"Ye'll have enough soon to take up yer attention," put in Sergeant Swords.
By nine o'clock the fight began in earnest. Colonel Holdfast's cavalry was at first held in reserve at the foot of the hill. When it was ordered to advance, just as the top of the hill was reached, January became frightened at the flashing guns, and, wheeling about, dashed down the hill with Diggs' saber dangling at his side.
The bugle rung out the fearful note—a wild dash, a moment's delirious excitement—and they were at the rebel's guns. The battery was captured with but little loss, and the guns turned on the retreating foe. The whole army now advanced, and a stubborn fight ensued, which resulted in the Confederate lines slowly falling back.
Cheer upon cheer arose along the Union lines, as the foe retreated and pursuit commenced. Mr. Diggs, who had viewed the battle afar off, seeing victory perched upon the banner of the Union forces, prevailed on January to join in the pursuit, and galloping up to his regiment, waved his sword high in the air, shouting:
"Hip, hip, huzzah, huzzah, huzzah! for the old Stars and Stripes, the flag of Washington and Marion! Charge everybody! I want to get among them! They shall know that Patrick Henry Diggs can fight."
The crest of the hill was reached, and the whole Confederate army suddenly burst into view, drawn up in a line of battle, a thunderclap shook the earth, and a huge volume of smoke seemed to enwrap it. Death and destruction was hurled among the advancing ranks. The ground was strewn at the first fire with dead and wounded. Out from these columns of smoke came the fearful Black Horse Regiment, bearing down like a dark storm on the already stunned Union lines.
Retreat was the only thing, and retreat became rout and panic. It was the arrival of General Johnston, who, having eluded Patterson, had come up with reinforcements that so suddenly turned the tide of battle, making defeat out of almost certain victory.
Abner saw his men and horses rolling in the dust from the deadly fire. A score of saddles were emptied at the first volley, and a score of riderless horses dashed back frightened, to spread panic in the rear. No bugle sounded the retreat, there was no need for any. It was vain to attempt to stem the current, for his men had lost all self-control.
As Uncle Dan wheeled his horse to follow the flying regiment, he saw Willie Thornbridge sink in his saddle. Reaching out his strong arm, he drew the slight boyish figure before him on his own horse.