I believe we were left a full half-hour waiting for the third assault. Certain it was that the time seemed long to me, and I whispered once to Archie, saying:
"I would they might set upon us without delay, for then I shall be able to forget how sorely I am needing so much of water as will moisten my tongue."
"Don't wish the time away, lad," my comrade said gravely. "It may be that you and I have not overly many minutes of life left."
Hiram heard this dismal speech, and quickly stepping a pace nearer to Archie he said with somewhat of irritation in his tone:
"Are you counting on being the first Minute Boy to show the white feather?"
"In what way am I doing that?"
"By croaking about 'last minutes,' instead of allowing your mind to go on to that time when we can eat and drink our fill, the lobster backs having been driven into the swamp. Thus far the Minute Boys of Boston have shown themselves, if you leave out Seth Jepson, to have all the pluck that is needed, and now being come thus far through the battle with full share of credit, it ill beseems you to make dismal predictions regarding the future."
Before Hiram ceased speaking his tone had grown harsh, and I feared there might be angry words between the two even while we stood much the same as face to face with death.
Before I could break in upon them, however, the enemy had begun to show signs of moving, and on the instant we understood that this third assault was to be different from the first two.
At some time during the battle they must have gotten their artillery into favorable position, for now, suddenly, the whole interior of our breastworks was swept with ball and grape-shot, more blood being shed within five minutes than had been spilled on our side in all the terrible work thus far.