closely followed those who went down the right bank of the stream called
Willoughby Run, opening a rapid fire as they advanced upon a vigilant
enemy who had been posted the night before in protected positions.

Buford's men met the attack with courage and vigor. Four thousand
dismounted cavalry, all armed with carbines, sent tremendous volleys
from the shelter of ridges and earthworks. The fire was so heavy that
the Southern skirmishers could not stand before it, and they, too,
began to seek shelter. The whole Southern column halted for a few
minutes, but recovered itself and advanced again.

The battle blazed up with a suddenness and violence that astonished
Harry. The air was filled in an instant with the whistling of shells
and bullets. He heard many cries. Men were falling all around him,
but so far he and Dalton were untouched. Heth, Davis, Archer and the
others were pushing on their troops, shouting encouragement to them,
and occasionally, through the clouds of smoke, which were thickening
fast, Harry saw the tanned faces of their enemies loading and firing
as fast as they could handle rifle and cannon. The Northern men had
shelter, but were fewer in number. The soldiers in gray were suffering
the heavier losses, but they continued to advance.

The battle swelled in volume and fierceness along the banks of
Willoughby Run. There was a continuous roar of rifles and cannon,
and the still, heavy air of the morning conducted the sound to the
divisions that were coming up and to the trembling inhabitants of the
little town who had fled for refuge to the farmhouses in the valley.

Harry and George had still managed to keep close together. Both had
been grazed by bullets, but these were only trifles. They saw that the