Among these divided councils reigned. Some were excited snapping
unloaded guns at the oncoming foe; others were fixing bayonets,
and sturdily urging their comrades to do likewise, and meet the
rushing wave of cold steel with a counter wave. The weaker-hearted
ones were already clambering up the mountain-side out of reach of
harm.

There was no time for debate. The blue line led by Bennett flung
itself upon the dark-brown mass of Rebels like an angry wave dashing
over a flimsy bank of sand, and in an instant there was nothing
to be done but pursue the disrupted and flying fragments. It was
all over.





Chapter III. A Race.




"Some have greatness thrust upon them." -- Twelfth Night.


The unexpected volley probably disturbed private Jacob Alspaugh's
mind more than that of any other man in the regiment. It produced
there an effect akin to the sensation of nauseous emetic in his
stomach.