Every face was blackened with powder almost beyond recognition. The artillerymen to the left were feverishly swabbing out their guns and trying to cool them off, and bringing up everything in the shape of ammunition from the limbers in the rear. Capt. McGillicuddy was leaning on his sword at the right of the line, intently watching everything. He looked sharply around, when the men raised a cheer on recognizing Si and the rest, and coming back shook Lieut. Bowersox warmly by the hand, saying: "Great God, Lieutenant, I've always been glad to see you, but I never was so glad to see a man in my life as I am you this minute. How many men did you bring?" "I've got 128 with me," answered the Lieutenant. "What's the situation?" "You have? Well, you've got more than we have left. You'll act as Major. Poor Wilkinson just got his dose. You can see him lying down there in the rear of the left. Put your men in anywhere. Mix them up with the others.. It don't matter much about formation. The main thing's to stand and shoot. The rebels have been charging us all after noon, but we have whipped them back every time. "You can see our work out there (pointing to the slope in front, which was literally covered with dead and wounded). I've thought every time that they couldn't stand another such a slaughter, but they've rallied in those woods there and come out again with their infernal yell, just as before. The last time it seemed to me that we just swept them off the face of the earth, and I don't see how in God's name they can stand any more of that sort of thing. It's worse killing than we gave them at Stone River. It seems to me that hell has let out for noon, and sent all its devils to reinforce them. But it will soon be night now, when they'll have to stop. If they won't we'll have to depend on the bayonet, for we haven't five rounds apiece left, and I can't get more anywhere." Si and Shorty had been distributing the detachment along the line, and had posted the Englishman and his squad of Irishmen, with themselves, around the tattered colors, which were now in the hands of the last survivor of the color guard, who was himself wounded. Dusk was fast coming on, when the woods beyond the foot of the slope began to darken again with masses of men arraying in column of assault. "They're coming again," called out Capt. McGillicuddy. "Lieut. Bowersox, look out there for the left. Men, if we haven't stopped them when we've fired out last shot, we'll fix bayonets and charge them. We must keep them off this hill or die right here." He was answered with cheers. A demoniac yell from 10,000 fierce throats rang through the woods, and the next instant thunder and flames burst from the sweeping crescent of rebel cannon, and the ground in front of the foot of the hill was hidden from view by the tide of men rushing over it.