At the same moment
Colonel Winchester motioned him to awaken Warner and Pennington, which
he did at once in speed and silence. That tint of silver, the lining of
the fogs and vapors, shone more clearly through, and spread across the
East. Dick knew now that the dawn was at hand.
The loud but mellow notes of a trumpet came from a distant point toward
Donelson, and then others to right and left joined and sang the same
mellow song. But it lasted only for a minute. Then it was lost in the
rapid crackle of rifles, which spread like a running fire along a front
of miles. The sun in the east swung clear of the earth, its beams
shooting a way through fogs and vapors. The dawn had come and the
attack had come with it.
The Southerners, ready at last, were rushing from their fort and works,
and, with all the valor and fire that distinguished them upon countless
occasions, they were hurling themselves upon their enemy. The fortress
poured out regiment after regiment. Chafing so long upon the defense
Southern youth was now at its best. Attacking, not attacked, the farmer
lads felt the spirit of battle blaze high in their breasts. The long,
terrible rebel yell, destined to be heard upon so many a desperate field,
fierce upon its lower note, fierce upon its higher note, as fierce as
ever upon its dying note, and coming back in echoes still as fierce,
swelled over forest and fort, marsh and river.
The crackling fire of the pickets ceased.
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