There is a lull in the fight as Snipe goes riding along in rear of the battle line, seeking the New-Englanders. Other brigades have crossed the run, and now the Fire Zouaves are marching in column toward the regular batteries, and right at the edge of the pike Snipe finds his old regiment, with Stark in rear of the right wing. Lieutenant-Colonel Proctor is gone, shot dead, say the rearmost men, as they were crossing the ridge behind them, though that, happily, turns out later to be untrue. The major, however, has secured his late superior's horse, and gravely bids his orderly welcome with the other. Far over along that semicircular fringe of woods to the southeast an exultant chorus of yells is rising, and a staff-officer, riding by, says something about the rebs trying to keep their spirits up. But the dust is rolling in heavy clouds along the Manassas road, and the captured wounded, and prisoners overhauled during the triumphant forward movement of the Union line, long delayed though it was, say that they are of Johnston's army from the Shenandoah. Then all Beauregard's must be yet to come. Are they the ones now doing all this cheering? Snipe, dismounted and holding both drooping horses, stands watching the faces of his gray-haired colonel and his beloved major, now in earnest, low-voiced conference, and it is plain to see, if not to hear, that the former is far from satisfied at the way things have gone. Over an hour passes without another forward movement, although long columns continue arriving from the direction of the fords just above Bull Run, the fords discovered by General Sherman. Many of the regiments right and left are tossing caps and hats in air, cheering like mad, and demanding the word to advance and finish up the rebels. The steady cannonade of the Union guns has been stopped. The batteries suddenly limber up and move deliberately out upon the pike, then turn southward into that road leading toward Manassas, and next are seen breasting the slopes to their left, marching up the height, Ricketts well in front, Griffin some distance in rear, and when they disappear over the edge of the plateau south of the Henry house, the Zouaves and some other regiment following rather slowly in support, the colonel ventures to say that those batteries will be in mischief before they are quarter of an hour older. Twenty minutes more and they are heard again, reopening in fury upon the enemy unseen by the halted battalions here under the Robinson bluff. And now it is after two, long after, and brigades from Tyler's first division, fording the run above the stone bridge, are strengthening the attack. Sherman, Howard, Wilcox, all are there. Victory seems assured if only the line may advance, crown those heights, sweep the plateau where now the batteries stand almost alone, and drive the yelling rebels from the woods. A dense smoke-cloud rises over the thundering guns. Who can withstand so fierce a cannonade? Snipe, too, wants to toss his cap in