"Welcome, Dick, to our hot little camp! The chances are about a hundred
per cent out of a hundred per cent that this is the hottest place on the
earth today!"
The long, thin figure of Warner lay pressed against the ground. A
handkerchief, stained red, was bound about his head and his face was
pale, but indomitable courage gleamed from his eyes. Just beyond him
was Pennington, unhurt.
"Thank God you haven't fallen, and that I've found you!" exclaimed Dick.
"I don't know whether you're so lucky after all," said Warner. "The
Johnnies have been mowing us down. They dropped on us so suddenly
this morning that they must have been sleeping in the same bed with us
last night, and we didn't know it. I hear that we're routed nearly
everywhere except here and where Sherman stands. Look out! Here they
come again!"
They saw tanned faces and fierce eyes through the smoke, and the bullets
swept down on them in showers. Lucky for them that the little ridge
was there, and that they had made up their minds to stand to the last.
They replied with their own deadly fire, yet many fell, despite the
shelter, and to both left and right the battle swelled afresh. Dick
felt again that rain of bark and twigs and leaves. Sometimes a tree,
cut through at its base by cannon balls, fell with a crash. Along
the whole curving line the Southern generals ever urged forward their
valiant troops.
Now the courage and skill of Sherman shone supreme.
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