cannoneers had been driven, and ramming home a charge of canister,
directed the gun upon a column of the enemy.

Before he could fire, a Federal cavalryman rode at him, and cut
furiously at his bare head, with the full weight of his sabre.

Davenant did not try to draw his sword--the attempt would have been
useless. In his hand he had a weapon; and with a swing of the rammer he
swept the cavalryman from the saddle.[1] He fell headlong, covered with
blood; and Davenant aimed and fired the charge of canister--leaped upon
his horse--and drawing his sword, plunged into the melee, his head
bare, his eyes flaming, his voice rising loud and inspiring, above the
combat.

[Footnote 1: Fact.]

It was a stubborn, a superb struggle. Three times the enemy's guns were
charged and captured; three times the Confederates were furiously
charged in turn, and the pieces recaptured by the enemy.[1] A final
charge of the gray cavalry carried all before it. The Federal artillery
was seized upon, and their cavalry driven back--but at that moment a
heavier force still was seen advancing upon Stuart from the direction
of Kelly's ford.

[Footnote 1: Fact.]

It was a splendid spectacle. They came on in solid column, and rapidly
formed line of battle on the slope of Fleetwood, with drawn sabres, and
flags floating. As they moved they seemed to shake the very ground. I
had never before seen so great a force of cavalry drawn up--and the