The occasional dropping shots in the distance told that both armies were moving. Colonel Holdfast seemed determined to hold fast to Colonel Scramble this time.
The struggle we have described in this chapter is not recorded by most historians, and, if mentioned at all, is only considered a skirmish, yet the citizens of Snagtown thought it the most terrible battle of the war.
No one of the Tompkins family had left their home. During the night Irene had been awakened by the rumble of wheels and the tramp of hoofs, and, looking from her bedroom window down the broad road, saw long lines of dark, silent figures marching in the direction of Snagtown. For more than an hour those silent dark figures, with their bristling bayonets glittering in the cold moonlight, marched on and on past her window in seemingly never-ending procession—horsemen, artillery and baggage wagons rolling by. Then the line was less solid and finally broken—an occasional group galloping by to join the army in advance. When daylight came not a soldier was to be seen on the hard beaten road.
Irene knew well what was the intention of the Confederates. She had recognized one form among those hosts that marched by in the moonlight, and, at sight of him, had crouched by in the window recess with a strange pain at her heart.
The whole family was aroused by the passing troops, and all rightly guessed their object. Through the long morning they sat watching on the veranda, Irene, pale and beautiful, leaning against one of the columns of the great porch running about the northeast side of the house, heard the first roar of the artillery, that ushered in the day's strife, and, during the long two hours that the battle raged, she stood motionless, except that her white lips moved in silent prayer. She saw the advance of the column in rapid retreat coming down the great road from Snagtown.
"Defeated!" she murmured. "O, Heaven, is he among the dead? Both may be slain!"
Little did she dream how close were the pursuers. One vast retreating mass of troops in gray poured down the hill, and, among the last of the Confederates, she saw the dark face of Oleah. His company was the last to descend the hill, and the rear was not half way from the summit when a line of blue coats appeared on the brow of the hill and quickly fell in line.
White puffs of smoke filled the air, and a rattling discharge of fire-arms followed.
Irene, forgetful of danger or too horrified to fly, stood motionless as a statue. She saw one or two of Oleah's company fall, and saw their captain wheel his horse and dash back among his panic-stricken troops. He reformed them almost instantly and returned the volley, driving back the advance of the Union troops, who immediately rallied and came on again to the conflict.
"Come, Irene, come in for Heaven's sake! You may be struck dead at any moment," cried Mrs. Tompkins, seizing the poor girl around the waist. "Come, come to the cellar; it is the only safe place."