There was a sudden blaze from the mouth of one of the cannon. A shell shot upward, whistling and shrieking, and burst far above their heads. Harry heard pieces of falling metal striking on the rocks behind them. The mountains sent back the cannon's roar in a sinister echo.
A second gun flashed and again the shell curved over their heads. But Jackson paid no heed. He was still watching intently through his glasses.
“The enemy is up and alert,” whispered St. Clair to Harry. “I judge that these are Western men used to sleeping with their eyes open.”
“Like as not a lot of them are mountain West Virginians,” said Harry. “They are strong for the North, and it's likely, too, that they're the men who have discovered Jackson's advance.”
“And they mean to make it warm for us. Listen to those guns! It's hard shooting aiming at men on heights, but it shows what they could do on level ground.”
Jackson presently retired with his officers, and Harry, parting from his friends of the Invincibles, went with him. Back among the ridges all the troops were under arms, the weary ones having risen from their blankets which were now tied in rolls on their backs. They had not yet been able to bring the artillery up the steeps. Harry saw that the faces of all were eager as they heard the thunder of the guns in the valley below. Among the most eager was a regiment of Georgians arrived but recently with the reinforcements.
Many of the men, speaking from the obscurity of the crowded ranks, did not scorn to hurl questions at their officers.
“Are we goin' to fight the Yankees at last?”
“I'd rather take my chances with the bullets than march any more.”
“Lead us down an' give us a chance at 'em.”