charge through it!"

Trumpets were already sounding their thrilling call, and blue masses,
before the smoke had lifted, were rushing into the pit, intending to
climb the far side and sever the Southern line. But Colonel Winchester
did not yet give the word to his own regiment, and Dick knew that they
were to be held in reserve.

Into the great chasm went white troops and black troops, charging
together, and then Dick suddenly cried in horror. Those were veterans on
the other side, and, recovering quickly from the surprise, they rushed
forward their batteries and riflemen. Mahone, a little, alert man,
commanded them, and in an instant they deluged the pit, afterward famous
under the name of "The Crater," with fire. The steep slope held back the
Union troops and from the edges everywhere the men in gray poured a storm
of shrapnel and canister and bullets into the packed masses.

Colonel Winchester groaned aloud, and looked at his men who were eager to
advance to the rescue, but it was evident to Dick that his orders held
him, and they stood in silence gazing at the appalling scene in the
crater. A tunnel had been run directly under the Confederates, and then
a huge mine had been exploded. All that part was successful, but the
Union army had made a deep pit, more formidable than the earthwork itself.

Never had men created a more terrible trap for themselves. The name,
the crater, was well deserved. It was a seething pit of death filled
with smoke, and from which came shouts and cries as the rim of it blazed
with the fire of those who were pouring in such a stream of metal.
Inside the pit the men could only cower low in the hope that the
hurricane of missiles would pass over their heads.