"I prefer to preach, but I believe in fighting too, when duty points that way," said Mr. Egglestone,—for it was he, flushed and begrimed with his toil at the deadly guns.
Even as they were speaking, a cannon-ball passed between them. Mr. Egglestone was thrown back by the shock of the wind it carried, but recovered instantly to find himself unhurt. But where was the old drummer? He was not there. And it was some seconds before the bewildered clergyman perceived him, several paces distant, lying on his face by the road.
The howitzers silenced, it was determined to storm the enemy's works.
Frank afterwards had the satisfaction of knowing that it was in part the information gained from the prisoner he had taken that decided the commanding general to order a charge.
Frank was with his company, where we left him, when suddenly yells rent the air; and, looking, he saw the Zouaves of Parke's brigade dashing down the causeway in front of the rebel redoubt.
They were met by a murderous fire. They returned it as they charged. As their comrades fell, they passed over them unheedingly, and still kept on—a sublime sight to look upon, in their wild Arab costumes, shouting, "Zou! zou!" bounding like tigers, clearing obstructions, and sweeping straight to the breastwork with their deadly bayonets.
"What is it?" asked Atwater, faintly.
"Victory!" answered Frank; for the firing ceased—the enemy were flying.
"That's enough!" And the still pallid face of the soldier smiled.