At two o'clock Johnston had brought up his reserves and ordered the entire gray army to charge and sweep the field. His fine face flushed with victory, he rose in his saddle, addressed a few eloquent words to Breckinridge's division, placed himself at the head of his army and his sword flashed in the sunlight as he shouted to the line: "Charge!" Dick Welford had been detached from Forrest's cavalry on staff duty by his Chief's side. Forrest had been marked by Johnston for promotion for his work at Donelson, and Dick had grown to worship his gallant Commanding General. He had watched his plan of battle grow with boyish pride. He knew his Chief was going to crush the two divisions of Grant's army in detail before they could be united. And he had done it. Such complete and overwhelming victory would lift the South from her slough of despair. With a shout of triumph he spurred his horse neck to neck with his General. At two o'clock the blue lines were still rolling back on the river in hopeless confusion, the gray lines cheering and charging and crushing without mercy. A ball pierced Johnston's right leg. Dick saw his hand drop the rein for an instant and a look of pain sweep his handsome face. "You're wounded, sir?" he asked. "It's nothing, boy," he answered, "only a flesh cut--drive--drive--drive them!" Without pause he rode on and on. He was riding the white horse of Death--an artery had been cut and his precious life was slowly but surely ebbing away. He swayed in his saddle and Dick dashed forward: "General, your wound must be dressed!" Governor Harris of Tennessee, his aide, observed him at the same moment and spurred his horse to his side. The General turned his dim eyes to the Governor and gasped: "I fear I'm mortally wounded--" He reeled in his saddle and would have fallen had not Dick caught him and tenderly lowered him to the ground. The brave war Governor of Tennessee received the falling Commander in his arms and helped Dick bear him a short distance from the field into a deep ravine. Dick took the flask of whiskey from his pocket and pressed it to his lips in vain. A moment and he was dead. In a passion of grief the boy threw his arms around his beloved Chief and called through his tears and groans: "My God, General, you can't die--you mustn't die now! Don't you hear the boys shouting? They're driving Grant's army into the river. They've avenged Donelson!--General--for God's sake speak to me--say you won't die--you can't, you can't--Oh, Lord God, save his precious life!--" No sign or answer came. His breast had ceased to move. The Governor tenderly lifted the grief-stricken boy and sent him with his General's last message. "Find Beauregard and tell him he is in command of the field. Not a word of the death of the Chief until his victory is complete." Dick saluted and sprang into the saddle. "I understand, sir." [Illustration: "Dick saluted and sprang into the saddle--'I understand, sir'"]