The shouting begat curiosity in us all, and we left the tent, the elderly officer leading. I perceived at once that the noise came from our lines, which were pushed up very close to those of the British and were within plain hearing distance. Among the trees and bushes, which were very dense at points, I could see in the brilliant sunshine the flash of rifle barrel and the gleam of uniform. The shouting was great in volume, swelling like a torrent rising to the flood. I remained by the side of the old officer. He seemed anxious. “What is it? What can that mean? It must be something important,” he asked as much of himself as of me. The reply was ready for him, as some English skirmishers came forward with an American prisoner whom they had taken but a few moments before. The man was but a common soldier, ragged, but intelligent. The officer put to him his question about the shouting, which had not yet subsided. “That was a welcome,” said the prisoner. “A welcome! What do you mean by that?” “Simply that more re-enforcements have come from the south.” The officer grew even graver. “More men always coming for them and never any for us,” he said, almost under his breath. I had it in mind to suggest that I be returned at once to my own army, but the arrival of the troops or other cause created a sudden recrudescence of the skirmishing. Piff-paff chanted the rifles; zip-zip chirped the bullets. Little blades of flame spurted up among the bushes, and above them rose the white curls of smoke like baby clouds. On both sides the riflemen were at work. The officer looked about him as if he intended to give some special orders, and then seemed to think better of it. A bullet passed through the tent we had just left. I felt that my American uniform took me out of the list of targets. “Your sharpshooters seem to have come closer,” said the officer. “Their bullets fell short this morning. I will admit they are good men with the rifle--better than ours.” “These are countrymen,” I said. “They have been trained through boyhood to the use of the rifle.” I was looking at the fringe of trees and bushes which half hid our lines. Amid the boughs of a tall tree whose foliage was yet untouched by autumn I saw what I took to be a man’s figure; but the leaves were so dense and so green I was not sure. Moreover, the man, if man it was, seemed to wear clothing of the hue of the leaves. I decided I was mistaken; then I knew I had been right at first guess, for I saw the green body within the green curtain of leaves move out upon a bough and raise its head a little. The sun flashed upon a rifle barrel, and the next instant the familiar curl of white smoke rose from its muzzle. The officer had opened his mouth to speak to me, but the words remained unspoken. His face went pale as if all the blood had suddenly gone out of him, and he flopped down like an emptied bag at my feet, shot through the heart.