Some one cried, "Here they come!"

There was rustling and muttering among the men. They displayed a
feverish desire to have every possible cartridge ready to their hands.
The boxes were pulled around into various positions, and adjusted
with great care. It was as if seven hundred new bonnets were
being tried on.

The tall soldier, having prepared his rifle, produced a red
handkerchief of some kind. He was engaged in knotting it about
his throat with exquisite attention to its position, when the cry
was repeated up and down the line in a muffled roar of sound.

"Here they come! Here they come!" Gun locks clicked.

Across the smoke-infested fields came a brown swarm of running
men who were giving shrill yells. They came on, stooping and
swinging their rifles at all angles. A flag, tilted forward,
sped near the front.

As he caught sight of them the youth was momentarily startled by
a thought that perhaps his gun was not loaded. He stood trying
to rally his faltering intellect so that he might recollect the
moment when he had loaded, but he could not.

A hatless general pulled his dripping horse to a stand near the
colonel of the 304th. He shook his fist in the other's face.
"You've got to hold 'em back!" he shouted, savagely; "you've got
to hold 'em back!"