"Nor did I, Harry, nor anything more useless. The bridge builders never
had a chance before the rifles. But now their supports, which should
have been there all the time, are coming up."

Heavy columns of Union riflemen moved forward to the edge of the river
and replied to the Mississippians. But the Southerners, in the shelter
of the cellars and pits, held their ground. But few of them were hit
and they kept up that deadly hail which swept the uncompleted bridge
clear of every workman who attempted to go upon it.

The rapid fire of the rifles crashed up and down both sides of the river,
two sheets of flame seeming to reach out as if they would meet each
other. The wind that had driven away the fog also carried off the smoke,
and the river still gleamed like steel between. Then, as the rifle fire
died again, there was another silence for a while.

"It will take more than rifles," said Harry, "to drive out those
intrenched Mississippians."

"So it will, Harry," said Dalton, who was watching through glasses,
"and here it comes. Their great batteries are about to open."

The next instant the whole earth seemed to be shaken by the roar of
heavy cannon. The opposing hills and ridges fairly poured forth flame,
and shells and solid shot crashed upon the whole devoted town. Nor did
this tremendous fire from a hundred and fifty great guns cease for an
instant. The roar and crash were appalling. Harry saw houses crumbling
in Fredericksburg, with flames leaping up from others.

The artillery of Longstreet immediately facing the Union batteries was