"There is a break!" he shouted to Gordon, and pointed to the spot with his sabre. It was an opening several hundred feet wide, and the Riverlawns rushed to fill it. Then on they went again, pell-mell, panting for breath, and firing as often as the opportunity presented itself. Once a shot tore through the companies, but it did not stay their progress. A cheer swept down the line. Some regiment had gained a peak some distance away, and the Confederate standard was torn down, and the glorious stars and stripes hoisted in its stead. The cheer was nerve inspiring, and onward swept the boys in blue with more enthusiasm than ever. The Riverlawns were still a hundred feet from the point they were trying to gain, when, on looking through the cloud of smoke, Deck saw a sight that filled him with horror. Above was a huge mass of loose rocks and dirt. The Confederates had shovelled away to the front of the mass, and now it was just starting on its downward way. Should it strike the regiment it would fairly annihilate the ranks. For an instant Deck could not speak. Then his voice rang out like a trumpet:-- "Riverlawns! Right face! Double-quick--march!" "Right-face! Double-quick--march!" rang from one battalion to another, and a sharp turn off along the side of the ridge was made. Lieutenant-Colonel Gordon looked at Deck in wonder. "What does this mean?" he began. "Do you--Great heavens! Double-quick, boys, if you want to save your lives!" And the double-quick became a triple-quick, and some went even faster. Scarcely had the regiment left the fated spot when the rocks and dirt came crashing down, sweeping trees, brush, and vines before it, and ploughing up the ground as though with so many gigantic plough-shares. "You saved the regiment!" cried Tom Belthorpe as he met Deck, a moment later. And Gordon said the same. The order to go forward again was now given, and away went the Riverlawns in what was little short of an ugly mood, for they did not consider the letting down of the rocks and dirt as square fighting. Deck continued at the head of the first battalion, and inside of five minutes gained the top of the ridge. A regiment of Confederates were there, in the act of retreating, and he charged them relentlessly, causing them to fairly tumble down the slopes opposite. The whole regiment was soon at hand, and the fight did not come to an end until the enemy had been driven clear out of sight. Missionary Ridge was won, but now was no time to celebrate the victory, although cheer after cheer rang along the mountain peaks and every Union flag to be had was waving lustily. The Confederate artillery was seized and pointed in the opposite direction, and the log barricades were torn down and set up in places of greater advantage. At the centre, the Confederates tried to make another stand, but it availed nothing, and overwhelmed, they threw down their arms and fled.