eddies of smoke alternately hid and disclosed enemies, and from both left
and right came the continuous and deafening crash of infantry in battle.

But Forrest's men paused only a moment or two. A great mass of them
galloped out of the smoke, over the bodies of their dead comrades and
directly into the Winchester regiment, shouting and slashing with their
great sabers. It was well for the men that their leader had so wisely
chosen ground rough and covered with bushes. Using every inch of
protection, they fired at horses and riders and thrust at them with their
bayonets.

The battle became wild and confused, a turmoil of mingled horse and foot,
of firing and shouting and of glittering swords and bayonets. A man on a
huge horse made a great sweep at Dick's head with a red saber. The boy
dropped to his knees, and felt the broad blade whistle where his head had
been.

The swordsman was borne on by the impetus of his horse, and Dick caught
one horrified glimpse of his face. It was Colonel Kenton, but Dick knew
that he did not know, nor did he ever know. It was never in the lad's
heart to tell his uncle how near he had come unwittingly to shearing off
the head of his own nephew.

The charge of the cavalrymen carried them clear through the Winchester
regiment, but a regiment coming up to the relief drove them back, and the
great mass turning aside a little attacked anew and elsewhere. A few
moments of rest were permitted Dick and his comrades, although the mighty
battle wheeled and thundered all about them.

But their regiment was a melancholy sight. A third of its numbers were