movement, and there are the
skirmishers signaling that Bragg is near. Wonderful fellows, those
sharpshooters! They're the eyes of the army. We stand in mass and fight
together, but every one of them individually takes his life in his own
hands. The firing is coming nearer. I think we'll be attacked first."

After a little pause Warner said:

"I'm sorry our line is extended so much. What if they should cut through
and get behind us?"

"They'll never do it while General Thomas is here. I believe they called
him 'Old Slow Top' at West Point, but if he's slow in advance he's still
slower in retreat. I'd rather have him commanding us just now than any
other general in the world."

"I think you're right, and here he comes! Listen to the cheering!"

General Thomas rode slowly along his line, inspecting the position
of every regiment and making some changes. He showed no trace of
excitement. The face was calm and the heavy jaw was set firmly. If
Grant was a bulldog Thomas was another. The men knew him. They had seen