"He can shoot, and his bullet may strike a blue coat."
"Brace up and look more soldier-like," said one.
"Who greased yer hat?" asked another.
"When was yer hair cut?" put in a third.
"What ye got in the pockets of that great coat?" said another.
"Attention!" cried the lieutenant. "Here comes the enemy. Steady! Be sure of your aim, and fire only when you have it."
The Union skirmishers advanced cautiously, and the Confederates blazed away, taking care not to expose their own persons to the sharpshooters in the woods below and above. The fire from the woods became deadly, and the lieutenant ordered a retreat just as the Union forces in the woods, receiving reinforcements, made a charge.
"Run, run for your lives!" cried the lieutenant, setting the example.
A storm of leaden hail swept around Uncle Dan's low cabin, rattling against the walls and shattering shade trees in front of it.
Joe's face was now white with terror. The dread monster had come. He saw the men about him take to flight, and, in his simplicity, he threw aside the unused gun and followed them. He had not gone far before he changed his course, running off to the left, down the creek bottom, where the grass was tall and dry. The Confederates kept straight on across the woods, making for the mountain pass.