The excitement, of course, redoubled. There was no service in the church, but the women and children were hurried away from the village, and the stern-faced who remained, locked and barred their homes and gathered, armed and resolute, in the streets. Stragglers from the army came in first, then followed the infantry and artillery. There was a long embankment on the north side of the village, where the earth had been partly washed and partly cut away. This embankment was nearly as high as a man's breast, and a fence ran along its top for a quarter of a mile to the east of the village. Behind this natural fortification the principal part of the infantry formed in lines. The artillery was placed in an orchard, where there was a dense growth of trees to mask it. The advance of the Union forces came on slowly, and it was an hour after the entrance of the Confederates into the village before the deployed skirmishers came in sight. The crack of a rifle announced their approach, another and another burst on the air at once, and then the balls came rattling rapidly against the houses. The engagement became general, and the roar of artillery and the rattle of musketry was deafening. The Sabbath morning, dawning so serene and calm, had been followed by a noon of bloodshed, terror and strife. The neat village cottages were shattered and balls had crashed through window lights and shutters. The little stone church had been struck by cannon shot and shell, and one building had caught fire and burned to the ground. Finally the Confederate lines began to waver and give way, and the bugle sounded the retreat. They fell back, column behind column, in regular order, passing through the village, closely followed by the victorious troops. No sooner had the last column left the village than the frightened inhabitants, who had been hiding in the woods at some distance away, began to peep forth upon the terrible scene. Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith, returning, found occasionally, here and there, in the street a ghastly form. A man lay dead at the gate of Mr. Jones; some were even in the houses, while one was lying across the sidewalk in front of the church. Their houses had been struck with balls, but not near so badly shattered as might have been expected. Two or three cannon balls were lying in the street and fragments of exploded shells strewn on the ground. The occasional dropping shots in the distance told that both armies were moving. Colonel Holdfast seemed determined to hold fast to Colonel Scramble this time. The struggle we have described in this chapter is not recorded by most historians, and, if mentioned at all, is only considered a skirmish, yet the citizens of Snagtown thought it the most terrible battle of the war.