Artillery on both sides became heavily engaged. The ——th Virginia, during one of those sudden and mysterious lulls coming suddenly in battle as in other commotions of the elements, found itself, after hard fighting, with nothing to do but to watch that corner of the fight immediately before it. The corner was but a small, smoke-shrouded one. Only general officers, aides, and couriers ever really saw a battle-field. The ——th Virginia gazed with feverish interest on what it could see and guessed that which it could not. It could guess well enough that for the grey the struggle was growing desperate. All this field was up and down, low ridge and shallow ravine. The ——th Virginia held a ridge. Over against it was a blue battery, and beyond the battery there might be divined a gathering mass of infantry. The ——th Virginia looked to its cartridge boxes. “Wish we had some guns! There won’t be much of this left—What’s that? Praise the Lord!” At a gallop, out of the smoke to the right, came a section of a grey battery, the guns leaping and thundering. Red-nostrilled, with blood-shot eyes up strained the horses. At the ridge-top, with an iron clang, all stopped. At once the gunners, grey wraiths in grey smoke, were busy; busy also at once the shapes upon the opposite ridge, blue wraiths in grey smoke. There was shouting, gesturing, then the flare and shriek of crossing shells. The ——th Virginia, still in possession of its spare moment, watched with an interest intense and critical. “Hello!” it said. “That’s the homesick battery! That’s the Botetourt Artillery!” Out of the haze in front, above the opposing crest, came a glint of bayonets, the blue infantry, coveting the grey ridge, moving forward under artillery support. The ——th Virginia handled its rifles. _Ready—take aim—fire!_ The blue failed to acquire the coveted ridge. The ——th Virginia, at rest once again in its corner of the field, looked sideways to see what the homesick battery was doing. There was a silence; then, “Give them a cheer, men!” said the colonel. “They’re dying fast, and it always was a brave county!” The shells from the many blue cannon came many and fast. It was necessary to clear the ridge of that grey section which stood in the way of a general advance. The gunners fell, the gunners fell, the officers, the horses. Dim in the universal cloud, from the left, a force was seen approaching. “Grey, I think,” said the lieutenant commanding this section of the Botetourt Artillery. “J.J. Smith, climb up on the roof of that cabin, and see what you can see!” J.J. Smith climbed. “Lieutenant Norgrove! Lieutenant Norgrove! they’re damn-Yankees—” Out of the smoke came a yellow light and a volley of lead. Gunner Number 8, J.J. Smith, fell from the roof of the cabin, desperately wounded. “Double canister!” shouted Norgrove.