and many of the fugitives fire upon the horsemen, who in turn flee for
their lives.

* * * * *

It is long past noon; the sun is a huge red shield; the world is smoke.
Another regiment has gone in; the roar of battle grows; crowds of
wounded go by; a battery gallops headlong to the rear ... the men madly
lash the horses.

"_Bat-tal-ion_--ATTENTION!"

Our time is upon us; the Eleventh, stands and forms.

"_For-ward_--MARCH!"

The dust is so dense that I can see nothing in the front, ... but we are
moving. Smith drops; Lewis falls to the rear; the ranks are thinning;
elbows touch no longer ... our pace quickens ... a horrid impatience
seizes me ... through the smoke I see the cannons ... faster, faster ...
I see the rebel line--a tempest breaks in my face--"_Surrender, you
damned Yankee!_"



III

I BREAK MY MUSKET

"And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile."--SHAKESPEARE.