Suddenly the Union artillery opened. It seemed to the terrified spectators on the veranda as if the shells were shrieking directly toward them, but the iron bolts tore their way through the grove, although much nearer the house than before. The reason soon became apparent. On that ridge, and within the gloomy shadows of the trees, were officers as coolly observant as if playing a game of chess. They gave no more heed to the terrific peals of thunder than they would have done to so many Chinese gongs. While watching the attack upon his centre and providing against it, General Marston was also seeking to penetrate, by means of a powerful glass, the mask of the grove, and so detected a concentration on his left. Instantly his guns began to shell the grove near the house, where the assaulting force was massing. His reserves were ordered forward, and instructions rapidly given to the colonel who was to repel the attack; meanwhile his field-glass was glued to his eyes.
Soon he cried, "It will be their supreme effort. We must strike a stunning blow in order to get away in safety," and he sprang on his horse and started the charge himself.
The men, adoring their leader, followed with stern resolve and high enthusiasm. Scoville, who had returned, reported and rested somewhat, knew how critical was the moment. He rode close to the general, but did not fall out when the wary commanding officer permitted the human bolt he had launched to pass beyond him. He was responsible for the entire force, and must do just enough and no more. He must still keep his eyes on all parts of the field and his brain ready to direct when the result of the charge was known. More than the military necessity of repelling the Confederate charge bursting from the grove occupied the mind of Scoville. It looked to him as if the fight would take place about the very home of the girl to whom his heart was so tender, and his impulse was to be near, to protect and defend.
The light was fading fast; the fury of the storm, whose preliminary blasts were shaking the dwelling, was coming as if an ally with the galloping Union ranks and threatening the equally impetuous onset of the Confederates. In the very van of the Southern force a vivid flash of lightning revealed Mad Whately, with a sabre of flame. For once he made a heroic figure. His mother saw him and shrieked despairingly, but her voice was lost in the wild uproar of thunder, yells and shouts of the combatants, the shock of steel and crash of firearms. Then torrents of rain, which had approached like a black curtain extending from heaven to earth, hid the awful scene of conflict. It vanished like a dream, and would have seemed but a nightmare had not the ominous sounds continued.
Mr. Baron broke the spell which had fallen upon him, dragged his sister and niece within the door, and bolted it with difficulty against the spray-laden gusts.
CHAPTER XXII
CHUNK'S QUEST
If there had been sufficient light the battle might have continued in spite of the tropical downpour, but darkness became so intense that friend and foe were alike disguised from each other. At this crisis, Scoville's horse was shot and fell, dragging his rider down also. A flash of lightning revealed the mishap to Mad Whately, who secured the capture of the Union officer before he could extricate himself.
By a sort of mutual consent the contending forces drew apart. Prisoners had been taken on both sides, and Whately, who had badly sprained his arm, unfitting himself for active duty, was given charge of those secured by the Confederates.
General Marston withdrew the Union forces to the ridge again. He was satisfied that prudence required rapid progress toward his somewhat distant destination. True, he had severely checked his foes, but he knew that they had reinforcements near, while he had not. He deeply regretted Scoville's absence and possible death, but he had the map, and the men who had been out with the scout were acquainted with the selected road. Therefore, as soon as the violence of the storm abated and the moon shed a faint radiance through the murky clouds, he renewed his march as rapidly as the rain-soaked ground permitted. Fires were lighted along the ridge to deceive the enemy, and a rearguard left to keep them burning.