“No, I was too late, too.” “An' Jim must've been, too. Hev ye seed him any whar?” “No,” said Rachel, unable to restrain her tears. “Now, honey, don't cry for me--don't,” said Aunt Debby, pulling the young face down to where she could kiss it. “Hit's jest ez I want hit. On'y let me know thet Bragg is whipt, an' I die happy.” All day Thursday the two bruised armies lay and confronted each other, as two bulldogs, which have torn and mangled one another, will stop for a few minutes, to lick their hurts and glare their hatred, while they regain breath to carry on the fight. Friday morning it was the same, but there was a showing of teeth and a rising fierceness as the day grew older, which was very portentous. While standing at the door of the cabin Rachel had seen Harry Glen march down the bank at the head of the regiment, and cross the ford to the heights in front of Breckenridge. She picked up a field-glass that lay on a shelf near, and followed the movements of the force the regiment had joined. “What d' ye see, honey?” called out Aunt Debby. She was becoming very fearful that she would die before the victory was won. “Our people,” answered Rachel, “seem to be concentrating in front of Breckenridge. There must be a division over there. Breckenridge sees it, and his cannon are firing at our men. He is bringing men up at the double quick.” She stopped, for a spasm of fear in regard to Harry choked her. “Go on, honey. What are they doing now?” “Our men have formed a long line, reaching from the river up to the woods. They begin to march forward. Breckenridge opens more guns. They cut lanes through them. Now the infantry begins firing. A cloud of smoke settles down and hides both sides. I can see no more. O my God, our men are running. The whole line comes back out of the smoke, with men dropping at every step. If Harry were only safely out of there, I'd give my life.” Aunt Debby groaned. “Look again, honey,” she said after a moment's pause. “It's worse than ever. Breckenridge's men are swarming out of their works. There seems to be a myriad of them. They cover the whole hillside until I can not see the ground. They yell like demons, and drive our men down into the river. They follow them to the water's edge and shoot them down in the stream. Ah, there goes a battery on the gallop to the hill in front of us. It has opened on the Rebels, and its shells dig great holes in the black masses, but the Rebels still come on. There goes another battery on the gallop. It has opened. There is another. Still another. They are galloping over here from every direction.” “Glory!” shouted Aunt Debby. “There's a fringe of trees near the water's edge, whose tops reach nearly tot he top of the hill. The cannon shots tear the branches off and dash down the great ranks of Rebels with them.” “The arth rocks as when He lays his finger upon hit,” said Aunt Debby.