Then the fight settled into a murderous musketry duel across the field, in which the ranks on both sides melted away like frost in the sun. In a few minutes all the field officers were down, and the only Captain that remained untouched took command of the regiment, shouting to Harry Glen at the same moment to take command of the two companies on the right, whose Captains, and Lietenants had fallen. Two guns escaping from the crush at the extreme right, had galloped down, and opened gallantly to assist the regiment. Almost instantly horses and men went down under the storm of bullets. An Aide broke through the cedars behind. “Fall back--fall back, for God's sake!” he shouted. “The Rebels have got around the right, and will cut you off.” “Fall back, boys,” shouted the Captain in command, “but keep together, listen to orders, and load as you go.” The same instant he fell with a ball through his chest. “Sergeant Glen, you're in command of the regiment, now,” shouted a dozen voices. The Lieutenant of the battery--a mere boy--ran up to Harry. A stream of blood on his jacket matched its crimson trimmings. “Don't go off and leave my guns, after I've helped you. Do not, for the love of Heaven! I've saved them so far. Bring them off with you.” Harry looked inquiringly around upon the less than one hundred survivors, who gathered about him, and had heard the passionate appeal. Every face was set with mortal desperation. An Irish boy on the left was kissing a cross which he had drawn from his bosom. The tears which strong men shed in wild fits of rage were rolling down the cheeks of Edwards, Bolton, and others. “I don't want to live always!” shouted Kent with an oath; “let's take the ----- guns!” “I don't want no better place to die than right here!” echoed Abe, still more savagely profane. “Le's have the guns, or sink into hell getting 'em!” The remnant of the Rebel regiment had broken cover and rushed for the guns. “Attention!” shouted Harry. “Fix bayonets!” The sharp steel clashed on the muzzles. “FORWARD, CHARGE!” For one wild minute shining steel at arm's length did its awful work. Then three-score Rebels fled back to their leafy lair, and as many blue-coats with drew into the cedars, pulling the guns after them. “Pick up the Lieutenant, there, some of you who can do a little lifting,” said Kent, as they came to where the boy-artillerist lay dead. “This prod in my shoulder's spoilt my lifting for some time. Lay him on the gun and we'll take himj back with us. He deserves it, for he was game clear through. Harry, that fellow that gave you that beauty-mark on the temple with his saber got his discharge from the Rebel army just afterwards, on the point of Abe's bayonet.” “Is that so? Did Abe get struck at all?” “Only a whack over the nose with the butt of a gun, which will doubtless improve his looks. Any change would.”