“A dispatch from Gordon, general.”
Stuart took it and read it with high good humor.
“Gordon has had a handsome little affair this morning,” he said; “he has whipped them.”
And looking toward the northwest—
“I wish Gordon was here,"{1} he said.
{Footnote 1: His words.}
The guns continued to roar, and the enemy had not again advanced. It was nearly four o’clock. Night approached.
But the great blow was coming.
Stuart was sitting his horse near the guns, with Breathed beside him. Suddenly the edge of the woods on the Mountain road swarmed with blue horsemen. As they appeared, the long lines of sabres darted from the scabbards; then they rushed like a hurricane toward the guns.
The attack was so sudden and overpowering, that nothing could stand before it. For a short time the men fought desperately, crossing sabres and using their pistols. But the enemy’s numbers were too great. The left was driven back. With triumphant cheers, the Federal troopers pressed upon them to drive them completely from the field.