"What is that noise over there, say?" asked Mrs. Schmidt.
"Listen!" commanded Emmeline.
"What is that noise?" demanded Mrs. Schmidt in a louder tone.
"Listen!" commanded Emmeline more sharply.
Old Whitey lifted his head a little higher. Away to the north, beyond the seminary building, toward the dim line of blue hills on the horizon, there was a sharp crack! crack! crack!
"Somebody is gunning," said Mrs. Schmidt with conviction. "I wonder what they are gunning?"
"They are shooting men!" cried Emmeline excitedly. "Our soldiers are shooting down the rebels! I—"
A deeper, heavier sound crashed upon the air and interrupted Emmeline's sentence. The first great boom of cannon lengthened into a rumble—long, low, echoing, ominous. Whitey shivered and gave a strange snort; with a cry, Mrs. Schmidt seized the reins in both hands. But Whitey would not advance.
"Get in by me, Emmy!" cried Mrs. Schmidt. "Children, get in! Emmy, get in!"
Emmeline helped the numerous little Schmidts into the wagon, and then, climbing in after them, took the reins from Mrs. Schmidt. She assured herself that there was nothing to be afraid of. The shooting, loud as it sounded, was far away.