by ghostly guns, yet posted there in the darkness, manned by phantom gunners,
while phantom horses stood behind, lit vaguely up by phantom camp-fires.
At the given word the laniards were pulled together, and together as one
the six black guns, belching flame and lead, roared their last challenge
on the misty night, sending a deadly hail of shot and shell,
tearing the trees and splintering the rocks of the farther side,
and sending the thunder reverberating through the pass and down the mountain,
startling from its slumber the sleeping camp on the hills below,
and driving the browsing deer and the prowling mountain-fox in terror
up the mountain.

There was silence among the men about the guns for one brief instant
and then such a cheer burst forth as had never broken from them
even in battle: cheer on cheer, the long, wild, old familiar rebel yell
for the guns they had fought with and loved.

The noise had not died away and the men behind were still trying to quiet
the frightened horses when the sergeant, the same who had written,
received from the hand of the Colonel a long package or roll
which contained the records of the battery furnished by the men
and by the Colonel himself, securely wrapped to make them water-tight,
and it was rammed down the yet warm throat of the nearest gun: the Cat,
and then the gun was tamped to the muzzle to make her water-tight,
and, like her sisters, was spiked, and her vent tamped tight.
All this took but a minute, and the next instant the guns were run up
once more to the edge of the cliff; and the men stood by them
with their hands still on them. A deadly silence fell on the men,
and even the horses behind seemed to feel the spell. There was a long pause,
in which not a breath was heard from any man, and the soughing of
the tree-tops above and the rushing of the rapids below were the only sounds.