into a new position to meet the mass of Forrest's cavalry rushing down
upon their flank. He was just in time to help other troops, not in
numbers enough to withstand the shock.

There were few moments in the lives of these lads as terrifying as those
when they turned to face the fierce Forrest, the uneducated mountaineer
who had intuitively mastered Napoleon's chief maxim of war, to pour the
greatest force upon the enemy's weakest point.

The hurricane sweeping down upon them sent a chill to their hearts.
Dick saw a long line of foaming mouths, the lips drawn back from the
cruel white teeth, and manes flying wildly. Above them rose the faces
of the riders, their own eyes bloodshot, their sabers held aloft for the
deadly sweep. And the thunder of galloping hoofs was more menacing than
that of the cannon.

Dick looked around him and saw faces turning pale. His own might be
whiter than any of theirs for all he knew, but he shouted with the other
officers:

"Steady! Steady! Now pour it into 'em!"

It was well that most of the men in the regiment had become sharpshooters,
and that despite the thumping of their hearts, they were able to stand
firm. Their sleet of bullets emptied a hundred saddles, and slipping
in the cartridges they fired again at close range. The cavalry charge
seemed to stop dead in its tracks, and in an instant a scene of terrible
confusion occurred. Wounded horses screaming in pain rushed wildly back
upon their own comrades or through the ranks of the foe. Injured men,
shot from their saddles, were seeking to crawl out of the way. Whirling