They were about to cheer, but he checked it with the simple gesture of
a raised hand. Then they did a thing that only a beloved leader could
inspire. Every man in the regiment, resting his carbine across the
pommel of his saddle, drew his heavy cavalry saber and made it whirl in
coils of glittering light about his head.

The great pulse in Dick's throat leaped as he saw. The long double
line seemed to give back a double flash of flame. Not a word was said,
and then eight hundred sabers rattled together as they were dropped back
into their scabbards. Colonel Winchester's face flushed deeply at the
splendid salute, but he did not speak either. He took off his cap and
swept it in a wide curve to all his men. Then he turned his face toward
the enemy.

The Southern trumpet was singing in the forest, and the force of Forrest,
about twelve hundred strong, was emerging into view. Dick, through his
glasses, saw and recognized the famous leader, a powerful, bearded man,
riding a great bay horse. He had heard many descriptions of him and he
knew him instinctively. He also recognized the fact that the Winchester
regiment had before it the most desperate work any men could do, if it
beat off Forrest when he came in his own country with superior numbers.

Neither side had artillery, not even the light guns that could be carried
horse- or muleback. It must be left to carbine and saber. Colonel
Winchester carefully watched his formidable foe, trying to divine every
trick and expedient that he might use. He had a memory to avenge.
He had news to carry to Grant, and Forrest must not keep him from
carrying it. Moreover, his regiment and he would gain great prestige if
they could beat off Forrest. There would be glory for the whole Union