The three lads were on their feet now, and it seemed to them that
everything was lost. They could see the battle in front of them only,
but rumors came to them that the army was routed elsewhere. But neither
Sherman nor McClernand would yield, save for the slow retreat, yielding
ground foot by foot only. And there were many unknown heroes around
them. Sergeant Whitley blazed with courage and spirit.
"We could be worse off than we are!" he shouted to Dick. "General
Buell's army may yet come!"
"Maybe we could be worse off than we are, but I don't see how it's
possible!" shouted Dick in return, a certain grim humor possessing him
for the moment.
"Look! What I said has come true already!" shouted the sergeant.
"Here is shelter that will help us to make a new stand!"
In their slow retreat they reached two low hills, between which a small
ravine ran. It was not a strong position, but Sherman used it to the
utmost. His men fired from the protecting crests of the hills, and he
filled the ravine with riflemen, who poured a deadly fire upon their
assailants.
Now Sherman ordered them to stand fast to the last man, because it was
by this road that the division of Lew Wallace must come, if it came at
all. But Southern brigades followed them and the battle raged anew,
as fierce and deadly as ever.
Although their army was routed at many points the Northern officers
showed indomitable courage. Driven back in the forest they always
strove to form the lines anew, and now their efforts began to show some
success.
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