“Forward! Forward!” cried Captain Montgomery again and again, but when Andy and the others attempted to move on they found they were literally urging their steeds upon a bed of bayonets. They fired their pistols and slashed with their sabers, and the din and shock were terrific. “Down you come, grayback!” Andy heard yelled in his ear, and a bayonet was thrust up against his side. He pulled back, escaping the steel point by only a few inches and cut his assailant heavily on the arm. The next moment other cavalrymen pushed on behind, and then there was nothing to do but to go on, cutting a path right and left as the Montgomery Grays advanced. Yet when the Confederate cavalry had thus hewn a path for itself along the turnpike for a distance of several hundred feet, it found the advantage of position a doubtful one. From the woods poured a regiment of New York militia, and the fire was so hot from these well-trained soldiers that the cavalry was forced to move rapidly towards another defense of the Confederates, dragging the captured cannon with them. As they were ploughing on, in the dust and dirt, a volley of Minie balls whistled around them and one clipped Andy on the leg, leaving a stinging pain behind it. “Are you struck, Andy?” cried Leroy Wellington, who rode near to his friend. “Yes, in the leg; but I reckon it’s not much,” was Andy’s reply, as he brushed the perspiration and dirt from his face with his coat sleeve. “Phew! but this is more than warm work!” “Never mind; we have one of their cannons!” returned Leroy. It filled his heart with martial joy to think that he had been one of the first to lay hands on the piece after cutting down the gunner. “Don’t crow until we are out of the woods, Leroy. Here come more of the Yankee boys.” “Pennsylvania men!” cried somebody in advance. “Load, boys, and be quick about it!” “Pennsylvania men!” repeated Andy. “What if it should be Louis’s company? I couldn’t fire on him!” he thought. Then he began to load with all possible speed. The Pennyslvania company, however, belonged to the regular militia. They were an excellently drilled body of men, and came forward in a solid mass that nothing could stay. They had heard about the capture of the cannon and were determined, if possible, to regain the piece. They fired at close range, then began to use their bayonets, and soon the cannon was reached, and here cutting, thrusting, and clubbing became the order of the day. Never had Andy thought to be in such a stubborn conflict. He cut, thrust, and charged on all sides of him. Once the butt of a musket hit him in the back and unseated him. There was a yell of triumph as he went down. Before the yell came to an end he was up again and charged straight for his adversary, a tall militiaman, who dodged out of the way in double-quick order. Andy wanted to fire at him, but before he could bring his pistol into play the tide of battle had swept man and boy fifty feet apart.