The Southern batteries were pushed forward, and opened with a terrific crash on their enemy, telling the waiting people in Winchester that the battle had begun. The infantry and cavalry on either side, eager despite their immense exertions and loss of rest and lack of food, were held back by their officers, while the artillery combat went on.
Jackson, anxious to see the result, rode a little further forward, and the group of staff officers, of course, went with him. Some keen-eyed Northern gunner picked them out, and a shell fell near. Then came another yet nearer, and when it burst it threw dirt all over them.
“A life worth so much as General Jackson's should not be risked this way,” whispered Dalton to Harry, “but I don't dare say anything to him.”
“Nor do I, and if we did dare he'd pay no attention to us. Our gunners don't seem to be driving their gunners away. Do you notice that, George?”
“Yes, I do and so does General Jackson. I can see him frowning.”
The Northern batteries, nearly always of high quality, were doing valiant service that morning. The three batteries on the left of the turnpike and another of eight heavy rifled guns on the right, swept the whole of Jackson's front with solid shot, grape and shell. The Southern guns, although more numerous, were unable to crush them. The batteries of the South were suffering the more. One of them was driven back with the loss of half its men and horses. At another every officer was killed.
“They outshoot us,” said Dalton to Harry, “and they make a splendid stand for men who have been kept on the run for two days and nights.”
“So they do,” said Harry, “but sooner or later they'll have to give way. I heard General Jackson say that we would win a victory.”
Dalton glanced at him.
“So you feel that way, too,” he said very seriously. “I got the belief some time ago. If he says we'll win we'll win. His prediction settles it in my mind.”