“Here goes!” said Whitestone. The drums leaped into a faster tune, and we, keeping pace with the redoubled rub-a-dub, charged into a cloud of smoke spangled with flaming spots. The smoke filled my eyes and I could not see, but I was borne on by my own will and the solid rush of the men beside me and behind me. Then my eyes cleared partly, and I saw a long red line in front of us. Those in the first rank were on one knee, and I remember thinking how sharp their bayonets looked. The thought was cut short by a volley and a blaze which seemed to envelop their whole line. A huge groan arose from our ranks. I missed the shoulder against my left shoulder--the man who had stood beside me was no longer there. We paused only for a moment to fire in our turn, and our groan found an equal echo among the British. Then, officers shouting commands and men shouting curses, we rushed upon the bayonets. I expected to be spitted through, and do not know why I was not; but in the turmoil of noise and flame and smoke I swept forward with all the rest. When we struck them I felt a mighty shock, as if I were the whole line instead of one man. Then came the joy of the savage when their line--bayonets and all--reeled back and shivered under the crash of ours. I shouted madly, and struck through the smoke with my sword. I was conscious that I stepped on something softer than the earth, that it crunched beneath my feet; but I thought little of it. Instead I rushed on, hacking with my sword at the red blurs in the smoke. I do not say it as a boast, for there were more of us than of them--though they used to claim that they did not care for numbers--but they could place small check upon our advance, although they had cannon as well as bayonets. Their red line, very much seamed and scarred now, was driven back, and still farther back, up the hill. Our men, long anxious for this battle and sure of triumph, poured after them like a rising torrent. The British were not strong enough, and were swept steadily toward their intrenchments. “Do you hear that?” shouted some one in my ear. “Hear what?” I shouted in reply, turning to Whitestone. “The cannon and the rifles across yonder,” he said, nodding his head. Then I noticed the angry crash of artillery and small arms to our left, and I knew by the sound that not we alone but the whole battle front of both armies was engaged. If the British, as it seemed, wanted a decisive test of strength, they would certainly get it. For a few moments the smoke rolled over us in such volume that I could not see Whitestone, who was but three feet from me, but I perceived that we had wheeled a little, and nobody was before us. Then the smoke drifted aside, and our men uttered a most tremendous shout, for all the British who were alive or could walk had been driven into their intrenchments, and, so far as that, we were going to carry their intrenchments too, or try.