“Shouldn't wonder if he was. He's a hard one to tackle, and won't stand on ceremony. He don't go into battle in a full dress suit. Just look over there. Pemberton is retreating, skedaddling. His men have set fire to that bridge, and how is he going to cover the retreat of his rear guard down there in the bayou?” “He's not trying to save them at all, but is looking after No. One. By George, he's off, and has left those poor fellows to be captured, or shot down, he don't care which.” It was true. He ran away in mad haste, making no effort to cover their retreat, but abandoned the panic-stricken men in the lowland to their fate. Wild with terror, with no leader to direct, many of them flung themselves into the river, only to sink beneath the waters, and those who were left were taken prisoners by the Federals. {194} [Illustration: 0203] CHAPTER XVIII. CROSSING THE RIVER. [Illustration: 9204] ENERAL {195}GRANT set to work at once building bridges by which to cross the Big Black. General Sherman's corps were soon busy felling trees and laying planks. A raft bridge was now constructed, and a bridge was also hurried together, with cotton bales for pontoons. The next step was to cut trees on each side of the river in such a manner that their trunks were not severed, but clung to the stumps. In falling across the stream, their boughs met and grasped each other firmly, and the planks laid across them made a secure road, over which the troops passed, while the two Generals, Grant and Sherman, sat on a log and watched the living mass of blue-coats march over, with the smoky, ruddy light of pitch pine torches throwing their weird shadows over the scene. It was a wild and picturesque panorama. The vast body of human beings moving fearlessly across the swaying structure, the fitful gleams of light reflecting from their muskets, the two great generals sitting there as calmly as though watching a festive procession--the somber depths of the forest on either side, where danger lurked in many shapes--what heart could fail to be impressed by the solemn spectacle?