Short Story Classics (American) Vol. 2 | Page 9

the dense greenery, threw out two
companies of skirmishers toward the ridge, and pushed slowly after
them into the shadows.
"Get sight of the enemy at once!" was Waldron's last word to
Gildersleeve. "If they move down the slope, drive them back. But don't
commence your attack under half an hour."
Next he filed the Fifth into the thickets, saying to Colburn, "I want you
to halt a hundred yards to the left and rear of Gildersleeve. Cover his
flank if he is attacked; but otherwise lie quiet. As soon as he charges,
move forward to the edge of the wood, and be ready to support him.
But make no assault yourself until further orders."
The next two regiments--the Seventh and First--he placed in echelon, in
like manner, a quarter of a mile further along. Then he galloped
forward to the cavalry, and a last word with Stilton. "You and Gahogan
must take care of yourselves. Push on four or five hundred yards, and
then face to the right. Whatever Gahogan finds let him go at it. If he
can't shake it, help him. You two must reach the top of the ridge. Only,
look out for your left flank. Keep a squadron or two in reserve on that
side."
"Currnel, if we don't raich the top of the hill, it'll be because it hasn't
got wan," answered Gahogan. Stilton only laughed and rode forward.
Waldron now returned toward the fork of the road. On the way he sent

a staff officer to the Seventh with renewed orders to attack as soon as
possible after Gildersleeve. Then another staff officer was hurried
forward to Taylor with directions to push his feint strongly, and drive
his skirmishers as far up the slope as they could get. A third staff
officer set the Parrotts in rear of Taylor to firing with all their might.
By the time that the commandant had returned to Colburn's ambushed
ranks, no one was with him but his enemy, Fitz Hugh.
"You don't seem to trust me With duty, Colonel," said the young man.
"I shall use you only in case of extremity, Captain," replied Waldron.
"We have business to settle tomorrow."
"I ask no favors on that account. I hope you will offer me none."
"In case of need I shall spare no one," declared Waldron.
Then he took out his watch, looked at it impatiently, put it to his ear,
restored it to his pocket, and fell into an attitude of deep attention.
Evidently his whole mind was on his battle, and he was waiting,
watching, yearning for its outburst.
"If he wins this fight," thought Fitz Hugh, "how can I do him a harm?
And yet," he added, "how can I help it?"
Minutes passed. Fitz Hugh tried to think of his injury, and to steel
himself against his chief. But the roar of battle on the right, and the
suspense and imminence of battle on the left, absorbed the attention of
even this wounded and angry spirit, as, indeed, they might have
absorbed that of any being not more or less than human. A private
wrong, insupportable though it might be, seemed so small amid that
deadly clamor and awful expectation! Moreover, the intellect which
worked so calmly and vigorously by his side, and which alone of all
things near appeared able to rule the coming crisis, began to dominate
him, in spite of his sense of injury. A thought crossed him to the effect
that the great among men are too valuable to be punished for their evil
deeds. He turned to the absorbed brigade commander, now not only his
ruler, but even his protector, with a feeling that he must accord him a

word of peace, a proffer in some form of possible forgiveness and
friendship. But the man's face was clouded and stern with responsibility
and authority. He seemed at that moment too lofty to be approached
with a message of pardon. Fitz Hugh gazed at him with a mixture of
profound respect and smothered hate. He gazed, turned away, and
remained silent.
Minutes more passed. Then a mounted orderly dashed up at full speed,
with the words, "Colonel, Major Gahogan has fronted."
"Has he?" answered Waldron, with a smile which thanked the trooper
and made him happy. "Ride on through the thicket here, my man, and
tell Colonel Gildersleeve to push up his skirmishers."
With a thud of hoofs and a rustling of parting foliage the cavalryman
disappeared amid the underwood. A minute or two later a thin,
dropping rattle of musketry, five hundred yards or so to the front,
announced that the sharpshooters of the Fourteenth were at work.
Almost immediately there was an angry response, full of the
threatenings and execution of death. Through the lofty leafage tore the