The back of Warner's hand had
been grazed by a bullet. He had not noticed it himself, but the slow
drip, drip of the blood held Dick for a moment with a sort of hideous
fascination. Then he broke his gaze violently away and turned it upon
the enemy, who were pouring upon them in all their massed strength.
Thomas had sent the Kentuckians to the aid of the Indiana men just in
time. The hill was a vast bank of smoke and fire, filled with whistling
bullets and shouts of men fighting face to face. Some one reeled and
fell against Dick, and for a moment, he was in horror lest it should be
Warner, but a glance showed him that it was a stranger. Then he rushed
on again, filled with a mad excitement, waving his small sword, and
shouting to the men to charge.
From right to left the roar of battle came to his ears, but on the hill
where he stood the struggle was at its height. The lines of Federals
and Confederates, face to face at first, now became mixed, but
neither side gained. In the fiery struggle a Union officer, Fry, saw
Zollicoffer only a few feet away. Snatching out his pistol he shot him
dead. The Southerners seeing the fall of the general who was so popular
among them hesitated and then gave back. Thomas, watching everything
with keen and steady gaze, hurled an Ohio regiment from the right flank
upon the Southern center, causing it to give way yet further under the
shock.
"We win! We win!" shouted Dick in his ardor, as he saw the Southern
line yielding.
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