The Sword of Antietam | Page 6

was a lofty ridge on which were posted Union guns with
gunners who knew so well how to use them. To right and left ran the
long files of infantry, their faces white but resolute.
"I think," said Dick to Warner, "that if Jackson passes over this place
he will at least know that we've been here."
"Yes, he'll know it, and besides he'll make quite a halt before passing.
At least, that's my way of thinking."
There was a sudden dying of the rifle fire. The Union skirmishers were
driven in, and they fell back on the main body which was silent,
awaiting the attack. Dick was no longer compelled to use the glasses.
He saw with unaided eye the great Southern columns marching forward
with the utmost confidence, heavy batteries advancing between the
regiments, ready at command to sweep the Northern ranks with shot
and shell.
Dick shivered a little. He could not help it. They were face to face with
Jackson, and he was all that the heralds of fame had promised. He had
eye enough to see that the Southern force was much greater than their
own, and, led by such a man, how could they fail to win another
triumph? He looked around upon the army in blue, but he did not see
any sign of fear. Both the beaten and the unbeaten were ready for a new
battle.
There was a mighty crash from the hill and the Northern batteries
poured a stream of metal into the advancing ranks of their foe.
The Confederate advance staggered, but, recovering itself, came on
again. A tremendous cheer burst from the ranks of the lads in blue.
Stonewall Jackson with all his skill and fame was before them, but they
meant to stop him. Numbers were against them, and Banks, their leader,
had been defeated already by Jackson, but they meant to stop him,
nevertheless.

The Southern guns replied. Posted along the slopes of Slaughter
Mountain, sinister of name, they sent a sheet of death upon the Union
ranks. But the regiments, the new and the old, stood firm. Those that
had been beaten before by Jackson were resolved not to be beaten again
by him, and the new regiments from the west, one or two of which had
been at Shiloh, were resolved never to be beaten at all.
"The lads are steady," said Colonel Winchester. "It's a fine sign. I've
news, too, that two thousand men have come up. We shall now have
nine thousand with which to withstand the attack, and I don't believe
they can drive us away. Oh, why isn't Pope himself here with his whole
army? Then we could wipe Jackson off the face of the earth!"
But Pope was not there. The commander of a huge force, the man of
boastful words who was to do such great things, the man who sent such
grandiloquent dispatches from "Headquarters in the Saddle," to the
anxious Lincoln at Washington, had strung his numerous forces along
in detachments, just as the others had done before him, and the
booming of Jackson's cannon attacking the Northern vanguard with his
whole army could not reach ears so far away.
The fire now became heavy along the whole Union front. All the
batteries on both sides were coming into action, and the earth trembled
with the rolling crash. The smoke rose and hung in clouds over the hills,
the valley and the cornfield. The hot air, surcharged with dust, smoke
and burned gunpowder, was painful and rasping to the throat. The
frightful screaming of the shells filled the air, and then came the hissing
of the bullets like a storm of sleet.
Colonel Winchester and his staff dismounted, giving their horses to an
orderly who led them to the rear. Horses would not be needed for the
present, at least, and they had learned to avoid needless risk.
The attack was coming closer, and the bullets as they swept through
their ranks found many victims. Colonel Winchester ordered his
regiment to kneel and open fire, being held hitherto in reserve. Dick
snatched up a rifle from a soldier who had fallen almost beside him,
and he saw that Warner and Pennington had equipped themselves in

like fashion.
A strong gust of wind lifted the smoke before them a little. Dick saw
many splashes of water on the surface of the creek where bullets struck,
and there were many tiny spurts of dust in the road, where other bullets
fell. Then he saw beyond the dark masses of the Southern infantry. It
seemed to him that they were strangely close. He believed that he could
see their tanned faces, one by one, and their vengeful eyes, but it was
only fancy.
The next instant the signal was given, and