The battery had blazed away right in the faces of the men in gray, who were yelling at the top of their voices. But leaving their dead and dying behind they strove to reach the cannons. Now the boys in blue swung out to meet them. Crack! crack! went the rifle shots, like barrels of hail, as line after line swung into position, fired, and wheeled away to make room for the next. The execution was fearful and the men in gray faltered at the very mouths of the pieces they desired to capture. But now reinforcements were coming--a large band of cavalry, with colors flying and the trumpeter blaring wildly. Down the hollow at breakneck speed and up the other side, the horses snorting and prancing as they smelt the smoke and the burnt powder--on and on, until the foot-soldiers had to leap aside to avoid being trodden upon. The Montgomery Grays led the van, and Louis saw Andy in the fore, with saber waving over his head. Andy was yelling and Louis almost imagined he heard his words, but that was impossible in the unearthly racket upon every side. The battle was opened in earnest now and sunset would not see it ended. “Close up!” It was an order to the Union men, and they closed up around the battery, ready to defend every gun to the last. Still the Confederate cavalry came up, until the leading horse confronted that line of glistening bayonets, and then they paused. But only for an instant; there was a break, and the cavalry rushed through. The battery was lost and the Union men scattered in every direction, most of them flying to the woods on the west. The gunners lay dead at the wheels of their pieces, faithful to the last. But the victory was a short-lived one. Word had been sent how the battery was being pressed, and a body of New York volunteers were hurried through the woods to the support of the Pennsylvania men. With a ringing cheer they burst into the clearing and the cavalry were shot down, horses and riders, in a fashion that made the leaders think a whole division of the enemy pressed them. The order was given to retreat and they scattered, just as did the Union men but a short quarter of an hour before, and some went into that same woods to the west. Hatless, saberless, and shot through the left arm, Andy dashed into that thicket to avoid the rain of bullets pouring into what was left of the Montgomery Grays. Poor Firefly limped painfully, shot through the flank. It had been a daring charge, but a useless one, for the battery was again in the hands of Union gunners. He panted for breath and wiped the sweat and dirt from his face. “Andy!” “Louis! By all that’s wonderful! Where did you come from?” “We were driven into this woods by your cavalry--or some cavalry that was with yours. How did you get here?” “Some Union reserves came up and we had to scatter or be cut down to a man. Oh, but it’s a fearful day for both sides! I wish this war was over, Louis.” “You don’t wish it any more than I do, Andy. It’s not all glory, is it?”