“I can’t hold it any longer.”
“Forward, my brave boys. The day is ours if we stand up to it a little while longer!” shouted he to the hard-pressed troops, whose thin ranks were rapidly becoming thinner under the fierce fire to which they were subjected. “Follow me!” he added, in clarion tones, as he swung his sword in the air.
A faint cheer burst from the ranks of the regiment, showing that they had not wholly lost their spirit. They clutched their muskets tighter, and looked sternly towards the rebel line.
“Don’t spoil your record for this day, my gallant fellows,” continued Somers. “You have done gloriously; stick to it to the end.”
“Who are you?” said a gruff fellow in the ranks.
“Captain Somers, of the general’s staff. He expects you to hold this line. He sent me down to you. Shall I tell him you are a pack of cowards? Or shall I tell him you have done your duty, and been cut to pieces in the place where he put you?”
“You bet!” added the gruff fellow. “Come, boys!”
“Follow me!” shouted Somers, as he urged his foaming steed through the ranks, and waved his sword over his head.
“He’s the chap! Go in, boys,” cried one of the men, as the ranks closed up, and they followed the intrepid staff officer back to the position from which they had retreated.
The rebels had seen the break, and were swift to take advantage of it. They rushed forward, whooping like savages; but the fragmentary regiment now stood like a wall of iron, and poured a volley into the advancing horde, before which they quailed, and then retreated.