“What is to be done?” asked my companion.
“Nothing but die with arms in our hands. We will not die without a struggle, and the sooner we prepare for it the better.”
I leaped from the roof, and ordered the bugler to sound the assembly.
In a moment the clear notes rang out, and the soldiers formed before me in the corral.
“My brave comrades!” cried I, “they have got the advantage of us at last. They are bringing down a piece of artillery, and I fear these pickets will offer us but poor shelter. If we are driven out, let us strike for that island of timber; and, mark me—if we are broken, let every man fight his way as he best can, or die over a fallen enemy.”
A determined cheer followed this short harangue, and I continued:
“But let us first see how they use their piece. It is a small one, and will not destroy us all at once. Fling yourselves down as they fire. By lying flat on your faces you may not suffer so badly. Perhaps we can hold the corral until our friends reach us. At all events we shall try.”
Another cheer rang along the line.
“Great heaven, Captain! it’s terrible!” whispered the major.
“What is terrible?” I asked, feeling at the moment a contempt for this blaspheming coward.