the bishop-general, Polk, over a late breakfast saved him from the first
shock, and upset the plans of the Southern commander, who had given him
strict orders to advance.

Dawn was long past, and to Bragg's great astonishment Polk had not moved.
It seems incredible that the fate of great events can turn upon such
trifles, and yet one wonders what would have happened had not Polk eaten
breakfast so late the morning of the second day of Chickamauga. But
when he did advance he attacked with the energy and vigor of those great
churchmen of the Middle Ages, who were at once princes and warriors,
leading their hosts to battle.

Portions of the men of Thomas were now coming into the combat, but the
Winchesters were not yet engaged. They were lying down just behind the
crest of their low hill and many murmurs were running through the ranks.
It was the hardest of all things to wait, while shells now and then
struck among them. They saw to their right the vast volume of fire and
smoke, while the roaring of the cannon and rifles was like the continued
sweep of a storm.

The youthful soldier may be nervous and excited, or he may be calm.
This was one of Dick's calm moments, and, while he watched and listened
and tried to measure all that he saw and heard, he noted that the crash
of the battle was moving slowly backward. He knew then that the Southern
advance was succeeding, succeeding so far at least. He was quite sure
now that the attack upon Thomas would be made soon and that it would come
with the greatest violence.

He rose and rejoined Colonel Winchester again, and the two looked with
awe at the gigantic combat, raging in a vast canopy of smoke, rent