He was conscious now of a new danger. Twigs and bits of bark began to
rain down upon him, and he heard the unpleasant whistle of bullets over
his head. They were the bullets of his own people, seeking to repel the
Southern charge. A minute later a huge shell burst near him, covering
him with flying earth. At first he thought he had been hit by fragments
of the shell, but when he shook himself he found that he was all right.
He took yet a wider curve and before he was aware of the treacherous
ground plunged into a swamp bordering one of the creeks. He stood for
a few moments in mud and water to his waist, but he knew that he had
passed from the range of the Union fire. Twigs and bark no longer fell
around him and that most unpleasant whizz of bullets was gone.
He pulled himself out of the mire and ran along the edge of the creek
toward the roar of the battle. He knew now that he had passed around
the flank of the Southern army and could approach the flank of his own.
He ran fast, and then began to hear bullets again. But now they were
coming from the Southern army. He threw away the cloak and presently
he emerged into a mass of men, who, under the continual urging of
their officers, were making a desperate defense, firing, drawing back,
reloading and firing again. In front, the woods swarmed with the
Southern troops who drove incessantly upon them.
Dick snatched up a rifle--plenty were lying upon the ground, where
the owners had fallen with them--and fired into the attacking ranks.
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