“Steady! Steady! Now pour it into 'em!”
It was well that most of the men in the regiment had become sharpshooters, and that despite the thumping of their hearts, they were able to stand firm. Their sleet of bullets emptied a hundred saddles, and slipping in the cartridges they fired again at close range. The cavalry charge seemed to stop dead in its tracks, and in an instant a scene of terrible confusion occurred. Wounded horses screaming in pain rushed wildly back upon their own comrades or through the ranks of the foe. Injured men, shot from their saddles, were seeking to crawl out of the way. Whirling eddies of smoke alternately hid and disclosed enemies, and from both left and right came the continuous and deafening crash of infantry in battle.
But Forrest's men paused only a moment or two. A great mass of them galloped out of the smoke, over the bodies of their dead comrades and directly into the Winchester regiment, shouting and slashing with their great sabers. It was well for the men that their leader had so wisely chosen ground rough and covered with bushes. Using every inch of protection, they fired at horses and riders and thrust at them with their bayonets.
The battle became wild and confused, a turmoil of mingled horse and foot, of firing and shouting and of glittering swords and bayonets. A man on a huge horse made a great sweep at Dick's head with a red saber. The boy dropped to his knees, and felt the broad blade whistle where his head had been.
The swordsman was borne on by the impetus of his horse, and Dick caught one horrified glimpse of his face. It was Colonel Kenton, but Dick knew that he did not know, nor did he ever know. It was never in the lad's heart to tell his uncle how near he had come unwittingly to shearing off the head of his own nephew.
The charge of the cavalrymen carried them clear through the Winchester regiment, but a regiment coming up to the relief drove them back, and the great mass turning aside a little attacked anew and elsewhere. A few moments of rest were permitted Dick and his comrades, although the mighty battle wheeled and thundered all about them.
But their regiment was a melancholy sight. A third of its numbers were killed or wounded. The ground was torn and trampled, as if it had been swept by a hurricane of wind and red rain. Dick had one slight wound on his shoulder and another on his arm, but he did not feel them. Pennington and Warner both had scratches, but the colonel was unharmed.
“My God,” exclaimed Warner, “how did we happen to survive it!”
“I live to boast that I've been ridden over by old Forrest himself,” said Pennington.
“How do you know it was Forrest?”