In the meantime, Louis was fighting as he had never fought before. The Goreville Volunteers were posted, after the first attack, at a point an eighth of a mile south of the battery the Montgomery Grays had so gallantly defended. They were backed up by a fringe of brush and trees, and to their left were planted two Union guns, to cover a hollow some distance to the front. Beyond, the hills and thickets were filled with boys in gray, who poured in a perfect hailstorm of bullets upon the Union forces and sent shell after shell shrieking over their heads. The din was something frightful, while the smoke became so thick that when held down to the ground by the heavy atmosphere it nearly choked everybody. “I’m sick! I’m sick! I can’t stand this any more!” blurted out Jerry Rowe, as a shell went whining and shrieking directly over his head, and throwing away his musket, he made a wild rush for the rear. But the stragglers’ guard saw him coming, and one of them tripped him up. “Go forward, you coward!” were the words which rang into Jerry’s unwilling ears. “I’m sick! I’ve got a stomach-ache--I can’t stand up, really I can’t!” he whined. “You’re shamming, young fellow. Go forward, or we’ll bayonet you!” and the steel was thrust under Jerry’s very nose. With a howl of terror Jerry turned back and went searching for his musket. After that he remained where he had been, but only because the peril at the rear seemed, to him, to be as great as that to the front. “Cherry vos got der shakes,” observed Hans Roddmann to Louis. “Vy dot feller vonted to enlist vos a riddle to me, py chimminy! Of he--Forvards, und may ve chase does repels into der Chames Rifer!” and forward they went, at Captain Paulding’s command. The hollow had been crossed under a fierce fire, and they were ascending the hill beyond, when the Confederates appeared not only in front, but also to the right and left. “Forward, boys, we must cut our way out!” came the cry, as the Confederates rushed into the hollow and the Goreville Volunteers appeared almost surrounded. The men had fired twice. There was no time to load again, and on they went, guns to their breasts and the line of polished bayonets sending a brief chill to the hearts of those before them. But the Confederates stood firm and fired when that line of bayonets was scarcely fifty feet away. As the volley rang out, Louis felt a quiver in his arms. His gun had been struck and the barrel rendered useless. Callings, who stood beside him, was hit and went down on the battlefield with a groan which rang in the youth’s ears for many hours after.