Little Benny Bruce beat his drum loudly, his eyes glistening brightly, for the spirit of war seemed to be a part of his very nature. Seeing Benny so brave, Louis could not help but look at Jerry Rowe. The boaster was pale and his fishy eyes were full of uncertainty. The next twenty-four hours were well calculated to sift the cowards from those who were truly brave. To go into all of the details of the great battle of Bull Run would be both impossible and apart from my purpose in writing this story of personal adventures on both sides of the great conflict. Suffice it, then, to say that the attack on the Confederate forces was begun between six and seven in the morning at a place known as the Stone Bridge, and from that hour the battle kept on steadily until the middle of the afternoon. By this time both sides had sustained heavy losses and were worn out, but the arrival of a large body of fresh Confederate troops under General Johnston put new life into those who marched under the Stars and Bars, and they attacked the Union men with such increased vigor that nothing could stand before them. By sundown the Union men were in full retreat for Washington, and thinking the fresh Confederate force much larger than it really was the retreat degenerated into what was practically a panic. But Louis thought of none of these things as he marched forward mile after mile in the blazing sun. The dust on the road was several inches deep, and a heavy battery traveling just in front of the Goreville Volunteers kicked up such a dust that the lad was all but blinded. He was glad enough when the orders came to turn to the left and enter a by-road leading through a heavy woods. “Halt!” The command came full and clear along the line of soldiers stretched out among the trees and brush. A clearing was just ahead and on the opposite side of this could be seen a number of hastily constructed breastworks, and the glitter of two brass cannons. The order to halt had hardly come when the cannons boomed forth, and a mass of grapeshot came tearing through the thickets, clipping off branches of trees and tops of brush and sending half a dozen dead and dying to earth. “Oh, I’m killed!” yelled Jerry Rowe, falling back. But it was only a cut-away branch which had struck him. Somebody laughed, and then every gun was clutched closer, as the order came to charge. Louis was in battle at last! There is no denying the fact that his heart was in his throat. To move forward under fire for the first time in one’s life is no light thing. He looked at Harry on one side of him and saw the pale, set face. Then he got a dig in the ribs from Moses Blackwell, who was on the other side. “Can’t die but once, Louis. Hurrah fer the Stars and Stripes! Down with the rebels!”