noise of shouting men, and neighing horses, of heavy falls and the ring
of steel on steel. Neither gave way and neither could advance. The
three Union colonels rode up and down their lines encouraging their men,
and the valiant Talbot and St. Hilaire were never more valiant than on
that night.

A combat with sabers cannot last long, and cavalry charges are soon
finished. North and South had met in the center of the open space,
and suddenly the two, because all their force was spent, fell back from
that deadly line, which was marked by a long row of fallen horses and
men. They reloaded their rifles and carbines and began to fire at one
another, but it was at long range, and little damage was done. They fell
back a bit farther, the firing stopped entirely, and they looked at one
another.

It was perhaps the effect of the night, with its misty silver coloring,
and perhaps their long experience of war, giving them an intuitive
knowledge, that made these foes know nothing was to be gained by further
combat. They were so well balanced in strength and courage that they
might destroy one another, but no one could march away from the field
victorious. Perhaps, too, it was a feeling that the God of Battles had
already issued his decree in regard to this war, and that as many lives
as possible should now be spared. But whatever it was, the finger fell
away from the trigger, the saber was returned to the scabbard, and they
sat on their horses, staring at one another.

Dick took his glasses from his shoulder and began to scan the hostile
line. His heart leaped when he beheld Harry in the saddle, apparently
unharmed, and near him three youths, one with a red bandage about his
shoulder. Then he saw the two colonels, both erect men with long,